Michael Ryan cradled Lauren from behind while they stood across the canal from Anya"s home. They were blocked from view by the overgrown wisteria that separated the neighboring houses along the canal walk. “Shhh,” he soothed, “please come with me, Lauren. There"s nothing we can do now.”
Forty-five minutes earlier they had moored Michael"s boat at a vacant dock in the Treasure Island section of Naples. While Lauren bought supplies at a nearby store, Michael had taken on enough fuel to head for Mexico. Afterward they had walked together to Anya"s house where they found the area teaming with police, paramedics, a fire unit, reporters, and photographers.
When Lauren saw the activity, she began to sob, overcome by a deep sense of grief and loneliness. She knew Anya was dead. Lauren had tried
