Epilogue
It was a perfect day for a picnic. One of those lazy southwestern days where the sun warms your shoulders as the gentle breeze lulls you to sleep. Ramirez had selected a remote location where the only sound was from a nearby fountain that burbled as plumes of water danced to a synchronized, yet silent symphony. At least that was the way I imagined it.
A blanket had been carefully smoothed across an even patch of ground. On top he had meticulously arranged a simple but mouth-watering picnic. Even Nicoh had recently come out of hiding to join us and was happily gnawing on a gargantuan-sized dog bone—peanut butter-flavored, of course.
Ramirez laughed, tugging on a long strand of my hair as I moaned over the first bite of the peanut butter and pickle sandwich he had made, just for
