~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Clinton “Clint” Ellison III stared up at the ceiling of my holding cell, the bench hard and uncomfortable beneath me....I squirmed on it, my chest rising and falling. There were others around me, most trying to sleep, but a few were talking in the corners. Drunks. Petty thieves. A man who'd robbed a convenient store at gunpoint.I ignored them as my mind raced. I should sleep, but I couldn't. My thoughts wouldn't let me. Worry rippled through me. When I decided to. "Ms. Bello," one of the men responded with a nod. "Go right in.You're expected." Thank you," she told him.She knocked on the door across from the two men, then went inside. Theroom was a large office, or more accurately, a small suite of offices,though the primary room she found herself in was the one with a largewooden desk.The man behind the desk was short and stocky, with naturally tannedskin. And though he wore no uniform, other than the pin on hisshoulder, he had the bearing of a. More

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