Assessment. I don't have a hangover or any of those odd feelings that are the usual result of a weekend's exploration into undocumented pharmaceuticals. I don't have the need to go to the clinic and get myself tested because, 'Uh, I'm sorry ... I guess the rubber wasn't on very good... ' I don't have to worry about what might be found in my purse/car/house if the police were to come knocking. And the police have no reason to knock.As I walk through the house, I know that I'll find his stuff and my stuff and nobody else's stuff that they'll be calling or looking for. I do a survey of the laundry hamper in the master bathroom. Not enough in there for a load of laundry. I guess this is a good day to throw some boxes in the car and make a run to the old house. I still have stuff over there and some of it even makes sense to bring into my new life. The rest? I'm not going to leave a mess for Britanny or her new co-occupant. Shara was chomping at the bit, I'm told, to take my place in the. What the hell? Returning to the tree, he smelled perfume again. Before long he discovered that there were two spots on the trunk where the perfume had apparently rubbed off of Paula. She must have brushed or leaned against this same tree. Paul began sniffing every tree in the vicinity. This was time consuming, but it gradually led him deeper into the woods.At one point the scent-clue was so faint the little boy wasn’t sure it was really there, and as he moved his face almost in contact with the bark, he found a long, reddish-brown hair. Paul smiled; perfume wasn’t the only clue a jungle tracker had at his disposal. He realized that he was actually moving towards the spot he and Paula had called home after running away, before Ted Michaels had found them. Would the little girl hide there? The little hut they had built was probably gone; it had been two years and there was wind and rain to destroy what they had once taken such pride in having created.Maybe Paula would hide there, and.
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