Alan strode into the foyer and up to the desk. ‘Mr Fisher please, I have to see him immediately.’ The receptionist looked at the register, ‘I�...m sorry sir, but Mr. Fisher is not registered at the hotel.’ ‘Well he is here somewhere I have an appointment with him,’ Alan lied. ‘He could still be in the restaurant, sir.’ Alan was becoming agitated as he stepped through the doorway, the Maître’D approached. ‘I’m looking for Thomas Fisher, is he here?’ ‘Mr. Fisher is not dining here today, sir,’ he. She was a smart, successful businesswoman. There was no need to lose it. But as she looked out the window, it was very tough not to. She saw only a field of white snow with distant trees. A wind was blowing the snow in fine wisps. Someone had taken her far from home. It didn’t even look like Massachusetts. It looked north. ?Who are you!? she finally screamed, hoping they were listening or watching. She saw nothing on the walls or ceiling. It was just a shed, and even standing away. More

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