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garage. K giggled with glee and she clutched Marks hand and pulled him up the stairs and into the front lobby. "Mark, you sneak. How did you get us a room?
    They're always booked."
    "Not just a room. I got our room!" Grinning, Mark flinched as K tried to hit him in the arm. Mark could see where Sam got all of her energy from. Like mother, like daughter.
    The lobby had smooth cream-colored marble floors with bright red leather couches and fluffy chairs in the same soft red color. A fireplace raged in the sitting room and an older man who looked like he was used to the finer things in life sipped a cup of coffee and watched the fire from the closer of the two couches. He was lost in the yellow firelight thinking of what his life amounted to or maybe remembering a love he had once had that was just as hot as the fire in which he stared. Mark looked away from the man and went up to the tall light colored front counter to check in.
    The room was everything they had remembered, it was as if time was reversed and it was their very first time together as husband and wife. The fire was burning in the living room fireplace and it sent soft orange and white light throughout the room. Candles flickered on the nightstand next to the dark coffee brown bed, K turned her eyes to Mark, and they took on the light from the fire and seemed to come alive, like a firefly on the first night of spring. Her soft hands took Marks and she led him to the bedroom through a set of French doors. Her long, blond hair was that of an angel and Mark could see each strand as it curled down around her shoulders. Mark tried to say something but K put one finger to his lips, reached behind her, and closed the door.
    Mark knew that the way he felt tonight, how his heart pounded in his throat, that this was something special, something that you don't find by accident. No, this was love, true love that you couldn't fake or manufacture. Every day he grew more and more in love with K, and he could not wait to grow old with her.
    "I love you, K..."
    ________________________________________

    REPORTERS RAN EVERYWHERE LIKE ants after some-
SWEET
    DREAMS
    37
    one had just kicked in the anthill. The prison had an odd presence about it. It was like death had moved in and even after he had done his work with his boney fingers, the stench of his soul lingered.
    Kirk was used to seeing guards high up in towers and roaming the grounds and inmates in orange jump suits working out or playing courtyard ball. However, this looked like a movie set, and the cameras were not rolling.
    Most of the bodies were already at the CSI crime lab so the mortician could examine them further. Kirk got out of his car, flashed his badge at the officer who was trying to keep the mob of reporters back with not much success. He was a fat out of shape cop with dark sunglasses on and a radio in his hand. The pot-bellied cop let him pass with just a look. He had been swarmed with FBI and detectives all day and to him what was one more goon tromping around the crime scene?
    "What a mess-- vultures. They all want a piece," Kirk muttered as he looked back over his shoulder. Finding the poor sap who was supposed to be in charge was easy. He was the one barking out orders, holding a blueprint of the prison in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other.
    "Hey, cap! You the man around here?" Kirk didn't bother taking off his mirror finish sun glasses, and he knew it was a sign of disrespect but he was never good at the whole butt kissing thing.
    "Yeah. Who wants to know?" His thick mustache curled as he spoke and he talked out only one side of his mouth.
    "The name's Kirk, Kirk Weston, DPD. I'm here with the FBI trying to get a look around, if I could," he said while holding up his badge so the captain could get a closer look. He could tell the middle-aged police captain didn't like someone else stomping around in his crime scene, and he didn't blame him. Heck, he didn't even want to be here. The captain