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glared at Kirk from under his hat wide brimmed cowboy hat. "Fine, just don't touch anything. Besides, there isn't much to see. But knock yourself out anyway."
    Muttering a thanks, Kirk turned and headed to the front door. He ducked under the police line and headed in the direction where he thought the cafeteria might be. The correctional facility or as Kirk called it-- prison , stink- ing liberals liked to gussy up the place to make it seem like a four star resort, had the usual amenities. To the west, we have for your viewing pleasure a beautiful concrete wall with razor wire at the top just for looks I assure you! Kirk made a sick grin and looked up at the building that stood in front of him. All the buildings were one story and made of concrete and brick. Not many windows or bushes and to Kirk's surprise no garden of petunias to add some color to the drab surroundings. The front doors were open and a paramedic wheeled by him pushing a gurney with a black body bag strapped to it like a dark Christmas gift from hell. Kirk wandered down the hall, then to the left through two sets of double doors. He smelled stale milk, mashed potatoes, and followed his nose to the cafeteria. Food was everywhere, and trays were still sitting on the tables, some overturned on the floor spilling gravy and corn in a splash on the cold concrete floor. It was like someone had frozen time and then everyone just disappeared. Metal tables in neat rows just like the pictures Kirk had seen in the confer-
SWEET
    DREAMS
    39
    ence just hours earlier, but with one distinct difference, no bodies were there with stunned looks on their faces and fear in their eyes. A few CSI agents were collecting samples and labeling them in plastic bags over a few rows from where Kirk watched.
    "I thought you guys would be done by now." One of the agents looked up at Kirk when he spoke and broke the deafening silence. He was a man of less then average stature and had thick blond hair that kept falling in his face every time he looked down.
    "We were done. But after we didn't find anything abnormal in the samples we gathered the first time, we decided to come back to get samples from all the food bins in the kitchen, as well as something from every tray."
    "It doesn't make any sense," the other agent, a brunette in her mid-twenties with a slim waist and wearing a white button up top and black slacks which looked funny to Kirk with the latex gloves. "If it was in the food, it would have killed the guards who according to them had eaten the same thing as the rest of the inmates."
    "What about something airborne?" Kirk asked. A gas or something,"
    "No. That would have done the same thing. It would have killed anyone within range." The short one, looking to be in his thirties, scratched his head and pushed away a loose strand of blond hair from his face.
    "Do any of you have a card?" Kirk said. The pretty brunette reached in her pocket, and pulled out a white card and handed it to him. "Thanks. I might call you in a few days to see if you have anything new, I am working with the FBI on this one, never thought I would work with the Feds..." Kirk trailed off and muttered something in almost a whisper.
    "No problem. This one's a mystery," she said. Kirk looked around a little more, and then went back to the kitchen where the meals were prepared. Sifting through a file cabinet that sat in a back corner, he found a paper that looked like a purchase order.
    One hundred pounds of flour, twenty-five cases of Mac and Cheese... All the items on the P.O. looked like they came from the same place, Simco Foods.
    Good, he thought, shoving one of them in his pocket. We've got a lead. He looked through the rest of the files and didn't find anything about who they bought their bedding from. He wrote down a note to himself on a beat up old notebook that he kept in his back pocket, to remind himself later to look into it. Closing the file drawer, he headed back to the hall and wandered around and