The sirens of the ambulance screamed its warning to drivers as it sped through traffic. On a gurney in the back, Lantana clung to Sam's hand and stared at the ceiling. Sam held her hand in both of his strong hands. The terror in her face was obvious. In the front seat, Michael was looking back at her and wondering.

Michael looked at the papers he had found in the attic. Lantana's private middle school identification tag was one item in the stack. It was a normal ID, the size of a driver's license, and had a clip to wear it on her clothes.

"Lantana Irene Kempton," Michael said aloud as he read it. "This is from twenty years ago. So, she's thirty-four now." He looked back at the woman again. "Has she been there all this time?," he asked, mostly himself.

At the emergency room door, the paramedics removed Lantana's gurney from the ambulance and hurried her into the hospital and into a examination room. Lantana was still clinging to Sam's hands in both of hers as he walked quickly alongside the gurney. She pulled against the nurses and orderlies as they pinned down her left arm. A nurse gently gave her an injection. She nodded at the orderlies and spoke to Sam. Michael was sure she was asking him to stay with Lantana until she calmed down and went to sleep. Sam nodded. He could feel Lantana's grip on his hands relaxing.

In the corridor, Michael stopped the nurse. "Is that all you can do?," he asked her. "Give her a shot?"

"A sedative," the nurse said. "Until the psychiatrist can evaluate her. But it seems to be severe post-traumatic stress and maybe agoraphobia also. But she seems to trust that man. Where was she when you found her?"

"Locked in an attic," Michael replied. "Maybe for twenty years. Can you believe that?"

"That would surely cause this," the nurse said.

"So, I won't be able to speak with her?," Michael asked.

"Not for awhile," the nurse replied. "She doesn't trust anyone except for him and she's barely even speaking to him. So, she won't be able to hold a meaningful conversation, at least not for awhile."

Michael sighed. "Thank you," he said. The nurse walked away as Michael looked through the window at Lantana. She was now falling asleep and no longer screaming and kicking.

"How is she?," John asked as he approached.

"Will you stop stalking me?," Michael asked with a smile. He then sighed heavily. "She has post-traumatic stress disorder and agoraphobia," he told Blade. "She won't be able to talk to us for awhile, John. She may know very little about what was going on anyway because she was locked in that attic the entire time. It looks like Sam is the only one she trusts. We'll need his help with this until she gets help."

"We need her to talk," Blade said.

"And I am telling you that she is too panicked," Michael said. "She will not be able to tell any of us anything until she decides to herself."

At the house, Jesse searched through Lantana's things in her area of the attic. He found a large box in one corner and opened it. Inside, he saw old photo albums, school yearbooks, and several more of her journals. He got out his phone and dialed.

"Michael, it looks like Lantana had a very good childhood until her father died," Jesse said. "These journals are stories of the all-American family that everyone dreams of. She tells of school, trips with her parents, playing softball and volleyball, and things like parties and sleepovers with friends. She has some friends' names listed here. And there is also an entry when she first got fitted for the hearing aides. She was eleven when they found that she was having trouble hearing. Thirty-percent loss in the right ear and forty-percent loss in the left ear." He looked at Michael. "I want to find some of these friends of hers," he said. "See what they may be able to tell us."

"Thirty years, Jesse," Michael said. "They could be anywhere at all."

"We can locate some, at least," Jesse said. He ended the call and put away his phone.

In the waiting room, Jesse walked in and handed Michael the journals and yearbooks. "Read those journals," he said. This one tells of her father's death."

Michael opened a journal and started to read an entry: "May 16, 1990; My father died two days ago and I still cannot quit crying. He was all I had since Mom died. What am I supposed to do now and where am I supposed to go? The only comfort that I can take is that my father died trying to save a family. I know that he died bravely, but that still does not ease my pain. He was the greatest. I could never have asked for a better father, not even a rich man like Donald Trump. Why do fathers have to die? Especially when they are good and kind and brave and smart? I know that God has a plan, but why does he let these things happen at all? I am so alone now. Nikki has been a great friend and she has been there, giving me her shoulder to cry on."

Michael flipped through the journal. He then closed it. Jesse handed him another one. "This one is earlier than that one," Jesse said. "It ends in Christmas of 1989 and starts in January of 1988. She has one book for each year from ages eight to fourteen."

Sam is still with her," Jesse said. "He was able to do some quick digging and got what I needed. Lantana's father was indeed a decorated SEAL. His name was Rodney Fletcher Kempton. Her mother died when she was only three. Rodney and Lantana moved to Miami two years later and he joined the Navy. He was killed during a rescue attempt. From what we found out, he was assisting in the rescue of some hostages that were being held in a drug stash-house in Cuba and the building exploded, killing him. All but two hostages made it out. Along with Kempton, two other SEALs were lost."

Michael sighed. "Poor Lantana," he said. "They may have been keeping her there to get his pension from her. Military families get the pensions upon a death."

"Sam did a great job with her," Jesse said.

"That may be so, Jesse," Blade said. "But we can't keep bringing in outsider. I like Sam just fine. But, he is not CIA or any other law enforcement official."

"Get approval and get him clearance," Michael said. "Only for this case and only to talk to Lantana. I have a good feeling about that. That woman trusts him. She won't let go of his hands since he got her out of that attic. Once she feels totally comfortable, she may relax and tell him all she knows."

Blade sighed. "I don't know, Michael," she said. "I have bent the rules at times. But, we're all not sure about including him so much."

"Well, this is definitely a time to not only include Sam; but to send him an engraved invitation and a dozen roses," Michael said.

Blade sighed.

"I'm gonna to call him in," Michael said. "I think he's needed." Michael took out his phone and dialed. "Sam, we need you again."

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