Day Two, later

Tonight we're staying in Salina. Honestly, we probably could have made it to Denver if I hadn't forced Zim to stop in Wamego for the Oz museum, and then again for the world's largest prairie dog. But after what happened at dinner, I think we're both too shook up to keep moving.

We stopped at a Mexican restaurant called Gutierrez. We're sitting there, feeling pretty good with our margaritas and enchiladas and what have you, when a woman screams and this terrible commotion starts up in the back of the restaurant.

Someone had gone into the women's restroom and found a six-year old boy, crumpled against the far wall. Dead. With blood on his lips and chin and draining from the back of his head.

And if that wasn't horrible enough, no one in the restaurant claimed him. Unidentified. There alone? How?

Of course no one was allowed to leave for hours. And Zim and I got some suspicious looks when we explained why we were in town and that we'd be gone tomorrow. We're now on file somewhere in Salina, Kansas, hopefully listed as witnesses and not suspects.

As I write this, I'm sitting uneasily on the hotel bed, glued to the local channels for any hint of news. So far, not even a photo or a call to help with identification. So far, as far as you know, this never happened.

I'm having a hard time believing it myself.

I'll be happy to put Salina behind us. There's no way I can sleep in this city.