Nent one<br >thers--<br >sure I m<br >does.<br >3n or<br >~ronlc，<br >ncluding<br >~omOo<br >of Ulo<br >d.<br >nalJon of<br >the same<br >div ~ual<br >~ntion.<br >.A.<br >ed with<br >~ice. the<br >WITH GREAT INTEREST， Amanda Barker peeked into<br >the locker room. She d been at the fire station--hound-<br >ing himmmany times， but she d never ventured into<br >this private area.<br > There was a partitioned off s~hower area adjacent to<br >the room， and steam from :~ecent use still crept<br >around the ceiling， leaving the ~tr damp and thick. A<br >few of the lockers stood open and empty. Discarded<br >white towels littered the floor， the benches and an ar-<br >ray of varnished wooden chairs. Amanda wrinkled<br >her nose. The room smelled of men and smoke， soap<br > and sweat.<br > Except for the smoke， it wasn t an unpleasant odor.<br > On the far wall， opposite the door she d entered， a<br >framed copy of the Firefighter s Prayer hung slightly<br >askew， droplets of water beading on the glass cover.<br >Next to that， a plaque reading Always Loved， Never<br >Forgotten， listed local firefighters who had died in<br >community service.<br > Amanda drew a shaky breath and crept inside. The<br ><br >