The Farmer s DaughterEpilogue
Deputy James Flanigan of the U.S. Marshals parked in front of the old and worn double-wide trailer. A beat-up Ford Bronco II sat parked alongside the oil saturated driveway. Flanigan glanced at his passenger. Ronald, “Dude, call me Ronnie,” Thomas, sat there with a confused expression. Ronnie said, “Why are we here? I thought I was going into the witness protection program?” Flanigan sighed; why did he always get the dumb ones. “Mr. Thomas, you’re going to need your clothes, and maybe you...