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and wouldn’t be at the Kennedy Space Center. Guilt over her outburst the previous night, chipped away at her conscience, and although she understood her anger had originated with Ken’s actions, it would be best not to see Steve so soon after breaking a wine glass, a new low for Kelly.
    When she arrived at the Kennedy Space Center—she followed the signs to the visitor’s parking lot, locked the car, and entered through the visitor’s entrance.
    Inside, relics from past space missions—some dating back to the early sixties—filled the place, perched atop pedestals, protected behind Plexiglas cases, even hanging from the ceiling. Earlier space capsules, long retired, sat among other relics, allowing visitors to look inside and consider the bravery it had taken for a man to climb into such a primitive vehicle and be hurtled toward the stars. A limited glimpse of the unlimited human imagination.
    Black and white photos of the earliest days of the space program told a visual story of America’s space exploration. Floor-to-ceiling photographs and murals of space missions and moonwalks covered the walls of the visitor’s center. Fascinated, Kelly wished she had time to look around, but the presentation started in fifteen minutes. She would have to bring Lacy to see all this, once they’d settled in.
    She headed straight to the ticket counter and flashed her News Journal ID. “Hi, I’m with the Daytona Beach News Journal . I’m here for the one o’clock—”
    Before she could finish, the man behind the desk handed her a media pass and a sheet with directions to the auditorium. She slipped the lanyard around her neck and studied the map.
    Piece of cake.
    She ventured off through the crowd of visitors, took several wrong turns, and at last found the auditorium. Waving her pass at the doorman, she hurried inside and took her seat just seconds before the doors closed and the guest lecturer approached the podium.
    The lights dimmed. The speaker, a renowned jet propulsion specialist and now EPA inspector, welcomed them all. He proceeded to tell them about jet fuel and its effect on planet Earth, particularly the miniscule piece of land occupied by Cape Canaveral. Kelly scribbled notes while he talked.
    “The good news,” he said, “is the study shows no negative effects on the surrounding area. The bad news is that military bases all over the United States are to blame for continuing to leak unhealthy amounts of a chemical called perchlorate into the water and food supplies of their surrounding areas. Various negative effects are still being studied across the country, especially around California’s military bases.”
    By the time the speaker finished, Kelly had numerous pages with notes and quotes. She stood to applaud the speaker as he left the podium.
    Following the speech, a tour guide escorted them around the complex, including the Space Flight Simulation Room, astronaut training areas, and the launch pads from which the space shuttles and Titan rockets blasted off. Next, their guide lead them on tours of the Vehicle Assembly Building, Launch Control Center, and lastly, to meet an astronaut. Kelly’s note pad filled up fast.
    On their way back to the main building and visitor’s entrance, the group cut through several buildings, at last reaching NASA’s engineering offices. They were told they would be able to ask some of the engineers and scientists questions. Deep in conversation with a journalist from the Miami Herald , Kelly looked up and spotted Steve crossing from one office to another a short way down the hall.
    Her breath caught in her throat, and she lagged back a step. He lied to me!
    “Are you okay?” The Miami journalist’s eyes narrowed with concern.
    “Uh, yeah… uh, I think I stepped on something.” Kelly bent over, pretending to examine the floor beneath her feet. “Hmm, don’t see any thing.”
    He didn’t leave town after all. She fumed. Apparently, Steve McCarthy wasn’t as