Entering the shipping yard this time, it feels different. My expectations are lower. I know before we even wake the owner that this is not where she is.

I'm not sure how I know. It's just a feeling in my bones. And if anyone else told me such a load of horse sh*t, I'd give them a good rollicking.

I try to ignore the feeling as we search the various shipping containers but just as the sun begins to rise, I have no choice but to accept that she really isn't here.

That's ...