[central Smithfield, NC]

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming,” said Sylvie when I arrived in the diner.

"I had a bit of personal business to take care of. That's all done so we can get out of here."

“Where are we going now?”

“Later. I’ll tell you later but first, you need to go into the PD, and drop off your car keys at the desk.”

“Nothing like broadcasting our intent to drop out of sight is there?”

“Sort of making a clean break and saying to ‘the man’ that for a while, we don’t want to be followed. While you are at it, you can ditch the SIM Card from your phone in the trash bin that is at the Bus Depot. I’ll meet you in the street behind the depot with our new set of wheels. I don’t want to put the people we are going to meet in danger of retaliation by you know who.”

“A bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”

I laughed.
“No. But that street is not covered by CCTV as it is a place where the local hookers pick up their clients. Some of those clients are shall we say people of importance to the local community and therefore… You fill in the blanks.”

“You appear to know this area pretty well then?”

I nodded my head.
“Look out the window and to the top floor of the building opposite. That is where I relieved a crook of his manhood, if you know what I mean. The local PD wanted to charge me with manslaughter. The fact that I’d been operated on without either my permission or that of my legal guardian, seemed to have slipped their mind. I gently suggested to them that no jury would convict me after I’d taken my top off in front of them and showed them the scars and told them in graphic detail what he had done to me and what he was going to use me for. Then there was his past criminal record, so they just looked the other way while I walked out. I read the report of the jerk’s funeral online. The then Chief of Police read the eulogy, and praised him to high heaven as a great citizen. Strange that eh?”

“Is there anyone that you don’t have dirt on?”

I laughed.
“Millions and millions. It is easy to watch people when you are invisible to them. The homeless mostly don’t even register on their ‘human index’. I could sit in the shadows outside almost any PD in the country all day and observe the comings and goings and over 90% of the time, no one would bat an eyelid at the homeless person who was not panhandling. Most people don't want us to exist so they tune us out of their world.”

“How long ago was it that your mother died?”
I was surprised by her change of subject but I quickly realized that neither she nor Amy had ever asked me when my mom had died.

“Five years, nine months and five days give or take a couple of days.”

Sylvie didn’t say another word but shook her head. After a brief pause, she headed off towards the PD HQ.

---

“This is a nice truck,” said Sylvie as we left Smithfield.

“1970 Ford F-100 but with a lot more power, uprated suspension and drivetrain.”

“I didn’t think that you were a petrol head?”

I laughed.
“Not me. My friend. She loves getting her hands dirty and beating the men at custom car shows. Being taken down by someone who looks like a big fat black momma complete with a headscarf and a floral dress is a wonderful sight to see believe me. She learned to weld and fix vehicles during a stint with the Peace Corps in Angola after their civil war in the 1970s. Some of those ‘good ole boys’ respect her for her abilities but many just treat her as someone who should be working the fields. Queenie could whip most of their asses.”

“Sounds like quite a woman.”

“She is that and she cooks a mean plate of cheesy grits and black-eyed peas.”

Sylvie didn’t react as I turned west towards Raleigh.

“I’m sure that there is a place along I-40 that would serve them… if you are so inclined?”

“I’ll pass on them. This Maine gal is more of a seafood fan even though the dry heat of Phoenix is not the best place for that but it does have some great TexMex food...”

“Settle down and try to get some sleep. I’ll need to stop for gas in a couple of hours. You can take over then.”

“Without knowing where I’m going?”

“Somewhere along I-40 or close to it. Isn’t that good enough?”

"Ok, what are we going to pick up at the next drop box?"

“How about the final nail in his coffin?”

“Where is this nail… Generally speaking?”

“We need to go see a man about a bear…”

“A bear?”

“He’s a great guy if a bit odd by the standards that most people go by, but he has a heart of gold. He lives in a cave up in the hills and he’s a Vietnam Vet who won the Silver Star carrying his wounded Lieutenant to safety while under fire.”

Sylvie shook her head in disbelief.

“How did you meet him?”

“Later, I’ll tell you later.”

“Then what? As in when we get this information?”

“We go public with it. Social media and mainstream as well. Then if the worst thing happens and I don’t get to testify, the evidence is out there for all to see. At the very least, his political ambitions will end there and then”

“This must be pretty damming evidence?”

I was about to admonish her when I remembered that she was not present during that part of my deposition.

“How about some still pictures and a video recording of the esteemed Governor strangling his mistress while his head of security watches?”

“That’s pretty damming.”

I smiled.
“It is although it was pretty horrific at the time. I had to resist charging over there and trying to stop him. Another one of his goons was standing guard on the street. I’d probably have ended up in the trunk of his Caddy on my way to a watery grave.”

“That must have taken a lot of self-control?”

“It did and I promised there and then that one day, I’d see him rot in hell. I have to remember the promise that I made to mom and that was to see him face justice for his crimes and to her, justice meant legal justice, not mob justice.”

Sylvie closed her eyes, but the ancient bench seats in the F-100 are not the most comfortable ones in the world as I drove the Ford into the night. I suspected that any sleep she managed to get was not going to be very relaxing.

As I drove west along I-40, I let myself dare to think about the end game. The one that gets me back in front of a Grand Jury in DC with all this evidence would be the hardest thing I’d ever done. I knew I could not do it alone. I had to trust Sylvie implicitly. So far, she had shown that she had my back. That in itself was a new thing for me. For years it had just been me against the world. Perhaps for not much longer?
I admonished myself for even thinking that. I had to get justice for my mom first.

We swapped over some two hours later at a gas station. Sylvie looked exhausted, but she put a brave face on it.

---

[I-40 West near Jackson, TN, two hours after dawn]

Sylvie pulled off the interstate and stopped in front of a 24-hour diner. She gave me a nudge, but I'd been dozing for the last ten minutes. My internal clock had woken me in plenty of time.

“I need some coffee,” explained Sylvie as she stifled a yawn.

“And breakfast. We made good time overnight. We are only 50 miles or so from our destination.”

Sylvie started to say something but stopped for a second or so.
“Isn’t it time you trusted me a bit more?”

Talk about a low blow… she’d socked it to me and I’d taken the blow right in my gut.

"Sorry, Sylvie, it is only out of habit. Being on my own for so long and not knowing if the person I’m speaking to is in the pay of my father.”

She smiled at me.
“I get it. That sort of thing takes time to get over.”

“Thanks for bearing with me on this. It won’t be for much longer, I promise.”

---

After breakfast, Sylvie filled up the truck once more, and I paid for it using some of my cash. I hadn't let on that I had retrieved several thousand dollars from the cache at Queenies. I'd have to tell her later, but it could wait. I know that she’d wanted me to trust her more but it was hard, very hard. I’d learned the hard way while on the road that trusting anyone was a sign of weakness. I would take time for me to truly trust her.

While I was paying for the gas, I also purchased a road map of Tennessee which we consulted after driving away from the pumps to nearby a parking lot.

“Ok, I said to Sylvie. This is where we are going.”

I pointed to an area on the Cumberland River in Stewart County.

“There isn’t a lot there other than the river,” remarked Sylvie.

"There is a civil war battlefield, but that's about it. That's where the person we are going to see lives,” I said as I pointed to a large area of forest.

“Ok, shall we head off?”

I shook my head.
“Before we go, we need a couple of burner phones. Preferably ones with a camera. We’ll need some technology to post the photos online.”

“They cost money? Aren’t you running low on cash? I have about 20 bucks in cash, and I guess that you don't want me to use an ATM?”

"Sorry, Sylvie, I refreshed my purse when I picked up the truck. I have more than enough for what we want."

“What did I say about trusting me?”

"I know, but you didn't need to worry until now, did you?"

“Ok, you have a point but…?”

I tapped myself on the wrist.

She smiled.

“When we are in the big box store that is just down the road, we should get some more comfortable clothes and some boots for outdoor. A couple of rain jackets would be good if those clouds are anything to go by?”

“You might be right there,” said Sylvie as she put the truck into drive.

---

It was nearly mid-morning by the time we’d finished our shopping for the day. We’d added some groceries to the trolley. Those would keep us going for a couple of days if we were careful.

I drove us out of the parking lot at the store and took the road north. The rain that had threatened had passed us by, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some wet weather gear around. The weather in the hills can change as quickly as it takes to fill the Ford tank with gas.

As the road climbed, the scenery changed. Because of the time I’d spent in this area, it was comforting to see familiar flora and fauna again plus it was good to be out of DC. I was starting to hate big cities. They smell something awful.

My mind went back to the clean fresh air of the cabin. I had to work hard to push those thoughts to the back of my mind.

---

Everything seemed to be going well until I noticed one of those monster RAM trucks coming up behind us. He would come right up to our rear and then drop back. Every time he approached, the closer he got.
“The guy behind us seems to be in rather a hurry,” I remarked to Sylvie.

She adjusted her position so that she could see the truck in the nearside door mirror.

“He’s flashing his lights at us,” I said.

“There is plenty of road for him to get past. I wonder what he wants?” said Sylvie.

“Us,” I said just as ‘Dixie’ started playing from the row of air horns that adorned the roof of the truck’s cab.

“Us! You might be right.”

“Two women alone in an out of state truck could be considered fair game to a lot of these ‘good old boys,” I said hoping that I was hiding my fear.

“Message understood,” said Sylvie as she reached into her purse for her FBI revolver and badge.

“Put the badge away. It seems that these people do not like the Government. Look at the hood on that truck.”

As the Ford climbed out of a dip in the road, the hood on the RAM became visible. It was painted with the Confederate Flag and in the middle was a portrait of Robert E Lee. Another blast of ‘Dixie’ echoed through the wooded valley.

“Don’t these people know that 1865 was over a hundred and fifty years ago?”

“To many in this part of the country, the south never surrendered. Confederate General Robert E Lee used to say, ‘“Save your Confederate money, boys. The South will rise again.' To these people, the surrender at Appomattox was just fake news, and they are just waiting for the call to arms; when the fight will start again. Many in power today would like nothing more than for all the southern states to secede from the Union.”

“You sure know your history for someone who never graduated high school.”

“Going into a Public Library and looking at the local history section plus the local newspapers if they still exist, are great ways to get an idea of the vibe of an area.”

Sylvie laughed.
“You could do well teaching cadets at Quantico.”

“Fat chance of that. I’d never pass the security clearance. My father is an indicted perp or perhaps you have forgotten?”

All the time we were talking we’d both been watching the truck in the mirrors. It was now right on our tail. The driver was getting a bit excited. His passenger was just as animated. They kept on playing ‘Dixie’ as if a mere song would get us to surrender.

“This guy means business. What can we do?” asked Sylvie as she checked the bullets in her gun for at least the third time.

“Ever fired that toy gun in anger?” I asked more out of interest than anything.

"No, but there is always a first time," she replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Then there is Plan B. Hold on tight. I’m about to let him know that he is far too close to us.”

Sylvie tensed up and held onto the grab handle on the roof above the passenger door.

“When we get the next blast of 'Dixie'. I'm going to hit the brakes. Lets' see how that modern piece of crap can stand up to a bed made of steel plate.

As soon as the next blast of ‘dixie’ came, I hit the brakes hard. At the same time, I hoped that Queenie was right about the upgraded brakes.

There was an almighty bang from the back of the F-100. The RAM dropped back. I could see that multiple airbags had deployed but were slowly deflating with a telltale hiss. The brakes on the Ford were even better than I’d hoped for.

I quickly brought the F-100 to a stop.
“We need to get them out of the truck before they recover,” said Sylvie.
“We don’t know what pieces they are carrying!”

As I got out of the Ford, I pulled a large tire iron from under the driver’s seat. Queenie always carried one there in all her vehicles.

The two occupants of the RAM were just freeing themselves from the almost all-encompassing airbags. I could hear an awful lot of cursing coming from inside the cab.

I flung open the driver’s door of the RAM and pulled him out and onto the pavement. Any later, and the element of surprise would have gone.

My boots found the top of his back. I pressed down hard and waved the tire iron in front of his face.
“Any thoughts you might have about resisting will result in this tire iron coming into contact with your skull. Understand?”

“Ok. Ok.”

"How are you doing, Sylvie?" I called out.

“This one is cuffed to the door. What next partner?”

“Who the fuck are you two bitches?”

“Representatives of the people you hate,” said Sylvie

“Fuck Feds! DEA, I'll bet?"

I smiled.
“No sweet pea, Revenuers.”

He shuddered. If there was one part of the Federal Government these types hated more than anyone else were the people from the Revenuers.

“You chose the wrong pair of bitches to try to have some fun with.”

“What the fuck did you do to my truck?”

“It is amazing what the damage a truck bed made from a one-and-a-half-inch thick steel plate can do?”

“You will pay for this. Don’t you know who my Pa is?”

“No, I don’t. Who is he?”

“He’s the County Commissioner.”

“Tough shit. My Pa is a Governor.”

“Of what?”

“A whole frigging state numb-nuts. I guess my Pa trumps your Pa.”

“What are you going to do with us?”

As he asked the question, I had a brilliant idea about what we should do with this pair.
“We are going to make fools of you on Social-Media. I’m guessing here that we aren’t the first women you two have terrorized. All those people will have a great laugh at your expense.”

I called out to Sylvie,
"Partner, in the glovebox of the Ford there is a packet of zip ties. How about we leave this pair zip-tied to two trees… naked. Then a few pictures of them on Social Media and their embarrassment will be felt two states away."

“You are cruel partner, just cruel, but I like it.”

“Right sunshine, you first,” I said to my prisoner.

“Just you wait. We will hunt you down and skin you like a rabbit. You will not escape.”

“And then you will have every Fed in the country on your tail? Do you want to live the rest of your lives on the run? You will become as hunted as Bigfoot,” said Sylvie from the far side of the RAM.

He didn’t argue.

"Right sunshine, strip. Everything off, and don't forget to fold your clothes neatly just like your momma taught you.”

He glared back at me but started taking his clothes off. I heard Sylvie sniggering from behind my back.

---

Fifteen minutes later, the two jerks were zip-tied to two trees as naked as the day that they were born. Sitting neatly in front of them were their neatly folded clothes with their boots on top. It was a perfect picture.

“Well Partner, what are we going to do with this heap of junk?” asked Sylvie after we’d taken a load of photos. I guessed that she was talking about the RAM. A line of coolant had spread across the road due to the camber.

I walked her away from the trees and said quietly,
“Make sure that all your prints on the RAM are wiped clean. Yours are on record. If anyone is to take the heat for this let it be me. I’m still a minor in case you haven’t noticed by now.”

“Just for one more week. Remember that.”

“True. I’ll drive the RAM over the edge into the ravine before it seizes up due to a lack of cooling. That will make sure that it is a total write-off.”

"And still on dealer tags. Such a shame!" joked, Sylvie.

---

From start to finish, the whole incident lasted less than twenty minutes. I drove off leaving them alone with the trees and the flies.

“That was an unexpected high,” said Sylvie.

I couldn’t help noticing the huge grin on Sylvie’s face.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” I remarked.

“It certainly got the adrenaline flowing, but the best bit was when you used your fathers’ position to your advantage.”

It took a second or so for what she’d said to register.
“I did, didn’t I? That was the first and last time I’ll do that.”

The more I thought about it, the harder it was to stop myself from giggling yet at the same time, the specter of him killing my mom was right there in my mind. I put that down to the crucial bit of evidence that we were going to pick up.

“It was a lot of fun, but I really don't want to even think about how I could start writing the report on this,” said Sylvie in her ‘serious FBI voice’.

“Don’t. Don’t report it. Those guys were top class jerks. We have no idea how many other women they've tried to force off the road in the past? I’d wager a good hundred bucks that we are not the first women that they have terrorized in some form since they reached puberty, if not before.”

“I’ll agree with you on that one.”

We continued north in silence for almost 10 miles.

“What next partner? You were as good as any Quantico trained agent back there.”

"Thanks, partner. As for where we are going, we are going to a rural post office about fifteen miles away. I need to ask the lady who runs it about a friend of mine. She'll know where he is."

“This friend sounds a bit of a strange one?”

“He is. As I said before, he is a Vietnam Veteran. His name is Zeb James. He won the Silver Star for rescuing his Lieutenant from heavy Viet Cong fire as well as two purple hearts. Like a lot of Vets from back then and even more so now, something snapped inside him while on his last tour of duty. He came here and went up into the woods. He’s lived in a cave and several other hideouts for over forty years. He comes down every so often to the Post Office to collect his VA benefits, and get some groceries and stuff. Most of the time, he lives off the land.”

“How did you meet him if he is that much of a recluse?”

“Accidents do happen. In my case, I was sideswiped by a panel van in the town of Paris. I woke up in the ER. Zeb was in the next bed. Some jerk had left a spring-loaded bear trap in the woods. It broke his ankle when he stepped on it as he went after a jackrabbit. He crawled for over ten miles on his hands and knees to get help.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Sylvie sighed.
“Isn’t there always an ‘and’, something else to your stories?”

“This all happened when I’d been on the road for about ten months. The Hospital wanted to hand me over to CPS, but Zeb came to my aid and gave me the location of his cave right there in the ER. I memorized it plus the name of his friend at the Post Office. He did it because he said that I was like him in so many ways that we were on the fringes of society.”

I slowed down to make a turn before continuing.
“Thanks to a diversion created by Zeb, I skipped out of the Hospital and walked to the Post Office. That took me two days, but I owed it to Zeb to live up to the promise I'd made him in the Hospital. I had directions from the Post Office to his home. After a bit of trouble, I found his cave where I stayed for three months. Zeb joined me after a week. I helped him with his rehab. In return, he taught me how to shoot both a pistol and a rifle.”

“Hey... hold on a moment. Didn’t you tell me that the Judge taught you to shoot a rifle badly?”

“I did. A girl can’t reveal all her secrets all at once, can she? I even downed a six-pronged buck from a hundred yards," I replied, grinning from ear to ear.

Sylvie just shook her head in disbelief. This getting to be a common occurrence.

---

I pulled the Ford up outside a gas station that looked like it had been time travelled from the late 1950s. A small wooden building to one side had all the markings of a rural US Post Office complete with the local ZIP Code, the state and US flags were flying from two poles. Every time I came here, it looked more surreal than the last.

The front door to the Post Office was propped open by an old moonshine bottle complete with a closed wire stopper on the top. That particular bottle had been there for at least twenty years from what Zeb had told me in Hospital. It was used as a sign to locals that things were ‘ok’ inside. If they weren’t then the stopper would be open.

We entered the building. Despite the open door, it was a lot cooler inside than out in the early afternoon heat.

“Hello! Is there anyone there?” I called out.

“Just a moment. I’ll be right out,” came a voice from a room at the rear.

Less than a minute later, a woman in her early fifties emerged. She was wiping her hands on a towel.

“Hello. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Then she saw my face.

“Tiffany! Is that really you?”

"Yes. It is really me, alive and kicking," I replied smiling.

She came around from behind the counter, and we gave each other a hug. When we broke apart, I smiled and said,

"Sylvie, meet, Sylvie"

The two women looked at each other and laughed. That made me happy.

“It has been a long time, Tiffany. You have grown into a lovely woman,” said PO Sylvie.

“Thanks. Far too long. I’m here now. I was hoping to get a location for Zeb? Is he still up at the cave?”

The smile on PO Sylvie’s face disappeared.

“Zeb died a month or so back.”

“Was it a bear? He told me that was how he wanted to go!"

“He always said that, but it wasn’t.” He was found by a man out with his dogs near the river. He’d been gutted like a fish by a two-legged animal.”

I felt a shudder go through my body.

“That is a horrible way to go.”

"It is, and almost everyone around these parts was in shock. Zeb might have been a very ornery person, but he kept the local bear population down which kept everyone safe."

“Any clues about who did it?” asked Sylvie.

"There is a lot of gossip. Boss Jones's kids are top of the list. They have had a good number of run-ins with Zeb over the years. They’d do it just to anger their Pa, and to prove that they are just as ornery as him. Those boys are plum crazy. Their old truck was fished out of the river about ten miles downstream with both blind drunk on the local shine but the cops just hauled them out and let their Pa tear them off a strip but it probably won’t do a thing. That happened a few weeks ago.”

I had heard about their antagonism toward each other.
“Don’t they know that without Zeb that they’d not be on this good earth?”

I turned to Sylvie.
“Boss Jones’s father was the officer that Zeb rescued in ‘Nam.”

“Oh fuck! What did we do just now?” exclaimed FBI Sylvie who had just grasped the enormity of the situation.

PO Sylvie pricked up her ears.
“What happened?”

“Do his sons drive a new RAM truck with the Confederate Flag on the hood?”

"Yeah, why?"

“They decided to have a little fun with two women on their own,” I replied.
“Only, they came off worse.”

I showed PO Sylvie one of the pictures of the two men.

After she’d stopped laughing, she became deadly serious.

“When they get free, they will be on the warpath with guns. Lots of guns. If I were you, I’d hit the road and fast!”

"Thanks, Sylvie. We won’t stay long then.”

“Don’t go for a minute. I have something for you.”

I looked at FBI Sylvie and shrugged my shoulders.

She ducked into the room at the back. After some sounds of rummaging, she returned with six packages, all wrapped in brown paper and heavily taped. Zeb's name was very visible on them along with the address of the building in which we now stood.

“These are yours. Zeb made me keep them for you. He never wanted to open them. He said that what was in them was your insurance policy against your Pa?”

I suddenly became aware that my heart was racing.

"Thanks, Sylvie. Thanks for looking after them. The contents of these will hopefully help us take down my father once and for all."

I looked at the postmarks on the packages and opened the oldest. I pulled out a USB stick.

“This contains the video of my father strangling my mother,” I said quietly.
Then I pulled a photo out of the envelope.

“There you are.”

Both Sylvie’s gasped as they saw the image of a man with his hands around the neck of a woman.

“That is pure dynamite,” said PO Sylvie.
“I think that lot of very bad people will pay an awful lot of money to make those disappear.”

“Sylvie, you have probably never said a truer word,” said FBI Sylvie.

[to be continued]
[authors Note]
The people described in this chapter who are from Smithfield NC and any other place for that matter, are a figment of my imagination and bear no semblance to any others living or dead. This is a work of fiction after all…

Revenuers:
This term is especially associated with the efforts of the IRS to prevent the illegal production and distribution of alcohol during the period of Prohibition in the U.S. Given the location of the incident, it is highly likely that their family were still in the moonshine business.