“Which way now?” asked Sylvie when she drove us away from the Post Office.

I thought for a moment before replying,
“I’m trying to put myself in the shoes of those two idiots and their father. They will have seen the North Carolina plates on this, and will more than likely be thinking that we’ll be heading back there as fast as we can.”

Sylvie also thought for a moment. Then she nodded her head.

“True, but one phone call to the State Bears and the Interstate will be staked out every few miles. They’ll already be out in force as it is Labor Day weekend after all.”

I had visions of long lines of slow-moving traffic on Friday and for the same thing to be repeated on Monday but in the opposite direction. Living for much of my childhood, not that far from a major interstate does that for you.

“That leaves us with two choices. North to Western Kentucky or south towards Mississippi or Alabama.”

“Not south for obvious reasons. That will be like walking into a bear’s den as they are waking up after hibernation. My father has many friends in those states,” I replied instantly.

“So north it is then.”

“How good are you at navigating? So far it has been pretty straightforward but I think it is time to take the back roads.”

“I’ll consider it a challenge but I’m going to need more maps and using the phone is a big giveaway.”

I looked at the fuel gauge.

“We have enough gas for around 200 miles. That would put us into KY. I suggest that we get over that state line as soon as possible and then take stock.”

Sylvie was silent for several minutes.

“This being on the run might be ok for you but…? I do like my creature comforts.”

I smiled.
"Like a shower, perhaps?"

“And some clean clothes and…”

“A good meal?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we should look out for a cheap motel close I-24. They’ll take cash but the chains want all sorts of ID and credit cards,” I said pointing at a general area on the map.

“True, very true,” said Sylvie.

She seemed deep in thought.
“Out with it?” I asked.

“Oh… Sorry. I was thinking about how boring my life was before I met you.”

“Anything to brighten your day my friend.”

“Just keep us away from the Rednecks, ok?”

---

The motel that we ended up staying at looked like it had been built in the 1950s and had not been touched since. Still, our room was clean even if the overriding smell of Lysol was everywhere. We kept the windows and door open for half an hour which dissipated the odor very nicely. The A/C was exceptionally noisy so the open windows allowed the room to cool down to a decent level without needing industrial strength ear defenders.

That was the upside. The downside was that the room on one side of us was occupied by a couple who seemed to spend the whole night, to put it bluntly, bonking the hell out of each other. Then the occupants of the room on the other side left at about nine leaving the TV on at almost full volume. We guessed that those occupants had been only there for a ‘quickie’.

Sylvie had to flash her badge to the owner to get the TV turned off. He wasn’t going to budge on the couple having loud sex. Sylvie came up with some earplugs that were normally used at the FBI firing range. They drowned out most of the noise which enabled us to at least get some sleep.

Both of us would remember the 'Turkey Farm Motel' with varying degrees of laughter and sadness.[1]

A 24-hr diner just up the street provided a nice breakfast. I ordered the Cheesy Grits with Black Eyed Peas much to Sylvie’s enjoyment. I persuaded her to try a mouthful. She ate it but remained unenthusiastic about this classic dish. I had to admit that these were not a patch on the one that Queenie would cook up on Sunday mornings before she went to church.

“We won’t make DC today,” said Sylvie after consulting a tatty road atlas that was available for everyone to use at the diner.
“We have close to a thousand miles to go and it is a holiday weekend to boot.”

“I sense that you have an idea for where we are going to be doing today?”

She looked at her nearly empty cup of coffee for several seconds before answering.

“I know that the truck belongs to your friend but… I think we should ditch it and get some new wheels. Taking down those two yesterday was a great high but… we both know what would happen if the local cops caught up with us. My FBI creds would only make things worse.”

“Yes. I was thinking about the same thing last night. A small town used car lot would be the place to start looking for a car.”

“That costs money.”

I smiled and opened my purse. I pulled out one of the packages that I’d been keeping in reserve. I gave it to Sylvie.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

She did and her eyes bulged.

“There is over five grand in there.”

I saw a look of concern cross her face.

“It is all clean or it is now because the crimes that it might have been the proceeds of took place at least seven years ago. It was all given to my mom by you know who in payment for sex. Mom put it aside for my education and the statute of limitations on how he came by the money has expired a long time ago.”

Sylvie didn’t move for almost a minute. I guessed that she was fighting with her FBI training and her instincts to throw it all back in my face.

“We have to be extra careful not to get pulled over by the cops carrying all this money,” said Sylvie.

I grinned.
“Oh, you mean civil asset forfeiture?”

“Yes… How do you know about that?”

“I had it happen to me in Oregon. That’s how I met the judge but you are right. I didn’t think about that before we started on this evidence hunt.”

“Ok…”

“I sense a ‘but’?”

“I have to believe you about the money.”

"Look Sylvie, this money was part of the escape plan that mom and I had put in place. She didn't commit a crime and I was well… a kid so I mostly did whatever mom told me to do. She prepared me for the time when she wasn’t around. Are you with me so far?”

Sylvie smiled so I carried on.
“These packages were sent to the lady who owns the F-100 we mostly money. One of them contains my birth certificate and the DNA results. The ones we got from Sylvie at the Post Office also contained some money. I earned most of that over two years ago as a numbers runner in San Jose. Yes, that is technically illegal money but it was paid to me in return for honest work. There is precedent in a similar case and that the money paid for work was provided that it was a comparable sum to what someone in legal work would earn, and would be considered clean. I will admit that getting a lot of tips that I supplied to punters in return for a cut of their winnings could be considered illegal earnings and that I probably owe the IRS some back taxes but as I to my knowledge didn’t have a social security number at the time, it might be hard for them to collect what I owe them."

Sylvie looked at me and laughed.

“You have an answer for everything don’t you?”

I shook my head.
“Not everything but being on my own for so long has allowed me to go over my life in great detail and wonder why I went wrong. Then I thought again and gave thanks for being still here and able to ask those questions. My excuse is that it helps me stay sane.”

“Then you can pay the bill moneybags!” said Sylvie as she stood up from the table and headed for the bathroom.

---

“You do realize that we are still heading north,” asked Sylvie.
“We’ll soon be in Illinois at this rate.”

“So? The more miles we can put between us and the county commissioner the better. If my memory serves me well, the Ohio River is just a few miles farther along this road.”

“Then what?”

“Then we will be two states away from the wrath of the father of those two jerks. As long as we keep north of the Ohio River, we can make our way towards I-70 which as you know will take us most of the way to DC.”

“Hold on there. What about getting a new set of wheels?”

“I’m sure that we’ll pass a good number of used car lots in Indianapolis. If we are careful, we can get some new wheels for cash, no questions asked there, and later dump this one well away from the car lot. Then I propose that we follow the path of I-70 until we get close to DC.”

“What do you mean by the path of I-70?”

“I mean that we use roads that run parallel to it. Much like how the interstates made Route 66 redundant but it still survives. That way we can find some facilities at or close to the various exits of the Interstate. Those should give us places to eat and sleep and to put gas in whatever we end up driving.”

“I think I get you on that,” said Sylvie.

“You don’t sound entirely convinced?”

Just then, we crossed the Ohio River.

“I’m supposed to be the adult here but it is very clear to me that you are running the show.”

“Aren’t I a lot more street-wise than you? Aren’t my experiences of being on the road more relevant to us getting to DC than yours?”

“Yes but?”

“Don’t worry Special Agent Sylvie, when we get inside the Beltway, you are in charge. That’s your fiefdom. Out on the streets is mine is it not?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she replied without a lot of enthusiasm in her voice.

After a few more miles I said,
“It seems to me that our biggest problem, cops permitting, is how we are going to get the information that I have to the right people and to ensure that those people are not in the pay of my father…”

“That is what has been bothering me. I’ve narrowed it down to two choices. Do we go to the FBI which as we know leaks like a sieve, or do we go direct to the DOJ which is, as far as I know, a far tighter ship?”

“The DOJ obviously.”

“The thing is… I don’t have any contacts in the DOJ.”

“We do have one you know.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes.
“Ok, put me out of my misery. Who is it?”

“That obnoxious know it all, smartass lawyer, Lane Webster.”

“Oh him… I have tried to put him out of my mind. To me, he embodies the slimy weasels that give their profession a bad smell like a blocked toilet.”
I had to agree with her about lawyers in general but he seemed to be a decent sort based upon the way he eventually supported me in the deposition but Sylvie wasn’t fully aware of what went on inside that room.
“We are going to have to trust someone else because I have no way of contacting him. I feel such a fool not taking his business card at your deposition.”

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing. What about Amy?”

“She might know… if she hasn’t been deployed elsewhere.”

“It seems like we have a plan.”

---

Plans come and plans go. We didn’t get rid of the F-100 which suited me very well as I’d grown very attached to Queenie’s truck. It ran like a dream and when either of us needed it to, it went like a bat out of hell.

It wasn't for trying but we simply could not agree on what vehicle to get. After looking at four different lots we both decided to take a punt and stick with the our little ‘devil in sheeps clothing’ aka the F150. My reticence over doing a deal on another vehicle proved to be right when that evening in a Motel I found the website for the local newspaper of the county where our little encounter with those two jerks had happened.

As I read it for the second time, I could not stop myself from laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Here read it for yourself,” I said pushing the laptop in her direction.

Sylvie read it and smiled.
“This bit is great. Where it says that despite protestations from their father, the images of them zip-tied to trees have gone viral locally."

“Notice it does not post any of the images even with their naughty bits obscured,” I commented.

“They wouldn’t if their Pa owns a chunk of the paper.”

“The last bit got me,” I said.

“Yeah. To quote, ‘Matt and Ed were last seen getting on a flight to Texas and connecting onto Cancun.’ That is brilliant. Slope off somewhere hot with their tails between their legs.”

“At least the quote by the County Sheriff lets us off the hook. If they are not looking for anyone else in connection with the incident tells me that they want this to go away ASAP.”

“You are right there. Any court case would have the whole thing played out in public and the unedited photos would have to go into evidence. They’d leak out and be shown at every election from here to eternity if any of that family were running for office.”

I sat back and thought about what lay ahead for us.

“Those frown lines will stay forever if you aren’t careful,” said Sylvie.

“Sorry. I was thinking about what lies ahead. I think I may have a way to put the other side on the backfoot.”

“Ok, out with it. What more surprises have you hidden away for us?”

“Mom’s diaries.”

“Ouch. I didn’t see that one coming. Do they exist? For real I mean?”

“They do. They document the whole of her relationship with him. From the day they met until the day before she died.”

“Those alone won’t convict him. There has to be a smoking gun somewhere?”

“There is. He had and probably still has a finger in many crooked pies and he’d often get phone calls while he was with Mom. I witnessed a lot of them. Once we’d heard about him possibly running for office, I’d record all the calls and then write down a record of them when he’d gone. Remember that the apartment that we lived in had just two rooms and a bathroom. I slept on the couch in the main room. They’d go into the bedroom while I was left watching TV or doing my school homework… or so they thought. Those records are with her diaries.”

“They are just hearsay I’m afraid.”

"True but in at least one of them, he tells someone to 'deal with Ray Lewis'. Two days later, Ray Lewis, a local councilman who was blocking his plans for a new development of McMansions was found dead by the side of the highway just over the nearest state line.”

“Ok, it shows a pattern of behavior. That’s all.”

“Which is what is needed for a RICO charge to have full effect. There is at least one conversation where he talks to his lawyer about bringing hundreds of lawsuits against a county who were blocking one of his retirement village plans. That is Anti-SLAPP. Put it all together and while it might not get a criminal conviction a civil one would be a slam-dunk. The consequences of his losing a civil case could send his businesses directly into Chapter 7 because no one in their right mind would help with the re-financing. He’ll need it because like most grifters, he only puts up a very little of his own capital in a venture. Then the day the first bit of income comes in, he takes his money plus a hefty bit of interest and runs. That way when the inevitable problems arise and lawsuits start flying, he’s in the clear. That is what happened with first retirement village. In the end, the county condemned it and tore it down. You can get the rest…”

“Says the person who isn’t a lawyer!”

"True but like a real lawyer, textbooks and case histories are fantastic sources of information to someone with an inquiring mind. Then there is the fact that I have watched a good number of cases both civil and criminal during my years on the road. At first, it was just a place to go that was relatively warm and dry but after a bit, I became interested in the whole show, warts and all.”

“Good but if I was you, I’d not volunteer the existence of those diaries. They might not be needed with everything else.”

“True but there is one thing that I’m going to do if he escapes jail for murdering Mom, and that is that I’m going to sue him for the unlawful killing of her. Just the photo evidence would be enough to bankrupt him for what? The sixth time as far as I know.”

“That would take a lot of money and time, as well as personal risk, wouldn’t it?”

“True but he needs to be taken down and I don’t mean with violence. Just to be clear on that. Besides, all the evidence at the criminal trial will be admissible in a civil case and the bar for a guilty verdict is a lot lower as we all discovered with the OJ Simpson case.”

“I know what you mean by that.”

“Shall we hit the road?”

“Yeah.”

---

I began to get more nervous the closer we got to the DC area. Sylvie took over the driving even though neither of us was very familiar with the area. The only thing that we were sure about was that going inside the ‘Beltway’ was not on the cards for the time being. We both regarded it as a virtual ‘no go area’.

By late afternoon, we were close to Baltimore where we found another cheap cash-only Motel and paid for two nights. That was close enough to DC for both of us.

After freshening up, we drove down to the coast near Annapolis for something to eat and to call Amy.

Our plan relied upon her being still in the DC area. She answered the call on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Amy, this is Sylvie. I’m with Tiffany on speaker. We need your help.”

"Am I glad to hear from you? The powers that be here have been going crazy since they found your car and no sign of you."

"Sorry about that. It was better if we went off-grid for a while. We haven't seen any updates on the case?" said Sylvie.

“Tiffany’s deposition was given to their lawyers but the one that Tiffany fingered has gone missing. No one has seen him since that day. His phone is dead and his home was cleaned and I mean cleaned. Not one fingerprint was left. No DNA. It was as if he wasn’t there or hadn’t existed.”

“That’s not good,” I said.
“Looking for him could be a diversionary tactic.”

“That’s what the people here seem to think.”

“What have you been doing since we left you?” asked Sylvie.

“Nothing. I filled out my reports on our time together and I’ve been sitting on my thumbs. No one at the field office is speaking to me. It is as if I have been infected with a disease. Even my BFF who graduated from Quantico with me is suddenly not available,” said Amy.

“That’s odd,” said Sylvie.

“Yeah. I’ve been summoned to a meeting with the head of the Field Office tomorrow.”

“Amy,” I said.
“Do you have the contact details for that lawyer from the DOJ who took my deposition?”

“I do but it won’t get you very far. He’s suddenly not talking to me or anyone. I called him the other day asking for an update and was told that it is none of my business.”

“Text them to me just in case, if that is not asking too much?"

“I’ll do it but you guys watch out. I sense that a good number of powerful and or connected people in DC want to see Tiffany disappear just like that lawyer. My guess is that her father has a ton of dirt on a lot of people not only here but everywhere he does business.”

I motioned to Sylvie to end the call just as Amy said,
“It looks like you two are on your own I’m afraid.”

"Thanks, Amy. I’m sure that we’ll get by with a little help from a friend or two,” said Sylvie as she ended the call.

The text containing his number arrived a minute or so later. I wrote it down on the back of the envelope that contained some of our cash funds.
Without any prompting from me, Sylvie dismantled the phone and threw the SIM card into the sea. We stopped for gas on our way back to the Motel and I got rid of the phone less its battery in a dumpster on a nearby lot. There was not a lot of talking going on between us. We were both troubled by what Amy had said to us.

Later, Sylvie said,
“I think I might have been wrong about not going public with those photos. The sooner the better if you want my opinion.”

“I was thinking the same thing. It was good that I left my phone here charging. At least it didn’t ping off the same cell towers as yours.”

Sylvie shook her head.
“It can be tracked with mine back to the store where be bought them. I think we need to get some new SIM Cards in the morning.”

I nodded my head.
“The Starbucks down the street has free WiFi. I think I should go there and upload those photos first thing. You don’t have to come with me. Just be ready to pick me up when I’m done.”

“Ok. What then?”

“I think we should lie low but not here.”

“Agreed but where?” asked a slightly puzzled Sylvie.

“I don’t know yet but it is time we or at least I went on the offensive. If you want to quit, now is the right time to do it.”

Sylvie thought for about ten seconds. Then she smiled and took me very much by surprise as she leaned over the table and kissed me.

[to be continued]
[1] The incident at the ‘Turkey Farm Motel’ was based on my own experience at a place of the same name but in Nashua N.H. in 1983.