The unseasonably cold wind from the north offered little protection for people like me, who lived on the streets despite it being well into spring. Two blocks away from me, there was a hostel that at least offered a warm shower and some hot food but it didn't open until 6 pm. That was hours away and I’d already been warned off from two places where I’d tried to shelter from the wind.

Staying out of that wind was my main concern. Eventually, I found an alley between two boarded-up buildings that blocked the worst of the gale and settled down to wait for the hostel to come to life. These hostels might be pretty basic and often smelt of a mixture of Lysol, old sweat and stale urine, but they are a lifeline to people like me. We can get some hot food and a shower. Some of the larger places even have facilities that allow us to wash clothes or have a doctor who would visit once or twice a week. This particular one was new to me having arrived in town in the early hours after a trucker took pity on me in the pouring rain of the early morning, more than 100miles down the road. The warmth of his cab and the conversation had been a welcome respite from the rain that had now been blown south by the wind. At least where I parked myself was relatively dry and there was only the faint odor of rat droppings and urine.

Just about the only thing that I could see from my shelter was a couple of car dealerships. Watching the comings and goings of their customers was about it for my amusement until the lure of the homeless shelter proved too much to refuse in a few hours. I debated moving to another location but decided that there was little chance of being moved on unless the local Police decided that I was a threat to their very existence and threw me out of town. It had happened before and I know that it will happen again. That is a fact of life for the homeless. It is just a matter of when and something that people like me get used to along with the beatings for having the temerity to want to stay alive.

The nearby Bus Interchange was a favorite place for people like me but another homeless guy like me said that the recent employment of a security guard who was keen to make an impression had limited the places where we could sit out the cold days before the warmth of the Hostel beckoned. I thanked him for his warning and treated him to a warm drink from the back door of a nearby café.

After I’d been sheltering for about an hour, the wind shifted around to the North West. My shelter was now not so good. I was thinking of moving to a café for something warm to drink when a black VW Sedan sped along the road in front of the VW dealership. There was nothing wrong or out of the ordinary with that apart from its speed.

The car hardly slowed down before the driver swung left and went right into the glass of the display unit that ironically showed an image of the same model of car. The glass smashed and the car disappeared into a void that I hadn’t known existed until then.

I resisted the temptation to laugh even though it was comical. Instead, I leapt to my feet and went to help.

As far as I could tell, there was no smoke from the wreck. The lack of other people coming to investigate told me that no one else had seen or heard what had just happened.

“Hello?” I called out.

I didn’t get a response other than a groan. The driver was still alive which was good.

I looked around once more and could see that no one else was rushing to help. That left me in a bit of a quandary. Should I go for help or should I help right away?

I chose the former and ran into the dealership where I was met with several angry faces probably for opening the door and letting in the cold air.

“Get the hell out of here. We don’t want your sort in here!” shouted a salesman who started to come towards me looking very angry as soon as I set foot in the door.

“Hold on there. I want to report an accident. A black VW had just crashed into your advertising display.”

“Yeah, and my name is Henry Ford,” shouted the salesman.

“Just come and look. Then call 911.”

“Yeah, I’ll get them to arrest you.”

“That would be good. A nice warm cell!”

He stopped in his tracks. Then he stepped towards me looking even angrier. His bulging waistline looked like it wanted to pop out of his shirt any second. The short tie and moustache made him look like Oliver Hardy. All he needed was a bowler hat.

“Just get the hell out of here before we have to fumigate the place.”

I could see that I was going to get nowhere fast. I left him to gloat with his mates about how he’d run a homeless wretch out of his precious showroom.

I ran back to the scene of the accident and climbed down into the void. As I did, I could hear another groan coming from the wreck which was laying on its side.

The passenger side door was on the top so I tried to open it. To my relief, it opened up and I could see the driver still strapped into her seat.

The smell of gasoline was ever-present so I knew that I had to act fast. If any of that got onto the hot exhaust then it was curtains for both of us. I leaned into the passenger compartment and unclipped the driver’s seatbelt. The driver slid a bit farther into the wreck but the inflated airbags seemed to have stopped them from going too far. I heard air escaping from them, which made me act even faster.

“Hold on, let me get you out. I’m going to pull you up and out the passenger door.”

She let out another groan so I took this as tacit approval for what I was about to do. I put my hands under her armpits and heaved. Thankfully, she was a small woman and she began to move toward me. I adjusted my position and heaved again. This time, she came free.

Now came the problem of getting her out of the pit. It was then that I spied a set of steps leading upwards at the end of the pit.

“Let’s get you out of here before that fuel ignites,” I muttered.

I put one of her arms over my shoulder and together we not only made it to the steps but to the top and out onto the street.

I looked around but there was still no one coming to help.

I leaned her against the wall and went back into the pit to check that she was alone in the car. The back seat was clear. The last thing I wanted to find was a child strapped into a car seat but the only items there was a load of groceries that had escaped the paper bags that they had been packaged in.

I returned to the road and after putting her arm around my shoulder again, I walked her into the showroom.

If I had been expecting a change in attitude then I was sorely mistaken.

Before I knew it, I was flat on my face and had a very overweight man sitting on me. He screamed,
“We told you to keep out but you didn’t.”

I tried to explain that the woman had been in a car crash but that got nowhere. All I could hear was ‘he’s beaten her up, call the cops!’.

Struggling was getting me nowhere so I resigned myself to the inevitable… the arrival of the cops, being arrested before I could give my side of the story and being thrown into jail.

This is the norm for people like me and I have come to expect it even in places where people like me are in the minority… I’m black or at least a half-caste. Mom was black and dad was a rich white guy who had an affair with my mother. I don’t need to tell you the rest. I’d taken to the streets after Mom died or rather was murdered by my father and his top ‘fixer’.

I left my hometown soon after the coroner had taken Mom’s body away because I knew that I was next on the list. I only stayed in the state long enough to see her death be ruled a suicide. How a woman can strangle herself is beyond me but… who is to argue with officialdom, especially a thirteen-year-old kid?

My Dad, the white guy was running for Governor and I was a loose end that needed sweeping away with the trash. Mom had warned me that this might happen at some point so we had prepared an escape plan for me. At first, I wanted us to just leave but she knew that it was impossible. I'd never forget her words that sealed it, 'I can run but I can't hide from him and his ilk. I'm best off staying right here but you don't have to. We need to work together and prepare you for another life. We can get you some insurance that will take him down at the right time in the future’.

That was the day that the eight-year-old me had grown up and become a man. I might have been a scrawny kid without an ounce of fat on my frame, but I was the man of our house.

It had worked and now almost five years after her murder, I was still alive. My father was Governor and not a nice guy. He was on the extreme right of politics and neck-deep in corruption but that was on the other side of the country from here, the state of Oregon. But even here and thanks to the Internet, I'd read an article in the local newspaper, 'The Examiner' about him announcing that he was standing for re-election in 18 months.

His plans to gerrymander the districts were just mad to me but the paper was clear that this was just to ensure his victory along with purging voter rolls.

Voting was not something I’d ever thought about but once I was eighteen, I was legally able to but not having an address or any valid ID, that was out of the question.

---

Despite my pleadings to the cops, I was as I expected, processed and thrown into jail. The charge was vagrancy, assault and battery and resisting arrest.

I knew that the vagrancy charge would not stick especially since they’d confiscated almost one thousand dollars from me. I’d worked almost all the previous winter on a farm for minimum wage plus food and board. I’d saved most of the money but that was no good. The cops said that the money was from peddling drugs and that was it, it was gone under ‘civil asset forfeiture rules’ and I was declared a vagrant.

Such was the disdain they had for people like me, they never bothered to check the scene of the accident for over two hours. Eventually, they got fed up with my complaints and sent an officer to check the dealership and the hospital. After he’d reported back, all mention of attempted murder, assault and resisting arrest charges disappeared into thin air. The vagrancy one was not negotiable. The local cops wanted to hang something on me out of spite.

All my pleas for a lawyer went unanswered as did my request for something to eat and drink. I’d not even been read my rights.

I resigned myself to a night in the cells. At least it was reasonably warm and dry. Small mercies I know but beggars can’t be choosers. Begging was something that I’d never resorted to. There was work and a place to sleep available if you looked hard enough and kept your head down and didn’t interfere in other people’s business. That included asking too many questions. I’d soon learned to keep my mouth shut.

---

The following morning, I was taken to arraignment court although I had not been read my rights or allowed access to a lawyer as the constitution says. However, as someone who is considered a non-person by many PDs, it hardly matters to them if they follow the law or not.

“Jonas Madeley, you are charged with assault and vagrancy,” said the judge.
“How do you plead?”

“Judge, I have been denied my rights under the 4th Amendment of the Constitution. Specifically, I have not been read my rights and have been denied legal representation despite repeated requests. I have also been denied any food or drink since my arrest yesterday. I was told in no uncertain terms by Sergeant Lewis that if I complained any more, I’d regret it. Until I have a chance to exercise my constitutional rights I refuse to plead. I will assert my fifth amendment rights to any further questions until I have legal representation and have had the opportunity to discuss my case in private with my legal representative.”

The Chief of Police looked pretty angry. I guessed that it was due to me being a bit of a wise guy when it came to my rights. I made a mental note to tread carefully should his department get their hands on me at the end of the hearing.

The Judge looked at me and then at the ADA.

“ADA Jankovic, is this right about the denial of legal representation?” he asked the ADA.

“As far as I know, the accused has not requested any.”

“Well, he has now. Get him a Public Defender and we will visit this again tomorrow.”

As he was about to say 'case adjourned', he said,
“And get this man a shower and something to eat. Chief, you might not like people like Mr Madeley in your town but they are a fact of life. I am sure that I don’t need to remind you that like any citizen, those who are homeless do have the same rights under the constitution as you and I do. It is beholden for me to remind you that both your department and the PD officers have a duty of care to people in their custody. Do I make myself clear?”

The chief of police looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Alan Jankovic as the ADA, I hold you personally responsible for the safety of Mr Madeley. Do you understand? If he appears here tomorrow unfed, unwashed or even with one scratch on his body, I will hold you in contempt and that means time in the county lockup. Do I make myself clear?”

The ADA also looked rather uncomfortable.
“Yes, your honor. I understand.”

“Good. Case adjourned for 24 hours.”

---

Any hopes I had of being treated well went out the window right away. Instead of just being handcuffed, I was fully shackled before being led back to my cell. They didn't bother to remove them when the door closed behind them.

Some food was supplied but being shackled I could not eat it or drink any of the water that they gave me. Being shackled also prevented me from using the toilet.

It wasn’t until early evening that someone came to see me.

“Hello Mr Madeley, I’m your Public Defender. My name is Teresa North.”

"Nice to see you, Ms North. Can you get these things off of me?"

She shook her head.
“The Desk Sergeant said that you were under suicide watch.”

I laughed.

“What is so funny?”

“I’ve been in these since my case was held over. I have been unable to eat or drink or as you can see, use the toilet.”

“They say that you refused the food and drink.”

“I can hardly eat or drink with my hands shackled to my waist now, can I? A bit of a ‘Catch-22’ situation perhaps?”

“I agree,” said Ms North as she took my photo with her phone.

“But they make the rules.”

“They do I’m afraid.”

“Ok, what about these charges?”

“The woman you are supposed to have assaulted has given a statement. You rescued her from a car crash so any charges relating to assault have been officially dropped.”

“That’s old news. They were only mentioned in passing in court today. What about the vagrancy charge? They took almost a thousand dollars from me. I worked for weeks shovelling cow shit to make that money on a farm near Lakeview.”

“They say that it is the proceeds of drug trafficking and are making it subject to civil asset forfeiture.”

“And as I don’t have any money, I’m classed as a vagrant. Another Catch-22 I think?”

She chuckled.
“Indeed. I can make representations to the Judge tomorrow.”

“He seemed a decent sort… for a Judge.”

She smiled.
“Judge James had been a thorn in the backside of the DA and PD for the last twenty years. Sadly, he is not standing for re-election next November so he has no electors to cosy up to.”

“That explains a lot. Politics is a dirty game.”

“You sound like you have experience of that?”

“I do but that is not relevant to the here and now.”

I didn’t say anything for well over ten seconds.

“Ms Lewis, there is something about me that you need to know. I’m trans.”

Her shoulders sank.
“How far along are you?”

“I have breast implants but I still have my equipment below if you get my meaning. If I am going to jail then the authorities need to know so that I’m not put in with the male general population. I would not survive a day in there.”

“I understand. It is highly unlikely that you’d go to jail for vagrancy but you can never know with the DA. He’s up for re-election so…”

“He wants the absolute max sentence for every crime no matter how small just to tell his donors that he is up to the job for another term?”

“He does and that makes me mad. The editor of the local paper is on a crusade against him after one of their reporters was locked up for exercising his 1st amendment rights. It took an appeal to the State Supreme Court to get him out. The damages case is still pending and has been for three years.”

Ms Lewis stood up.
“Let me try again to get you out of those shackles. I see no evidence that you need to be on suicide watch.”

"That would be nice but I don't think that you will win on this one. It is clear that the local PD doesn't like me."

She smiled.
“They should be giving you a medal for rescuing that driver instead you have to suffer all this.”

“People like me don’t get medals. We are like the ugly duckling and get told ‘get out of town’.”

She didn’t answer but smiled back at me.

---

I was still wearing the shackles when I was hauled up in front of the Judge the next morning.

After calling the court to order, the Judge said,
“Chief, what is the meaning of the shackles?”

“Suicide watch Judge.”

“And the reasons are?”

"We deemed that the offender might be likely to top himself so… we acted in accordance with the approved department policy."

“Mr Madeley. What do you say on the matter?”

“Judge, I am not suicidal but because of these…” I rattled the chains.
“I have not been able to eat or drink or use the toilet. I am afraid that I have soiled myself.”

The judge shook his head.
“That is not good. Chief, please remove those shackles.”

Reluctantly, one of the deputies removed the chains.

“Chief, did I or did I not instruct you to allow Mr Madeley to have a shower?”

“Yes, your honor you did make such a ruling.”

“Did you?”

“We deemed that preventing a possible suicide was preferable,” said the chief.

“Then the answer is no then?”

“That is correct Judge.”

The Judge turned to me and said,
“Mr. Madeley, all charges are dismissed with prejudice. You are free to go.”

I didn’t move. The judge saw this.

“Is there something else Mr. Madeley?”

"Yes, your honor. The almost one thousand dollars in cash were seized at the time of my arrest. So far, the police seem to have been unable or unwilling to provide any evidence that I have as they say been peddling or trafficking drugs. I worked long and hard for that money and a simple phone call to the farmer who paid me the money for my labors would have confirmed but as far as I know that call has not been made.”

“Chief, did you try to verify the claims that Mr. Madeley made about the origin of the money that you confiscated?”

“We didn’t make the call your honor. Our department policy is that large sums of money found on criminals is regarded as the fruits of crime and confiscated as per the State Civil Asset Forfeiture regulations.”

"Why? Isn't that pretty basic police work? Investigating a crime or if indeed a crime took place? Mr. Madeley had not been convicted of any crime at the time he asked you to verify his claim so unless the law has changed, he was not a criminal. Innocent until proven guilty still stands I take it? Finally chief, you know only too well that calling someone a ‘criminal’ in a public place and especially a court and that person has not been convicted opens you up to a slam dunk lawsuit. Your comment is on the record. It is up to Mr. Madeley to decide if he wants to file suit against you and your department.”

If anyone had been expecting the Chief to react, they would have been mistaken. It was like water running off a duck’s back.

“We failed you honor,” said the Chief without even a hint of sorrow. It was more like he was proud of getting one over on someone who is very much homeless.

"Then you are to return the money to Mr. Madeley right now."

The chief looked rather uneasy.
“Your honor, we sent it to the DEA this morning as per our policy on civil asset forfeiture.”

“So, you can’t return the money?”

“That is correct your honor.”

“Chief, I am going to make a ruling. You are not going to like it but if you fail to carry it out, then you will be in contempt of court. Do you understand that and the implications of being in contempt of court?”

“I do your honor.”

“Chief, I am ordering you to provide Mr. Madeley with $1000 and those funds are to be given to Mr. Madeley within the hour. I am also going to award Mr. Madeley $100 compensation for depriving him of his legal rights, another $100 as compensation for being denied food and drink while in custody. I will be with Mr. Madeley in my chambers. We will be waiting. How you find the money or where you find it is no concern of mine. You took his money and it is only fair that you give it back. Are you clear on that? I am doing this because you have failed to produce any evidence of your claims that Mr Madeley is in any way involved with drugs. Do you understand this ruling? If not then I can easily rule on your contempt right now and send you to the county lockup?”

The very unhappy chief shuffled and looked around for help. The court remained silent.

“I am clear your honor.”

The Clerk handed the judge a note. He read it and smiled.
“I have just been told that you will receive 80% of that money you seized from Mr Madeley back in due course from the DEA. Is this correct?”

“Err… Yes, it is Judge.”

“I guess that little fact is not common knowledge then?”

“No, your honor,” said the Chief.

“Well, given that there are three journalists in court today, I don’t think it will remain a secret for very long. I do sincerely hope that all the money you receive back from civil asset forfeiture is properly accounted for. Is this the case Chief?”

“I am sure that it is,” he replied.
A bead of black sweat ran down the side of his face. A few people in court tittered. It seemed to me that the Chief of Police used some cheap hair dye. If I was one of the journalists, I’d make a big thing of it in my report.

“Will you be able to comply with my order regarding Mr. Madeley’s funds?”

“I will your honor.”

“Good. One hour from now.”

“Mr. ADA, did I or did I not give you some specific responsibilities right here in this very court one less than 24 hours ago?”

“You did your honor.”
He looked very unhappy.

“Did you carry out those responsibilities?”

“I am afraid that I did not, your honor.”

“Why didn’t you carry them out? It wasn’t as if they were unduly onerous for a man in your position?”

“Your honor, I agreed with the Chief that his department would carry them out as they are the ones on the ground.”

"You have heard the Chief admit that he failed to even try to look after Mr. Madeley. It appears that he invented some trumped-up idea that Mr. Madeley would be a suicide risk and kept him in shackles and denied him his basic rights afforded to us all under the constitution. Did you actually attend law school?"

“I did. Harvard Law. Class of ’98.”

"Then you should know better than to corrupt the legal system as you have done here. I am going to come down hard on this and maybe in the future, you will follow the law of the land for the betterment of society. For your failure to follow the direct instructions of this court, you are guilty of contempt of this court. You will spend the next week in the county lockup and furthermore, you will be shackled just like Mr. Madeley was last night for twenty-three hours a day. Denying a citizen their constitutional rights is not allowed.”

There was total silence in the court. People looked at each other with surprised expressions on their faces.
“You may wish to appeal this ruling. I am sure that the Appeals Court will take a similar view of your total disregard of this court in their ruling. To appeal is your right but tonight, you will be in jail. I might even report you to the Oregon Bar Association. There might even be a case for your disbarment.”

I looked at the ADA and he was squirming. That pleased me no end.

“Bailiffs, please take the ADA into custody. Make sure that he is processed according to the law of the land and detained as per my ruling.”

There was silence in the room as the ADA was led away.
“Court Adjourned.”
He banged his gavel and stood up.

I was a bit bewildered at what had gone on. All that I knew was that I was free to go and that I should have my money in a short time.

Ms Lewis, my Public Defender smiled at me. Then she said,
"I had a quiet word with the Judge before the court this morning. There is no love lost between him and the Chief of Police or the ADA.”

"Thanks for that. I would like to have a shower and get a change of clothes. My pack seems to have gotten lost. The last time I saw it was at the dealership.”

“It is probably long gone in the trash by now. I’ll go and get you something to wear.”

"Thanks, Ms. Lewis. I'll pay you for them when I get my money from the cops.”

She smiled and disappeared out of the court.

A bailiff led me to the judges’ chambers. He was waiting for me with a big smile on his face.
“Mr. Madeley, I have to apologize for the frankly abysmal behavior of the local PD and the ADA. They should know better.”

His words made me feel at least half-human again.

"Judge, I have grown used to being trodden on all the time by the Police. It is a fact of life for people like me."

“It should not be the case.”

I couldn’t answer that.

“There is a shower and other facilities through that door. Please use it at my convenience,” he said pointing at a door to the right of the one that we’d used to enter his chambers.

I made a move towards the door but stopped myself.
“Judge, there is something that you should know. I am transgendered. It might not look it but I have a pair of breasts. At the moment, they are strapped. It is hard enough for people like me being on the road but it is ten or even a hundred times worse for a woman."
He nodded his head.

“I know, Ms Lewis told me. That was one of my reasons for dismissing the case with prejudice. They can’t refile that charge for sixty days.”

“I’ll be long gone from the city and even the county by then.”

“Good. Please go and get clean, then we can have a proper talk.”

---

Half an hour later, I was feeling a lot better. Hungry but at least I was clean and had some clean clothes on my back. Ms Lewis had done a great job shopping for me. She’d even bought me a couple of sports bras. They were great in winter when coats would hide the fact that I had some implants in my chest. She’d even bought me a hairbrush and a couple of scrunchies. For the first time in weeks, I began to feel half human again.

Just before the hour was up, a clerk from the court appeared with an envelope. Inside it was one thousand two hundred dollars in small bills. The clerk also gave the judge a note. He read it and shook his head.

Just having that money in my pocket made me feel ready to face the world. I paid Ms Lewis for the clothes before standing up and heading toward the door.

“Mr Madeley, I would not go out there if I were you,” said the Judge.

“Why?”

“The note that the clerk handed me, said that local PD will be gunning for you. Not in the literal sense but they will use any pretext to arrest you with force. In case you hadn’t noticed, there were several reporters in the court today. They will make a big splash in their next edition on this. The local newspaper’s editor is on a crusade to make the PD and the local DA’s office more accountable. Your case will be front-page news and they won't like that one little bit.”

What he had said, made sense.
“The ADA is the chief’s brother-in-law.”

I understood what he was hinting at.

“What do you suggest then Judge?”

“What I suggest is that you come with me and that Ms Lewis follows us out of the city and the county. When we reach the county line, Ms Lewis can return. The cops would not want to try anything with a sitting Judge and a PD present. We are both officers of the court and they know how hard the state law people would come down on them should anything happen to us.”

“Where would you take me?”

“I have a cabin up in the hills over in Washington State. I suggest that I take you there. You can stay there for as long as you like. I don't use it since I stopped going deer hunting in the fall. It has become more of a place of sanctuary and soul calming for me.”

“I can’t impose on you like that. I don’t … well, I just don’t.”

“Bullshit. I’m not going to use it and as far as I know, no one around here knows about it other than the people in this room. Ms Lewis isn’t going to let on, are you? Attorney-client privilege and all that?”

“That is correct Judge.”

“Then we are good to go then?”

“What about provisions?”

“We can stop for them once we get over into Washington State.”

What he said made sense… again.

“Shall we go?”

Just before we left, a clerk from the court appeared with another message for the judge. She gave him a slip of paper. The smile that was on the judge’s face disappeared in a flash. He walked over to a shredder and put the message through it.

“Sorry about that. We need to get out of here, don’t we…? We have a good way to go before nightfall.”

[to be continued]
[authors note]
This is my first attempt at a political thriller (of sorts) and takes place at least 3000 miles from where I live so please forgive my foo-pahs and obvious mistakes.
Samantha

The Judge was good on his promise to take me not only out of the city but right out of the state. Our journey was hardly discrete due to a three Police cruiser escort complete with lights and sirens out of the city. Then the county cops took over and four of them followed us right to the Washington State line. A local TV truck complete with a huge satellite dish joined in the convoy but according to the local radio, I was being run out of town because I was a threat to society. Not true but small-town politics are messy at the best of times. Thankfully, the state line was just over an hour away but it was clear in that the message they were sending me was very clear… ‘Do not come back or else!’

I relaxed once we passed the ‘Welcome to Washington’ signs. A short distance later, the judge pulled over. Ms Lewis parked behind us. I felt relieved despite being pretty well run out of town. The TV truck had stopped at the state line and the last view I got of them was that the County Sheriff was giving them an interview. I guessed that he would be bragging about how he’d run a dangerous criminal out of the county/state… after all, it was an election year and anything, and everything goes in an election year in the USA, and where anything a candidate can do to get more funds for their campaign, the better.

“Thanks for your help, Ms Lewis,” I said when the three of us were together.

She smiled.
“All part of being a Public Defender. There is no love lost between me and the DA or the cops. We are always in opposition so this little episode is just a normal day’s work for me.”

“Including a jaunt into Washington State?”

She laughed.
"Not quite, but it makes a change from trying to bail out corner boys that the PD busts without even an empty deal bag on them. Anything goes in an election year, and the more arrests he makes, the better it looks on his resume and his wall-to-wall adverts on pretty well every billboard in the county. I know for a fact, that the judge here is getting fed up with the cases coming up before him with zero evidence and even less chance of a conviction.”

I chuckled.
"What's so funny?" asked the Judge.

“Sorry… It is just that I had the same thought about how rules go by the wayside in election year.”

I knew only too well what she meant by 'corner boys’. I didn’t envy her job. It did seem a bit strange that an occurrence that was normally found only in cities had migrated to a rural county in Oregon, but I guessed that the drugs trade knows no bounds.

“Thanks again and I hope that we don’t meet again professionally,” I said as she got back in her car.
“Same here, and I mean that as a compliment. You are certainly not the normal sort of homeless person we get around here if you know what I mean?”

I did know. She was referring to those who got solace from cheap booze or drugs. I tried to avoid them as much as possible.
"Thanks for the compliment. Those have been in short supply in recent years.”

I got a big smile from her as she turned her car around and drove back towards Oregon.

---

“Ok Judge, where to next?”

“Grocery shopping, I think. We still have well over an hour’s drive before we hit the rough stuff.”

“Rough stuff?”

“Yes, just under two miles of a rough track that climbs up into the mountains to where my cabin is located.”

He looked at the concerned look on my face.
“Don’t worry, the cabin is very comfortable and the view is magnificent.”

I had my doubts about that. I had experienced a cabin in the backwoods of the south as a child. They were very basic and almost always had outside facilities. Sometimes, they were little more than a corrugated steel roof and walls over a wooden frame. Windows with glass were optional.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this for me?”

"It is easy. The PD is corrupt from top to bottom. Now that I am not running for re-election, any chance I have to get one over on them the better. The DA is just as bad, but he won't go against me as he is my former son-in-law. He’s the one that had a ‘bit on the side’ and … well… it all got complicated when she ended up getting pregnant. My daughter is and always has been a better lawyer than him. She took him to the cleaners in the divorce. I remained impartial because I had to work with him. But after that, we became sort of enemies in a legal frame. He keeps trying to get one over on me and failing spectacularly. It has been keeping me sane for the past few years.”

He laughed a bit. I smiled back as my mind was on other things.

“Won’t you helping me come back to bite you once you are no longer a Judge?”

"It might but once my term on the bench is up, I'm off on a trip to Jamacia. My great-great-grandmother was born there. According to my family records, I have some relatives there so… Anyway, while I am away, my house will be packed up and moved into storage near Sacramento. I’ve bought a camper which is parked at the storage site in Sacramento, but no one in town knows that. I’m going to be a camper bum for a few years. There is so much of this country of ours that I have not seen and since I am now on my own, I intend to see it.”

I nearly asked why he was alone, but stopped myself in time. He saw my mouth open and guessed what I was going to say but didn’t.

“My wife died three years ago from a tumour on her liver even though she was teetotal. Because of other complications, she couldn’t get a transplant in time, but we had almost thirty good years together.”

His words relieved me.

“How long can I stay at the cabin? It will be June in just over a week. I expect that the winters are not nice up in the mountains. I’m not exactly used to snow and ice…”

“The winters can be pretty severe, but if you put in the work now then you can survive but there Is plenty of time to worry about that."

“What do you mean by ‘work’?”

“Cutting and chopping wood and making sure that the freezer is full. If you stay over next winter, then you will need a good pile of wood ready to burn and kept dry. The local rangers supply the wood from when they maintain the firebreaks. I let it season for a couple of years before cutting it for the fire. There is more than enough seasoned wood to last a whole year. All it needs is… Well, I'll show you tomorrow.”

He saw a look of concern on my face.
“Don’t worry. I’m pretty good friends with the local firewatchers. I’ll get one of them to drop by and show you how to use a chainsaw safely if I don’t get around to it.”

I was not happy, but it looked like my future was in my own hands apart from the money.

“What about groceries? How far is the nearest store? I guess that it is several miles?”

“Nine miles each way plus the climb up on the way back.”

Once again, he saw a worried look on my face.
“I have another vehicle at the cabin. We should be able to get it going tomorrow morning before I leave. You can use that.”

“Don’t you have to get back for court?”

He chuckled.
"It is Friday today, and I'm not on the docket until Tuesday. That gives me plenty of time to get you settled in before I have to head home."

I began to see the money in my pocket disappearing in a puff of smoke.

“There has to be more to it than just wanting to get one over on the local PD?”

The Judge sighed.
"You are one smart cookie. We have about twenty minutes before we get to the best shop between here and the cabin. If I tell you why, and you want to bail out at the shop then I won't argue. Deal?"

“Ok,” I replied still unsure about where this was going.

"When I saw your mugshot on the docket for my court the other day, I knew instantly what your real name is. As I said before, you have your fathers' eyes and face. I take it that Madeley is not your given name which is if I am not mistaken, Forrester. Am I right?”

I felt that I had been stabbed in the heart, but I managed to nod my head.

“And your father is none other than Governor Bryson.”

“Yes… how did you know?”

“Your father and I are old enemies. It all started at high school and carried on when we were at college and even law school. I was dating this girl in our senior year, but he had his sights on her, so he tried to frame me for a robbery at the school to get me thrown out. That failed because, at the time of the robbery, I was watching an assault case in the local court. The judge was a perfect alibi and looking back, it was probably when I decided that one day, I'd become a judge. I won that battle, but he won the girl.”

He stopped speaking, but I could tell that what he was saying was hard for him. The more time I spent with him, the more I knew that he was one of the good guys.

“To my dismay at the time, fate made sure that we both ended up at the same college and then at Law School. He ignored me at college, but at Law School he found it impossible. He tried several times to out debate me but failed miserably. His arguments just didn’t stand up to direct questioning. I graduated top in the class, and he was second from bottom. He hated losing, always has and always will. If he can’t win by fair means, he has no second thoughts about going over to the dark side. He'll never admit that he could not win at everything and that he knows more about everything, and that includes certified experts. He just shouts them down and calls them fools. There were rumours that he had advanced knowledge of our final exam. He tried to deflect them in my direction, but I'd been five hundred miles away from campus for the final two weeks before the exams revising at the racing stud where my parents lived at the time. Remember, this all happened before the internet. It is so very different now. Somehow, he survived and his papers were graded. You read between the lines! Nothing he does and fails at is ever his fault, but the fault of everyone else. He's gone through staff like a prostitute does clients, if you know what I mean, and no disrespect to your late mom. For him to stick with her for so long says something about her skill and determination.”

I thought I knew a lot about my father, but this was a whole new heap of trash to load on the pile of rotting dung that is his life.

“In our college senior year, he was dating the girl who became his first wife. The day after graduation, they eloped to Mexico and got married on the beach at Acapulco three days later, but even then, he was playing around. When they returned to find that his mistress was pregnant; he paid her off, and she left the state to get an abortion. The new wife took issue with the whole sordid affair and divorced him on the spot. Her father was even more of a crook than him, so he didn't fight it. He only married her because of that connection which backfired bigly.”

“It sort of begins to make sense.”

“What happened then?”

“Your father went into his fathers’ law practice as a partner. Someone coming in fresh out of law school and starting as a partner put a lot of noses out of joint. Six people who were battling to become partners all quit on the spot, leaving their clients in the lurch. The practice went over to the dark side very quickly after his father retired to play golf in Palm Beach.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I went to work as a Public Defender in another state so there was little chance that our paths would cross and for almost ten years, they didn’t. By then I was the lead attorney in the Public Defenders department of a neighbouring state but one day, I saw your father heading into a ‘by the hour hotel’ at a town just on my side of the state line, with the lady that I later found out was your mother. I was waiting in my car on the other side of the road for a client to turn up. I remember that day as clear as if it was today. My client turned up dead that night. All the evidence pointed to your father being behind it but at the time of the murder, he was in bed with your mother. I had to give your father an alibi. That was not my best day. I later found out that my client had told someone who was in the pay of your father where and when I was meeting him. You put two and two together.”

“I get it that your hate my father. Join the club.”

“Yet, he wants to be elected as Governor for what? The second time?”

“After that incident, where he used me was the time when I wised up. I resolved to not let him use me ever again, so I quit the PD and moved out here and have been here for over twenty years. Then you came along.”

“Like a bad penny?”

He chuckled.
"Not a bad penny. You needed help, and I was more than happy to give it."
Then he asked,
“What do you want me to call you? It is clear to me that you are transgendered. While many in this country would want people like you to be eradicated, I am not one of them. So? What is your preferred name?”

“Tiffany. I’d like to be called Tiffany.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Tiffany. No, not pleased, it is an honor.”

“Thanks Judge. I appreciate that.”

We drove on in silence until he pulled up at a supermarket.

“There is one more thing that you need to know before we go any farther.”

This sounded ominous.
“The note that was delivered to me just before we left, contained some bad news. My clerk did some checking on you for me last night so she knew who you really are, but that checking left a trail. The Chief of Police knows because he's been bugging my calls and computer for the past year. This episode should give me enough proof to call in the FBI. The Chief asked her to find the phone number for your father while you were being held in shackles. That probably explains the fake suicide watch excuse. They wanted you immobilised while they waited for your father to get in touch. My guess is that he wants you dead. His style that became clear to us by the end of our freshman year is to not leave loose ends around to get in the way in the future. Even then, anyone who gets in his way was made to pay for it big time. From what you said, you saw that from close quarters.”

I sat there with my eyes fixed on a car that was parked about 50yds from us. Those eyes welled up. I knew deep down that someone would be on their way to find me.

“That was bad news, wasn’t it?”

I nodded my head.
"Someone will be on their way here or rather where we were to take care of me. I am a loose end that has been loose for far too long. I’ve had a few lucky escapes from his clutches in the past but this worries me.”

I turned to look at the judge.
"This affects you too, you know. You are a loose end as well?"

"I guessed as much. It has been a long time coming. Your father promised to 'deal with me' in the future. I’m sure that he'll be pleased to honour that promise after all these years. If he does, then he'll be in for a surprise."

“What do you mean?”

He smiled back at me.
“I’m not the only one with some dirt on your father. He did all sorts of dirty land deals before he became governor. He'd pay well below market value for a property, and just before the taxes become due, he'd sell it to buddies at cost plus a handsome campaign donation. Not exactly illegal but… sailing very close to the wind. That's not all though. One deal involved falsifying environmental reports. The site was heavily contaminated with heavy metals. All the houses that were built on that site had to be demolished due to contamination. I have… or rather my lawyer has both copies of the reports as well as evidence of a financial trail that leads back to one of his companies. Then there is the blatant tax and insurance fraud that is SOP for his property company. He must have a lot of dirt on people in the IRS to have not been investigated thus far.”

I sat for well over a minute trying to digest what he’d said.

“Well, Tiffany? Are you going to bail out? There is a bus stop on the other side of the road. It would take you to Spokane. From memory, there is one due in about an hour.”

After a bit of thought, I said,
“No, I think I will stay. I’ll stay for the time being at least. I’d like to spend at least one night in a decent bed for a change. I probably stink of Jail cell so a shower would be good."

"Good. Now let us go shopping. You will need a complete set of clothes and shoes. That includes raingear as it does get wet around here regularly."

I hesitated. The money in my pocket was meant to be my ‘rainy day’ reserve.

“Are you worried about the cost?”

I nodded my head.
“Don’t. I’ll pick up the tab. Think of it as an investment in a life that is not on the road."

“Being on the road is how I have survived. Being on the road makes me pretty invisible most of the time.”

“Except when you get arrested for no good reason. Then all invisibility bets are off, aren’t they?”

“I guess so.”

---

Just over an hour later, the Judges’ Subaru Forrester, was fully loaded up with food and clothes. He’d also bought some ammunition which made me nervous.

“There are bears in the woods near the cabin. Most of the time, they keep their distance but if they get very hungry then they come looking for an easy meal.”

I understood what he meant.

“Have you ever fired a rifle before?”

I shook my head. I had but I’m not one to call when I still had a way to go with my bluff. The fewer people who knew that I could fire both a handgun and a rifle the better.

“Then I’ll have to give you a lesson tomorrow.”

It looked like tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

---

Forty minutes later, the judge turned the Subaru off what poses as the main road for the area and onto a track. He stopped and said,
“It gets rougher the farther we go so hang on.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. He saw my concern.

“This car can get up and down it. Just you wait until you see what I have at the cabin. That beast eats roads like this for breakfast.”

I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about but I knew that I’d find out in good time.

Then a few minutes later, we passed an area that had been newly logged. Those logging trucks are often overloaded and the drivers are paid by the load. That made me think again about the damage to the road surface.

Then I cajoled myself for not watching where we were going. I was trying to think about anything other than the prospect of being hunted by some paid assassin.

I concentrated on trying to remember the significant points in the landscape including the location of the nearest store.

He was right with the description of the ‘dirt track’. It was passable as long as you didn’t go too fast. After a good twenty minutes of slow but sure progress up the track, a building came into view.

“Is that it?”

“Yes, that is my cabin and your home for as long as you want it.”

The wooden structure was set well away from the surrounding trees. I could see what looked like a garage off to one side as well as a large woodpile. There seemed to be more than enough wood stacked and ready to last a year let alone the short time I would be staying here.

Then it hit me. We’d never talked properly about how long I’d be here. I knew that he had other plans but I felt like a bit of a sideshow… an excuse to get out of town.

I pushed those thoughts to one side for the time being and helped him unload the car.

“Why don’t you sleep up there?” he said pointing to a room up in the eaves.
“There is a nice comfortable bed ready and waiting. I’ll pull out the couch so I’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” I replied more out of the sense of having to say something.

I took all my new stuff up into the attic room while he sorted out the groceries.

“I think that it is time to get the fire going and something to eat,” said the Judge.

I looked a bit bewildered.
“If we are going to cook something, then the range needs to be fired up and that involves wood.”

I saw the empty wood basket and took the hint. While he went and finished sorting the things out inside, I went outside and filled the basket with wood. I was struck by the peace, the silence. A few birds and the sound of the wind in the trees and that was it. For someone who had been raised in the middle of a city, it was a bit unnerving. I'd have to get used to this.

I carried the full basket back into the cabin. He’d opened up the shutters that covered the windows so that now, the interior was bathed with light. It looked a lot larger with natural daylight rather than artificial light.

“Here you are,” I said proudly as I carried the basket into the kitchen area.

“That will last for the rest of the day but this place seems to eat wood even in summer.”

I took that as a warning as I helped him put the last of the groceries away.

“Before I start to get us something to eat, there is something that you need to see.”

“What is so important?”

“Did you see some of the fire damage on the side of the road just before we turned off to come up here?”

“Yeah. Does that mean this place could get burnt down?”

“With the right conditions, yes, it could. That’s why there is a fire hole.”

“Fire hole?”

"A fireproof cellar with an exit well away from the house. Why not see if you can spot the entrance?"

I could tell that he was playing with me. I thought about objecting but common sense prevailed. Knowing where it was might just save my life if a wildfire came this way.

I scanned the wooden floor without success. I tried looking under the few rugs that were scattered about but once again, there was no sign of a trapdoor.

“Ok, I give up. It can’t be in the floor…”

“You are right. My late wife insisted that the floor was too good not to mention too expensive to spoil with a trapdoor. She beat me up verbally until I agreed to her demands. That left me with the problem of where to put it. Do you want to look again?”

I had to agree with his wife on the floor. The polished oak floor was just too good to spoil. I wandered over to the large fireplace. On either side of it, there was a large stone. It looked as if a person could fit through a gap that was behind one of them.

“Behind one of the large stones of the fireplace?”

“Give the girl a prize. Now how do you open them?”

“Why? Now that I know where they are what is the problem?”

“Wildfires can even outrun Usain Bolt given the right sort of wind and easily leap a gap of thirty yards. You might need to find them in a hurry, and in total darkness."

That made some sort of sense even though I wasn’t planning on staying very long. I rarely ever stayed in one place more than a week. The job at Lakeview had been just about the most settled I’d ever been since Mom was murdered. I’d learned the hard way that staying in one place for too long made me careless. I hoped that the activity of the past few days would not expose me to too much danger in the next few days.

I went over to the fireplace and tried prodding and pushing. Nothing happened.

“Ok, I give up.”

“Press the long stone just under the shelf.”

I did as he instructed, and there was a definite click.

“Now press down on the outside of the stone.”

I did and it moved out of the way.

“There you are. Open Sesame!”

I stuck my head down inside and saw a set of steps leading down into the dark depths.

“There is a light switch on the roof above the steps. Go on down and explore it. It was also a food store for any meat that we hunted. The cool temp in the fall makes it perfect for hanging game like deer. The back way out is to your right at the bottom on the steps.”

I went down into the cellar. It was far roomier than I’d imagined. A dimly lit tunnel led off to my right. It seemed to head away from the house, woodshed and garage and into a small area of scrub that appeared to have been cleared of timber a good few years before.

“I can see the tunnel.”

“Go and follow it and I’ll see you outside.”

There was little choice but to follow the tunnel. At the end, there was a wooden trapdoor in the roof. I pushed on it and it moved a little. I tried again and it opened. Looking down at me was the smiling face of the Judge. He extended a hand. I accepted it and he pulled me up and onto the ground. We were some seventy or eighty feet from the cabin.

“Thanks. I wondered where it came out.”

“We left this area alone after we built the cabin. The view from here is pretty good.”

He was right. The view down to the valley below was spectacular. I could see a truck moving along the highway. I hadn’t realised that we climbed that far up from the road.

“That is quite a view alright.”

“There is more than enough air in the tunnel should a fire sweep through the area. Stay put until it passes through or burns itself out. There is a box of candles and a lighter on a shelf near the light switch. There is a hurricane lamp under the sink for when the batteries run out. They are charged by three solar panels on the roof. In summer, they are more than good enough to light the cabin at night.”

He smiled.
“I think that we have done enough for today. Let’s go back inside and get something to eat?”

“That is a great idea,” I said closing up the exit door.

---

“Squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it.”

“I’m trying but my finger and brain don’t seem to be properly connected.”

He laughed.
“Those were almost the exact words that my wife used when I taught her to shoot.”

“Look Judge, I don’t think that I’ll be staying here long enough for hungry bears to find me.”

He smiled.
“There are always the bears on two legs to worry about.”

It took me a second to get what he was on about.

“Do you think that I could be tracked here?”

“I’ll be perfectly honest with you Tiffany. That last message made it pretty clear that the cops back in Oregon have ratted you out to your father. If he really does want you dealt with once and for all, then yes, I do. There could be some bad guys on their way here right now.”

“But… you said that this place was not known to anyone in Oregon?”

“I did say that, but they know that we came in this direction and there are property taxes to pay on this place as well as land records. It is very, very difficult to remain invisible these days if the people searching for you are determined enough plus I’m not crooked enough to hide the ownership of this place in a shell company.”

“That is very true. I learned very quickly that I needed to become a hobo just to survive. My father has fingers in so many local and federal government pies that becoming one of the invisibles as some politicians love to call us seemed the best way forward at the time. We don’t pay taxes, vote or contribute to their or their opponents’ campaigns so we are to be ignored or simply moved on and kept out of sight of the TV crews when they come to capture their soundbites for the evening news.”

“That is a pretty jaundiced view of the world, isn’t it?”

I smiled.
“From where I am in society, it is about the only view. Almost all of the cops that we meet are out to either put us in jail for no good reason or run us out of town… Just like the ones back in your hometown.”

“True, so very true.”

After a pause where the frown lines on his face deepened, he said,
“What about your future? What do you want to do… after you know what?”

I chuckled.

“I have thought about that a lot over the years. Most of the time, I tell myself not to be so stupid and that I could easily become just another statistic in the list of people shot by the cops for no reason other than being black, looking suspicious, being in the wrong place at the wrong time or all three.”

“And now?”

His question stunned me. It was my turn to frown.

“I’ve seen you change a lot in just the short time that we have been here.”

“Oh. I get you. I don’t know but the peace and beauty of this place has gotten to me and that worries me. I have had to keep moving just to stay alive as you well know. The longest I’ve spent in one place was six months. I was working alongside some illegals on a farm. I only left after it was raided by Immigration. They ignored me but I took the hint and left the next day in case they sent CPS after me. Some bitter experiences and a few close shaves have told me more than once that I can’t afford to become sentimental or attached to any one place. I learned that several years ago at a place near the southern end of the Appalachian Trail. The inbred locals took offence to a black hobo living in their midst. It was hard to leave such a beautiful place but only thanks to one of the few good cops did I get out without facing a lynching. Someone had started a rumour that I’d knocked up a local girl. I hadn’t but… you fill in the blanks.”

The Judge changed the subject and we chatted a bit more about the cabin and its surrounding environment. I could tell that he was trying to sell me the idea that I should stay. Even while he was talking, I was planning an exit route. That was just something that I did wherever I spent more than one night in the same place.

[to be continued]

The Judge made me feel very much at home in the cabin. It felt odd. Not odd for anything bad but odd for me to actually like a place. I’d been on the run for so long that there were times that I thought that I was destined to be a ‘queen of the road’ for good but there was something about the place that got to me within a couple of hours of me seeing it for the first time.

It wasn’t all plain sailing though. The judge grilled me on my life. He was so easy to talk to that I truly let my guard down for the first time in years. That night, I thought briefly about leaving and decided that I’d stay for at least a while.

When I told him the next morning, he was very pleased.
“This is a much better view than from the inside of the county jail.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that but from my experience, this is in a different league.”

That pleased him no end. Our discussions in the evening were different to almost any other talk that I’d ever had since the death of my mom. He treated me like an adult. When I asked him why, he simply said,
“You are more worldly wise than anyone of your age that I’ve ever met. Your experiences on the road are worthy of a book.”

The mere suggestion that I should write a biography of my life so far was to me laughable. For starters, no one would ever believe a word of it but we had a good laugh about it. That was the icing on the cake of my opinion that he was one of the good guys.

---

The judge left me alone late the next afternoon. As far as he was concerned, I now knew how to shoot a rifle, badly, use the chainsaw and log splitter without chopping my leg off and most importantly in my eyes, use the range to cook food and to provide heat for the cabin.
E road
He’d also given me his wife’s old laptop that was just gathering dust at the cabin. I wasn’t sure if I’d use it but the prospect of writing down my history was tempting but… I needed to think about it.
“This place should give you some time to think about the future,” were his parting words.

I appreciated his generosity but he was adamant that I was not in his debt for even a single cent but I gave him a big hug before he climbed into the Subaru.

“Thank you for rescuing me from that PD.”

He shook his head.
“You don’t need to thank me. As soon as I saw your mugshot, I knew that it was time for me to stand up those corrupt SOB’s. When you leave, give me a call so that I know that this place is empty again.”

“I will.”

“Good. In the escape tunnel, there is a glass jar with close on a thousand dollars in it. It is yours to use to buy groceries and the like while you are here. I don’t expect to find any left when I return and I’m not going to take a no for an answer.”

I knew from his tone the same one he’d used for tearing off the ADA back in his court that he meant every word.

“Thanks again, Judge. One day, I’ll find a way of paying you back.”

He just smiled back at me.
“Just promise me one thing Tiffany.”

“If I can, I will.”

“That’s about all I can hope for. Promise me that when you get Justice for your mom that you will become the woman that there is inside you just waiting to get out…”

He’d never really mentioned my gender before.
“I’ll try but it isn’t going to be easy. Some of the laws being proposed in parts of this country will make the lives of anyone like me a big problem”

“I’ll take that as a promise and yes, you are right about the laws and the misguided views of politicians and that includes your father.”

I knew from reading the internet versions of the local newspapers about the laws his party had proposed. So far, they didn’t have the votes to pass them but it is election year…”

Then my friend, the judge got into his car and drove off. I stood there watching long after he’d disappeared out of view. I owed him big time. Normally, I’d not like being beholden to anyone but with him, it didn’t matter. I would pay him back with interest in the future. I resolved not to let what just happened dwell on me. Payback would happen when my father was either dead or sent to jail for life. My only regret was that I had spent so little time with this man. I respected him and that was a new thing for me. Most of the time, I despised all men for what they did to people like me. He was different and I found that both odd and at the same time rather strange.

---

For the first time in years, I had the time to sit and think. There was no pressure on me to get out of town or wherever I was at the time. It all felt a bit odd. I felt a tinge of regret because Judge Francis was the first person in a long time who had not only treated me well but had shown an interest in my case. Ok, it was for reasons of his own but the sphere of evil that surrounds my father had spread a long way after all these years.

I promised myself once again that one of these days, I would send him away for what he’d done to my mom and had tried to do to me.

---

[two days later]

I’d just finished doing the washing up after lunch of chicken soup, when I heard the sound of an engine. I looked down the track towards the road but I could see nothing. Then my ears told me that the sound was coming from a different direction. Almost without thinking, I went outside to greet the visitors, then I panicked. I dashed back inside and grabbed the rifle and waited out of sight.

My visitor came into view on a quad bike. I saw that he was wearing some sort of uniform. I relaxed and after putting down the rifle I went to greet the man. The Judge had described the uniform that the Fire Watchers used. Judging that by his appearance, this was one of them. An official looking crest on the side panel of the Quad, pretty much confirmed that conclusion.

He came to a stop outside the cabin and switched off the engine. Then after climbing off the bike, he came towards the cabin with a smile on his face.

I put down the rifle behind the door and went outside to greet him.

“Hi there, neighbour!” he said cheerfully.

“Hello.”

“My name is Cory Morgan. I’m one of the Fire Watchers. Our post is three miles up the hill. We saw the smoke from the cabin the other day and because it is still rising, I came to say hello. We always check on the comings and goings just to know who is around in case a wildfire comes through. But, from time to time, we get a few squatters.

“Hi, I’m Tiffany. How do you know that I’m not one of them? Squatters I mean?”

“Because one of our patrols ran into the Judge as he was leaving the other day. He tipped us off that you are here alone. We are here if you need us.”

“Thanks for that. Can I offer you some coffee?”

“Next time perhaps. It is not every day that we get a pretty-woman in the area.”

“Compliments will get you nowhere unless you have some of my coffee!”

Cory laughed.

“Touché Tiffany. Next time I’ll have some coffee. I have to get going as I’m going to the store to pick up a package. Delivery companies won’t venture up to our station so they drop things off at the store. I want to get there before they close for the day.”

I smiled.
“Ok Cory. You are forgiven. I’ll hold you to the ‘next time’ promise, ok?”

“Is there anything I can pick up for you? The judge has a good line of credit with the owner.”

“I’m fine thanks. The judge and I brought a lot of food with us. I’ll probably take a trip down to the store in the middle of next week.”

“Ok, but if you need anything in a hurry, we can probably help out.”

“That’s nice to know Cory. I do appreciate it.”

“You take care now Tiffany. I can see that you have been busy with the chainsaw.”

I smiled.
“The judge drummed into me, ‘safety first’ when he taught me the right and wrong way to use it.”

Cory grinned.
“That’s the Judge all over. He’s a nice guy.”

He disappeared down the track less than a minute later. It was nice to know that I had some friendly neighbors up the hill.

---

The Judge had left me the keys to his ‘other vehicle’ or his ‘big-boys toy’ as he put it. The vehicle was a heavily customised 1970’s Jeep. Raised suspension, big… no make that very big tyres and a full roll cage. He’d explained that he was originally going to go off-roading in it but the death of his wife had robbed him of any enthusiasm for the sport. They’d worked on it together and the memories were just too painful for him to continue using it except in emergencies.

He’d told me that it was licensed and insured for use on the road and that I could use it whenever I liked. My problem was twofold. Firstly, I didn’t have a driving license and I’d never driven a stick shift. Seeing it sitting there ready to go was very tempting but the prospect of being pulled over by the law was just too much so I left it well alone. A young black person driving something as recognisable as that Jeep could very well be like a red rag to a bull for the local cops.

I had more than enough food for the rest of the week so I didn’t need to make a decision for a few more days. Which pleased me as I was not looking forward to climbing back up the track from the highway carrying a load of groceries.

In order to resist being tempted to drive the jeep, I covered it up in a Tarp. I sincerely hoped that being out of sight was also going to be out of mind. Then I stopped myself. I could drive… always assuming that I could manage the shifter down to near the road. That would keep me off the public roads and away from being pulled over by the local cops.

I did put some effort into making sure that the ‘ready to burn’ part of the wood pile was kept replenished. Heating the water for a bath took a lot of wood. The cabin had a huge cast iron bath with great views over the top of the forest. It was a great place to relax and think about my future just as the judge had said it would.

---

Whichever way I tossed the dice, every answer I could come up with for my future was full of clouds and uncertainty. That unsettled me no end but gradually, a picture formed of what I should do next. Like I’d been doing for more years than I care to admit, I had to move on but not yet. This time, I was determined that I’d do it on my terms. Being at the cabin was allowing me to recharge my batteries. Being on the run from my father and his cronies for so long had taken a toll on me mentally.

If and when I was going to leave, I owed it to the judge not to leave any food to either go rotten or for bear food. That was to be my tipping point but as was my habit, I prepared things so as to be able to leave at almost a moment’s notice. I regretted not having my old pack but that was long gone so at the insistence of the Judge, I’d bought a new backpack at the store on the way to the cabin but, it needed breaking in and made comfortable on my body so I began wearing it all day.

As the pack began to adjust to my body, I started to add items that I wanted to take with me to the pack. These were the things that I was going to take with me when I leave. I took the advice of the Judge and kept the pack in the escape tunnel when I wasn’t working on it or wearing it. Doing this meant that if I had another visit from one of the fire watchers, my intention to leave unannounced would remain hidden from view not that they’d be unduly bothered as I was sure that the Judge had said that one day I’d just up an leave the cabin.

---

All was going well with my relaxation at the cabin when on the Wednesday morning and just as I was preparing to go to the store for supplies, I had a visit from Cory, the fire watcher. He came down the track from his base at great speed. His Quad Bike skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust.

“Hi Cory. That was some entrance!” I commented.

“Hello Tiffany. This isn’t a social call.”

“Am I putting out too much smoke from the range?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing like that. The Judge is dead.”

Those four words hit me hard.

“What happened?”

“According to the Oregon State Police, his car was forced off the road as he travelled near his home a couple of days after he’d left here.”

“Oh Shit!”

Cory didn’t say anything.

“I guess that I’d better be moving on then. Now that he is dead, I’m sort of squatting. How did you guys find out about it? That’s in another state isn’t it?”

“My colleague Jac, is from Oregon. He watches the local TV news from Bend. It was only a news item because he is a sitting judge.”

“The Judge told me that he was going to retire at the election and take to the road in a Camper,” I said.

“That sounds about right. He talked about that when he came up at the end of April to sort out the cabin after the winter.”

I was still stunned by the news of his death. People who help the likes of me out of the goodness of their hearts are few and far between in this world.

“If I were you, I’d stay here for a few days. Get your thoughts together and come and see us. It seems that you don’t want to drive the jeep, one of us will take you to somewhere a bit less remote. I’m going home for a week in four days. I’d appreciate some company on the drive.”

I thought for a moment before asking,
“Sounds like you are going quite a way?”

“Bismarck or a small place very close to it, just a short drive along the interstates from Spokane,” said Cory with a grin on his face. I guessed that ‘short’ was a misnomer. Bismarck is in the middle of the plains and a long way from here as in the third state from the sun that had just come out for the first time that day.

“Past the ‘Concrete Cows’ then?”[1]

Cory laughed.
“You certainly know your US geography. They are about 30 miles west of Bismarck. The turnoff to my folks place is just over twelve miles past them.”

“Lots of wet days spent in Public Libraries I’m afraid. The idea of a ‘folly’ intrigued me. I read about them in England back before the Revolutionary War. We have quite a few of our own and I’d place those cows in the folly category.”

Cory smiled back at me. It was a nice welcoming smile.
“Are you up for it?”

“I don’t know. I need to rethink my plans. If I turn up at your lookout at the crack of dawn, in four days’ time, then you will know that I’ve decided to come with you.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

He got back on his Quad Bike and started the engine. Then he said,
“Be careful Tiffany.”

“Thanks Cory. I will.”

---

Cory disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving me alone to ponder my future. The death of the Judge had thrown a huge spanner into my thinking. It all came down to when and how I should leave. Leave now and go where or wait a few days and go with Cory. Then there was the question about trusting Cory. It seemed highly unlikely that he was involved with any wrong doing but you never can tell.

That evening, I packed and repacked my backpack. I tried to be brutal with my selection but it was hard. Having a choice of clothes was something that I’d not had to deal with for well over a year, the last one being in Las Vegas. I remembered my time in Vegas with a good deal of affection. I’d even considered trying to put down some sort of roots. It had only come to an end when I was recognised by one of my father’s staffers who was in town on a dirty weekend. He just happened to come into the way off the strip, fast-food joint where I was working when I left for the day because he’d gotten lost on his way to the airport in his hire car despite the fact that there was a sign showing the direction to McCarron almost next to the joint. We bumped into each other and he knew right away who I was.

The subsequent altercation had attracted the attention of the local cops. They’d seen me a number of times when they’d come into the place for something to eat and drink. Luckily, they’d sided with me and had given the staffer a good talking too. Being a staffer for a Governor didn’t cut it with the cops. They’d seen his type before a were not going to let his bluster get the better of them. They soon sent him on his way but he didn’t leave quietly. His last words to me were….

“When I tell your Pa where you are, he’ll come looking for you. You know that he does not like loose ends.”

They told me loud and clear that I’d gotten rather complacent. I knew that he really meant in that my father would send someone else to do his dirty work. My father would never soil his hands with anything dodgy when there were plenty of hangers on only too willing to lick his boots and who would later be thrown under a bus without even a thought. He only ever thought about himself and how much money he could grift from the poor suckers who fell for his scams.

To him and his ilk us normal people are nothing more than a resource be used and discarded when they are no longer of use. I vividly remembered him saying at one political rally that was shown on TV, ‘why stand on the shoulders of giants when you can become a giant yourself’. I remembered thinking at the time that he’d forgotten to add, ‘by crushing all the little people who get in his way because you only count once every four years at election time.

It was less than a month later that my mother and his mistress was murdered. I hid from him and his goons for five days until my mom’s death was ruled suicide. Strange that being strangled by your lover can be ruled a suicide, but that was him covering his tracks. I was certain that I’d be next on the hit list. I hid out for the rest of the day and left the city of my birth on a bus to the middle of nowhere in the early hours. That first ride carried me to Nashville, which was the first of five busses that I took over the next three days until I felt that I was safe for the time being when I crossed into Ohio.

The middle of nowhere was where I was right now but in Washington State.

---

I was no farther forward in my decision making about when I should leave when I closed up the shutters the next evening. The Judge had said that it was good practice to do that in case a hungry bear came investigating during the night.

I stood on the veranda and watched the sun drop behind the mountains to the west. I could never tire of this view.

As I turned to go indoors, the doorframe to my right disintegrated. Then I heard the sound of a gunshot. Instinctively, I fled indoors and barricaded the door on the inside as several more bullets hit the frame and the door itself. Thankfully, the door had been made thick enough to stop a hungry bear that a few bullets were not going to penetrate them.

Then I shuddered. There were bullets that would have gone through a normal door like a hot knife going through butter. I was safe for the moment but I knew that I could not stay there for long.

I was well and truly up shit creek without a paddle unless I could get away unseen. I gave mental thanks for the Judge showing me the ‘fire escape’.

I heard some shouting from outside but ignored it. I had better things to do with my time.

I grabbed the laptop and its power-brick and shoved it into a shopping bag. After putting on my coat with a mental thanks to the judge for insisting on me getting one, I opened the escape door. As I climbed in, I recalled his words to me about marauding bears and ones on two legs. I knew now that he had been hinting at something like this.

Cory had warned me but somehow, I had once again grown complacent. I was in no doubt that I loved this place and that might have been my downfall.

I put those thoughts out of my mind as a banging started. Someone was pounding on the front door.
“Come on out. We have the place surrounded. Your Daddy just wants to talk!”

I knew that the owner of the voice was lying and that I had to get out of the house right now. As I shoved the shopping bag into the room below, I stopped. The voice was back.

“Come on out Darlin! Or we smoke you out.”

These guys must be mad. Didn’t they know about the fire watchers?

Then the blade of an axe appeared in the front door. They were not hanging about. Now it was time to move and fast.

I climbed down into the room below and made sure that the entrance stone was back in place. Any time that I could get on them the better whoever they might be.

After going along the tunnel and away from the cabin, I opened the escape hatch very cautiously. There were sounds of the door to the cabin being wrecked. I hoped that all the intruders were occupied with that.

I crawled out of the hatch and closed the door behind me. Then I ducked down the slope for about ten yards before standing up. The hill hid me from the view of those at the cabin. As I moved off towards the track that led to the fire watchers, I heard a new voice.
“The cabin is empty!”

That was followed by a shout again from a new voice.

“Find the bastard and bring him to me! Make sure that he is alive you understand! I am going to take great delight in killing him after I have fucked him like I used to do.”

The sound of that voice sent shivers down my spine. It was the voice of my half-brother, Dean.

[to be continued]

[1] I have passed them twice in my US travels. The first time was in 1975 on a Greyhound bus going from Seattle to Duluth. Seeing them appear in the early morning light was quite weird.

I slid, as quietly as possible, another ten yards down the hill and began to circle away from the Cabin and the track down to the road. The small bushes and trees that had been left to grow in recent years gave me plenty of cover. The ‘crew’ that my half-brother had with him were making plenty of noise like you do when driving hogs into a trap. The hog they were after was me!

I heard voices calling out to me from around the cabin.
“Come out wherever you are. Make this easier for yourself! You can’t delay the inevitable.”

To my relief, they were looking in the wrong direction. I heard them stumble around the log pile and the garage where the jeep was kept. I heard two shots. I wondered if that was them disabling it just in case. It didn’t matter to me. Every second they wasted on that was another yard I was farther away from them.

Dean was more methodical than his father but was still someone I regarded as an idiot when it came to making important decisions. He did what his daddy told him to do and no more. He had never been known for showing much decisiveness in his life apart from when it came to taking great delight in fucking me when I was not even a teenager. I’d often wondered what his trophy wife would do if someone presented her with photos of him doing that very thing. He had them somewhere. He made sure that I knew that he had the evidence just to make sure I never told anyone about it.

His reputation in the very right-wing Church that his family attended would make it very hard for him to continue as a deacon. They preached celibacy outside marriage and fucking children was way out of the norm for them to ignore it.

He must have read my mind.
“I still have those photos of you being bum fucked. One of these days, they will be used against you. Come on in and get what is coming to you and I might just get rid of them!” shouted Dean.
I heard some sniggering.

I had often wondered if he’d only done that to me, or was he a real paedophile? I’d long settled on the latter point of view. I’d never told Mom about it either, which I came to regret. 'One day…' I promised myself… one day, you will get to share a cell with someone a lot bigger than you. Then we'll see how you like it. I hated it, but as I was only ten and a half, I had to accept what he'd done to me.

Another shot stopped me from any further daydreaming…
I heard Dean shout,
“You fool. That nearly took my head off…”

That was Dean alright. He was always trying to outdo his father. Either that or he'd suck up to him in the hope that his dear daddy would not notice that he was as dumb as… a dumb waiter in hotels. That man was a huge danger around guns because dear daddy had pronounced to the world at one of his political rallies that his son was the greatest shot ever and, should be competing for the USA at the Olympics when the truth was just the opposite. He or his son often proclaimed to the world that they were top experts in all sorts of things. Nothing could be further from the truth. Real experts just laughed at their preposterous claims.

---

Their continued actions around the Jeep and the cabin gave me time to get out of sight of the cabin and start climbing up the hill where I hoped to find the track that led to the fire watcher's post.

The sounds of the people at the cabin stopped a few minutes later. Then there was the sound of a vehicle moving away. For some reason, I looked back towards the sound, and through a gap in the trees, I saw a plume of smoke. I shook my head. I’d read the leaflets in the cabin that were put out by the fire service. They all warned about the risk of starting a fire. The wooden construction of the cabin could well start a forest fire, but those idiots wouldn't know about that sort of thing as they had flown in from my home state which was way on the other side of the continent.

“That will alert the watchers,” I muttered to myself under my breath as I shook my head in disbelief. Killing me was more important to them than stopping a potential disastrous forest fire.

Then I panicked as I thought that if they saw the smoke, wouldn’t the watchers send someone to investigate? I had to get to the track and hope that I could stop them in time. As I battled my way through the thickening trees, I regretted not going for a walk up the track to see the lay of the land. I didn’t know if the track followed the ridgeline or went through the trees all the way.

My mind was racing with all sorts of dire consequences when I stumbled on the very thing I was looking for. In the dwindling light, I saw the tyre marks of the Quad Bike. With renewed enthusiasm, I headed up the track into the gloom with almost every step I took I regretted only packing a tiny torch in my pack and not one of the head torches that had been hanging up in the cabin. Some words that Mom said to me shortly before her murder came to me. She’d say, hindsight is a wonderful thing, but you cannot dwell over not doing something unless you can travel back in time’. How right she was… again!

I used the light from the torch sparingly, but it kept me on the track until I saw lights ahead. That must be the base of the fire watchers or at least I hoped it was.

I came to the edge of the clearing. In the lights that were on, I could see the lattice of a tower disappearing into the darkness. That confirmed it I was in the right place.

After a few steps, I stopped dead. I had to work out what to say but my deliberations were cut short when a door in one of the buildings opened and Cory stepped out.

“Cory!” I called.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
“It is Tiffany.”

I stepped forward into the light.

“We saw your cabin. There is a crew on its way there right now.”

“Stop them. You must stop them. The cabin was set on fire deliberately. The people who did it are armed with at least one rifle. I heard a vehicle but they could still be around. Those hillbillies love to take pot shots at strangers.”

He took one step towards me and then stopped.
"Come with me. We must warn them and the local PD."

I couldn’t disagree with that.

He went a few yards and opened a door into another building. The lights inside were already on. I could see that it was some sort of control room.

I followed him inside and shut the door behind me. For half a second, I wondered if I was walking into a trap. Watching far too many ‘Police Drama’ shows on TV as a kid didn't help, but there was no one there.

"Ok, Tiffany, why don't you tell me what happened at the cabin."

I swallowed hard before answering.
"I was watching the sunset, and as I turned to go inside, a bullet hit the door frame. I went inside and put the bear barrier on the door. I was about to get out via the fire exit when the business end of an axe appeared in the door. That was the last straw so I made a hasty exit right then."

“That’s good. Anything else?”

"As I was circling around the property to reach the trail that leads up here, I heard a voice call out, ‘get the bitch. I want her alive’. The problem is that the voice belongs to my half-brother.”

“I bet that hurt?”

“No. He’s a crook just like my father, but one of those with what little brain they have is in his dick.”

“Who is your father?”

“It might be better that you don't know, but I will say that he is a very well-known public figure in his part of the country but not around here.”

"Gotcha. I'll try to get the fire crew on the radio. We aren't on high alert after the rain last week, so we should be in time to stop them. One of the team is up the tower watching for the fire to spread. So far it seems that it hasn't."

He picked up the radio and made the call. The team was about to head up the dirt road to the cabin. Then he called the police. The bad news was that there were no units in the area, but two patrol cars were on their way. I was unable to help with the type of vehicle that the visitors to the cabin used.

“I’d better make myself scarce. Those people don’t mess about. They might come here looking for me. If you don’t know where I am, then you can’t tell any lies.”

“Is it that bad?”

"Worse, I'm afraid."

“The police will want a statement from you in the morning,” said Cory.

I smiled.
“I’ll be back here in the morning,”
I replied but intending to do nothing of the sort.

Cory, to his credit, didn't try to press me.

I left him listening for updates on the radio.

---

I walked down the dirt road that led from the main road to the base for almost half a mile. There was some sporadic moonlight to help me find my way. Once I was out of sight of the base and the observation tower, I ducked into the trees. After one hundred steps I stopped and took off my pack, and sat down with my back to a tree trunk. This would have to do for the next five or six hours, and I had to hope that there were no bears in the area.

To say that I slept would be technically correct but in reality, I was just dozing. I kept one ear open for the sounds of anything that might be a bear but also for the sounds of emergency vehicles going along the road in the valley below. While I hoped to hear them but I knew that a few million trees in full foliage are great sound suppressors.

Dawn came and went without being disturbed, so I gathered my things up and headed down the side of the hill. I kept well away from the track to the Fire Watchers base, or so I thought. At one point, the track did a bit of a switchback, and there was no way to avoid it. I ran along the road, around the hairpin bend and didn't stop until I was safely in the cover of the trees.

It took me nearly an hour to reach the main road. There wasn’t a vehicle in sight in either direction. Without too much thought, I turned north and hopefully in the direction of Spokane.

I’d gone almost a mile before the first vehicle came by. It came from the direction of Spokane and didn’t even slow down as it passed me. It was then that I regretted not taking the opportunity to bind my chest before hitting the road. A brief check of my pack revealed that I’d left the binding behind. So much for that great idea of being prepared for everything. I’d have to be Tiffany until I found somewhere that could supply me with the elastic bandage that I needed.

I was beginning to enjoy the walk when I heard a vehicle come up behind me. This one slowed down to match my pace for about 20 steps. Then a brief 'whoop' of its siren told me that it was a Police car. There was nowhere to run, and besides, those guys have guns, and I didn't. Somewhere in the night, I'd put the rifle from the cabin down, and had forgotten to pick it up again. At least not having an obvious weapon might stop them from being too trigger happy. I stopped and turned to face the car.

There were two officers inside. The one in the passenger seat opened the door. I could see some lettering on it. “Washington State Patrol”. At least they were not some local police who might not see a black person from one week to the next.

“Where do you think you are going?” he said as he stood by the side of the cruiser. He kept on hand resting on his sidearm.

“Spokane. I’m going to Spokane,” I said trying to sound confident.

“Were you the person who was at the cabin that went up in flames last night?”

“I was. I didn’t start the fire. I was too busy trying to get away from the people who were trying to kill me.”

“That, miss… Is a hard story to swallow.”

My hopes were dashed at being allowed to leave.

“Am I under arrest Officer?”

“No, but you are a person of interest. We have orders to bring you in for questioning.”

“Ok. I won’t give you any trouble,” I replied as I slipped my pack off my back.

That was not the right thing to do. The officer got a lot more on edge.

“I can hardly travel in your vehicle with this thing on my back, now can I?”

My impeccable logic didn’t wash with him. His face remained expressionless.

I held the pack at arms-length and slowly moved towards the driver’s side of the cruiser. When I reached it, I leaned over the hood and spread my legs. I knew the process only too well.

“I can see that you know the rules,” said the officer as he slowly came around to my side of the vehicle. I looked at his partner who was still in the car. I saw that they had their pistol drawn and pointing right at me.

“Are you carrying anything you should not be carrying or anything sharp?” he asked.

“No officer, I am not carrying anything like that on my person.”

The officer patted me down and then searched my bag. That was an illegal search, but he would probably get away with it by saying that he suspected that I was carrying drugs or a weapon in it.

The only weapon in the bag was a small penknife that the Judge had given me. That was at the bottom of the pack. He found it and slipped it into his pocket. That told me that I’d be lucky to see that again.

Then he got his cuffs and put them on me. I had hardly shown myself to be a threat, but he could say that I was a threat, and that would be the end of it. I also knew that with a lot of Police, anyone of my colour is fair game and that if I said anything out of place, I could be tasered or worse, shot. Being handcuffed was no reason in their eyes to go easy on me.

---

Spokane was a welcome sight, but I'd much rather have preferred to have reached it under my own steam rather than in handcuffs and in the back of a Police Cruiser.

I was taken into the State Police HQ for something called ‘Area 4’ and marched up to a high desk.

A bored-looking Sergeant behind the desk looked up. Firstly, at me and then at the two officers that had picked me up on the road.

“Sarge, Lieutenant Jackson wants to interview this suspect.”

“Just to interview?”

“That’s what the call we received said. We were to bring her in for questioning.”

“Ok. I’ll call him.”

The desk sergeant made a call and spoke briefly to someone called Jacko. I guessed that was slang for Jackson.

“He will be down in a couple of minutes,” said the Sergeant.

There had been no move to remove the handcuffs, and there was no sign of my backpack.

“Officer, where is my backpack? You put it in the trunk of your cruiser.”

“That will be impounded as evidence,” said the one who had driven the cruiser.

"What about the penknife that your colleague put in his pocket? He searched my pack without due cause. If I am to be charged with a crime, shouldn't that be evidence as well?"

The Sergeant behind the desk laughed.
“She knows the law, Robbie.”

Neither of the two officers moved an inch. One of them had been holding my arm all the time, tightened his grip.

“Robbie, go and get the backpack and I’ll have the penknife,” said the Sergeant as he held out his hand.

My pack was retrieved, and the penknife made an appearance on the desk.

“Where was this found?” asked the Sergeant.

“At the bottom of her pack.”

He shook his head.
"She was right. You didn't have probable cause for a search. You know the rules, so why did you do it?”

The sergeant put the knife back into the pack and gave me a brief smile.

At least this lot of law enforcement seemed to be a little less corrupt than the last lot down in Oregon.

Everyone’s attention was suddenly diverted towards a corridor on my left. A loud voice shouted, ‘don’t you know who I am?’. That was followed by ‘Just wait until my father hears about this! You won’t be able to get a job cleaning bathrooms after my lawyers have finished with you!”

I froze dead. That was the voice of my half-brother.

I turned away from the voice. If he was here already, who knows what lies he had already told them about me. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with him. The last time that had happened, I ended up in hospital with a bill of well over a thousand bucks which I still owed or rather, the estate of my mother owed as I was only twelve at the time. He'd walked away from the incident even though there had been plenty of witnesses around who could if they had wanted, say that he attacked me. As he is built more like a linebacker than a scrawny nobody like me, he got away with it as he had always done.

Just then a man who was aged about fifty and wearing an ill-fitting suit appeared out of a lift. He came over to the counter and greeted the Sergeant.

"Hi, Sarge. I gather that you have someone for me?"

“That’s her over there,” said the Sergeant pointing at me.

“Why is she in cuffs?”

“We were told to bring her in for questioning about the cabin fire,” said the officer who was still gripping my arm in a grip like a vice.

"Release her right away, and I'll take her upstairs."

The two patrol officers exchanged glances. They seemed unsure.

“Do what the Lieutenant says,” said the Sergeant.

Reluctantly, they complied, and my hands were released.

“Please come with me Tiffany,” said the Lieutenant.

I stepped forward and remembered my backpack.
“My backpack is with the Sergeant.”

The Lieutenant smiled. The Sergeant handed it to him.

“There is a small penknife in there,” warned one of the patrol officers.

“I think I can manage from here,” said the Lieutenant, with a good deal of confidence.

The Lieutenant led me to the lift. He pressed ‘4’ and the door shut.

“Thank you for coming in today,” he said.

“I really didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Those two should listen to their radio a bit closer. They were told to escort you and not to arrest you.”

I sighed.
"Lieutenant, I have learned over the years that when most officers see that I'm black or at least not pure white, they automatically assume that I'm a clear and present danger to them. I've gotten used to possibly being shot at every time I encounter a cop. No disrespect to you, but that's the way it is."

He smiled back at me.
"I do know some of what you have to go through. I'm part Native American."

His skin was a good bit darker than most white people, so I guessed that might be the case.

The lift stopped, and so did our conversation.

"Please come this way, I have a room set up for us."

I was prepared for an interview room with a large pane of one-way glass and at least one CCTV camera on the wall. What I wasn't prepared for was it clearly to be a meeting room. I could not see any cameras and the walls were all glass panels that I could see through. That sent a clear message to me, and that was a good one for a change.

“Please take a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

"Thanks, Lieutenant, but I've not really eaten for close on a day, so even a half stale donut would go down well with some tea."

He laughed.
"I can provide the tea, but something to eat will have to wait a bit.”

“Tea would be fine. No cream and no sugar.”

He went off to find something to drink. I looked around. It seemed that I was in the middle of an office full of detectives. A good dozen and a half of them were busy going about their business and ignoring me.

After almost ten minutes, the Lieutenant came back carrying a small tray with two disposable cups on it. Under one arm was a laptop. He came inside the room and shut the door behind him.

He put the tea down in front of me. The steam coming off the black liquid told me that the contents were hot, so I resisted trying it out.

He sat down and opened up the laptop. He spent almost a minute doing something, but I was content to wait, after all, I didn't have a plane to catch or anything else for that matter.

When he'd finished, he looked at me and smiled.
"I expect that you are wondering why you are sitting there?"

I managed a small smile in return.
"That thought has been going through my mind for some time, but at least I'm not pounding the road on my own or locked up in a jail cell, but honestly, I have no idea.”

“I understand that you heard about the death of Judge Phillips?”

I nodded.
“One of the fire watchers came and told me yesterday.”

“His death has, as we say, put the cat amongst the pigeons.”

“Has my half-brother being here as well, got anything to do with it? I heard his whiney voice downstairs. He was threatening everyone who came near him.

The Lieutenant laughed.
"He along with three others were picked up earlier today about 10 miles down the road to Oregon. We had a tip-off that they were carrying some illegal guns. I guess that came from you… The arresting officers found a variety of weapons on them and in their SUV. All of them had their serial numbers removed. Our firearms people are doing some ballistic tests on them at the moment. Those results will be shared with the FBI because those four are all from out of state. None of them will be going anywhere but our cells for a while. Most of the people up in the hills have guns for self-defence, but AR-15s with silencers and extended magazines are beyond the pale even for 2nd Amendment ‘nut cases’ as were the three live grenades that were rolling around in the trunk of the SUV. They could have gone off at any time. Just the charges relating to the grenades should see lengthy jail sentences for them all. The DA is not a happy bunny with that lot. To have a crew of hitmen fly into Bend by private jet, and then possibly be involved with the death of the Judge, and now the attack on you and burning down the cabin is not what we want in our community. He’ll throw the book at them if the politicians don’t get in the way.”

That made me very happy.

"But… Tiffany, as you are currently calling yourself, events have been moving on a long way from here thanks in part to the Judge.”

“How do you know all this?”

“The FBI Field Office in Seattle received a call late last night. They called us when they found out that where you were. They were involved because the people suspected of being involved in the death of Judge Francis had been seen crossing into Washington State. That fact alone makes it a Federal case. Then we received an update from the Bend Police and... well we don't want their sort in our part of the world.

"I see, but I'm still confused. The cops in Bend were not exactly welcoming when I passed through last week. Two days later I was arrested for vagrancy and that’s when I met the Judge.”

“I can only go by what I was told and what I have dug up since coming on duty today. The suspicious death of a judge makes everyone in law enforcement take notice. Between you and me, a bit of corruption while bad is a misdemeanour compared to a crime like murder.”

I let him continue.

“The Feds sent me some information about you. I was going to head down to the cabin when we received reports of the fire and the apprehension of those responsible. We are holding them pending the arrival of either the FBI or extradition warrants from Oregon. They have first dibs on them because of the suspicious death. I have two officers out at the cabin looking for evidence as we speak. Shortly before you arrived, I received a call from them indicating that they had found some spent shell cases and other things. If those match the bullet that they retrieved from the remains of the door frame then… If your story can help then I’d be glad to take a formal statement from you.”

My hopes of justice rose but only briefly.

“That means I’d have to testify and with a price on my head, it would be like walking out to face the lions at the Coliseum in Rome.”

He smiled at me.
“We hope that it won’t come to that. But… the case will remain on file just in case. When I received notification that you had been picked up, I called the FBI in Seattle. They are sending someone here to take you into protective custody. Things have been moving along quite rapidly since the Judge was killed.”

I sat silent. I was still very confused. I had no idea how the FBI had gotten involved so quickly and why?

“Here, let me show you what I know…” he said as he opened his laptop.
“We have time as the FBI Agent will not be here for more than an hour.”

[to be continued]

[At the State Trooper HQ in Spokane, WA]
The Lieutenant turned the laptop around and showed me the screen. On it was the front page of that day's Washington Post. The headline got my attention in a flash.

"Governor Indicted on Multiple RICO and Corruption Charges by the DOJ. More to follow.”

Below the headline was a picture of my father doing the perp-walk at the state capitol. I could just about make out his ugly fat, and balding head in the crowd. The reporting was clear and concise. The 'Post' was predicting that he would try to bluster his way out of all the charges and that it would be at least 5 years before he'd ever come to trial if recent experiences with the Attorney General in Texas were anything to go by.

I read the headline and the entire article twice before it began to sink in. It said that the DOJ had been investigating him for several years, and following some new information coming to light, an existing grand jury had issued indictments. He was arrested at his home the previous afternoon. It made sense that the DOJ would be involved because the local States Attorney and the AG were well known to be one of my fathers’ biggest ass-lickers. They’d all run on the same ticket when he was elected Governor.

Automatically, I shook my head in disbelief.

“Good luck getting anything to stick on him. Witnesses have a habit of going missing just before any trial that involves him and his cronies,” I said.
“Then there is his weaselling out of anything. He gets others to take the fall for him. The local paper called him the ‘Teflon Don’ just before the last election. Two days after he was elected, the editor was sacked and had his home foreclosed. Don't even try to explain that one away, he was got at. I guess that was what the post was hinting at when it estimated the length of time it would be before his case came to trial. Then there is his army of lawyers who will try to delay, deny and delay everything for years until…”

“Until what?”

“He becomes POTUS. I heard him talk about it when he was with my Mom.”

The Lieutenant smiled at me for a second or so before putting on his serious face.

This email came from the FBI just before you were brought into the station.
He showed me an email that filled in a few more blanks.

“That is why Tiffany, we’d like to get you handed over to the FBI and put into Federal protective custody as soon as possible.”

“Me? I know nothing?” I protested my innocence.
That was a lie, and I'd learned how to do it very well while on the road. Mom would be turning in her grave if she knew how easily I could lie with a straight face. She'd always come down on me hard if I was caught lying.

He shook his head.
“From the little that I have been told, something that you said to the Judge, was one of the missing links in the case. I understand that the Judge was at law school with your father?”

"He was. We talked about my time growing up and how he'd gotten rid of loose ends when he decided to run for office a second time as a prelude for a run for POTUS. One of those loose ends was my mother. He came, or rather the people he got to do his dirty work came after me, but I escaped. We have played a game of cat and mouse for the past 5… no, nearly 6 years. They nearly caught up to me at the Judges' cabin, but thanks to him, I escaped. One of these days, I won't be so lucky."

“It might very well be that your nightmare is almost over thanks to you meeting Judge Francis.”

He smiled again,
“Again, this is what I was told, the judge made a number of phone calls after he’d left you. Two of them were to his lawyer in Portland. We’d already found out that he’d called his lawyer from his phone records. The lawyer recorded the call on the instructions of the judge. The FBI already has that recording, and has passed it to the Federal Attorney who has laid the charges against your biological father.”

“Why? Why are you involved with his murder? I'd think that you'd want this to all go away ASAP, but that's not the impression that I am getting.”

“Around here, the Judge was regarded as one of the good guys. He spent some time here in Spokane, trying to educate the troopers about the laws involving traffic stops, and stuff. He never charged for those services. They have saved the department from a good number of lawsuits."

I chuckled.
"No wonder the desk sergeant went down on the two jerks who cuffed me and searched my backpack. Sorry about the language, but that is my opinion of them."

“That sounds about right. I’ll make sure that their watch commander knows what they did. Illegal searches are a right PITA for us detectives. We tend to get very unhappy when some really great evidence is tossed because of an illegal search or worse, not giving suspects their constitutional rights to counsel and the rest.”

"I know that only too well. Cops see my skin and that I'm homeless, and they think that it is open season for abuse and hang my rights especially my 4th and 6th amendment rights. That was how I met the judge in the first place."

I decided to get back on the subject.

“My father’s pit bull lawyers will tear me apart when I get on the witness stand. I know that they’ll brand me as a liar and an unreliable witness. They’ll even make out that I’m not his son.”

“You sound very phlegmatic about the whole thing?”

"Believe me, Lieutenant, I have spent many an hour dreaming of this day, and then the horror of what it implies hits home and what he can do to me even from behind bars.”

He looked down at the table. I knew that bad news was incoming.

"The bad news for you is that he posted bail of $5M in cash, less than one hour after being arraigned earlier today."

“That alone tells a story in its own right. What honest man could raise that amount of cash so quickly? He is a corrupt SOB and has so many people under his thumb that it will take an army of lawyers and a gazillion charges to get anything to stick to his Teflon shoulders. I’ve spent hours and hours with legal texts in libraries from Memphis to Sacramento and beyond, trying to work out what would stick to him, and there is nothing or nothing that I'm aware of."

"I don't know the details either, but as I said, someone from the FBI will be here in a couple of hours. They may have more details for you.”

I picked up the tea and drank it slowly. It tasted like nectar. I dared to think that my nightmare could be coming to an end. Then reality hit me hard.

“When he discovers that my testimony could put him away for life, he'll just up the price on my head.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know because about six months ago, I was in Santa Fe. I’d found a job washing dishes at a TexMex restaurant when one of my half-brother’s goons found me. He cornered me in the kitchen and began to gloat about my demise and how much cash that he’d get for presenting my head on a plate to my father… or words to that effect. Two hundred grand is an awfully big carrot.”

“What happened then? You are here to tell the tale after all?”

“That is only because the owner of the restaurant found him with a gun pointing at my head. The owner had a bigger gun… namely a shotgun. The goon surrendered, and the owner shoved him into the freezer to cool him off while I hit the road. I managed to get a lift at a truck stop to LA in return for giving the driver a blow-job. I never found out what happened to the goon, and to be honest, I don't want to know what happened to him after I was long gone. The restaurant still owes me for six shifts, but I'll let that slide."

He smiled.
“I don’t think I have ever met someone of your age who is so smart.”

I refrained from replying.

---

The Feds arrived almost three hours later, or rather one man who was clearly not happy with this assignment. His body language told me everything I needed to know about him before he'd even opened his mouth.

“Tiffany, this is Special Agent Gonzalez from the Seattle Field Office. He will be taking you into protective custody.”

"Hi, Tiffany. I guess that you have a lot of questions about what is going on. Please bear with us as things are a little fluid at the moment."

“What do you mean fluid?”

He sighed.
"Your father tried to skip the country two hours ago. One of his associates stole an aircraft from an airport near Jacksonville in Florida and flew it to a private strip not far from his country home. They were trying to get to Cuba. He was stopped from leaving by a group of US Marshals who blocked the runway with their cars. He is back in custody, and his bail had been revoked."

“That is good, isn’t it?”

“His legion of lawyers are filing multi-million dollar lawsuits against every member of every bit of law enforcement that has been involved with the case against your father. They are claiming that almost every one of his constitutional rights has been violated. The thing is, that from arrest to when he appeared in arraignment court and later made bail was all taped. If that video shows no mistreatment, then he won't get far. They are also suing the Feds over the searches of his bank accounts. Those searches were all signed off by a Federal Judge in DC, so in my opinion, they are perfectly legal. Then and this is only hearsay, the arrest of him as he tried to flee by plane was filmed by both the Feds and at least one TV crew. If everything was done by the book then he won’t get very far.”

“That is to be expected I’m afraid. He’ll sue, delay, sue and delay for years and years until the statute of limitations runs out… well, that’s my take on how he operates. He’ll take every case to the Supreme Court if he can. If all that fails, witnesses suddenly can’t remember or worse, go missing. That’s why at least sixty cases in both civil and criminal courts against him have failed. That's just the ones I can find the public record on. For some reason, a whole slew of filings from the State Superior Court for 2015 went missing in 2017. One day they were there, and the next… Poof… they were gone. No one is admitting to ever seeing them yet… Oh, why do I bother? This is just the start of a war. The odds are that he'll find a way to get out of this. He always does. Money begats money.”

He remained impassive.

“I’m sorry for the rant. I don’t care what happens to him as long as he gets to answer for the death of my mother and for these…” I said pointing at my breasts.

“He did that to you?”

I nodded.
“Indirectly. One of his business rivals wanted to make me into a hooker and use me to entrap his rivals. The plan was that those people could be blackmailed into doing what my father wanted them to do. I’d made the mistake of wanting to see my cousin in the Florida Panhandle… I knew of the danger because I had gone too close to his fiefdom and I was picked up by the local PD and the rival swooped in and literally bought me from the Police Chief.”
I shuddered at the memory.

“But that didn’t happen, did it? I mean becoming a hooker?”

“I got lucky and escaped from him by cutting his dick off. He wanted to sample the goods if you get my meaning. I had palmed a scalpel when they put these things in me. They were going to fill them with saline so that I had 'GG' tits and a penis. The associate bragged that he'd make a million from me before I was fifteen. I left him with a phone, but the idiot didn't use it. He'd trafficked me over several state lines to his place in North Carolina. That’s a few 10-year minimum stretches for starters because I am still a minor. The cops knew that he was sexually into children, so didn't press me too hard once they saw the bandages from the surgery. I disappeared into the night before they could hand me over to CPS. Detaining me would lead to far too many questions that could implicate the PD so they turned a blind eye and let me go."

I took a deep breath.
“If I get into the grip of CPS, they’ll want to hand me over to my nearest relative, namely my father or rather his current wife now that he is in jail. That could spell the end for me.”

I changed the subject by saying,
“Before we go anywhere, I need something to eat. The last thing I had was a sandwich yesterday lunchtime.”

That request fell on deaf ears... again.

Then I began to feel like such a fool. I'd blurted out a load of my shit to people who were not in a position to do anything to help. The upside was that it felt good just talking about what had happened to me. I guess I should start charging myself $250 an hour for my own consultancy. That thought brought a smile to my face even though my stomach was complaining.

---

Agent Gonzalez was not the talkative type of person. My inquiries about where we were going went unanswered. It was clear that I didn’t need to know so I sat back and tried to enjoy the ride.

We stopped after two hours for a comfort break and a stretch of our legs. I felt that it was time for him to tell me where we were going.

"Ok Agent Gonzalez isn't it well past the time that you told me where we are going. It is not as if I have a cell phone and have a team of people waiting for my call so that they could come and rescue me?"

He looked at me and shook his head.

"I didn't volunteer to be your nursemaid. My son is playing softball for his team tonight, and I'm not going to be there so please, excuse me if I am not that friendly towards the little rich boy-girl."

“I’m not a rich person. My father might be able to lose millions when he skips bail, but my mother was a waitress in a diner. I grew up in a one-bedroom utility over a convenience store that was robbed on average, at least four times a year. I have less than one thousand dollars to my name so cut out the chip on your shoulder and at least let me know what is going on or I will walk away and get on that bus over there that if I am not mistaken, going to Duluth and eventually Chicago. Your choice Agent Gonzalez… What is it to be?”

To reinforce my threat, I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

“Ok. Ok. We are meeting another agent tomorrow morning. Beyond that, I have no idea where you will end up. Does that answer your questions?"

"It does, but why couldn't you tell me that in the first place?"

“Orders from above. They don’t trust you. One of my co-workers thinks that you were involved with the murder of the Judge. I’m inclined to support that theory.”

“The person who did it is back there in Spokane. He’s the one who tried to kill me yesterday.”

“What do you mean back there in Spokane?”

“I heard his whimpering voice in the Trooper Station. It belongs to the son of the Governor, Dean Eric.”

“I’d better report this to HQ.”

He walked away and pulled out his phone. I wondered if that would get him on my side? Probably not but it didn’t matter. He was just a messenger. I had to speak to someone in charge. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the State Police in Spokane already knew about my brother.

---

Once the agent had reported back to HQ, we carried on east along the interstate. We spent the night in a motel near Billings. The rain that had chased us all the way from Spokane finally caught us up just as we had finished getting something to eat. The rain didn’t matter now that my hunger had been satisfied.

Agent Gonzalez spent almost half an hour on the phone that evening, with his son talking about the Softball Game that he'd missed. I was not his favourite person, but I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. At least his son's team had won the game, which cheered him up no end.

We made an early start about an hour before dawn, and only stopped for a quick breakfast and to fill up with gas. The agent didn't say where we were going so, I was surprised when he pulled into a gas station near the N.D. city of Dickinson. The fuel gauge said that we had over half a tank left.

“This is as far as I go. Someone else will be here soon to take over,” said Agent Gonzalez.
A man of few words indeed.

Soon turned out to be over an hour. The two agents spoke for several minutes before I was handed over to the new one, Special Agent Turner.

“Settle in, we have a long drive ahead of us,” she said as we left the gas station.
“Where are we going if I’m allowed to know that is?”

"I'm to take you to a place on the other side of Duluth. I have an address to take you to. Beyond that, I don't know what will happen to you."

"Is that above your pay grade?" I asked trying to get a conversation going.

She chuckled.
“As it always is on assignments like this. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I was told that you are someone special and to not let anyone take you from me or I should not bother returning to the office. My boss always loves the melodramatic way of sending us on assignments, but I got his point.”

“This time, he is pretty accurate,” I said calmly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the illegitimate child of Governor Boyd.”

“Oh shit. Sorry for appearing to take this assignment lightly. I had no idea.”

"That's ok. Agent Turner but you do need to know that there is a price on my head and I'm not talking about a wanted poster that you will find in a Post Office. My father wants me dead. Just like a judge who helped me out a few days ago."

Her grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightened.

“At the moment, those after me are in jail in Spokane or at least they were 24 hours ago, and my father is back in jail but in a few days… I am sure that his crooked lawyers will have put a new team on my tail.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”
She smiled at me and relaxed as she pulled away from the Truckstop, and back onto the Interstate.

I did the same and watched out for the Concrete Cows.

---

We’d been going East for about an hour when her phone dinged.
“Can you look at that?” asked the Agent.

“Sure.”

I fished around for the phone in her jacket that was on the back seat of her Toyota. I found it in an inside pocket.

“There is a message for you.”

I handed her the phone, and she unlocked it with a press of her finger on the home button.

“What does it say?” she asked while keeping her eyes on the road ahead and behind.

“It is from someone called Robert Jenkins.”

“That’s my section head. It must be important. Please read it for me.”

“It goes, Please divert to Jamestown Airport, and meet N45623. Someone on the flight wants to talk to Tiffany. Important that you keep her extra safe. Alpha-Foxtrot”

She thought for a moment before saying,
“There is a Rand McNally road Atlas under your seat. I think that the airport is a bit ahead of us. Can you check?”

"Ok, but what does that Alpha-Foxtrot mean?"

“It is a code we have. This is the sixth message from him to me about this assignment. Once I know where this rendezvous point is, I’ll get you to send a reply.”

Suddenly, I'd gone from being a passenger to assisting her in the operation. That was a big change from the last baby-sitter.

It didn't take me long to find the location of a small airport. It was about thirty miles ahead, then five or six miles to the north of the Interstate just to the east of Jamestown.

"Straight on for thirty miles, then highway 20 north probably from the last exit for Jamestown.”

I saw her smile.
"Good. Please send the following text message. 'Beta Delta'. Nothing more, nothing less."

“Gotcha.”

I sent the text message and kept a watch out for the turning. I began to get worried as it approached. Agent Turnet kept watching her mirrors.

“Are we being followed?”

"I don't think so, but we'll see once we turn off."

I prayed that she’d be right.

---

Agent Turner was correct, and no vehicle followed us away from I-94. The place was very quiet. I guessed that commercial flights were few and far between and if they existed, those would likely be operated by Turbo Prop aircraft.

“Is this the right place?”

“I think so after all… how many airports can there be in this megalopolis?”

We both laughed. It did help to relieve the tension.

“How long will we have to wait?” I asked.

"Put that registration in the text message into 'Flighttracker’. The app icon is on another page on the phone.”

This was all very strange to me, but I did as she requested. All the time, she was scanning the road back to the Interstate. So far, it was all quiet.

“According to this, the plane is about 50 miles away.”

“All down to the wonders of modern technology, eh? Nothing we do is that private these days,” said the Agent.

“That sounds awfully fatalistic?”

She sighed.
“Sometimes I think that we have gone too far down the slippery slope of tracking everything we say and do…”

I laughed.
“Says the Federal Agent?”

“Don’t tell my boss, ok?”

I smiled back at her.

---

The plane landed some fifteen minutes later. Agent Turner walked over to it as it rolled to a stop near the modern building that was signed ‘Private Aviation Terminal’. The door to the plane opened, and a man came down the steps.

They conversed for a few seconds before she waved at me. I walked over to the plane.

“I’ll be in the car for when you are done,” she said as we passed each other.

I was distinctly nervous as I approached the jet. The only sound was some chattering on the aircraft’s radio.

The man stepped forward to meet me.

“Tiffany, I am Jake Gardiner. I work directly for the Attorney General of the USA. We’d very much appreciate your help in the case against your father.”

His words almost knocked me for six. Until then, and despite people telling me that things were happening, I still thought that I was very much on my own.

“I have read a report sent to me by the attorney for the late Judge Francis. He dictated it after he’d left you at the cabin. He relayed what you told him while you were together.”

A few things started to make sense.

“I understand that you may have some inculpatory evidence relating to the death of your mother?”

"Inculpatory? Oh, you mean the stuff that will send him away for the rest of his natural?"

“I do. I can see that you know a lot about the law. The Judge hinted at that.”

“Guilty as charged. I have spent a good number of hours in public libraries.”

“Good for you. Do you have such evidence?”

"I do, but it isn't available to me at the moment."

“That confirms what the Judge hinted at.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to get it and give it to you?”

He shook his head.
“We’d like you to come to DC and make a deposition. Don’t tell let on that you have this evidence during the deposition because that will be shared with the other side. Then we’d like you to appear before a Federal Grand Jury. That will be the time to show us the evidence which we can share after the full set of charges have filed. The report from the judge hinted that it would send him down for life or are we reading too much into this?”

I managed a small smile.
"It should do what you want, and I hope it does for my mom's sake."

"Excellent. The FBI Agent will take you to a safe house where you will be prepped for the deposition. It won't happen tomorrow, so enjoy the downtime. The case is very complex as I am sure that you can guess"

I tried to reply but the words would not come out.

‘I’ll try to see you in DC for the deposition. We want to nail that SOB but don’t quote me on that,” he said with a smile.

Then he handed me a slip of paper.
"That's my cell number. If you get in a tight spot give me a call, and I'll send in the cavalry, but from what the judges' report said, you are quite adept at getting out of problems."

“Thanks for that. It was easier when I was on my own,” I replied looking over towards where the FBI agent was standing.

“Is there an issue with her? The agent I mean?”

I shook my head.
"No, but the FBI's SOP of not telling me what is going on is going to drive me mad in a very short time."

He smiled.
“I’ll make sure that the agents who have been detailed to look after you and prepare you for the deposition understand that.”

He seemed to be about to leave when he saw a look of concern on my face.
“Is there something else?”

"I don't expect you to give me a firm date for the deposition, but some sort of ballpark would help me focus my mind."

"That's an excellent question, and echo's a lot of what the judge said about you. I honestly don't know except to say that we will make every effort for it all to happen before Halloween.”

My shoulders slumped.
"I had hoped for a better guess than that, but at least it is something. Please, Mr Gardiner, keep us as informed as you can. I know that DC leaks like a sieve, but even a few days' warning would help me prepare mentally. I have direct experience of watching my father’s legal team at work. To say that they are like a Pitbull is an insult to the dog, as they are worse. I’d describe them as the Honey Badger of the legal world in that they never give up once they get their teeth into you. If I was to go in there unprepared, they could crucify me in minutes unless I had legal counsel on my side who was wise to their tactics.”

He shook his head and smiled at the same time.
"Tiffany, I love your plain-speaking, and your point is noted."

"There is one thing that is confusing to me. Why is the DOJ involved? Shouldn't he be dealt with by the state law officers?"

“Tiffany, there is a lot that I want to say but can’t for obvious reasons but simply, your father’s crimes go well beyond state lines and that makes it a federal matter. The murder of the judge is just one of those crimes.”

“Thanks for clearing that up for me. As long as he is brought to justice, I don’t care where it is.”

He nodded his head in agreement.
"I wish you a safe journey to wherever it is that you are going, and rest assured there are people who want your father taken down by any legal means possible."

We shook hands, and that was it. I walked back to the Agents car and heard the sound of the jet engines starting up behind me.

“You must be someone very special to get a personal visit from him,” she remarked as we stood side by side watching the plane taxi onto the runway.

“What do you mean?”

She laughed.
“He’s one of the top three or four attorneys in the DOJ. When he was appointed to the DOJ, a lot of people got more than a bit hot under their collars. His track record of going against organised crime is second to none. Some agents call him ‘RICO Buster’ behind his back.”

I swore under my breath as the jet took off and disappeared westward.

“Shall we hit the road?” asked the agent?

"Yeah. There is no sense hanging about in this godforsaken back of beyond place any longer."

Those words were ones that I could very much agree with.

[to be continued]

RICO : Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act
CPS : Child Protection Services

I spent the rest of the drive watching the scenery flash by. The plains are pretty boring from a landscape point of view. This was a far cry from the beauty of the cabin and the mountains.

My mind wandered all over the place which was unusual for me. After a couple of hours, I put that down to not being in control of what happened to me at least in the short term. I would have to accept that I would have to let others effectively mother me if I was going to get justice for my mom. I began to concentrate my thoughts on what I’d like to do when he and his son were locked away for the rest of their natural. It didn’t last long. The words that my mother had spoken many times came back to haunt me. Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched. I returned to thinking about the judge.

The long drive east finally forced me to admit that I missed the cabin even if I had only been there for a few days. There was something about it that had given me a chance to breathe and be the real me. No other place had done that to me before. I resolved to return to the area when all this was over and done with it if it was possible.

The image that I had in my mind of Duluth from the TV, was one of row upon row of huge grain silos and extensive railway yards.

Our car had overtaken a succession of freight trains on the line that ran parallel to the highway and the many tall concrete silos that filled the skyline ahead sort of told me that shipment of grain was big business in this part of the world. The TV image that I’d had of the place wasn’t that far wrong. For some reason, it reminded me of something mom used to say on the rare occasion that she received a decent tip from a customer, ‘Small wins come together to make a big one’.

Agent Turner drove us close to the city center, and then took a highway that ran along the north shore of Lake Superior to a place called 'Knife River', where she turned the car off the main road and headed inland.

After the agent consulted a map as well as the instructions that were on her phone a few times, she pulled the car up outside what appeared to be a solitary house that stood alone on a lot that seemed to be about twenty acres in size. A clapperboard garage stood off to one side and the rear of the house. Images of a modern ‘Little House on the Prairie’ came to my mind.

As we came to a stop, the front door opened. Two women came out with smiles on their faces. It appeared that this was the end of the line for me, at least for a while.

Less than five minutes later, Agent Turner drove off into the sunset. She’d done her job for the day.

---

Over a very welcome cup of tea, the two agents who were going to look after me introduced themselves. The lead agent, Amy Carter was very much the boss. She was a native of Wisconsin but even to her, Duluth was the armpit of the universe. Her co-worker, Sylvie Marshall hailed from the Maine coast but had been working in Phoenix for the past five years, and was not looking forward to winter in these latitudes.

“Winter? Are we to be here that long?”

Amy looked at Sylvie before speaking.
“Things are a bit fluid at the moment. We only got the call to come here in the early hours of the morning. I received a call from a deputy director in DC. Because of your fathers political contacts it was felt that keeping you safe needed to be done very much off the books. Normally, you would have had two or even three agents assigned to escort you here but it was stressed that the fewer people who knew about this operation the better.”

“That sort of echoed what Mr Gardiner of the DOD said when I spoke to him earlier.”

“He was on the call that assigned me here. I think that it was to indicate the seriousness of the assignment,” said Amy.

I began to feel a lot happier. The fact that only one agent was assigned to escort me from Spokane had concerned me for a while.

Amy continued, “Your father is scheduled to go on trial in November but your father’s legal team has already sued the Justice Department six different times. My boss said that at least two of them would probably end up in the Supreme Court. The gossip is that they had all the suits prepared in advance of the initial arrest because two of them were thrown out for basic cut and paste errors. My boss says that their clear tactic is to delay, delay and yet more delay. Two of the sixty charges against him relate to incidents that are close to five years ago.”

“Oh, the Statute of Limitations thing? They had to indict him now or it would be too late. I know from the legal texts that I have studied that it is a legal nightmare. The same crime can have a different limitation period in different states and again, different from federal laws.”

Amy nodded.
“Something like that but the legal people know what the other side is trying to do or that was what I read between the lines on the brief email that I received at 05:00 this morning."

I decided to change the subject.

“Ok, if we accept that I’m here for the duration how long that is, at some point I am going to have to give a deposition which will be given to the other side in discovery.”

“Are you a lawyer or something?” asked Sylvie.
“You seem very well versed in the procedures.”

I smiled,
“Or something. I spent many an hour reading legal texts as well as observing a few trials when I was living rough.”

“It must have been hard at times… you know being homeless?” said Sylvie.

“There were good times and bad times but I’m here now. When am I going to be deposed?”

“We don’t know. That as they say, is beyond our pay grade. I got a call a 05:00 this morning and told to get the next flight to O’Hare and here I am,” said Sylvie.

That confirmed my assumption that Amy was the boss lady here.

Amy smiled and said,
“I met Sylvie for the first time at Minneapolis St Paul airport and we flew here together, picked up a rental car and did some grocery shopping just to tide us over. We only arrived here a little over an hour ago. I checked in with the DOJ and I received an email from the people them giving me some more details of our assignment. One of us will have to go on a proper shopping trip either tomorrow or the next day. The email hinted very strongly that your deposition will not be next week or if I’m reading the runes correctly, even next month. The wheels of the Justice Department move at a snail’s pace even at the best of times.”

“I guess that one of both of you will need to report to the office that I'm here safe and sound. Then… I hate to say it but I'm rather hungry. I've only eaten a truck stop sandwich and a breakfast burger in the last 24 hours.”

Both of them laughed. That removed a lot of tension in the air. Food is a great way of breaking down barriers.

---

Over dinner, Amy outlined their plans for the immediate future or rather my immediate future.

"As I hinted at before, our regional director is well aware of the reach of your father. That's why the local field office knows nothing about us being here. Even the state FBI people are in the dark and our orders are only to involve them in an emergency. We have to get you ready to not only provide a deposition, but also to testify before a grand jury. One of the prosecutors at the DOJ will be sending me a lot of information that will help us in that work. Neither of us has been before a grand jury before so…”

“I get that but… I think that there is more? There is, isn’t there?”

“There is and a lot of the ‘more’ as you put it is not something that we are privy to at this time. What is first and foremost in our objectives is to make you not you if you get my meaning. All we have been told is that you have information that could be the final nail in your father’s coffin, the one that sends him to jail for the rest of his life. It stands to reason that he’ll do even more than he has already to stop you from even making a deposition let alone giving testimony at his trial whenever that happens. Our job is to stop him from stopping you.”

“I get that… So how do we go about this?”

“Sylvie is an expert at disguises and makeup. I am more into behavioral traits. Together our job is to make you not look like you and to blend in with the crowd as a woman. We believe that is what you want for the long term anyway. Is that assumption, correct?”

Without hesitation, I replied,
“It is. Ever since mom, came home early from work and found me doing my homework wearing one of her spare uniforms from the diner where she worked at the time, it has. We had a long heart to heart about it. She was reluctant to accept it at first but after a few months, she got behind me. My ultimate goal is to live as a woman with all the right IDs and everything."

“I’m puzzled about this information you have,” asked Sylvie.
“It is clear to me that you are a survivor. You would not have lasted so long if you weren’t but it is clear from how light you travel that you are not carrying it with you. The thing is that we don’t want to know about the information or where they are.”

I smiled but I wasn’t going to give up those particular crown jewels just yet.
“I agree with that. A lot of the information I have on my father I can’t talk about without implicating the both of you was obtained when I began tailing him. Who would suspect a school girl eh?”

The smiles that were on their faces disappeared in a flash.

“Who else knows about this?”

“No one living. My mom did obviously. She insisted that we wrote everything down. She would take that and mail it to someone she called her ‘insurance broker’. They still have it all or at least they did two years ago. I know that most of what I witnessed is out of time when it comes to prosecution, but it does show the sort of people my father was mixed up with and a pattern of behavior that is needed for a good RICO case. I carried on sending packets of information to the ‘insurance broker’ after she was murdered. I know that time limits do not apply to capital cases. The other person who knew about the general detail of what evidence that I had died suspiciously about a week ago. A few days later, an attempt was made on my life by my half-brother.”

“Are you sure that you aren’t a lawyer?” asked Sylvie.

"Me? No, and no offence if either of you is one, they are almost all money-grabbing scumbag lowlifes who could not do a hard day's work if it came up and slapped them in the face.”

Both of them laughed.
“Neither of us are lawyers and we do understand that point of view,” said Amy.

“I’ve never heard that way of describing lawyers. I must remember that,” said a grinning Sylvie.

I relaxed. I felt that I could trust these two women.

---

My education began in earnest the next day. Mornings were all around what would have been called ‘deportment’ in another age. Afternoons were about makeup and dressing. I hadn’t fully understood how the two go hand in hand. Makeup, clothes and accessories are all essential parts of how a woman presents herself to the outside world. Every evening, I’d present myself in an increasingly feminine way.

We had a lot of fun once I’d gotten over them seeing me naked. I began to understand that the new me had to come from within and that the clothes I wore were mere expressions of the woman inside me. My male clothes which might be useful in another time and place were packed away and the inner Tiffany in me was allowed to blossom for the first time since before my mother died. Some of my attempts at makeup were laughable. Thankfully, the internet came to the rescue and we procured cosmetics that were more suitable for my skin tone.

While this was going on, we all knew that we had to make the most of this phony war with my father, a sort of calm before the storm. That didn't stop us from having some fun mostly at my expense but I knew that they meant well so it didn't matter all that much as I was learning all sorts of things that could not be written down in a manual about being a woman.

What I did appreciate more than anything was having three meals a day, a nice bed to sleep in and a shower whenever I wanted one. Sylvie remarked that was not that dissimilar to what my father would be experiencing in his jail cell.

I laughed and pointed out the window at the waters of Lake Superior in the distance.
“I’d be willing to bet he does not have a view like that?”

Gradually, the inner woman in me came to the fore. Sylvie kept at it and gradually I developed my own style of makeup that was suitable for someone with my skin tone. A few hundred YouTube videos and overnight online order deliveries help us in the process. Amy worked on my deployment and voice. The latter was difficult but again, after watching numerous YouTube videos on altering the tone and pitch of my voice, it began to work.

---

The call to come to DC for a deposition came the Tuesday before Labor Day. It was not entirely unexpected as Amy had received a few ‘heads up’ emails in the middle of August. Then in the last week of August, UPS made a delivery to the house.

The very official-looking package contained some ID for me in the name of Tiffany Miles. Seeing my name and photo on an Oregon State driving license was quite a shock as was my age. Officially, I was now twenty-one years old. A smile appeared on my face that lasted for well over a day. Both Amy and Sylvie noticed a positive change in me.

It also meant that playtime was over and I had to face the real world, the big, bad world.

I’d been out with Amy and Sylvie a few times but once the call to DC came, I went shopping without the direct company of either of them. They were there observing how I behaved. It wasn’t a test of my ability to shop but to act like other women and effectively blend in. We did that for two days and an ‘inquest’ into my trip took place over dinner each evening. If I had a report card, it would read mostly B+’s. Both of them felt pleased with their work which was all that I wanted from them after all, it is common knowledge that women are far more critical of other women in how they dress and act than men.

My next real test of the new me would come when we drove to the airport for a flight to Chicago. Amy and Sylvie were going to accompany me on the journey but from a distance until we got to DC. We considered it my passing out exam, but it served another purpose in that if someone was on their tail, we hoped that they’d not spot me because I looked a lot different to when I was last seen in public in Spokane. My hair was now a dark chestnut color and much longer. I’d learned to style it just like one of the anchors on the TV news.

The orders that Amy and Sylvie had received said that we had to be in DC the following Monday morning. I was surprised when they began to pack up the house on Friday afternoon.

“Aren’t we coming back here?” I asked.

“As far as I know, none of us are. We have to deliver you to the deposition and again, as far as I know, another team will take over from us at that point. I know from other cases like this, that a clean-up crew will be coming here on Monday. They will sanitize the place,” said Amy.

I felt as if I was going to be alone again. Although Sylvie was a lot older than Amy, I’d bonded with her more than Amy, who was a career agent and wanted to go places in the bureau. Sylvie was more laid back and happier to let things play out. Those differences made them an effective team in my eyes.

---

The three of us flew to DC on Sunday morning. Amy had to remind me as we queued to board the flight from O’Hare to Dulles that not every man was a threat to my very existence. Being around two strong women for so long had influenced me in more ways than I’d ever thought it would. A few words from her whispered in my ear calmed me down no end.

The flights went as well as can be expected. Once we’d arrived in DC, we met up again and took a cab to a hotel not that far from the FBI Academy at Quantico for the night. We had rooms reserved for the next three nights, but I knew that it would soon be make or break for me. I hoped that I hadn’t given the game away when I started looking at possible exits from the Hotel and into what public transport was nearby. I planned to get out of the city on a local bus and then start walking into the darkness should things go to hell. Then I came down to earth with a bit of a bang. None of the shoes that I had would last five days on the road and that applied even to the big-box store trainers that I’d worn for our journey to DC. I’d barely worn them in before the sole started to split.

---

[the next day]
“How do I look,” I asked Sylvie as I paraded myself before her just before we went to breakfast.
“Perfect, just as we discussed.”

I was feeling very underdressed. For the first time in weeks, I was not wearing any makeup or feminine clothes. We’d gone for the androgynous look. This was very much as I’d been dressed when I first met Amy and Sylvie.

Our plan was for my new and hopefully more sophisticated and feminine look to remain a secret for as long as possible. More than once, I wondered how I’d manage running for my life in heels. It was the stuff of SNL sketches.[1]

After a Taxi ride into the city, we met up with a DOJ lawyer who had been assigned to be my legal representative for the deposition. I took an immediate dislike to Lane Webster, when he said, “just answer yes or no. Do not give out information.”

I responded with,
“Isn’t the purpose of a deposition to get my side of the story down on the record and that it can and will be used if I am unavailable at trial?”

“Yes, but the less we give away to the other side at this time the better.”

“And if I get bumped off, my deposition becomes next to useless if it only contains the minimum of detail?”

“You sound as if you have studied law?”

I shook my head.
“The Cornell Law School website is very informative on the topic of depositions and especially their limitations when it comes to a trial.”

He ignored me and led me into the room where the deposition was to take place. A video camera and lights were already set up and waiting. It was almost like those old film noir movies where the cops gave the suspect the third degree. I tried to put those images out of my mind but it was hard when you were the one who was going to be in the spotlight.

I was about to sit down when the legal representatives of my father trooped in. There were five of them, all male and all wearing very expensive suits. There was an aura of money about them all but the last one of the five was a surprise. I recognized him in an instant even though it had been over six years since we’d last met. His refusal to catch my eyes told me that he knew that I’d recognized him right away.

He was one of a group of five men who had raped me when I was about twelve years old. It had happened in our home when my mom was away in Florida with my father. They were all cronies of my father and in my opinion, even more, crooked than him. I had the DNA evidence of what they did to me. I prayed that the evidence was still safe with the person who had looked after me in the summer holidays. I glared at him for a second and mentally said, ‘one of these days, you are going down’.

Seeing him was not a good omen for what lay ahead. I knew that I was in for a rough ride, because they probably knew a lot more about me than I could ever imagine.

My musing was cut short by Mr. Lane saying,
“If everyone could identify themselves to the record we can begin.”

[to be continued]

[1] SNL = Saturday Night Live. A US TV show of a more satirical nature.

Once the opposition legal team had introduced themselves, I made myself comfortable and let the proceedings begin. Lane had hardly asked his first question when ‘they’ objected to the presence of Amy.

"The FBI Special Agent is here because there has been at least one creditable attempt on Tiffany's life," said Lane defiantly.
“There is even precedent that went as far as the Supreme Court that allows her presence as long as she does not interfere with the questioning process.”

On the other side of the table, the opposition lawyers went into a huddle that would not have been out of place on a Football Field for almost two minutes.
When they broke up, the other side’s legal team withdrew their objection.

At first, the question/answer process was very civil and polite, but a pattern soon emerged in that the opposition would question every answer and almost every word that I gave. It was as if they had been instructed to think that every word that I said was a lie. We got nowhere fast. At this rate, the deposition was going to take days and days.

It was tough going at times, and because of the extra questioning things were going very slowly. Before I knew it, we agreed to break for lunch. I sensed that Lane Webster was getting as frustrated as I was.

We let the opposition leave the room before saying anything. Amy came and stood by my side.

“You are doing great,” said Lane Webster.
“Your brief answers are forcing them to question everything. That makes your testimony all the more solid.”

“Fuck you!” I blurted out.
“You aren’t the one being given the 3rd degree.”

Amy came to my rescue.
“Tiffany needs a break. Lane, why don’t you go and get us some sandwiches?”

He looked down his nose at all of us as if to say, ‘I am not your lackey’.

Amy saw his reticence and decided to act.
“Ok, then we are going to the bathroom. While we are there, I suggest that you get someone to provide Tiffany with some refreshment, or your boss will hear about how you didn't look after a key witness! I see that you have a jug of water but the person being deposed does not? Is that fair? I think not."

With that, she marched me off towards the bathroom.

Once the door had closed behind us, I relaxed.

“Ok Tiff, what is the problem you have with that lawyer, Sean Leech?”

“What… what do you mean?”

"It is clear to me that you are having trouble answering his questions. So, what gives?"

“He and four others raped me when I was about twelve.”

I stopped when I felt myself shaking but I forced myself to carry on.
“Mom was away in Miami with the Governor for the weekend so they… It was horrible, but I have a record them gloating about what they were going to do to me on tape. One day, I'm going to stick it to him and the others.”

Amy came to me and gave me a big hug.
“We will have to deal with him then.”

“How? It is just my word against his?”

“I’ll get Lane to order his deposition. Then he can answer for it under oath.”

I shook my head.
“He’ll not say a word. You know as well as I do, that he’ll plead the 5th. If he doesn’t then it is the end for him, and I don’t mean just losing his job. We will just have to leave it to the legal people to work on, but Lane needs to know before we go back in. I need some support in there. I feel like I am facing a pack of wolves without even a twig for defense.”

"Yeah, some of those questions he gave you are deeply personal, and I know from our conversations up north, that we haven’t got onto the good stuff yet… By that, I mean the murder of your mother.”

Before we went back into the room to continue the deposition, Amy went off into a discussion with Lane. I guessed that she was telling him about the lawyer and what he did to me. I could see that she was getting quite agitated with him until finally, he nodded his head. Amy came returned and gave me a thumbs-up as the opposition filed in. They were looking very smug with themselves. That didn’t bode well for me. I had to hope that Lane had a plan.

---

As my ordeal continued, Lane seemed to have ignored Amy’s plea for help. Once again, I cursed him for not helping his client.

The deposition carried on much as before for more than an hour when Lane asked,
“Tiffany, you have already told us that you witnessed the Governor having sex with your mother regularly. Has that inhibited you from having sex?"

“Not really.”

“Are you a virgin?”

"No, and I have not been since I was about twelve."

“Isn’t that a bit early in life?”

Suddenly, I twigged as to where he was going with this.

"No, and especially when you are forced into having sex against your will. Isn’t that true Mr. Leech? After all, you and three others raped me when I was well underage. If I recall correctly, it was during Presidents Day weekend when my mother was down in Florida with the Governor.”

The proceedings disintegrated into chaos. The video recorder was stopped, and Mr. Leech made a hasty exit. After another huddle, the rest of them followed.

When they’d all gone, Lane said to me,
“That went well, didn’t it?”

"You really are a bastard, aren't you!"

Amy backed me up.
“You could have warned Tiffany!”

"Why? Wasn't it better and had more impact this way?"

“What did it achieve?” I asked.

“It is highly unlikely that they will return tomorrow. That means I can finish the deposition without their interference. You can tell your whole story and while they will get the video and a transcript, it will not have them trying to deflect your storytelling and accusing you of lying at every step. Mentioning him by name and what he did to you is on the record. Now that his name is on the record, I can depose him, and there is nothing that they can do about it.”

Slowly I began to understand this jerk of a Lawyer. He was right about the impact of my words but none of the other people associated with the deposition could stand being in the same room as him. He truly was a scumbag but at least he was trying to be on my side.

---

We returned to the deposition the next day and found that Lane had been right with hir prophecy. My father's team of sycophantic lawyers had decided not to attend. Even so, I hadn’t expected it to be so tiring, but without the other side present, it was easy to signal when I needed a break.

One part of my story interested Lane a lot. That was how I had determined that he was my father. He questioned me on this before continuing the deposition to be able to frame his questions in the right way. Unopposed depositions are the one place in the judicial system where lawyers can legitimately lead a witness to get all the facts out.
“The Governor had come to our home for one of his regular sessions with my mother and she had made him an iced tea drink for after their session. He paid her for those sessions, half of which, she put aside for me. After this particular session, Mom said, ‘I’m getting a feeling that he’s getting a bit tired of me. You should prepare to get away’.

“That is a hard thing to say. What happened next?” asked Lane.

“Ok, it went down like this…”

I swallowed hard and began to tell how it was confirmed that the Governor to be was my father.
“Once Mom had mentioned the ‘get away’ words I felt as if my world was coming to an end. Once I had calmed down, I had a huge row with Mom mostly because I didn’t want to leave her alone but we came to some form of agreement. She knew the Governor and how he operated. Both of us were an embarrassment to his future prospects not only as Governor but for a possible run for POTUS. Mom was certain that we could not get away together. I didn’t want to go anywhere without her but after several rows, we came to an agreement. . Together, Mom and I began to prepare a backpack for when it was time for me to leave town.”

I took a drink from the water that had mysteriously appeared for the second day of my deposition before continuing.
“She took my DNA and sent it off with a glass that he’d drank from and waited for the results in the hope that they came back before he finally called it a day with Mom. The results came back ten days later and they showed that he was my father. We sent this report and my birth certificate to our safe location.”

“That can’t have been it all?”

I shook my head.
“Mom gave me the money that she’d saved from his visits. That amounted to several thousand dollars. I hid the money and my pack in the basement of our building and carried on life as best we could.”

“That must have been hard on both of you?”

“It was. We were both living a lie. We knew what was coming but... Anyway, one month later, he announced that he was running for Governor. That was hardly a secret but once it was formal, Mom said to me, ‘it is time for you to leave’. We both had a good cry as I said my goodbyes.”

“Did you leave town right away?”

I shook my head.

“I told her that I was going to leave town and go to a relatives’ place. She saw me board a bus that would take me out of the state in a few hours. I waited until the bus was about to hit the freeway and stopped it. I told the driver that I’d changed my mind so he let me off the bus. I walked back to town, and hid in the property opposite that had been damaged by fire a few months before. It had been boarded up even before the fire, but unknown to Mom, I’d found a way in. I hid out there after spending thirty bucks on an old film camera and a telephoto lens from a very dodgy shop three blocks away. I also bought a video camera from a Pawn Shop on the understanding that if I returned it undamaged then he’d only take fifty bucks off the price. The next day, when Mom was at work, I went home and put the camera up in a hole in the ceiling of our family room and waited. The camera came with a remote control which worked from across the street. I watched out for Mom for three days before it happened. He came to visit Mom as he usually did on a Monday. He even bought her flowers as usual but he appeared reluctant to even embrace mom. I sensed that this was it. I got it all on both film and video. He strangled Mom right before my eyes with his chief security goon watching on.”

I swallowed hard.
“After he'd left, I headed for the local Drug Store and called the Police. I went there because I didn't have a cell phone and the payphone was the only one in the area that worked. I didn't give my name before hanging up. I went back to my hiding place and watched. The Police came and did their thing… It took them all of twenty minutes before mom’s body was taken away. I guessed that they’d been tipped off because it was clear that they didn’t bother to investigate her death. I waited a few hours before going back and retrieving the videocassette and the camera."

“Why didn’t you go to the Police and complain?”

I laughed.
“When my father held a press conference to announce his run for Governor, he was flanked by the Chief of Police and the Head of the State Troopers. Do you honestly think that my complaint would get any attention at all with those two very deep in his pocket? Besides, the moment I set foot in the Police Department and identified myself, I’d probably find myself up on a murder charge. As it was, no one had seen me at my usual haunts for three days, and mom had made it known that I’d left town.”

“I think that you might be correct there. Do those photos and videos still exist?”

“As far as I know they do.”

“Where are they now?” asked Lane.

“Do you think that I’m an idiot? The records that I have stashed away are the ace up my sleeve. I will reveal them at the appropriate time which I think might just be on the eve of the trial or to a Grand Jury. There is no way that I’m letting them get into discovery and not being able to validate them in court.”

Those words shut up Lane for a minute. The frowns on his face told us that he was deep in thought.
Eventually, he said,
“We should carry on with the deposition. I will gloss over the existence of the film and video records for the time being. I’ll frame the question in such a way as not to lead you open to charges of lying under oath.”

I just nodded my head.

The deposition continued and Lane was true to his word about the questioning. Then he turned to my time on the road and the major events that happened in the first few months.

He carried on about the experiences I’d had while on the road and how I’d cut the penis off the man who wanted to give me huge boobs and then sell me to punters.

Just before we finished for the day, he went on about my time with the Judge and how my half-brother had given orders to his henchmen to take me alive and finally how I’d heard his voice at the State Trooper’s HQ.

When Lane had finally run out of questions, he called a halt to the proceedings.

I felt totally exhausted and positively unclean by the whole thing and wanted to take a long hot bath.

My plans for the evening ahead were interrupted by the arrival of Sylvie. She looked worried.

“Lane, I think you should get the video from today back to HQ right away. There is an escort waiting downstairs.”

“What? Why?”

“Our hotel room has been ransacked and I mean wrecked. The management are not too happy but as we can prove that we were not there, they are not going to charge my FBI credit card for the damage. I have just received a report that the other side is none too happy at one of their lead attorneys being accused on record of the rape of a minor. They are out for revenge. At the last count, there are at least six of their foot soldiers covering the exits from this building. All of them are carrying concealed weapons. Which is a big no-no inside DC for civilians. For security reasons, I don’t want to involve the FBI at large at this stage. As we all know there are leaks everywhere. We need to Tiffany get out of the city as quietly as possible.”

The severity of the situation hit me hard.

“If that is the case then I’ll deposit the recordings with my people as soon as possible. I’ll make my own way back to the DOJ. Thanks for the heads up,” said Lane.

With another of his fake plastic smiles, he said his goodbyes and left us alone.
Once he’d gone, the room remained silent so I broke it.

"Ok, my guardians, what is the plan to get us all out of here in one piece?"

Amy looked at Sylvie and nodded her head.

“We get you dolled up as we agreed if something like this should happen,” said Amy.

That was the plan but as far as I knew, the clothes that I was supposed to wear were in the Hotel.

“Don’t worry, I have been shopping downtown, said Sylvie, who had read my mind.
“When I found our room had been trashed, I put ‘Plan B’ into operation.”
I managed a small smile.

“I have an outfit for you to wear. It is all in a room down the hall. I didn’t want Lane to see it. He has something of a reputation when it comes to witness expenses. Lane is going to have a bit of a fit when he sees the bill, but given the circumstances, I think he'll approve it.”

“I think it might be time to get some of my stash of cash. Credit cards are so easy to track these days, aren’t they?” I replied with a little smile.

There was no disagreement from my two FBI guardians.

“I think that we should get going? We can work out the rest of the plan while we get you ready to face the public!” said Sylvie clearly anxious to move things along.

---

One hour later I was ready to face the world once more. With the right amount of makeup and a wig, I looked very different from the person who had given the deposition. I was also a good bit taller thanks to a nice set of heels, but I had my flats in my bag. I had not wanted to wear the heels but when Amy showed me how I looked, it was clear that I needed the heels to complete the look of an aspiring office worker in DC. The downside was that my feet were already telling me that the heels would need breaking in should we get out of town in one piece. I stopped myself and gave myself a mental beating for thinking that I was going to get out of this in one piece. That was very much on the table given the warning that Sylvie had given to us earlier.

“Are you clear on what to do?” asked Sylvie.
The plan that she'd devised was very much a spur-of-the-moment thing. It relied upon the same sort of idea as we'd used when flying to DC in that we'd leave the building separately and meet up at a relatively safe place in a few hours.

‘Yes. I’m to go out with the flow of others going home for the day, then head for the metro and take the red line to Bethesda Medical Center. Then, I am to wait in the cafeteria for you to arrive. If you don't get there in two hours, then I'm to get the hell out of DC in any way possible. I have two emergency phone numbers written down in my purse. And yes, I have a metro card in my purse, so I won't need to buy a ticket.”

“Good. Amy, will, I hope lead at least one of the watchers on a wild goose chase all over town, with the aid of a co-worker who was in her class at Quantico,” said Sylvie.

I picked up my shoulder purse and hesitated.

“Anything wrong?”

"Not really. This is my first time out in a crowd in full war paint so to speak and on my own. I have to keep telling myself not to leg it as I have been doing for years.”

She took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
“We both know that you will be fine. You managed the crowds at the airports when we travelled here, didn’t you? If you aren't then, Amy and I will have failed in our mission, and we don't want that to happen.”

“When we came here, there weren’t a dozen armed thugs wanting to top me waiting on every street corner.”

“If they get past us, then we will have failed you in our mission,” said Amy.

“Oh, you haven’t failed. It is just the ten little demons that sit on my shoulder that I have to keep quiet for at least the next few hours.”

“Good. Time to go then?” said Sylvie who was clearly keen to get going.

“Yeah. See you soon.”

I didn't add the 'I hope' but walked out the door, took the stairs down one flight and caught the elevator. To my relief, the car was almost full of people going home for the day. I just mixed with them and went with the flow, and before I knew it, I was on the Metro train. I hadn't been exposed as a fake, and to the best of my knowledge, I hadn't been tailed.

Just six other people besides myself and all of them women got off at the ‘Medical Center’ stop. I let them all head for the escalators ahead of me by walking slowly along the platform. Their body language told me that they knew where they were going, so I just tagged along behind them at a suitable distance. Amy had instilled in me several techniques about how to detect a tail when on foot. I didn't let on that I'd read that part of the FBI manual a few years before, and had used it to good effect more than once. The manual was hardly a secret as it had been leaked and posted online a few years before that. I did listen to her as it was a useful reminder of the techniques.
There wasn’t a tail or at least one that was directly following me.

Once I’d exited the station and entered the huge hospital, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d made it… for the time being at least.

---

Sylvie joined me less than an hour later.

“Time to get out of town, I think. I’ve never liked this place and the events of the past few days have done nothing to alter that opinion,” she remarked.

“I agree. Let’s go. Where is your car?”

"I have an FBI pool car, but I think that we will need to get rid of that at the earliest opportunity. It is common knowledge that all the DC pool cars have at least one tracker in them. The downside is that the DC FBI is not known to be that tight a ship if you know what I mean? There is just far too much money sloshing around on ‘The Hill’ to keep people away from temptation. How else can an ordinary ‘Special Agent’ afford a house in Georgetown? One of the Agents in the DC Field office paid cash for one last year. He was investigated and found to have been taking bribes. We all were given a stern warning about taking bribes. Even ‘quid quo pro’ deals were frowned upon unless given prior authorization.”

She was referring to a recent case where an FBI agent had been caught red-handed accepting bribes from a former staffer for a congressman who had been defeated at the last election. The criminality had gone back almost twenty years. That particular congressman was well known for digging up dirt on his political opponents.

I smiled. I knew that people like my father had links to other criminal enterprises and for them to have informants or moles inside law enforcement was not a surprise. That was how he’d always been one step ahead of the law for years, until recently.

“Then we will need a load of cash for some new wheels, won’t we? After all, I did drop a big hint earlier that I did have access to some, didn’t I?”

She nodded.
“Knowing you as I have come to do, I get the feeling that you may have some access to the sort of money we’d need to buy one or do you know of someone with a car we could use?”

I smiled and nodded my head in agreement. I wasn’t letting on which option it was just yet.
“Lets’ go then. We have a good drive ahead of us.”

We’d been going for a few minutes when Sylvie pulled over and looked at me. There was a major intersection ahead.
“Which direction?”

Her question surprised me for a moment. Then I smiled.
"Sorry. We should take I-95 south."

“Thanks.”

As she moved to put the car into drive, I touched her wrist.

“Are you ok with being here with me?”

“Now she asks!” said Sylvie with a huge grin on her face.
“I’m here to keep you safe. I’ll check in with the Bureau when I know that you are safe. Amy will have briefed Lane and our boss on the situation by now.

“That’s good to know.”

---

We headed south from DC. Every mile we travelled brought us closer to my father's part of the world, but I was confident that we could get in, do our business and then get out unscathed.

There was no sense in trying to hide our movements for the time being. It wasn’t until sometime after we’d crossed the Virginia/North Carolina state line that I gave Sylvie some further directions.

“At the next exit, there should be a Gas Station. I’d like you to stop and fill the car up and pay with your FBI credit card to be certain that we are leaving a trail. While you are doing that, I will make a phone call and if I’m not sitting right here once you have paid for the gas, then carry on down I-95 for about 15 miles until you reach the Smithfield exit. Go into town and park near the Police HQ. The bus terminal is just across the street from the old courthouse that is on the next block. From memory, there is an all-night diner two blocks beyond that. I'll meet you there around midnight. Don't leave anything in the car apart from the receipt for the gas."

“Are you sure that you aren’t a crime thriller writer in your spare time?”

I chuckled.
“I have read a lot of them these past few years. I get a lot of them from flea markets and yard sales. It is amazing what you can get for twenty-five cents a pop. Reading them has allowed me to escape from reality for a few hours, as well as to dream about the revenge that wanted to take on my father. The more painful it was, the better. Please believe me, if I thought that I could do it, and not be killed by his security goons then I would have done it in a flash. Seeing your father kill your mom in cold blood does crazy things to you, especially when you are still a child.”

“You don’t like him at all do you?”

I shook my head.
"In a few days, you will get to see the reason why I hate him so much."

“Are we going to get the evidence then?”

“Some of it is not that far away. I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket so another chunk is in another safe place several hundred miles away. When we have it all, then we can deliver it to the Justice Department in person. We have to go and see a few people before we get back to DC.”

I could see Sylvie's knuckles turn white as she gripped the wheel even tighter. For the moment, she was not in control. I resolved to try my hardest to be more open with her but it was not going to be easy.

“I didn’t put all my eggs in one basket. I’m not that stupid even though there are some people in the pay of my father who still think that I’m an idiot who needs seeing to... as in to vanish without a trace.”

I watched as she relaxed.
“It will be ok. In a week or so, you can go back to your normal assignment and forget all about me.”

She laughed.
“That will be hard to do. When I was given this assignment, I was pretty skeptical but getting to know you has… Well, it has changed my outlook on so many things. Dealing with the normal run of the mill crooks is a different thing entirely to this assignment.”

I smiled.
“I’m glad to be of service even if it is only temporary.”

For the first time, I hoped that it wasn’t going to be that.

---

While Sylvie was putting gas into the car, I headed for the payphone hoping that it was working. I breathed out when I heard the dial tone as picked up the receiver. I put some coins in the slot and dialled a number hoping that I’d remembered it right.

“Hello Queenie,” I said when it was answered.

“Yeah, it is me, Tiffany.”

“Can you pick me up? I’m at the truck stop on I-95 some 15 miles north of Smithfield.”

“I need a favor, a big one.”

“No, I don’t do things by halves so Queenie? Can I borrow that truck of yours?”

“Yes, I do mean the F-100. It is a runner? If not then I’m up shit creek and will have to buy some wheels for cash if you know what I mean? I’m sure that you can help out on that front with all your contacts.”

“It is? That’s cool. I’ll see you soon, take care.”

I hung up and stood by the phone for almost a minute feeling relieved. Queenie was my great-aunt by marriage and had raised my mother when her mother died from an overdose. I'd stayed with her a few times while I had been on the road but her son-in-law worked for the local PD and had taken an immediate dislike to me so I’d not stayed long. It was only because of his wife and her mother that I hadn’t been hauled off to jail and then into the hands of CPS.

I watched Sylvie drive off into the darkness and grabbed a coffee while I waited for Queenie to arrive. While I waited, I knew deep down that the next few days would forge the direction that the rest of my life took. The thought of seeing my father begin to pay for his dirty deeds was what was driving me on. Thanks to the Judge and what had happened since I had a chance to make that happen. When that was done, Mom could rest easy.

---

I gave Queenie a great big hug when she drew up in her daily runabout, a ’69 Chevelle that needed a good clean and polish but that hid the 600bhp monster of an engine that was purring away under the hood. The two years since we’d seen each other had been far too long a time.

“You are looking good girl,” she said commenting on my outfit.

“I’m a bit overdressed for this place but thanks.”

She laughed and smiled. I had her approval which meant an awful lot to me.

“Lets’ hit the road then we can talk. The F-100 is at my brother’s place. That’s where your messages are kept if you want them. Your father up to his neck in Dismal Swamp if the news reports are anything to go by.”

Her reference to ‘Dismal Swamp’ was a family joke. It was where the bootleggers disappeared to when the revenuers came calling. If you didn’t know the place, you would probably end up in one of the many quicksands that gave the place its name. If you ventured into the swamp alone then your prospects were ‘dismal’… That’s what the local folklore said.

“So, I heard and I hope he stays there.”

“Good for you,” said Queenie as we climbed into her Chevelle.

---

“There she is,” said Queenie as the lights from Chevelle lit up the front of the newly restored F-100 as we pulled into the drive.

"You did a good job with her restoration. From those photos, you showed me the last time I was here she was little more than a heap of rust."

“It all changed when I picked up a new frame at a NASCAR event last year. That made it a whole lot easier as the old one was just about beyond fixing. I paid for it to be blasted and then zinc plated before painting it myself. It will see me out.”

I just stood there in the headlights admiring her handiwork.

“Your messages are in the lean-to just like I told you. I didn’t open them.”

"Thanks, Queenie," I said as I got walked towards the building. My heart was pounding with expectation. I could feel the hour of retribution getting ever closer.

I soon found the light inside the lean-to. A large trunk sat on the floor under a bench. Inside it was all of the packets of ‘stuff’ that my mother and I had sent to Queenie over the years before her murder. The one on top was from a month after she had been murdered. That was one of two packages that were going to send my father away for life and I mean until he died. The other one was a long way away. Mom had lectured me for a long time about the dangers of putting all my eggs in one basket. Queenie didn't know it but I'd come back and retrieved a few key packets almost three years ago. They were with another person for safekeeping.

I shoved that one inside my purse and opened the one at the bottom of the pile. My heart was pounding as I saw the contents. It was as my mother had said what it would contain. She’d made me promise to leave them alone until it was time to take down my father. I loved my mother and she had instilled a lot of her wisdom in me. I knew that her spirit was with me everywhere I went. It was time and the contents could come in useful in evading my pursuers.

I took another two of the dozen or so packages and went outside. Queenie had the F-100 running.

“There is half a tank of gas and there is a spare tire in the back. You are good to go.”

"Thanks, Queenie. This is for you," I said as I handed over one of the packages that I’d not opened. I knew what it contained and I expected some resistance from Queenie.

She looked inside.
“I can’t take this. You are family.”

“You can and this is payment for looking after these. If I don’t come back or you hear that I’m dead then the other packages that are marked with a cross should be delivered to the FBI or the DOJ. Not locally but in DC itself at the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Trust no one. The others are for you. Don’t argue, that was mom’s wish.”

“Don’t say things like that it brings bad luck.”

“He’d like me dead and buried deep in some swamp so why not have some insurance eh?”

Reluctantly, Queenie put the package that I’d given her into her purse.

“The registration and insurance documents are in the glove box,” said Queenie.

I gave Queenie another big hug.

“Where are you going now? You could always stay the night?”

“I have someone to meet. Then? I don’t know.”

“Or rather, you aren’t telling me. What Queenie, don’t know, Queenie can’t blab on!”

“Something like that. If I get through all this then be sure to come and visit me. I’ll let you know where I settle, but it might be a good way away.”

“I will do just that. You look after yourself you hear!”

“I will try Queenie, I will try.”

“There are some things that you need to know about the old girl you are going to drive. She’s got a few little secrets… if you know what I mean?”

I looked at Queenie and smiled.

“You didn’t, did you? You talked about making her something a bit special?”

She grinned.
“I did and more. The new motor made her front heavy so I put in a new bed. It is made from one and a half-inch-thick steel plate. The suspension and brakes are even better than the ones on my brother's F-350 Lariat. With an almost supercharged 650hp under the hood, she can pull that weight as if it didn’t exist. About town, she just purrs like a sleeping kitten but put your foot down and you’d better be hanging on for dear life and she stops on a dime. The brakes have anti-lock and the power steering is from a newish F350. Externally, she looks like the day she came out of the factory but… Be careful when you unleash her. She is a beast.”

I laughed and gave her a big hug.
“When it gets light, take a look at the bed in the back. It might come in useful if someone gets a bit close to your rear end if you get my meaning?”

"Thanks, Queenie. She looks like any other classic restoration
I drove off into the darkness. That darkness hid the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Queenie had come up trumps yet again. She was a definite one-of-a-kind person.

[to be continued]

[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.

“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.

Sylvie's kiss totally surprised me. My first reaction was to pull away, but the fact that someone wanted to kiss me was good, and she tasted nice. I responded a bit before pulling back.

"Sorry, Tiffany. I don't know what happened,” said Sylvie who was rapidly going red in the face.

I smiled and took hold of her hand.
“Sylvie… Thanks.”

“Eh? Thanks for what?”

“Not running a mile right after the call with Amy.”

"I… Look Tiffany, I'm here with you. If that means quitting the Feds, then so be it. Being with you these weeks and then these last few days has allowed me to see the real you.”

"The real me?" I said, trying to suppress a laugh.
“I have no clue who that is or even if it exists.”

"Oh, believe me, there is one that you show the world from time to time. For example, when you decided how to deal with those two rednecks in the truck. It came naturally to you. There have been others, but I see my job as making that inner woman that you are confident enough to be there all the time rather than in flashes."

“Bullshit!”

Sylvie shook her head.
“In terms of maturity, you are five to ten years ahead of most other eighteen-year-olds who seem to be wrapped in cotton wool their entire lives by their parents until they go off to college. Sadly those who were most protected are the ones most likely to fall off the rails when they are exposed to the big bad world.”

Then she sighed.
“That is for later. In the short term, we have just one task, to get that slimeball of a father of yours behind bars for the rest of his life. I'd like to try to get to know the real you when this is all over. Until then, we have a job to do."

"Don't forget my half-brother… He's up to his 28in quadruple chinned neck in this as well."

“Agreed.”

Then Sylvie squeezed my hand.
“Reading between the lines with what Amy said, I have to wonder if either some people at the FBI or the DOJ or both are going cold on the whole thing.”

“Because they have been got at?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know that my father has his fingers in a lot of pies. I know that several prominent politicians are in his debt if you know what I mean. I have enough evidence to make their lives very uncomfortable."

“Which makes you and me a nice juicy target that could be worth a lot of money.”

“Welcome to the club… The club of those with a price on their head. Membership is usually temporary but of indeterminate duration.”

We both laughed but there was a serious side to it.

“I’m going to get the photos online and send a few tips to MSM.”

“MSM?”

I smiled.
“Mainstream Media.”

---

I settled into a corner table at the coffee shop with a large coffee within easy reach and began to post the photos of the prints that I’d transferred from my phone to the internet. Then I turned my attention to social media. I had some verified users that I had set up over the years. I used them to start threads with titles like 'Why has the DOJ gone to sleep on the RICO’d Governor?’. I then posted the photos of him strangling my mother but with her blanked out with titles like ‘who’s afraid of the Governor now? and ‘who is on the take to make all this go away?’

'Operation Last Post for my Pa' took me a good hour and two cups of something that was a poor apology for real coffee, but I was pleased with the results. I logged off, left the coffee shop, and headed toward the Motel.

“All done?” asked Sylvie when I entered our room.

“All done. Ready to go?”

“Everything is packed and in the Truck.”

“Let’s hit the road then!”

---

“Why have we stopped here?” asked Sylvie when I drew up at a strip mall.

“We need some good maps of Virginia and North Carolina.”

“More backroads sightseeing then?”

“Yes, but there is a bright light at the end of that tunnel, as in the lady who restored this truck.”

“I’d better go get them then,” said Sylvie as she got out of the truck.

I watched her walk across the parking lot, and began to wonder about the future. It was only the arrival of a Police Cruiser with its lights flashing in front of the store that ended my daydreaming. I could hardly breathe until Sylvie appeared clutching a paper bag in her hand.

She was closely followed, by the two cops who had gone into the store. They were frog-marching a woman who was in handcuffs to their cruiser.

"I was starting to worry about you when those cops arrived," I remarked when Sylvie got into the driver’s seat.

She smiled.
“The woman tried to steal a hunting knife. I heard her threaten to kill the cops after she’d seen to her philandering husband. I didn’t need to ID myself to them. One of the cops took her out like a linebacker does to a hesitant quarterback.”

“Welcome to normal life. That is how it is for so many people these days. In many similar cases, she'd be coming out of the store in a body bag...”

“Sad but true,” said Sylvie as she gave me the maps.
“I bought us something from the Deli just to keep us going.”

“Great idea.”

---

I let Sylvie navigate us around the south of DC until we came to a strip mall near La Plata, where we stopped to buy two more burner phones. At a nearby gas station, we dumped my old one, with all the call records erased a few times, into the back of a construction workers' pickup that looked like it was heading for a recycling center.

It was nice to leave Maryland behind and enter Virginia on Highway 301.

“One more state to go,” I said.

“We are certainly seeing the real USA on this trip,” Sylvie replied as we passed a sign saying ‘West Point’.”

"Glad to be of service," I replied, smiling.

We had an enjoyable ferry ride south of Williamsburg, where we ate the subs that Sylvie had bought at the Deli. For early in September, the heat was on full more due to the lack of wind than anything.
I missed the cooler north of Lake Superior. Even though I'd grown up in the hot, and humid south, I had grown to like the cool of the mountains and lakeshores of the country. I dared not think about where my future might lie. All I could hope for at the moment was that it was not 6ft under the ground.

Sylvie shouted to me.

“Where are you going? You missed the turn back there!”

I’d been miles away.

“Sorry, I was trying not to think about the future.”

“It is hard, isn’t it?”

“What do you know about it?” I retorted.

“How about one and a half tours of Iraq and Afghanistan and a purple heart? That good enough?”

“You were in the Service?”
Sylvie had never mentioned her background much in our time together. To be honest, it hadn't bothered me. She worked for the FBI, which is generally a thing you do for a career.

“Marines. I took some shrapnel from an IED in my upper thigh. It nicked an artery. I didn't know if I was going to get to the field hospital, let alone see the sunrise over Pleasant Bay, Maine, ever again. Thanks to a hell of a lot of people, I made it. I tried hard to get fit again, but I could never manage to meet the standards needed in the corps, because of my injury. That's when I thought my life was over. I left the corps and bummed around for a few months back in Maine before I knew that I had to get out again. That’s when I applied to the Academy. By the time I graduated, I knew that I’d been given a second chance to do something with my life.”

I turned the truck around and took the right road. Then, I asked,

“And?”

"Then it stagnated. Most of the time, the job of a FBI Special Agent is not that special at all. Lots of writing reports and training. It is not all raiding and arresting the bad guys as is shown on TV. When the chance of doing something different came along, I jumped at it."

“And here you are … still?”

“And with every mile we go, I wonder why I am. Then I think again, and have to conclude that this… whatever this is, it sure beats sitting behind a desk any day of the week.”

"I know that you could have jumped ship hundreds of times, but you haven't?"

“That’s because I care about the end result. That’s also why I never made supervisor. If you care, then you don't take risks, and you don't get noticed and…"

“You get bypassed by those with fancy college degrees, frat rings, loud voices and country club membership?”

Sylvie smiled.
“Something like that. No, make that a lot of it. The Brits have a saying for this. They call it 'the Old Boys Network'. The old boys for them are those who have been to the top boarding schools and universities. For us, that is Frats, and Ivy League Colleges, who your father is, and how much they have contributed to the political campaigns of those in power.”

"Welcome to the ranks of the masses. The rich get the promotions, and money while the rest of us struggle to put food on the table…" I replied cynically.

“You have a very odd opinion of this country of ours? Surely the capitalist ideal is that anyone can make it big.”

"Sure, they can, but very few do because of the glass ceiling put in place by the multi-millionaires, and above. Only a lucky few are granted admission to that club. For the rest of us at the bottom of the pile, that is about as achievable as men flying to the moon. The rich get the tax breaks and the rest of us have to pay for it for the rest of our lives. My father is a classic example of that disease.”

Sylvie smiled and nodded her head back at me.

“I’ve come to understand a bit of what you have been through. Many others would have given up and taken the easy way out by now…”

I smiled.
"I'm not going to top myself if that's what you mean, but there have been times and I have done things that I'm not proud of, but you do whatever it takes to survive."

I sighed.
"It is so frustrating to be so near yet so far. Far from getting that bastard put away for the rest of his natural. Every time we seem to make progress, something always gets in the way.”

“One step forward and two back?”

I shook my head.
“More like one step forward and three steps back. We have to hope that at least one bit of the MSM pick up on what I handed to them…”

Sylvie, didn't disagree.

---

Taking the scenic route rather than I-95 takes a lot longer than you might have expected, but we were not exactly hurrying. Sylvie called it 'going with the flow' even if at times that flow was little more than a crawl.

The sun was starting to set when we crossed the state line into North Carolina on route 186.

“Don’t you think that you should tell her that we are coming?”

“Her? I don’t think that I ever said who it is that I saw when I picked up the truck?”

“How many men have the name Queenie?”

“Ok. I goofed.”

“Does it matter?”

“How many women name Queenie are into custom cars in this state? This is not any normal F-100 restoration project, is it? The person who did the work on this truck cared a lot about it, almost a labor of love.”

“Touché.”

“But, yes, you are right. I should give her a call. She can get the cheesy grits in!”

Sylvie laughed.
“You are determined to get me to eat them, aren’t you?”

“I can but try. I can but try.”

We both laughed. I knew that one day… she’d give in. I had to hope that when that day happened, they were at least half as good as Queenie’s delights.

---

A little later, we stopped for gas in Garysburg. While Sylvie dealt with the gas, I made a call to Queenie.

"Hi, Queenie,”

“Yes, I’m still alive and kicking.”

"I was wondering, if you had space in your cabin for a few nights?"

“No, I haven’t seen the news? It is important?”

“Ok, I’d better see it for myself. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Speak soon. Bye”.

I sat staring into space. It was what Sylvie hadn’t said that was troubling me. She’d not answered me when I asked about her cabin in the woods. I’d stayed there many a time when Mom visited her. It was where I'd learned to trap and skin a Rabbit, much to the laughter of Mom and Queenie. Then Queenie showed me how to do it properly. Mom hugged me and said that if you stopped learning, then you stopped living.

Sylvie returned from paying for the gas and got into the truck.

“What did she say? Isn’t there room at the inn, for a pair of weary travellers?”

I shook my head.
“It is what she didn’t say that is important.”

I looked Sylvie in the eye.
“This isn’t the place to talk. Drive on and find us somewhere quiet. Then we can talk.”

Thankfully, Sylvie didn’t argue. She started the engine and drove on.

---

A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of a big box store. She parked well away from the entrance and switched off the engine.

“Ok, what didn’t she say?”

"I asked her about her cabin. It is about a mile and a half from her home. I used it all the time when Mom and I came to visit."

“And?”

"She changed the subject. She said that I should look at the news. She didn't say what it was about, but I got the impression that she wanted me off the phone.”

"There could be all manner of reasons, why she didn't want to speak? Perhaps she had a gentleman caller?"

I tried hard but could not stop myself from laughing.

“Queenie is not that way inclined.”

“Ok. Then what?”

“I think you might be right about there being someone there but I think it is not the sort of person she would normally entertain.”

“Oh. I think I understand but…?”

“But you are confused?”

Sylvie nodded.
"If the plates of this truck have been connected to us, and those plates run, the registration will come back to Queenie. Wouldn't it be natural for that person to visit the owner of the vehicle just to find out what they know or don’t know?”

“Do you think that someone from the law was with her?”

I nodded.
“The problem is that I… we don’t know if that person is on the side of the good guys or the bad ones.”

Sylvie thought for well over a minute. I saw in the twilight that she was gripping the wheel very tightly.

Without a word, she started the engine and pointed the truck at the exit.

When we were on the main road south, she said,

“You know where Queenie lives so point me in the right direction and while you are at it, you could try to find a news station on the radio that covers DC.”

Her logical, and more trained mine than was right.

I fiddled with the radio and eventually found a DC News station. At the top of the hour, the first story told us a lot.

My father had been indicted by a Federal Grand Jury on sixteen charges of Felony Homicide. The list of victims was impressive and included my mom and three other women that had been his arm candy over the years. A few dozen conspiracy charges relating to bribery of public officials in four states were also mentioned. The report went on to say that a close relative might have provided a lot of useful information that led to the arrest. That was idenifiably a lie, but I wondered if those pictures I’d uploaded had forced the Feds to act a bit sooner than they might have wanted. Either way, I didn’t care. They as in the Feds must have had a Grand Jury in place so that my evidence could have been enough for them to issue an indictment. From my understanding of the process, I might have to testify as to the authenticity of my evidence.

To say that I was stunned would be an understatement. Sylvie noticed this.

“Do you want me to pull over?

I shook my head.

“Well… it wasn't me, as you well know.”

“Is there some other relative that could have testified?”

I shook my head briefly. Then it came to me.

“There is only his other son. He must have done a deal with the Feds.”

“Didn’t you say that he was more than likely on the hook for the murder of that judge?”

“Yeah, but that was only my opinion and that’s months out of date.”

“Put his name into Google and see what comes up?”

I did just that, and after almost five minutes of pacing back and forth I said,
"I can't find anything, but it must be him that talked to the Grand Jury.”

"Ok, so that lead is a bust. Let's get back to the here and now."

I couldn’t argue with that. I had to put the question about the Grand Jury out of my mind for the time being.

A few minutes went by, but I could tell from her expressions that she was deep in thought so I didn't press her.

With a decisive move, Sylvie pulled the truck over and stopped.

“Now, this is how it is going to go down at Queenie's."

Sylvie's FBI and Marine Corps training had taken over. This, was very much her show, and the expression of determination on her face told me clearly who was boss.

She explained what was going to happen when we got close to Queenie’s home. I bowed to her expertise.

"Ok, I get the plan. I get the hell out of town after dropping you off and wait for a call or a text. If you call, then I keep on going. If you text with the right emoji, then it is all clear, and I can return."

“Can you keep to it? The last thing I want is for you to come back and get in the line of fire.”

“I will keep to the plan. I promise.”

“Good.”

Sylvie drove the truck to the edge of the small town where Queenie lived. Then we swapped over.

As we passed by the front of the truck, I held her and kissed her. This time it was for real, and I hoped that it would not be our last one.

[to be continued]

“That was nice if a little unexpected,” said Sylvie as our kiss ended.

"That was to keep you safe, ok!"

“Message understood.”
She smiled back at me.
"Now, get the hell out of here?"

Sylvie seemed unsure about something.
“Are you sure about finding Queenie’s house?”

She sighed.
“Yes. Take 4th St to the very end and up the track on the right. Her place is about 200yds on the left of the track.”

“Ok, just checking.”

I drove off, hoping that she'd manage to make sure that Queenie was safe and well.

---

The next hour was torture for me. Not knowing what was happening was hard. It told me that for better or worse, I cared about Sylvie. I’d not allowed myself to do that since mom had passed. That alone was pretty unsettling to me.

I'd driven to a crossroads about 5 miles from the small town where Queenie lived, and backed into a track that led into the woods. There was a couple of 'No Trespassing' and 'Trespassers will be Shot' signs by the side of the track. Both of them were peppered with buckshot which I thought quite appropriate but not out of character for this part of the world. It served only as a temporary diversion from my concern about Sylvie. I hoped that her combined Marine and FBI training would keep her safe.

I tried not to keep looking at the phone, but it was hard. I was also keeping an eye out for Police. I would have a hard time explaining why I was parked here. My FBI provided ID was good, but there was no backstory to it. I had no idea if the address was good or even existed.

Finally, the phone bleeped. A Text had arrived.

My heart stopped as I opened it up to see the contents of the message. It was a ‘Thumbs down’ emoji. That was our agreed ‘ok’ sign.

I realized that I was holding my breath. I let it out and relaxed. I never wanted to go through that again.

I started the truck and drove back to town. I briefly hesitated before driving up the track to Queenie’s home. The lights were on, and some smoke was curling up from the chimney. The moonlight was making it easy to see. I saw her car but no other vehicle. I wondered if I had been dreaming about the whole thing when I called Queenie earlier in the day.

Nothing moved when I shut off the engine. I got out and walked up to the house. My shoes made a noise on the wooden veranda.

“Come on in Tiffany,” said a voice from inside. The voice belonged to Queenie.

Slowly I opened the fly screen and then the actual door. For a second, the bright light blinded me. Then I got a shock. Amy was sitting in a chair with her hands cuffed behind her.

“Come on in,” said Sylvie.

Sylvie was sitting at Queenie’s circular table next to Queenie. A revolver was lying on the table.

“What happened?”

“I got a visit from her earlier. She demanded to know where you were,” said Queenie.

“What happened to you?” I asked Amy, directly.

“I had no choice. I had to come.”

“Of course, you had a choice. What about saying no?” I demanded.

“My section head said that he had proof of me taking drugs and that he’d use it to end my career. I was ostracized by almost all my co-workers, because of rumors about my sexuality from our time up north. The words ‘threesome’ was used a lot. Put them together, and I had no choice but to come here. The claims about me taking drugs is false. I've never even smoked a joint, but proving a negative is almost impossible.”

I was angry now.
"You could have walked out, leaving your badge and gun behind. That would have been the choice."

Amy looked at the floor and nodded her head.

“What are we going to do with her?” asked Queenie.

I put my hand up to stop her.
“I’m not done here!” I said forcibly.

“So, Amy, why did your section head want you to find me? Imagine that you did do just that. Actually, you don’t have to imagine it at all. I’m here. What did he want you to do with me?”

“I was to take you into custody and then let him know that I had. He’d tell me where to take you. He ran the plates of the truck that you two have been travelling in. He has had a ‘BOLO’ out on you for three days. The problem is that I transposed the numbers in the registration when I organized the BOLO so it won’t get any results but he’s not an idiot…”

It was then that I understood that Amy was on my side… our side.

“Isn’t that a little odd? What charge would you use to detain me?”

“Protective custody. It worked before.”

“Except that I’m already with an FBI agent. The whole thing sounds fishy.”

Then Sylvie interrupted.
“Amy, did you come here in a department vehicle?”

She nodded her head.

“Then we need to leave right now. That vehicle will have a tracker remember?”

“I left it several blocks away,” argued Amy.

Sylvie shook her head.

“What about your phone. It has GPS. That puts the finger right us here.”

She made a lot of sense.

“I suggest that we leave Amy here. We’ll take her phone outside and leave it. Then we get out of town pronto,” said Sylvie.

I looked at Queenie, who nodded her head. There seemed to be no other option.

"Pack a bag, Queenie, and lets’ hit the road,” I said.

Queenie smiled.
“Already packed. I keep one in a bin outside. A habit from when I used to make ‘shine I’m afraid.”

Sylvie looked at Queenie with a puzzled look on her face.

"Ok, I still make a bit of shine from time to time, and I'm not exactly accurate with my Taxes. Not a lot but… enough to help keep the wolves away from the door.”

Sylvie laughed.
“You are going to forget that you heard that aren’t you, Amy?”

She nodded her head.

“Sorry guys,” said Amy.
“I will report back that everyone concerned has flown the coup and that Queenie was long gone by the time I arrived here and began to search the place.”

“Without a warrant naturally?” I asked.
“I have to make my time here seem convincing to that jerk back in DC.”

No one disagreed with that assessment. Queenie was still rather reluctant to release Amy but she did it. Sylvie didn’t ask how Queenie had overpowered Amy. Amy had been embarrassed enough for one day.

---

Our journey out of town was worrying. There was a distinct lack of traffic, but it took us only a few minutes to pass the town sign. We were heading south and away from DC. It seemed that there had just been another ‘one step forward and two back’ event.

Queenie gave us directions that took us deeper into the country.
“Where are we going?”

“To your great, great uncle Jonas’s place.”

I’d been there only once as a child. My image of him was of an old man with grey hair and a long grey beard.

“His grandson Jayden runs the place now. Jonas went off to Maui a few years back and is still there as far as anyone knows.”

“Then what?”

“We get some new wheels because this truck is known to the Feds," said Queenie.
“Amy’s ruse with the BOLO won’t last forever.”

“Then what?” I asked again.

“Can I say something?” asked Sylvie.

"Sorry, Sylvie," I said.

“Now that your father is facing a lot more very serious charges, his friends have two choices. One is to desert the sinking ship and deny all knowledge of any relationship with him. The other is to try to tough it out in the hope that he and by implication, that they can also escape justice.”

No one said anything, so Sylvie carried on.

"From what Amy said, someone, probably inside the FBI, wants you out of the picture ASAP. I know that your father does, but my guess is that someone from your past who is now in DC is getting rather nervous about the possibility of you putting the finger on them for their past crimes. Much like you did with that lawyer of your fathers at the deposition. Therefore, the sooner that we get you in front of the Grand Jury where you can backup your new evidence with testimony, the better."

“That is easier said than done, isn’t it?” I remarked.

"True, but that DOJ lawyer is our best bet."

“Our only bet,” I added.

Queenie drove on for a bit before I said,

“Queenie, we can’t drag you into this mess any deeper. If we can get some wheels from Jayden, then you should stay with him until this all blows over."

Queenie shook her head.
“I’m here for the long haul. Your mother was very special to me. I want justice for her. It is long past time that your father got to pay for his crimes.”

Neither Sylvie nor I said anything for quite a while.

“Besides,” said Queenie after a long silence.
"They, whoever they are, won't be looking for three women now, will they?”

She had a point.

---

It was very late when we arrived at Jayden's place. Like many other rural properties all over the country, it had a good number of very derelict cars and trucks rotting away. I had always thought that it was a shame that so many vehicles were left to rot like that and not sent for recycling. Just to one side of the wrecks sat three more modern vehicles.

“It looks like he is home,” said Queenie as she brought the truck to a stop.

She got quickly got out of the Ford and called out.

“Jayden, it is Queenie? Are you decent?"

A voice in the dark shouted out,
“I thought I recognized the truck. Who is that with you?”

“These are my friends, Sylvie and Tiffany. You remember Tiffany, don’t you?”

“Ok, come up to the house. No tricks. I don’t get many strangers around here!”

We got our things from the truck and walked toward the house. As we approached, a door opened, which bathed us in a shaft of light.

Jayden stood to one side as we walked in. I noticed that a shotgun was leaning against the wall close to where he was standing.

The last time I'd seen Jayden, he was a young boy like me but we'd only met them once at a wedding, and I knew that like me, we were on strict orders to behave ‘or else’. I was very clear on what the ‘or else’ meant.

Now, he was a strapping young man who was just a month older than me.

“Your Pa is in hot water,” he remarked.

"He is that. All his own doing, but there is more to come…"

His eyebrows lifted.

“There is the little matter of Mom’s death that he needs to pay for.”

"Good for you. People like him are just crazy for power, and to hell with the likes of us."

“I’d like to introduce you to Sylvie. She’s with the FBI.”

Jayden tensed up.
"I'm here to look after Tiffany, so please relax. That's all I'm concerned with, so anything else that might interest the local cops, is invisible to me, ok?”

Jayden looked at me and then at Queenie. She nodded.

“Ok, as long as Queenie vouches for you, you can stay.”

“We just need somewhere to bed down for a few hours and the loan of some wheels for a day or two,” said Queenie.

"That I can do. I'm not well-stocked with vittles’, but I can give you some coffee and some store-bought biscuits in the morning.”

"Thanks, Jayden. Much appreciated," I said.

---

“Thanks for everything Jayden,” I said just before 05:00 the next morning. He’d risen before us and made the coffee. It was much appreciated by Sylvie. Queenie just had some green tea that she’d produced from inside her ginormous handbag.

“Don’t be a stranger in the future, ok?” he replied.

"I'll try, but I have no idea where I am going to end up when all this is over. I've been on the road for so long that I might be forever doomed to be travelling,” I said.

Sylvie looked at me and smiled. She had a good idea where I wanted to end up, but thankfully, she was not spilling the beans.

“Let’s go. We have a long drive ahead of us,” said Sylvie
“If we want to get into DC by mid-morning.”

No one was going to argue with that statement.

---

Before we finally headed north, we went to Queenie’s brother Dwayne’s place to collect the final bits of evidence that I hoped would nail my father.

"What's in this one?" asked Sylvie, who was getting used to my mysterious ways.

“Evidence of the involvement of my father in organized people trafficking. Printouts of emails from alias accounts plus bank statements from his illegal offshore accounts and copies of phone logs. He kept them in a locked box at my mom’s place in case the Feds came calling. Too bad that I had a great teacher in Queenie’s brother who taught me how to pick locks.”

Sylvie glared at me and then laughed.
“And I didn’t need to know that?”

“It never came up until now? I can crack most combination safes in use at the time I went on the road.”

“My brother is a graduate of the prison school of thievery,” said Queenie.
“He is going straight now. He works as a locksmith and handyman for the county.”

There was not a lot more that could be said after that…

---

Just before 05:45, we turned onto I-95 and headed north and only stopped for gas and a 'to-go' breakfast from a drive-thru. As we neared the capital, the traffic got very dense, but that was to be expected. Another of the reasons why I hated cities. Too many people scurrying around like ants and with no time to even pause for breath.

When we hit the I-95/I-495 junction, we turned east around the ‘Beltway’. Our destination was the township of Largo, where we'd park the old but very serviceable Honda that Jayden had loaned us for our trip.

---

I could tell that we were all getting a bit apprehensive when we walked out of the 'Federal Triangle' Metro station and turned towards the impressive and historic DOJ building. I felt slightly in awe of the historic and important buildings that were all around me. While I'd been in DC for my deposition, I'd not had the chance to look up and simply admire the architecture of the place.

Queenie and I walked together. Sylvie was leading the way some 20yds ahead of us. The closer we got to the RFK Building, the more nervous I became. Sylvie climbed the steps and went into the main building. We followed her inside but hung back while she went to the help desk to ask for the lawyer who’d taken my deposition on my last visit to DC.

After two minutes of talking, where Sylvie showed her FBI badge to two different people, she turned around and gave us a thumbs up. As soon as I saw that, I breathed a lot easier.

Sylvie came over to us, smiling.

“He’s in the building and will be down in about ten minutes.”

“What about the Grand Jury?” I asked impatiently.

“He should know after all. The exact location inside the Federal Courthouse where they sit is not generally public knowledge as far as I know,” said Sylvie.

---

It was over twenty minutes before the Lawyer, Lane Webster came out of an elevator. He looked around, and when he saw me, he smiled and came over.

“Hello Sylvie, Tiffany. I was not expecting to see you again so soon. Your deposition provided much-needed confirmation of allegations against your father. As you are probably aware, the Grand Jury handed down multiple RICO indictments only the other day.”

He let that sink in for a few seconds.

“How can I help you today?”

“Did any of those indictments include the murder of Tiffany’s mother?” asked Sylvie.

“No. That case is still unresolved in that respect. Why?”

“Because I have evidence of the crime taking place,” I said hoping to sound confident.

“What sort of evidence?”

“Photographs and a video of it going down,” I replied.

He was visibly stunned by this news.

“I also have details of many of my father's offshore accounts or those that existed when my mother was still alive and details of his involvement in people trafficking.”

“That is astounding. If it is true, then that would just about tie up all the loose ends in the various cases involving your father."

“There is more. I have a recording of him making a call to his chief of staff where he discussed paying for a call girl to get intimate with one of our senators up here in DC. With the Senate split like it is and this senator from the opposition, my dear father would be running the show in DC by proxy, in that he would control five senators. I can name names, but I have a recording of him saying them directly to his chief of staff as they discussed getting a bill thrown out. His next step would be to run for POTUS. Those are all Federal crimes. Don't even say they aren't or that you people are not aware of it. I sent a transcript of some of the calls to the attorney general over three years ago. I delivered them personally.”

"Do you have proof of all this, or is it just hearsay?"

“If it is true? Fuck you. Fuck all lawyers. You are all nothing but all scumbags and shysters! Of course, I have positive proof…” I said louder than I’d intended.

"Please, Tiffany. Please understand that until I and my people have reviewed the evidence, we have to remain non-committal. Yes, we sit on the fence. We have to review every bit of evidence we are presented with and judge if it describes a breach of any Federal Statute or is key circumstantial evidence that helps us prove something else. If it is then and only then, do we take it to the Grand Jury? This all takes time."

"Well, go and find out where those transcripts went? Or… did they get thrown out with the trash?"

No one said anything for several seconds.

Then he said,
"Why don't we get you security passes, and we can go to my office and go through the new evidence?”

At last… something positive.

---

It was close to 4 pm when we left the DOJ building. I was knackered. A lack of sleep and four hours of being grilled by three lawyers without a break for over three hours is not my idea of fun. The video of the murder of my mom had caused quite a stir. It was sent off to their techies for validation. That irritated me until once again, their processes were explained to me.

Things didn't go too well when they asked to see where I'd put the camera to validate the camera angles. I drew an accurate diagram of the location. It was ingrained in my memory.

“He… being my father had the whole block demolished two months after her death. He owned it all and somehow obtained development permission to clear the site and put up a bunch of condos in its place. There was a huge stink when the local historical society applied for a preservation order on an old but totally intact Speakeasy that was in the basement under the Barbers shop that was on the corner of Main St. He brought the wreckers in on a Sunday, the day before the Judge was to rule on the preservation order.”

Sylvie, who had been pretty quiet all afternoon, let out a few expletives.

"Sorry…" she said, apologizing.

“No need to be sorry Sylvie,” said Queenie.
“This whole process stinks to high heaven. It isn’t his fault that the process is designed to slow everything down to a crawl. Sometimes the rapid justice dealt out in the West in the 19th Century has a place in today’s fast-moving society. Then when you add in the dodge, delay, deny and delay tactics that Tiffany’s father will employ through his army of thousand dollar an hour legal scumbags.”

“Thanks for the half vote of confidence… Queenie. We have to live with the system we have, ” said Lane.

“What’s next?”

"We have your statement on audio and videotape, and our tech guys are as I said, validating the tape of his crimes as well as the photos. You did well in using old school film for that camera as it is much harder to fake especially when the video and the photos show the same room. That will be done in a day or so. If it all checks out, then we can schedule a Grand Jury session for you for early next week. How does that sound?”

“It will have to do,” I said.

---

He showed us out of the main part of the building. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do next. Any ideas I might have had on the subject went out the window when a man with ‘FED’ written all over him approached us as we walked towards the door. He flashed an FBI badge at us.

“I have orders to detain all three of you,” he said.

“On what charge?” asked Sylvie.

“Who might you be?”

Sylvie flashed her badge.
“FBI Special Agent Sylvie Keen. What charge? We have a right to know. Who might you be then?”

"Obstruction of justice. Impeding a Federal Investigation, and that's just for starters."

“Look sonny!” said Queenie,
“What the heck do you think that we have been doing here all day? Drinking coffee in the cafeteria? Tiffany here has been giving another deposition in the case of the murder of her mother.”
Queenie was always ready to pitch in and try to take down ‘the man’.

“I know nothing about that.”

"Then, I suggest that you verify with the DOJ that we have been helping with a Federal Investigation all day and have that Tiffany has been helping with that investigation for almost four months.”

“As I said, I know nothing about that. You will all have to come with me.”

Just then, Lane Webster came over to see what was wrong.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lane Webster, Senior Attorney with the DOJ, and I’m actively involved in the cases against Governor Boyd. I’m the lead DOJ Attorney for those cases.”

“I was detailed to bring these three in for questioning in relation to obstructing that very investigation.”

"Then Special Agent … I didn't get your name… May I suggest you toddle off to your office and tell whoever sent you on this wild goose chase, to check with the DOJ first? This young lady here has been absolutely key in the indictments laid against the Governor. The information she has provided us today may well lead to further Felony Murder, people trafficking, tax evasion charges, and a host of other very serious charges being laid against him.”

My impression of Lane went up several notches. For once, he was being forceful.

“Thank you for the update. I will go and check with my superior on the matter if you are prepared to go on record about the help given?”

“I am.”

The Agent turned to Sylvie.
"I was told that if I ran into you that you, I was to tell you that you are no longer assigned to the DC field office and that you should return to your home office without delay."

“Message received and understood,” said Sylvie.

“Aren’t you going to argue about it?”

She shook her head.
"Like you, I am going to check with my home office. Then I’ll know the validity of your information.”

The FBI agent stormed off.

The three of us stood around rather unsure about what to do next. Then Lane Webster said,

"I guess that the protection detail for Tiffany here has been called off. That was not our doing, I can assure you."

“That’s not going to stop the people in the pay of Tiffany’s Pa,” remarked Queenie.

“I think that you might be right. You need to know how this city works. There are two rules. The first is that there are leaks everywhere but the DOJ is about the tightest ship on the dock apart from the spooks at the NSA. The second is that this place runs on whom you know more than what you know. A lot of this city was built on an old swamp, and it could do with being properly drained, if you know what I mean. The current POTUS promised to do that but has only made it worse, but don’t quote me on that," said Lane.

"That is useful to know, and I agree with you about the leaks," said Sylvie.

“But that does not solve the problem at hand, does it?”

He smiled.
“Then I’ll have to use the second rule and call someone I know to sort that out. If you will excuse me for a minute.”

He didn’t wait for us to reply, but walked about 10 yards away and made a phone call. Lane appeared to get a little agitated, but he was smiling when he hung up and came back to us.

“The good news is that I have arranged for a US Marshall to give you protection until at least the time of your appearance at a Grand Jury. He will be here in fifteen to twenty minutes. I saw him in the building when we broke before lunch, so on the off chance that his current assignment had finished, I called him. He wasn’t that keen until I dropped your name into the conversation, Sylvie.”

He turned to Sylvie.
“I think you may know him. His name is Jared Raynes.”

Sylvie smiled.

"He was my CO in Afghanistan. The last time I saw him was when I was medevaced to Kandahar. He’s quite an operator. He pulled all sorts of strings to get me on the next flight to Germany. Without the sort of treatment, I received there, I’d had lost my leg. I owe him big time.”

“I know,” said Lane.
“I first met him when I was with JAG. Jared is the sort of commander where you do what he says, and don't you dare ask questions if you know what is good for you or your long term survival.”

I could see Sylvie smile. Mr Webster had gone up a few more steps in my estimation. I thought that it could be interesting to meet someone from Sylvie's past.

[to be continued]

Jared Raynes was a big man. Not that he was built like a linebacker, but he had a presence that was right there on the nail from the beginning. Using the word ‘Imposing’ did not do him justice.

Once the introductions had been made, he said,
“This is my show, ok? If I tell you to duck, you duck. Got it?”

There was no visible dissent. Sylvie was smiling. She knew him and how he worked. If she was ok with going along with him, then I would as well.

“I understand that you guys came up from North Carolina. Please tell me that you didn’t drive into the city?”

"No Sir," said Sylvie.
"We left the car out to the east and took the Metro from Largo Township into the city. We borrowed the car from a relative of Queenie’s."

He looked at Queenie and smiled.

"Am I right in thinking you would like to return the car at the earliest opportunity?"
That was more of an order than a question.

Queenie smiled and nodded her head.
“Good. Anyone who has been watching the comings and goings here will have seen three women. One less will confuse them when we move on.”

He saw our unease at his last statement.

“The various security agencies watch the comings and goings at each-others headquarters as a matter of… shall we say prudency. The media are also camped out watching the comings and goings for the several Federal Grand Juries that are sitting in this building. Your arrival will have been noted but as none of you are known to the media, you should be good in that respect. Any heads up on a likely defector is worth its weight in gold.”
He looked at us for confirmation before continuing.

“It is pretty common knowledge that almost every department of government, apart from the Secret Service, leaks like a bucket that has taken a dozen shotgun rounds. Being able to minimize any internal damage is all part of the game that they all play. Not being embarrassed means more chance of increased funding if you get my meaning.”

He continued.
“As I said, your presence here will have been recorded, especially, with the FBI Agent that Mr Lane here sent packing with a flea in his ear they will be on the lookout for you. If you are a person or persons of interest to a particular department, then they may well have assigned people to tail you when you leave. Reducing the size of the party from three to two is just one of the methods we have of getting rid of the tail should it exist."

There was no dissent, so he added.

“Here is what I propose we, or rather you do next. The three of you will return to Largo via the Metro as if nothing had happened here. Queenie, please get in your car and go home and thank you for helping justice to be served.”

“Sylvie and Tiffany, once you have said your goodbyes, I want you both to return to Capitol South Metro, and then walk towards the Supreme Court building. You can’t miss it as it is behind the Capitol building and on the opposite side of the mall. I will be watching for anyone tailing you. You won't see me, but I'll be there. Once you reach the Court, carry on along 1st Avenue towards Union Station. If there is no tail on you, I will meet you there. Do not carry anything other than what you are carrying right now. There will be plenty of time later to purchase new clothes and everything. For now, we travel light. Is this clear?”

“I can understand the need for caution but isn’t this a little OTT?” I argued.
"What if we find that we are being tailed?"

He smiled.
“That is a good point. On my last assignment of this type, the client got sloppy and gave away our plans. It was only by luck that we were able to survive being run off the road, and he was able to testify before a Grand Jury. If there is a tail on you, then I'll do what every good citizen should do and call 9-1-1 on them. They will have to argue their way out of what they will be accused of and that is stalking a minor. The DC PD are very hot on that sort of thing because of the sheer numbers of school parties that we get visiting the Capitol. For many of those children, this is their first trip away from home to a big city without their parents, if you get what I mean.”

“Ok, message understood.”

Then I asked,
“What will you be doing in the meantime?”

Jared smiled back at me.
“I will be marshalling the resources I’ll need to keep the two of you safe until Tiffany can testify at the Grand Jury. I’ll also be arranging for a safe house for us to use. Believe me, I won’t be idle. However, doing this sort of thing at a moments notice is not unusual for us so it should not take very long to arrange. By the time you return from… Largo, I or one of my team will be in place to check for anyone tailing you.”

“Thanks, Mr Raynes,” I said

"Jared, please," he said smiling.

---

It was very hard not to look over my shoulder as we travelled out to Largo. None of us spoke more than a few words on the journey. I'd done a lot of talking that day, My jaw was in need of a rest. It was only temporary but a welcome respite.

After saying goodbye to Queenie, Sylvia and I returned to the city as we had been instructed to do. To see the rear of the Capitol silhouetted against the setting sun was nice, but we were not tourists even though we pretended to act as they would do.

Union Station came into view at the end of 1st Avenue, its lights getting ever brighter as the sky darkened. There was still no sign of Jared Raynes or any obvious federal agent who might be watching us but could find no one.

After a while, I began to get worried. To anyone tailing us, I thought that it would be pretty obvious where we were going. I began to plan an alternative if he failed to show up. I was not sure how Sylvie would take my 'Plan B'.

Sylvie noticed my increased nervousness.
“Patience Tiffany. I’m sure that Jared is keeping watch on us. He did say that he would didn’t he?”

"I know, but all this cloak and dagger stuff is…?"

“Not your thing?”

“Yeah.”

---

When we entered the concourse of Union Station, Sylvie spotted Jared right away. He was looking at the departure boards. We walked slowly up to him, but didn't say anything.

"I'm glad you made it," he said without turning to face us. The man must have eyes in the back of his head.

Neither of us said anything.
“Shall we get out of this den of iniquity? There is a train leaving for New York in fifteen minutes. I already have our tickets, and it leaves from Track five.”

His words, although softly delivered, were full of confidence.

Sylvie and I walked toward the platform. I sensed that he was right behind us.

“Coach B,” he said quietly.

---

The train left the den of iniquity as he’d called Washington right on time. Our carriage was fairly busy, but we had a four-adjacent-seats to ourselves, but once again, conversation was hard to come by. After the scheduled stop in Philadelphia, we were almost the only occupants of the coach. I relaxed, but that was short-lived.

Jared’s phone had received several messages during the trip, but he didn't communicate their contents to us. I guessed that we didn't need to know or at least didn't need to know at that time. He was clearly a man of few words, which after some thought, I guessed was what had made him a good CO. Sylvie had told me a bit about her time under his command as we walked through the Capitol district.

As the train began to slow down for the Trenton stop, Jared said,
“Ladies, this is where we get off. Before we do, please take your phones and put them in the trash basket on your way off the train. If anyone is tracking them, they'll see them heading towards the Big Apple while going in a different direction."

“I thought that we were going to New York?” I asked.

"That was a little diversion. There will be a vehicle waiting for us outside the train station.

Again, he spoke very few words, but they made it very clear what we should do.

Outside the train station, a woman was waiting for Jared. They exchanged a few words, and something was handed over to him by this woman. Then she disappeared into the station without even looking in our direction. I guessed that she had a 'train to catch' to somewhere.

Jared motioned to us to follow him towards a nearby parking lot. Our 'wheels' for the next part of wherever we were going was a dark-coloured SUV with blacked-out windows in the back.

“Please sit in the back ladies. I’ll drive. We have just over an hour’s journey before we stop for the night. My associate took the liberty of purchasing some necessities for you. They are in the back behind the rear seats.”

Those words told me that we were not going very far, but would probably be going a lot farther the next day.

Sylvie and I got in the back and strapped on our seat belts. Jared started the engine let out a sigh.
“Sorry guys, it has been a long day for us all. I expect that you are tired and hungry. There is a place where we can eat next door to where we are staying.”

He drove us away from the station. A few minutes later, we were going through the suburbs of the city. I saw a sign saying 'Rte 31 – Lebanon’. That meant little to me other than I was lost. This was part of the country that for some reason I’d avoided on my travels.

I must have dozed off and only woke up when Jared turned off the highway and onto a side road. He had just driven us into the parking lot of a Motel. I could see a 24hr diner next door. What would we do without them eh?

---

We stopped to eat at the diner. It was food and it was hot. Other than that, it was unmemorable but it did the job of filling a hole. None of us spoke much during the meal. I just wanted something to eat and then sleep.

Our rooms for the night were connected by two doors.

“Please keep this unlocked just in case,” said Jared as we said goodnight.

We closed the door on our side, allowing Sylvie and I to be alone at last.

“He is a man of few words, isn’t he?” I remarked.

"He is. That's what made him such a great CO. When he said something, you took notice. Our company had far fewer casualties than all the others in the deployment. He cares about the people under him.”

“But you took one, didn’t you?”

"I did, but there was nothing he or anyone could have done to stop it. The IED that got me was a new type to everyone at the base. I survived, but the two bomb disposal people didn't. If one of them hadn't sheltered me from most of the blast, I would not be here today. I was a full forty yards from the device when it went off. Prior to the events of that day, we had not seen any IEDs that powerful and so directive in their blast pattern.”

“I get you. Where do you think we are going?”

"I have an idea, but I'm not sure yet. We need to get you back to DC at very little notice so that you can go before the Grand Jury, but beyond that, I have no idea."

"Somewhere not too far from an airport with a direct flight to DC, perhaps?"

“Possibly. Now, I’d like to get some sleep. There is no telling when we will be pulling out.”

I knew when it was time to shut up and get some rest.

---

Sylvie’s words proved to be correct. Jared was knocking on our door before 06:00 the next morning.

“Ok, ok,” I called.
“Give us ten minutes.”

“We need to leave in five. It appears that someone has managed to follow us despite my best efforts.”

Those few words made us instantly forget about waking up in a controlled manner. We splashed some water on our faces and stuffed the things we’d used during the night into a carrier bag and after a quick brush of hair, we were as ready as we’d ever be.

“Jared, we are ready,” said Sylvie.

“Good. Please go out the door and get in the SUV as if nothing special has happened. I’ll do the same. The plan is for us to get in and drive off as if we don’t have a care in the world. Got it?”

I looked at Sylvie, who smiled.
“We got it.”

“Don't rush or look for a watcher. We need to be leaving, and giving the world the impression that we had planned to hit the road at this time. Chatter amongst yourselves. Normality is the rule, ok?”

I wasn't going to argue with him, nor was Sylvie.

“Just leave the door key on the bed. On the count of three. One… two… three… go.”

Sylvie and I left the Motel room and walked a few yards to the SUV. As we stepped into the pavement of the parking lot, the car flashed its lights at us, and I heard the doors unlock. We got in the back as Jared got in the front. We even appeared to argue which side we were going to sit on.

As we drove out of the lot, I saw at least six police cars' lights flashing on a side road. They had surrounded a black Suburban SUV. Officers had their guns out and were pointing them at the SUV.

"The local Sheriff's department did a drive-by in the night and noticed the DC plates. The people inside refused to answer when challenged by the officer. When the Sheriff called me half an hour ago, they were in a stand-off situation. Where they are parked, gives them a great view of the exit from the Motel parking lot. Because, they refuse to identify themselves, they will be kept there for at least three hours. The local law does not like heavyweights from DC appearing on their patch without warning."

"How… how do you know that they are part of law enforcement from DC?"

“The plates come back as an FBI pool vehicle,” I asked.

I looked at Sylvie and said,
"Didn't Amy try to tell us that there was a leak in the DC Field Office?"

"She did, and this very much proves it.”

“Never mind ladies. We will be changing vehicles in a few hours. The new one will appear to the DMV as being owned by a farmer from upstate NY or something like that.”

---

Jared drove for almost two hours, down roads that seemed to get narrower at every turn. He wasn't using a map which seemed to imply that he'd been here before. At last, the tarmac ended, and he carried on up a track that thankfully wasn't that rough or at least as rough as the one that led to the Judge's cabin. I looked out of the window and knew where I'd rather be right now, and that wasn't here.

My musings were rudely interrupted when Jared did a sharp left turn, and there in front of us was the entrance to an old Railroad Tunnel.

Jared drove into the darkness of the tunnel and stopped. Just as the vehicle stopped some lights came on, and some doors started closing across the entrance.

He turned around in his seat and said,
"I know that we were not being tailed when we left DC, so how did the Feds find us? One possibility is that someone has put a tracker into your purses or on your person. This place is 100% shielded thanks to the presence of a lot of Iron Oxide in the rocks. This will allow us to find out if there is a tracker, and take appropriate action. Shall we take a look ladies?”

I rather liked being talked to by a man as an adult. That was a nice change. The Judge had done the same…

We all got out of the SUV and followed Jared over to two trestle tables.

"If you could empty the contents onto the table, I'll get the scanner."

He went over to a box that stood by the brick wall of the tunnel and pulled out an electronic device.

Jared used the device to scan the pile of items. It didn’t go bleep. He turned to the bags themselves. Again, it remained silent.

“That leaves your clothes.”

Almost as soon as he put the scanner onto Sylvie's coat, it bleeped.

“Did you let this out of your sight when you were in the DOJ yesterday?”

"No… Wait a minute. I did. Tiffany, was in another room giving her deposition, and I went to the bathroom. I was gone only a few minutes, and I had my bag with me all the time."

“That’s probably it. What sort of time was this?”

“Not long after we’d broken for lunch. They brought some food to us.”

“That is useful information.”

He thought for a moment before saying,
“I must report this back to the Marshall’s Service. As I keep saying, there are leaks everywhere in DC. Please put your things back in your bags and get everything from the SUV. One of my co-workers will be here soon with a replacement vehicle.”

“Aren’t you going to destroy the tracker?” I asked.

“No. My friend will take this SUV and lead those tailing them on a wild goose chase towards the Canadian Border or somewhere. I don’t want to know where for obvious reasons. Because, I asked you both to sit in the back, there are no traffic camera pictures of you. Seemingly simple security actions like this, can and do save lives in this business.”

Jared went outside the tunnel to make a phone call. I looked at Sylvie, who took my hand.
“This will all be over soon.”

“I hope so, I really do hope so. I’m not sure if I can take all this much longer.”

She smiled at me.
“When I was on deployment, I got through the bad times by thinking of green places and the sea, the wild sea. It made a change from the arid and often barren landscape that we normally operated in.”

“Ah, the think of places that you have good memories from the past.”

“Exactly.”

“And if there are none?”

“It can’t be all that bad… can it? What about skinning your first jack-rabbit?”

“Ok, that is one option. I'd prefer to remember catching my first catfish. I was only seven, and I thought that it was a monster. Mom gutted it, and we had grilled catfish and mashed sweet potato that night. It was the best I'd ever had mainly because she'd coated the catfish in some homemade Cajun Seasoning.”

Sylvie smiled at me and squeezed my hand again.

---

Jared returned with a frown on his face.
“Our next set of wheels has been delayed a bit. Maybe another hour.”

“That was a fine breakfast we missed!” said Sylvie.

“I’m just as hungry as you. We'll make up for it later, that I can promise."

"What exactly is this place?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

“This was part of a spur on the old Lackawanna Cut-Off Railroad. Their mainline ran from New York to Buffalo in a direct but very bendy route, and this bit was built to speed up services around 1910. It was ripped up in the 1980s. Now the Amtrak Services all go via Albany, and the old line is for freight only. This spur was never completed. A big change in the geology just outside the other end of the tunnel made it uneconomic to continue as it was in the middle of the Spanish Flu epidemic after World War 1.”
He smiled.
“That and three collapses in the tunnel roof a few hundred yards from the other end inside a month… They just gave up.”

“How do you know all this?”

He smiled.
“My great grand Pappy was a driver on this line during WW2. I grew up less than ten miles from here.”

That explained a lot. If you weren't a local, then finding this place would be quite difficult. It was a great place to hide away for a few hours.

---

The other driver turned up just under 50 minutes later. It was another woman. I wondered if all the drivers in the Marshals Service were women?

“Sorry for being so late. I had a flat just this side of Scranton. A local cop with a big hammer, helped me undo the lug nuts.”

“You are here now,” said Jared.
“Are you clear on your part of the operation?”

“Yeah. I hear Mt Washington is nice this time of year, or maybe Lake George?"

Jared laughed. That was the first time I'd seen even a half-human side to him.

“Fine. There is over half a tank of gas. I think that you are good to go. The tracker is in the pocket behind the driver's seat. If they haven't caught up to you in say 36 hours, crush it and go home. If they do, just put your hands up and surrender. Don’t try to fight whoever it is who wants to do serious harm to these two ladies.”

“Gotcha boss.”

“Look after yourself you hear!”

She smiled back at Jared and nodded her head.

Less than a minute later, she drove away into the late morning sun.

He turned to us and said,
“It might look like that this is almost a one-man operation but I am a mere cog in a team of many other Marshals. We are working to a general plan that is tried and tested but the fine details are changed on a regular basis. You… we are being watched over by a number of my friends and have been since you left me in DC yesterday. Those friends are very good at their jobs so don’t even think of trying to look for them. Just think of them as my backup team.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday?” asked Sylvie.

“Guilty. I should have done that as soon as we got off the train. The tracker that we found just now reminded me that I hadn’t. Those who are after both of you will probably try again to stop Tiffany from appearing in front of the Grand Jury. I will not let that happen.”

The tone of his words made it clear to me that he would try his best and if that wasn’t enough, he’d go down fighting. I began to see why Sylvie had such faith in him as an officer. It struck me that in the whole encounter with the driver, no names had been used. His words about simple things keeping people safe were not just words to him. He was a man to have on your side and not your enemy.

“We will wait here for an hour, then we can be on our way. There is a great diner about twenty-five minutes away. It should be great as it is run by my sister. She makes a great plate of Cheesy Grits with Black Eyed Peas thanks to her time at Fort Bragg.”

I laughed and looked at Sylvie, who rolled her eyes. Then she smiled and shook her head.

[to be continued]

After a great lunch where Sylvie refused yet again to sample Grits and instead, settled for a Pork Sandwich with all the trimmings. I had the chicken version of the same Sandwich while Jared settled on some Meat Loaf that, to be honest, looked and smelt fantastic.

“Ready for a drive?” he asked when we returned to the new SUV.

“How long this time?” asked Sylvie with a sense of weariness in her voice.

“Southwest to somewhere not that far from Scranton. Far enough away from DC to be invisible as possible yet close enough to get Tiffany back in time for the Grand Jury when the call comes.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

---

‘Near Scranton’ turned out to be a couple of miles to the North West of a small place called Mill City. We stopped to buy groceries on our way through the Scranton area. Our SUV was just about invisible amongst all the others with PA plates. So much for the farmer from upstate NY!

Our destination was a house at the end of another dirt road. I estimated that we were a good mile from the nearest bit of hardtop. The house itself, looked very much like all the others we'd passed in the local area. There were five bedrooms and four baths in total. It was clear from the outset that Jared had used this place before. He was totally in command as he briefed us about the security systems and an impressive array of sensors that were positioned all around the property.

"If we do get any visitors, then we may need to repel boarders."

He opened the gun locker that was inside a cupboard in the hallway.

“There is enough firepower in there to fight a small war,” I remarked.

“True, but I hope that it does not come to that. We invest a lot of tax dollars into our network of safe houses. Our accountants really don’t like it when the security of one is breached. We’ve had one go like that already this year.”

I got the message loud and clear.

Jared showed us around the house and made sure that we understood the security measures, especially in the five bedrooms. On the ground floor, there was an extensive library, as well as a couple of computers.

“If you want to use them, please ask. I’ll connect you via a VPN so anyone tracking the connection will think that you are somewhere like Carson City or Baton Rouge. Naturally, you must do nothing to reveal our location.”

“I’m not that into computers,” I said.
"I know enough to know that there is a lot I don't know, so I’ll pass on them. Beyond using Google, Facebook and looking at websites and some social media, the rest is an almost no-go zone for me. I do know how to upload files to a thing called DropBox, but only because someone set up an account for me last year. To be honest I think that this social media thing is a waste of time and space. I used Dropbox to upload the dirt on my father and Facebook to link it to the world.”

“Good for you,” said Jared.
“Most young people your age, are glued to their phones and social media. Can't see the point myself, but what do I know eh?"

We all had a good laugh at that.

"Right, who is going to volunteer to cook tonight? We'll take one night each. There is a freezer in the utility room which should have been restocked last week."

“I’ll do it,” I said.

---

Jared got a call on his Sat-Phone four days later. He’d explained that it was next to impossible to hack and track the location of the receiver. He said that it was something about the footprint of the satellite on the earth's surface. That went right over my head, but it seemed plausible.

"Well ladies, tomorrow is it. We need to leave here around 05:00. The Grand Jury is scheduled to start at 11:00. We'll need to be there by 10:00 so that you can be briefed or something like that.”

The news that we'd all been waiting for, but had to some extent been dreading was here at last.
“Nervous?” asked Sylvie.

“Not too bad at the moment.”

“But you are thinking that it will get worse?”

I nodded.
“I have read a bit about what goes in inside a Grand Jury and the best I can describe it as a trial without the other side there to give you hell and make you wish that you hadn’t been born.”

“That’s not a bad analogy,” said Jared.
“I shall have to remember that.”

---

The atmosphere in the house was relatively subdued for the rest of the day. We all turned in early and set our alarms for 04:15.

The next thing I knew was being shaken awake to find a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t struggle Tiff.”

The voice belonged to Sylvie, but it was little more than a whisper.
I relaxed ,and she removed her hand.

“We have visitors. A couple of the perimeter alarms went off about ten minutes ago. Jared woke me, and he's in the basement looking at the CCTV. Get dressed and pack your things.”

"Ok," I whispered back.

“Take this torch but use it sparingly. Jared says not to switch on the lights. We don’t want to alert them to the fact that we are onto them.”

“Ok.”

We'd discussed what everyone should do if this event happened, so it was not as if I was being asked to do something strange. I didn't have many things, and I'd gotten used to travelling light very early on in my travels. That had not changed much since.

I stuffed the few things I had into a small backpack. Everything including my pocketbook, just about fitted. Because of our planned early start, I’d done most of the packing the previous night.

I looked at the clock that sat on the bedside cabinet. It read 02:50. I cancelled the alarm before putting on my shoes, coat and backpack. Then I went in search of the others.

I could hear voices coming from the basement, so I carefully went downstairs. This was where Jared's control center was located. He was talking into a microphone in hushed tones. Sylvie was looking at the bank of CCTV screens. On one of them, a man in military clothing and with what I assumed to be some sort of night vision device over his head. He was crouching. I had no idea if he was a friend or a foe.

His jaw was moving signifying that he was talking to someone.

“Is that one of them?” I asked Sylvie.

“No. That is one of Jared’s team.”

Her use of the word ‘team’ surprised me. Until then, I had thought that we were here on our own.

Jared finished speaking and came over to where Sylvie and I were standing.

“There are at least six of them. From the way that they are deploying it is clear that they are all ex-military. I have three guys working their way to outflank them. I have called in re-enforcements but they can’t be here for over an hour.”

He let that sink in.

“Here is our plan of action.”

His command voice was back.

“Sylvie, you are to stick to Tiffany like glue. I understand that you can shoot a gun, Tiffany?”

“I can but I’m not exactly up to date with my practice.”

“That does not matter. There are some vests in the closet of there. Put one on and get yourself armed. Not a revolver but something like a Glock or a Sig. Take a couple of extra magazines with you for good measure. Then, lie low by the back door."

“Sylvie, please go and get the SUV keys from the worktop in the kitchen and be prepared to make a run for it. I’m going to assist my team from here. If I shout ‘Go-Go-Go’, go and don’t look back. The Satnav is programmed for an alternative route to DC. Take it. My people know about the route and will be on the lookout for you. They won’t make themselves known unless it is an emergency. The end of the route is where you will be met and taken into the city. I have already sent out a message for them to be ready for you.”

Once again, he let that sink in.

“Do you understand the plan?”

“I do,” I muttered still bewildered by what was going on.

“I’ll make sure that Tiffany makes the Grand Jury appointment, Sir!” said Sylvie.

“One last thing. A US Marshall by the name of Gwen Thomas will be the person meeting you just outside DC. She will have clothes and makeup for you both. We need you to look your best when you go in front of the Grand Jury. She will also make sure that you get into the city unscathed.”

“I understand. I did wonder about that,” I replied.

He gave Sylvie an earwig.
“Listen in on what is going on. If things go south then make your own decision about what to do. Don’t wait for me.”

“Understood Sir!”

“Good now get going and I’ll see you both in DC.”

I debated saying goodbye but thought better of it as it might be considered bad luck.

---

For the next hour, we crouched behind the wall near the kitchen door. I tried hard but could not make out any of the noises coming from inside and outside the house.

Suddenly, Sylvie stood up.
“Time for us to go.”

She opened the door and in a crouching run, she headed for the SUV. The noises a modern vehicle makes when doors open and everything seemed like an open invitation for someone to start firing at us but as if by magic, we made it out of the property and down the track without bursts of gunfire from all directions hitting the SUV.

When we reached the road, there were two SUVs parked half in a ditch. I could see from the light cast by the headlights of our SUV that they had at least two flat tires. I assumed that these were the vehicles that the bad guys had arrived in.

Sylvie drove the SUV pretty fast but not recklessly. She stuck religiously to the route in the SATNV. Twenty-five minutes later, we were going through the streets of Scranton itself. I wondered what would happen if we were stopped by a local cop. What would they make of two women wearing bulletproof vests and armed to the teeth? Sylvie would be ok thanks to her FBI credentials but I’d probably be heading to jail and have no time to collect my $200. I certainly didn’t have a permit to carry a gun.

Luckily for us, they didn’t and soon we were heading south on I-81. The traffic was very light but there was no time to relax. The Grand Jury would not wait for me. The last thing I wanted was for them to issue a subpoena…

Sylvie kept the speed down to just below the limit as we followed the Interstate out of Pennsylvania, through Maryland, West Virginia, and into Virginia where she turned left onto Route 7 which according to the signs was going to take us to DC.

A couple of miles later and there we came to a small side road. Sylvie checked the mirrors and grunted. I took that as ‘there is no one following us’. She turned off the highway and carried on for a hundred yards before coming to a halt.

“Time for us to get rid of this stuff,” she said referring to the vests and guns.
“The DC cops don’t take kindly to heavy weaponry coming into their city even if I am a Fed.”

It made sense so we got out of the SUV and took the vests off. She put them in the rear of the SUV before turning her attention to the guns.

“Can you empty them including anything in the chamber?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I have my FBI weapon but with these, I have no idea of their provenance so we are going to dismantle them and put them under the spare wheel in the truck and toss the ammo clips into the next river. That way no cop can use intent against us should we be stopped. As far as I know, there is no 'due cause' for them to search the vehicle but you never can tell. Cops can be nasty SOBs if they have a mind to be, and two women travelling alone in the early morning… well you know as well as I do the risks.”

I did as Sylvie requested and as a final act, I wiped them clean of prints before wrapping them in a clean towel that had somehow made its way into my backpack. She stowed them still wrapped in the towel next to the spare wheel. The trunk lid came down with a satisfying thus but I could not help wonder if we hadn’t gotten rid of them far too soon.

A few miles down the highway, we stopped once again and tossed the bullets into a river. I repeated that a few miles farther on by the now-empty ammo clips.

---

As we neared Dulles airport, the route shown on the Satnav ended. I had assumed that it would take us right into DC but… orders are orders and Jared was most clear on that front back at the now not so safe house.

“Where are we going when we reach the airport industrial park?”

"I guess that we will be met by this US Marshal person that he mentioned. That’s why Jared was so insistent that we follow the route,” said Sylvie.
“Knowing him, I expect that we are being watch and have been since we left Scranton. He is that sort of person. Thorough does not even begin to describe him.”

It was then that I realized that neither of us had said anything much since we'd left the house. It was not as if there was nothing to say but we both had other things on our minds. The old 'Bee Gee's song 'Stayin Alive' was never far from my mind, after all, it was what I'd been doing for more than five years.

The route ended at an anonymous industrial park a few miles from the Airport itself. Next door was a Car Rental depot. It all looked so calm. I wondered if there was a storm brewing for me before I got to testify. So far, we had been luck since leaving the not so save house.

Sylvie came to a stop outside a property that was encircled by tall metal fencing that looked rather ominous. As Sylvie brought the car to a stop in front of them, the gates began to open.

“I guess we have arrived. It appears that we are expected?” said Sylvie as she drove into the compound.

Some lights on the outside of the building came on as a large roller door in the front opened up. Sylvie drove us inside and stopped. I guessed that the lights were motion activated as it was daylight.

The door closed behind us and that was it. She switched the engine off as the internal lights came on and let out a huge sigh of relief.
I had to hope that it wasn’t a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’.

A woman appeared from inside an office to our right. She didn’t appear to be armed so Sylvie rolled down the window.

The woman smiled at us.
“Welcome. I’m Gwen Thomas. We have been expecting you,” she said as she showed us her US Marshall’s badge and ID.

For the first time in hours, I relaxed… a bit.

---

Gwen took us inside the office and poured us both a cup of coffee.

"Jared sends his regards. He and his people arrested six people at the property. They will be charged in due course with a variety of offences including illegal possession of explosives, namely some military-grade C4 and some banned weaponry as in an RPG. No one was hurt other than the pride of the offenders.”

Sylvie and I both breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“The word from on high is that your testimony to the Grand Jury must be allowed to proceed as normal," said Gwen.
"I guess that some powerful people are not going to be very happy as a result."

She held up her hand.
“Don’t tell me anything about the case or the people. I don’t want to be accused of witness tampering.”

“I get you. What you don’t know, you can’t tell on?”

“Something like that. My job is to get you to the DOJ building unscathed. This is what we are going to do. If I fail then Jared will not be happy and as he is also CO to this unit, when he is not a happy man, we get shitty assignments.”
I looked a Sylvie who was grinning. She knew only too well how her former CO worked. I wondered if Gwen Thomas was performing a role that she’d performed in the past.

For the next ten minutes, she outlined how we were going to get transferred to the DOJ in one piece and in a condition to go into the Grand Jury. It seemed like this was a well-oiled machine that was swinging into action.

“Any questions?” asked Gwen.

“You seem to have covered all the bases,” said Sylvie.
I nodded my agreement even if I hadn’t understood everything that she’d talked about. A lot of it was done in military jargon. It was clear that was ex-military like Sylvie. It was very clear to me that these people operated on a totally different level to normal cops or even the standard FBI agent. Sylvie seemed right at home with these people.

“Good. Now, I expect that you could do with freshening up and a change of clothes. I have everything ready for you. Then we can go into the city.”

My stomach gave a rumble.

“One of my people will bring us something to eat when we are in the DOJ building. This facility only has a coffee maker I’m afraid.”

---

Our transport into the city was a panel van that looked like a normal Fed EX vehicle. Inside was a different matter. It was more like a mobile control center than anything. Some cameras were positioned to give an all-around view of the truck on the monitors. Two people were monitoring the screens while Sylvie and I sat in the back.

I couldn't settle very well. She noticed this and took my hand and smiled. It was good having her with me but I knew that very soon, I'd be on my own in front of the Grand Jury and exposing everything about my life to a bunch of strangers.

---

[10:55 DOJ Building, Washington DC]

“Are you ready to go?” asked the DOJ lawyer, Lane Webster.

“As ready as I was ten minutes ago,” I replied feeling slightly irritated with him already.
“Will you be asking me the questions?”

He shook his head.
“As far as I know, the DC US Attorney herself is doing the honors today. She only does the very important cases.”

His words told me one thing but his body language said the opposite. He didn’t like her one little bit. I wondered if there was some professional jealously involved?

Just then, a court officer came to us.
“They are ready for you Ma’am.”
That was it. No calling of my name out loud. Everything was very low key just as I liked it.

[Four and a half hours later]

“How was it?” asked Sylvie.

“Tough. The US Attorney was very, very thorough and exceedingly well prepared. And, she let me speak and didn’t interrupt me.”

"That is the idea, isn't it. You know to get to the bottom of the issues," said Sylvie.

“I suppose so. It was just not like all those courtroom dramas that you see on TV.”

“I’m sure that a lot of it is for effect…”

I shook my head.
“I’ve seen Attorney’s try to grandstand a court even on a speeding case. The TV influence I suppose. I’m just glad that is over and done with.”

I stood there with my eyes closed. I needed some sleep but one of the questions had me worried.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sylvie.

“One of the topics that the US Attorney spent some time on was to do with the crimes my father committed to being elected and how he'd spread his sphere of influence outside the state."
“So?” said Sylvie.
“If there is one thing that I have come to know about you Tiffany is that you are mentally prepared for just about anything when it comes to questioning.”

“This was something else entirely. He asked me how I obtained the recordings of my father doing dirty deals to fix the election of the Secretary of State in a next-door state.”

“Oh! The going out for some groceries while he did his dirty deed?”
“Yeah. He pressed me on why I left the phone that mom gave me recording while I went and spent a Jackson on some food.”

“What’s wrong with that? Your mom was as I have come to know, a wise woman.”
“It all seemed so cold and calculating. One of the jurors sent that question to the Attorney for me to answer.”
“Your mom knew that you had a good brain on your head. She was there doing her business with him knowing that every time he made a phone call after the fact, it was going to be one more nail in his coffin.”
“I guess so,” I replied trying to sound convincing.

There was a silence between us. I decided to try to move the conversation on a bit.

“Now what happens? I guess I’ll have to hang around here or wherever the trial is going to be? That could be months away?”

Sylvie smiled at me.
"The indictments need to be handed down first. Then arrests are made and then… a trial is scheduled. As he is already in custody, the process will be a little different but from a legal point of view, it will be the same.”

“Yes, that as well. Months if not years knowing my father and his skanky lawyers."

Sylvie reached over and squeezed my hand. She held it and said,
“While you were in with the Grand Jury, I received an update from the Marshalls Service. I phoned my section head in Phoenix who confirmed the message. My temporary secondment to them has been extended until after the trial. I’m afraid that you are stuck with me for the foreseeable future… Jared dropped by and said ‘hello’.”

“Was he here?”

“He was briefly. He came by just to make sure that everything was ok. He’s writing a report on the incident at the safe house for the Marshals Service and the DOJ. One of the bad guys who came to the house has been singing like a canary. He hinted that a couple of people in the FBI Field Office here in DC are going to wish that they hadn’t gone over to the dark side.”

I smiled at her. I’d grown to like this woman. Probably a lot more than I should have but that is life, isn’t it?

“We discussed a safe place for us in the interim… as in until the trial whenever that is. I suggested my uncle’s fishing cabin in Maine. The border with Canada is just a couple of miles away across the sound. There is a boat ready and waiting should we need it. That would do us until the first snow hit at least.”

“And? Are we heading up there? If so, when?” I asked feeling totally out of the loop on this.

Sylvie saw my unease.
“In answer to your questions, I hope so. It is my backyard and until April or May, any strangers will stand out like a sore thumb. When? I don’t know. That is in the purview of others I’m afraid.”

She grinned.
“I know that you love gallivanting around the country but sometimes you just have to stay put at least for a while."

She was right as always.

“When will we know?”

“I hope… I hope that we at least get somewhere to stay tonight. I don’t know about you but I could do with a decent meal that has been cooked by a professional, a bottle of wine and a large, no make that a very large bed. How does that sound?”

“Nice, very nice but nigh on impossible given past experiences.”

“Don’t get too downhearted. Things will get better I promise. A wise man once said, ‘Justice comes to those that deserve it’. You deserve justice to honor your mother.”

After the last 24 hours, I had to hope so.
So far, I had trusted Sylvie and lately, Jared implicitly and they’d not let me down. In the past, I would have run a mile before trusting anyone but…? I wondered if I was growing up?

[to be continued]

Messenger 14

We spent the next two nights at a fairly anonymous hotel to the south of the city while decisions were made by the powers that be, about what to do with me.

I began to get the feeling that now that I’d testified before the Grand Jury that I was yesterday's news and therefore disposable, just like a take-out Pizza box when the contents have been consumed. That didn’t bother me too much. All that I hoped was that I could be taken somewhere a long way from DC and left to find my own way. Then I felt guilty. My feelings about Sylvie had to be taken into consideration. I had to admit to myself that she was fast becoming more than a guardian, more than just a friend. That in itself was worrying. All of this personal relationship stuff was very new to me. The only other person I’d been close to was my mom and that was a long, long time ago.

On the third morning, we woke to some stupendous news. The Grand Jury had issued a Felony Murder 1 indictment on my father for the murder of my mother. The story said that he being arraigned at the jail where he was being held in custody. This one and a slew of other new charges meant that there were now some 67 federal and more than 100 civil cases, all working their way towards a trial.

I fully expected his lawyers to start their delaying tactics but in at least one case, the evidence is what the TV news was calling a 'slam dunk' guilty verdict. I swapped to a different cable news station and they speculated that the 'slam dunk' case was the murder of my mom. Rumors were circulating that the Feds had video evidence of him in the act of killing my mom. That pleased me yet, at the same time, it disturbed me. Someone had leaked that bit of information.

I felt a huge amount of relief at the next step in the painfully slow application of justice on him for that crime had been made. That was the upside. The downside was that I knew that my father would employ every legal tactic possible including trying to get the video evidence tossed out. That was probably why the ADA had spent more than an hour, questioning me about everything to do with the video. This included where I'd gotten the money for the camera, and where the recording had been since that fateful day.

The first battle was over, but the war was far from done, of that I was very clear.

That wasn’t all the surprises that arrived that morning.
“We have clearance to go to Maine tomorrow first thing. We’ll fly to Boston with a connection to Portland. A car will be waiting for us there,” said Sylvie.
“The tickets will be delivered later along with some new ID.”

“New ID?”

Sylvie smiled.
“The powers that be don’t want us travelling under our current names just in case someone is on the lookout for us.”

I breathed a sigh of relief but it was only temporary.

"Then we are on our own, I suppose?"

Sylvie smiled.
"Not quite. I never told you what my family does for a living, did I?"

Sylvie was right. She’d had been very circumspect about that.

“No, you didn’t.”

“My older brother is County Sheriff for that part of the state. I'm sure that I don't need to spell out what that means do I?"

She didn't need to elaborate, but I still had this ever-increasing feeling that I was just a small and insignificant pawn in the game of chess that was being waged against my father. Part of me rejoiced at the thought but a bigger part just wanted him to pay for everything he did to mom and me.

Some unexpected news came late that afternoon concerning the legal teams who had been representing my father. They had all quit citing the small but not insignificant fact that they hadn't been paid for months, and the latest set of charges was the final straw. As they quit, they filed suit against him for the monies owed which according to the TV news reports ranged from $500,000 to close on $4M. They’d have to take their place in the queue of people wanting money from him and his estate.

I dared myself to use the word, 'karma' for once in my life. The news outlets were going crazy over the ever-increasing web of crime and corruption that was being exposed for all to see on an almost daily basis. It soon turned out that, I had not been the only one to record his phone calls. His secretary from around the time he murdered my mom had been sexually assaulted by him. That was not big news to me. He'd been doing it for years. Her revenge was to record his calls, and archive all his emails and texts. She'd supplied them to the feds when he'd fired her after winning the Governor's election. Now she had written a book, and by all accounts, it was going to be a hum-dinger.

For a while, I felt a bit put out by her usurping me in the evidence stakes, but Sylvie soon rectified that by reminding me that I was the one who had the evidence of him murdering my mom and that murder tops rape in the league of crime severity.

---

Maine proved to be just like the travel brochures described it… well, it was when it wasn’t raining, snowing, blowing a gale or covered in fog. Sylvie just beamed at being home and close to her family.

I was introduced to them as her ‘witness in keeping’. After a bit, I understood that this was a family joke. ‘Keeping‘ turned out to mean that I was to be kept safe, but not wrapped in cotton wool. That pleased me because I had come to hate being mollycoddled as I had been by the Marshal's Service. They had good reason to do it then, but not now.

When the weather cleared, Maine in the fall was beautiful and the seafood? Heavenly. Sylvie took great delight in showing me the sights. For a while, I wondered if she was subtly asking me if I wanted to stay when this was all over. OTOH, it gave us something to do that was outside the cabin.

The words 'all over' was still like the dot of light at the end of a tunnel. Is it the exit into the daylight, or is it an oncoming train that would smash you to a pulp without a second thought or hesitation? I had to think that it was the latter. I didn’t know what had happened to my half-brother. As far as I knew, he'd been silent since that day in Spokane. That was unusual for him as he'd appointed himself as the main mouthpiece for my father's business dealings since he'd been elected Governor. He'd been the one who posted his missives on Social Media and ran the all too infrequent press conferences. He had the charisma to handle the press whereas, my dear father was socially inept when the questions took him off script so my half-brother took over all that sort of stuff. As far as I knew, none of the news media had reported on his presence or the legal cases against him since June.

I guessed that with the charges against my father increasing in both number and severity, he was out on bail and hunkered down somewhere keeping very quiet. The only good thing he’d done in all his life was to not get on the plane our father as he tried to flee the country. That he was not fleeing with him had caused a lot of comment in the media. The words ‘Daddy’s boy out of favor’ was used more than once.

That thought made me happy because of all the bad-mouthing he'd given both me and Mom after her death. He’d all but called her a working whore. She wasn’t anything other than a woman who had an affair with the wrong man.

Little did I know that assumption was about as far from the truth as it could be.

---

After we’d been in Maine for a week, I began to get itchy feet. I put most of that down to not having something to do with my time. By now, I’d read all the books in the cabin which surprised Sylvie. I explained that I’d learned to speed read when I was in 2nd grade. I could already read, write and do what Mom called ‘Life Sums’ before I started 1st grade. i.e., the maths that I'd need to get by in daily life. Mom had taken me for a Happy Meal as a reward for learning something so cool. Those were great days. I felt on top of the world when Mom treated me like that. School had been very boring because of the start that mom had given me. I ended up helping the teacher with a few of those who were struggling with their alphabet.

Just thinking about those times when it was just me and mom against the world made me both happy and sad. She’d been taken from me far too early. She was my mom! I wanted to get my hands on him and give him a good beating.

“Penny for them?” said a voice that brought me back to reality.
It was Sylvie.

“Oh sorry. I was thinking about the days when it was just me and mom against the world or that’s what it seemed like to me at the time.”

“Well, I have some more news for you.”

“Good I hope?”

“Very good.”

“I’d better sit down then.”

She laughed and sat opposite me.

"There are two bits of news. Do you remember that your father's lawyers upped and quit because they'd not been paid?"

“Yes. Rats deserting the sinking ship, I think one Cable News station called them for about a week.”

“They did, didn't they. Well, it appears that the new team has told him very clearly that his goose is well and truly cooked. He's changed his plea to guilty on the charger of murdering your mom. He's taken a deal on all the other cases. The report I just received says that he's going down for 99 years rather than facing the death penalty for your mom's murder. His son, your half-brother quickly followed suit once he saw the deal that his father had accepted in writing. He accepted a 25 to 40-year sentence for six counts of 1st Degree Manslaughter, including that of the Judge.”

I tried to stop myself, but I failed miserably and broke down in tears. The tears were joyful tears but with a few sad ones for Mom's death thrown in.

Sylvie came around the table and gave me a big hug. It felt good, and as always, she smelt good.

Thanks, Sylvie. I'm sorry for blabbing like that."

“Bollocks. Sorry but the pressure you have been under recently, it amazes me how well you have coped with everything.”

"Thanks, but I don't think that I'd finally accept that it is all over until they give their admission statements to the court and the judge passes sentence, and it becomes official."

"It is good that you thought about a point of closure."

I nodded.
“And the second bit of news?”

“The deal that your brother took to get the charges reduced to manslaughter was dependent upon him ratting your father out, as well as his corrupt associates. From what I've been told he's been singing like a canary for weeks including detailing some very nasty sex crimes, and for once the sieve that is DC has managed to keep it quiet. His sentencing has already been delayed by three months, and the DOJ may well be applying for another delay. That tells me that he has dirt and lots of it on a lot of other people, and that those people may well be getting a bit nervous, if you know what I mean?”

"He always was a snitch. Mom always said, that he'd not thnk twice about turning in his own mom just to curry favor with dad. He does not have one innocent bone in his body."

“He sounds like a nasty piece of work.”

“He is and always will be. I hope the people working on his case understand that almost every word he says is a lie and that the only person he cares about is himself. He got that from his father and his father before him. That whole family only care about two things. Getting more and more ‘green’ and screwing over anyone who is not in the family. My dear father would have shoved my brother under the bus if it meant saving himself from justice. Thankfully, with the evidence I had there was no way that he could put his dear son in the frame for mom’s murder.”

“A true scumbag family then?” said Sylvie.

“Very much so. It took me a couple of years after the death of my mom to get the full picture of just how bad they were. I got lucky as the state has an open records law.”

Then she smiled at me.

Sylvie smiled. I’d gotten used to that particular smile.
“What else is there?”

“Just this…”
Sylvie gave me a long, long kiss. We were cool.

---

After dinner that night, I said to Sylvie,

“I think that it is time that I moved on. With my father and stepbrother locked up, I can start to think about what I am going to do with the rest of my life."

I saw Sylvie react with obvious displeasure.
“You have to get back to your job at the FBI, don’t you?”

"I'll probably be summoned to DC for a debriefing, any day now that the legal stuff is wrapping up.”

There was an awkward silence between us. I could tell that Sylvie wanted to say something, but I didn't want to say anything until I had decided what I was going to do with my life. Before all this had blown up legally, I had a purpose which was survival. Now that the threat was as far as I knew over, all I could see was a big black hole.

It was Sylvie who broke the silence.
"You don't have to go, you know?"

“And when you have to report back to Phoenix?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’d… I’ve got some responsibilities over there.”

I made a decision.
“I’ll stay until you get your summons. Then we can go to DC with you. The Bus connections from there are a lot better than from here?”

“Will you go and see Queenie?”

I shook my head.
"I want to get settled somewhere, and then I can invite her to stay, but I honestly don't know where that will be."

“What about that place in Washington? You spoke so fondly of it.”

"Yeah, but that's part of the Judge's estate. He only said that I could stay there. It was only a verbal contract, and now that he is dead and the place is a pile of ashes, even thinking about it all seems rather pointless, doesn’t it?”
There was a lot more that I wanted to say, but I was petrified. Sylvie saw something in my body language or whatever. She was trained in this sort of thing but that didn't worry me.

“But it is a lot more complicated now, isn't it?"

I nodded.
“That complication is me, isn’t it?” she said softly.

Again, I nodded.
"Things were so easy relatively speaking, when I was on the road. When we were…"

I looked at her again and tried to speak but failed. Sylvie came to my rescue.

“It is complicated for me as well. When I was detailed to prepare you for the legal stuff … never in my wildest dreams did I think that I’d fall for you. For weeks now, I have been telling myself that I’m too old for you and that you should be getting together with someone your own age. Then something happens and you show a maturity well beyond your age.”

I looked at Sylvie and smiled.
"We are both scared of what happens next, aren't we?"

It was her turn to nod her head.
“Both of us have been on our own for so long that having to rely on someone else in our life is not going to be easy.”

For a second, I thought that this was her way of letting me down gently.

"I'm going to have to resume my career in the FBI, at least for the time being. I think that having a little time apart might let both of us see a little clearer how we can go forward. I don't know if that is as a couple or not."

I nodded my head. There was a feeling of relief inside me. She had let me down gently but had left the door open should we want it to be.

"In the meantime, I think it is long past time that we got to know each other a little better romantically."

This time I understood what she was talking about.
"If it is going to be a problem for you given the past, then say so."

“No… it is not going to be a problem. If there is one person on this planet that I care about then that person is you…”

“Good,” she said as she led me into her bedroom.

---

Sylvie received the summons for her debrief in DC, three days later. She’d used the time in Maine, to write most of her report on the whole event from our meeting near Duluth to the present day including our encounter with the two rednecks. She omitted just a few details about how we’d left them and what my appearance was like right now.

We'd discussed that a bit, and this was a problem. My first act once I'd left Sylvie would be to get my hair cut into a more androgynous style. It wasn't that I didn't like how I was now. I’d dreamed about having long hair ever since mom caught me that first time. Sometimes when I was dressed as her daughter, she'd spent hours brushing my hair. She'd say,

“You are so lucky with your hair. It is naturally straight unlike mine…”

When times were tight, she'd have to forgo the straightening treatments, and within a few days, it had reverted almost to an 'afro' style, which she hated with a vengeance. She would protest that she wasn't a 1980s disco singer. Mom hated 'disco' music, so I'd try to do a few odd jobs around the stores on the block to help out just so that she could get her hair looking good again. Little things like that were important to her and now they were to me as well.

I wasn’t looking forward to going on the road again, but I had to go. Being on the move was the one place where I could think clearly. For one thing, I didn’t have anyone looking over my shoulder wanting to know what I was doing, what I was thinking where I’d been, who I’d been talking to. It had been that way even before mom was murdered. I did promise her that when I came to a decision, I would tell her to her face. That was the least that she deserved.

---

Returning to DC felt rather strange. I put it down to two reasons the easy one was that it was the place where my testimony to the Grand Jury helped send my father away for the rest of his life. The second was that I'd have to say goodbye to Sylvie. We'd hardly been apart for months. She'd become a lot more than an FBI agent assigned to look after me, but that was a good deal of why I had to say goodbye to her for the time being at least.

We travelled by car to Boston, where we took the train via NYC to DC. Sylvie laughed at my rejection of flying. I just didn't like being enclosed in a metal tube, even if it was for less than two hours, but we'd compromised and enjoyed the train ride.

We booked into the same Hotel near Quantico that we’d used before. At first, that pleased me because I’d already worked out an exit route should things go wrong. Then I scolded myself for still thinking that I was still on the run from my father and his goons, but old habits and that…

Sylvie had twisted my arm a lot, and I'd agreed to stay in DC until she was done with the debrief. She’d persuaded me by telling me all about the Smithsonian Museum. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that mom had taken me to it just a few short months before she died. Still, it was nice seeing it again and from a more adult perspective.

On our last evening together, we went out to a well-known diner. Sylvie knew that I liked down-to-earth food, and her place of choice wasperfect for that. Then, she surprised me by ordering Cheesy Grits with Black-eyed Peas.

We had a good time, but at the end, she asked,
“Is this it for us?”

I’d been expecting something like that but not her being as direct as that.

“I don’t know. That’s why I need some time on my own.”

“You could have stayed in Maine?”

I shook my head.
"There are reminders of you or your family everywhere. No disrespect to them, but your mother made it clear that not only was I too young for you, but… they had hoped that after some time away, you would return and marry Daniel Godfrey."

"Sometimes, I wish she'd stop interfering with my life. Danny is not a good man, but they are too blind to see it. Even my big brother knows that he is on the wrong side of the law. He started coming around and trying to date me. Mom was as pleased as punch, but I knew his little game, so I left home and went to stay with a friend in Boston, where I joined the Marines. When I was wounded, I came home, and like a bad penny, there he was again. When I'd recovered enough to pass the FBI physical, When I first signed up, it was just to get away from mom, and him, but that changed when I went to Quantico. The State Police have been trying to pin anything more than a few traffic tickets on him for years. He's just too slimy and careful to be caught red-handed. I won’t be going back to Maine to live as a single person if you get my meaning.”

“What about the age difference?”

She leaned over to me and whispered…
“Fuck that. I have never felt anything like what I feel for you.”

Before I could respond, she said,
"I know that you have to do your thing, and get your mind straight. When you have, let me know where you are, and I'll come to you."

“Even if I’m in the middle of nowhere?”

“Especially, if you are in the middle of nowhere. I want to see you tell me what you have decided in person. No ‘dear Sylvie’ texts or emails ok. Will you promise me that?”

I’d never had anyone talk to me like that.
I took her hand and looked her right in the eye.

“I promise you that I’ll do that. It is the least I can do, after all that you have done for me."

At the end of the evening, we kissed outside the door to my room. It was us saying goodbye for at least a while. Sylvie had to go into Quantico early the following day to renew her firearm certification, and then to attend the de-brief. It was a stark reminder that she had a career of her own while I had nothing but what little remained of the money, that I’d picked up when I last visited Queenie.

[to be continued]

I felt at a bit of a loss the next morning now that Sylvie was going back to her duties with the FBI. She had arranged for my stay to be extended by one more day and as one or other of the FBI or DOJ were picking up the bill. The only upside I could see was that I was under no pressure to check out by 11 am.

I packed my bag, fully intending to leave late that morning, but the weather wasn't very good. The remnants of a storm that was almost a hurricane but not quite, was blowing itself out over the DC/Baltimore area. From the window of my room, I could tell that the winds were worse than the rain, so I decided to wait another day. Oh! Such luxuries!

I did brave the weather and took the Hotel Shuttle to Reagan Airport and then the bus to Union Station. Almost immediately, I regretted not having my bag with me as showing on the departure board right in front of me was a train that would take me to Queenie. The large digital clock told me that it was leaving in five minutes at 09:59. So near yet so far, or well almost.

I hung around Union Station for almost an hour, trying to decide what to do. I had a coffee and a bagel in the hope that I could decide what to do. I failed miserably. This was not like me. Normally, I hated dithering and especially people who could not or would make a decision then here I was doing exactly that very thing. The only conclusion I could come up with was that being with Sylvie had affected me more than I was willing to admit even to myself. I did admit that I was missing being with her, but that alone was not going to solve my immediate problem.

After giving myself a mental thrashing for being such a wimp, I took the plunge and bought a ticket for the same train tomorrow. It was probably a good deal more expensive than the bus, but all I wanted to do was get out of town but on my terms and not on anyone else's. The latter had been the norm for so much of my life that for once, I wanted it to be my choice and not someone else's.

After picking up a sandwich at a nearby Deli, I headed back to the Hotel confident, that nothing was going to stop me from getting on with my life at least in the short term.

---

The saying ‘famous last words’ hit me smack in the face when I returned to the Hotel. There was a message waiting for me on the floor of my room. Someone had pushed it under the door probably after the maid service had been and cleaned the room.

My first thought was not to read it. Then I thought that it might be from Sylvie, but she had my cell number, so that was quickly dismissed as a possibilty. The same went for the people at the DOJ.

After more than an hour of prevarication, I read it.

The single sheet of paper that had been folded in two had the letterhead of a firm of lawyers from Portland, Oregon; Marks, Emerson and Hendricks. I'd never heard of them, but that didn't mean anything to me which was no surprise.

“Tiffany,
My firm is the executor of the last will and testament of the late Judge Francis, whom I understand that you met under less-than-ideal circumstances shortly before his untimely death."

‘Talk about understatements… Sheesh,’ I thought to myself.
I carried on reading.

"The judge made some changes to his will shortly before his death, and those changes affect you. If you could call me today, then perhaps, we could meet so that I could discuss those changes with you.

I am in the DC area until tomorrow morning. After that, I will be returning to Oregon. If you can't make it today, then my door will always be open to you should you return to the state.

Yours
Naomi Francis.”

I did a double-take when I read the name at the bottom. The judge had mentioned that he had a daughter who was a lawyer. Could this be a coincidence? I just didn't know.

Just when I saw a path forward with my life, and away from the swamp that is DC and now this. I wondered what I had to do to get free of the past?

I spent over an hour watching the planes landing at the airport from my bedroom window. I wasn't not really watching but was I staring into space. My mind was a blank, but it wasn't. I just couldn't decide if I should just take the train in the morning or should I see the lawyer and find out what the judge said about me.

I finally decided about the same time as the pangs of hunger started to get the better of me. I made the call before I changed my mind yet again.

“Hello? Ms Francis?”

“This is Tiffany. You left me a note about Judge Francis.”

"Yes, I am at the Hotel at the moment."

"I think I can find it. When would you like to meet?"

“Ok. I’ll see you there.”

I hung up and immediately started having second thoughts.

“Fuck it! I’ve done enough running for one lifetime!" I said angrily, but of course, there was no one listening.

---

[two hours later in the Hotel Café]

I stood outside for several seconds. People call it dithering, but the door in front of me was the point of no return. Two more steps, and I was committed to the meeting. I saw a woman sitting at a table wearing a dark red leather jacket just as she’d said on the phone. I scanned the room once more just to be sure. There was no one else with a similar jacket, so she must be the one. The woman was sitting with her back to me which was unfortunate. If she was the daughter of the Judge, would there be a family resemblance?

Then I mentally admonished myself once more for being silly, if not downright stupid. I had to ask myself if I had fallen into the ‘Reds under every bed’ syndrome. The only answer I could come up with was a resounding yes.

"This will never do," I said under my breath, and pushed open the door and entered the room. A server came toward me.
“How are you doing today? Can I seat you?”

"No thanks. I'm meeting someone, and they are already here."

I shut her out of my mind as I headed toward Naomi. I hated this whole 'wait to be served' thing, especially when the place was almost empty. I can find a table by myself thank you, as clearly I'm not an imbecile. Just something else that I'd have to get used to if… if I became a normal citizen rather than an invisible nobody. That is the big if that the three dozen little demons, who sit on my shoulder are salivating over.

“Naomi, hello,” I said when I reached the table.

“Tiffany. I’m so pleased to meet you at last.”

Internally, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. She looked a lot like her father.

I sat down and made myself comfortable.

“You look a lot like your father,” I said trying to be friendly.

“Thanks.”

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“Naomi, I'm so sorry for getting your father killed. I am of the opinion that some parts of my family should never have been born.”

“Tiffany, it wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was. I should not have gone to the cabin with him. He even offered me a way out and I didn’t take it. I will regret that for the rest of my life.”

She smiled.
“When my father called me after leaving you, he described you as a breath of fresh air that had breezed into his life. Some things that he’d repressed for years had to be resolved. That’s why he dictated a new will and much more to me while he was driving home. I transcribed the will and went to meet him. We met at an all-night diner about halfway between his home and Portland. He signed the new will and a couple of truckers witnessed it. He even joked about giving them a pass should they appear in his court on a traffic ticket.”

Just then the server came to collect my order.
“Americano and a club sandwich, please," I said trying to appear all adult and sophisticated.

Naomi smiled at me. I hadn’t fooled her for a moment.

"I'd not seen him as alive as that since well before my mom died. You did something to him that seemed to put the spark back in him.”

“I didn’t do anything. He did it all,” I complained.

She laughed.
“That’s what he said that you would say. Don’t put yourself down.”

“I don’t understand. Why aren’t you mad at me for getting him killed?”

“What he told me on the phone about you and the impact that you had was as clear as daylight when I met him. As well as the new will, he made a video deposition right there in the diner about everything related to your father. I promised to forward that to the FBI. It was his way of making peace with himself. He had never forgiven himself for allowing himself to be used by your father all those years ago. Something in him snapped when you appeared in his court. He might be dead, but he knew that he was playing a small part in righting a wrong that happened years ago."

"That's nice to know," I replied, feeling not altogether happy with the situation.

Once my food had been delivered, Naomi continued.

“As I said, dad dictated a new will to me after he’d left you at the cabin.”

“I don’t want it whatever it is. You are his only child and I don’t deserve even one penny from his estate. Your father took a huge risk when he helped me and that resulted in him losing his life. There has never been a day since I found out about his death that I haven’t thought about him and regretted letting him leave me at the cabin.’

Naomi shook her head.
“You have a wise head on your shoulders and to think that you are just eighteen…”

I was about to reply when she put up her hand to stop me.
“My father left you the cabin and the insurance money from the arson attack.”

"That's yours, I don't want it,” I replied, without even needing to think twice.

Naomi smiled.
“He was very clear about how he wanted you to have it because of how the place affected you."

I tried not to react but failed miserably.

“Please take it.”

“What about you?”

"Dad left me more money, than I will ever need when I sell his home. The reason I’m here in DC apart from meeting you is to have a confirmation interview for a new job with the Diplomatic Service. That happened yesterday. I was informed late this morning, that I have got the position. In three or four months from now, depending upon how my training goes, I will be off abroad on my first posting.”

“I thought that your father had already put your name on the title to his home?”

"He did, but I only accepted it until he went off on his mid-life camper trip. That won't happen, and the political climate in that town is not for me. I'm far too progressive for them. It was an easy decision to sell it and possibly my house just outside Portland. Then I’ll invest the money for when I come back home. As I’m going abroad, I won’t be in a position to do anything with the cabin, but Dad wanted you to have a place that you could call home. How about it, Tiffany? Dad had faith in you… Isn’t it time to stop running? You could create something of your own for once in your life.”

She had me bang to rights.

Now that someone was offering me a place to call home, I was just not ready to accept it straight off.

“To be honest Naomi, I’m going to need some time to think about this. It is all a bit of a shock.”

"That's only to be expected. Take your time. Winter is just around the corner, which means that you couldn't do anything until the spring at the earliest other than clear the site.”

“But… you are going away?”

"I am, but my old firm will be handling my legal affairs while I am away. They will have my power of attorney, and if you have not decided before I leave, they will know what to do when you do.”

She reached down to her side, and produced a large white envelope. She pushed it across the table to me.
"This contains all the information you need. The only downside is that you will have to get to Portland in person to sign all the documents, so that they can be notarized in the state. I don't know if you remember it, but dad took your photo when you were chopping some wood. He gave the digital file to me when we met to sign his new will. That will be all you need to prove your identity. He put a specific clause in his will about this knowing that official documentation might prove difficult for you to obtain. He did it because he knows how particular, if not downright miserly lawyers are when it comes to dishing out other peoples’ money.”

I sighed.
"The more I hear about him, the more I like him. Your father was very much one of the good guys. I’m afraid that there aren’t many like him around these days. Everyone seems to be out to make a quick buck, and they don't care how they do it, and how many others that they crush in the process.”

“That is a very strong opinion, but from what dad told me, I can understand it very well, and it is also so very true. I see it all the time in my legal work.”

Naomi took her leave a few minutes later. I was just finishing my food when a man slid into the seat that had just been vacated by Naomi.

"Hey, Darlin' want to give this Texan a good time?"

His words took me by surprise. I averted my gaze from him.

"Didn't you hear what I said Darlin? Five hundred for the night good enough for y'all?"

“I heard you perfectly well the first time. No matter what you offer me, the answer will still be no!”

“Come on Darlin! I can give you a great time. One that will relieve all that stress I can see in your neck!”

“The answer is still no. Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?”

“Ok, a grand? How about it then?”

"Are you sure about this? You really don't want to go to jail for soliciting a minor now, do you?"

I stood up, and poured what was left of my water over his crotch and left him sitting there, big hat, sunglasses and all.

I headed to the main desk and reported the man to the security people, but he'd gone by the time they went to the restaurant to investigate. His image had been captured on the CCTV in the Lobby. The duty manager promised me, that he would never get service at the Hotel again.

For once, I felt like someone was taking me seriously but not for the first time since mom died, I’d escaped by the skin of my teeth. I’d seen what happened when people like me were exposed by dipshits like him. The end result was never a good one.

I headed off to my room to do some thinking, with part of me wishing that I'd punched him right in the mouth or stabbed the back of his hand with my fork instead of just dousing his dick in water.

---

There were so many scenarios rushing around in my brain that it was well after midnight before I dropped off only to be woken by the alarm at 08:00. For a moment, I panicked. I’d forgotten where I was for several seconds. That had never happened to me before.

I sank back on the bed and relaxed for all of ten seconds. Then the time hit me. I had a train to catch before 10 am.

At two minutes past nine, I handed over the room keys and left the hotel. Applying makeup in a hurry was not my strong point despite the best efforts of Amy and Sylvie. I’d had to do it all over again to get something even half presentable. This woman thing is not as easy as many women make it seem.

Because of the late hour, I decided to splash out and take a cab to the train station. That was a first for me, and probably the last if the large sum shown on the meter was anything to go by, but I did have a train to catch.

The taxi dropped me off at Union Station in good time. I picked up a sandwich and a coffee to consume on the train. It was a poor substitute for breakfast but it would have to do.

---

Saying goodbye to DC gave me some mixed feelings. Good because I hoped that I never had to come back. Splashing through Dismal Swamp in the rain was more enjoyable than the vibe I was getting from this city.

I would have liked to have spent a week or so in the Library of Congress. There was so much data in those hallowed halls that interested me. Another time perhaps? Nah. There is a whole world out there that needs to be investigated.

Soon after the train passed into Virginia, I sent a text to Queenie, in the hope that she could meet me in a couple of hours.

The reply came within a minute.
“What kept you?”

---

The Amtrak train was pulling away from the station before I saw Queenie drive into the parking lot. She was driving the F-100. In the autumn sun, it gleamed. Someone had been working hard detailing it. I wondered if there was a car show at the weekend? I knew that she loved beating all those male petrolheads at their own game. I knew from first-hand experience that it packed a hefty punch and would do a great time on the drag strip.

“There you are… looking quite the sophisticated young lady!” said Queenie when we embraced.

I felt myself go red in the face.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of Tiff. You are just gorgeous. I wish I was two hundred pounds lighter.”

That was an old joke of hers. No matter what she did in the way of diets would those pounds just would not shift.

"Thanks for coming to pick me up, Queenie. I needed to get out of DC."

“It took you long enough… I heard that you testified ages ago.”

“I did, and I've been in Maine for a bit."

Queenie raised an eyebrow.

“Is there something I should know?”

"I don't know, and that's the honest truth."

She gave me a look that broadcast loud and clear... 'I'm gonna get to the bottom of this before you go!’ loud and clear.

---

Queenie’s home was a welcome change from the blandness of the Hotel in DC, but something was different this time. I guessed that 'something' was down to the jailing of my father, and the question of what I was going to do with my life now that he was out of the picture.

The skirting of the issue that we’d both been doing came to a head that evening.

Queenie cleared away the dinner things after refusing my effort to help. I knew from previous experience that this was her way of telling me that she wanted to talk.

With the table clear of distractions, she sat down and folded her arms.

"Now my girl, what are you going to do with your life? Your Pa won't see the outside of jail until he comes out in a pine box, and that dipshit son of his is going to be a very old man by the time he finishes his sentence… So… what is it going to be eh?”

I managed a small smile.

“I don’t know. I have many things to consider."

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I thought that you knew me better than that?”

“It is true. I have come into some land and a bit of money. It’s not from his dealings so it is 100% clean.”

"Good to hear that, but who is this sugar-daddy then?"

"He was a judge who went to law school with 'him' and well, I ended up in his court on a vagrancy charge. He saw through the scam that the local PD was running and helped me out. He got me out of town, and out of the state. Then we went to his cabin in the hills.”

“Where he did what to you? No one in their right mind gives a homeless nobody a parcel of land let alone any money?”

“It is true. Back in the day when he was a Public Defender, he had been tricked by my father into giving him an alibi for when a crime was committed. That and losing a woman he loved to my murderous father, I presented him an opportunity to get even.”

“Why am I thinking that this is a load of bull?”

I shook my head.
"It isn't a load of bull, as you put it. My dear half-brother ran him off the road a few days after he’d left me at his cabin. Then they came after me locked and loaded. The local cops got a tip-off about them, and he was arrested with a small arsenal of illegal guns, and even some live grenades. I escaped thanks to a fire hole in the cabin."

Queenie looked me right in the eye.
“You aren’t kidding, are you?”

“I’m so sorry Queenie. Firstly, for not telling you about this before, but so far this year I’ve been shot at, burned out and hunted over half this country by my father and his criminal associates. The DOJ had already started a federal investigation into him and his crimes. The evidence that you, and another friend looked after was crucial in getting him to plead out."

“There was more than money in those packages then?”

I nodded my head.
“Thanks to mom, we collected all sorts of evidence,that proved how much of a crook that he was. There was a video that caused quite a stir in the Grand Jury. The ADA later told me that it took them longer for his team to write the text of the indictment than it did for the jury to consider and approve it.”

Queenie cursed under her breath.

“Where has my little baby girl gone?”
Then she burst out laughing.

When things had calmed down again,
“Ok my girl, if even half of what you said is true then you have been to hell and back. I see now that you have grown up far too fast.”

“And you are about to say that I need to slow down before it all catches up on you.”

"That's what I am trying to do. I have to decide what I'm going to do, and who with."

Queenie grinned from ear to ear.
“That’s more like it. Who is he and… everything?”

I shook my head.
“It is a she and she is the FBI agent that came with me before. We both have feelings for each other. This is all a bit strange for me.”

"And? Please don't tell me that she's married?"

I shook my head.
“She was here with me last time I came visiting. Remember Sylvie? You saw that she’s quite a bit older than me. She is also a former Marine who saw action in Afghanistan where she was nearly killed by an IED.”

“A woman of the world then?”

My face gave me away.
“How much older exactly is she?”

“Eleven years.”

“Girl, now I know you’s is mad!”

[to be continued]

I stayed with Queenie for three days. During that time, we talked and talked. If I'd thought that testifying before the Grand Jury was an ordeal, then I was very much mistaken. That woman clearly missed her true calling… as a trial attorney.

She probed and prodded me into telling her just about everything that had happened since I drove off into the darkness in the F-100 right up to when she picked me up at the train station.

On my last night with her, she said,
“Tiffany darlin’, I think that deep down inside you know what you want to do but you are more than a bit scared of admitting it.”

I was about to say something but she stopped me.
“The easy way out for you would be to move to Washington State, rebuild the cabin and live out your life in a place of beauty. Despite what you say about the place, that is something I can’t see you doing. Taking the easy way is not how this family has survived since we came over here from Jamacia before the Revolutionary War. We were free people then and we remained free all through the dark days of the South. Some of our people called us traitors for working for the slave owners, but we never did wrong and we kept our heads held high and looked out for those who were slaves. The writings in our family journal show that our forefathers never inflicted corporal punishment on those who were owned by the 'masters'. In those days, that was not easy just like it is now, and it is up to you to carry on that tradition. We don’t take the easy way out. That is who we are.”

I knew what she meant.
“Go and see those two women in your life. Sort out a deal for the cabin and put that in your bottom drawer. Then go to Arizona and see her. Talk it out girl to girl but darling, don’t try to impose yourself too much on her. She is also a woman of the world. She got out of her hometown just like you did and made it first as a Marine and now with the FBI, for heavens’ sake. Be honest and she’ll come around at least part of the way. Give and take is what it is all about. Don’t try to be the boss.”

“Me? The boss?”

Queenie smiled.
“You are just like your mom. She would boss her husband around something rotten, but it wasn’t her fault that he was killed by accident in a grocery store holdup. From what I’ve seen of Sylvie, she seems like a one in a million so please don’t mess it all up.”

She smiled and said,
“Besides, from what I’ve seen of her, she is good for you. She would never let you rest on your laurels. That was just like your mom but you know that don’t you?”

“My problem Queenie is that I don’t know what ‘it’ is yet.”

She laughed.
“You will when the time is right, you will and then you will feel so silly for worrying about it. Your mom was like that. She knew inside that she was carrying you and worried herself silly until the test came back positive. I tried to tell her that she should not doubt herself. The same goes for you.”

‘I’ll try Queenie, I’ll try.”

“Don’t forget to talk about the thorny subject of starting a family. Her clock is ticking if you get my meaning. I know that you want rid of your stuff but it might be good to put it to good use before it gets retired.”

I knew what she meant. The possibility of starting a family had never crossed my mind until I started having feelings for Sylvie. That would mean settling down and staying put. That was where my doubts set in.

“That is for a future date. My priority is to decide what I’m going to do about the legacy that the judge left me. I promised his daughter Naomi that I’d decide before she heads off abroad with the Diplomatic Service.”

“She sounds like a very forceful lady?”

“All I know is that I would not like to face her in a courtroom. She has this presence about her. As soon as I met her, I got this vibe. I’d had it with her father which was why I trusted him. By comparison, the DOJ lawyer from DC was about as charismatic as a piece of drying catfish after the crows had finished with it.”

Queenie laughed.
"I can see that some of your mother's influence hasn't washed entirely down the sewer. That was her way of talking about something that smelled from when she was a girl. One day, we went fishing with Scuttle Jack. He was an old sailor who lived in an old ship out near Goat Neck. When they arrived, they saw that Jack had strips of catfish drying on his ship. They stank to high heaven. From then on anything that smelled rotten was called that.”

“I never knew that. Mom used it a lot when talking about my father’s businesses.”

"That sounds about right. Channel 9 News from Wilmington the other night said that the IRS was going over the books of several of his businesses with a fine-tooth comb.”

"Good for them. I hope that they find all the bent people he worked with, but I'm afraid that a lot of the crimes are out of time for prosecution. I hope that won’t stop them from collecting all that unpaid tax.”

Queenie looked at me and raised her right eyebrow.

“Are you going to go to law school? You seem more clued up than almost any lawyer that I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet? They seem so inward-looking but girl, you have been there, done that and more. If you do become a lawyer, please promise me that you will never hang around with the other scumbags who call themselves lawyers? You are and always will be different from them, and I'm not talking physically. You have it up there in ways that most of them could never imagine,” she said, tapping her head.
She laughed.
“Besides, I could never see you in the Country Club set like all those other scumbags…”

I laughed.
"Several people have asked me that question in recent months. I only started to look at law books as a way of dreaming up all sorts of crimes that would send him down for life. Then, I got hooked on the whole trial process, especially the losing arguments; besides courtrooms are generally warm and dry places which are important when you are homeless."

“Well, are you?”

I could tell that she wasn’t going to let this go.

"I don't know. There are so many things that I want to do with my life. Going to law school and studying for the bar, takes years, and a lot of money; money that I don't have."

Queenie made a move to reply, so I put my hand up to stop her.
“I read a report that it costs way, way over two hundred grand to put someone through a good law school besides, I don’t even have a GED, but to answer your previous question, yes, if I did become a lawyer, I promise to have a life outside the law, country clubs and the like besides… what country club would have me as a member eh? The bastard offspring of a murdering philanderer and former Governor… That would not look good on a membership application now, would it?”

Queenie laughed.
“The cost hasn’t stopped a more than a few certifiable babbling idiots from getting elected to Congress, and I get your point about always being an outsider. That is what life is for people like us. No matter how rich we may get, we are always outsiders to the rich white people who run this country. Never forget that, and you will not go far wrong. We might have had a black President, but that was a warning shot to a lot of southern evangelical Christian whites with power and influence. They'll be out to make sure that Obama was a one-off and that our votes don't count the same as votes from white precincts in their new Christian Theocracy which will be more like a dictatorship than anything else we have ever experienced. Your father was already starting to promote the idea of voter fraud and ballot-rigging six months before his eventual election even though he wrote most of the laws that they were supposed to have broken. His deep red pals in the state house were lining up all sorts of bills to make it next to impossible for folks like us to vote. Eliminating early voting and mail-in ballots is just the start. He’s even talked about taking the fingerprints of everyone who comes to vote and if there is as much as one unpaid parking ticket, they will be arrested for voter fraud. I’m just thankful to our Lord that I’m no longer living in that state you used to call home although there are some moves here to do the same.”

I couldn’t answer her on those points. She was perfectly right on all counts.

“Tiff darling, it is clear that you need to be a normal person for a while, don’t you? Free of having to make your own decisions, free to make mistakes and all without the threat of someone wanting you dead. Then and only then, will you be ready to decide on where your future path lies?"

She’d got me right in the heart with that arrow.
I nodded my head.

“You like many of us had to grow up in a hurry. For you, it was the speed of light once your mom was murdered. You’ve lived on your wits for six years give or take. That takes a toll on parts of you that are mostly hidden from view. Am I right?”

I sighed.
“As usual Queenie, you can read me like a book.”

She laughed.
"Twenty or so years ago, I gave much the same speech to your mom. She'd not had the same sort of life as you, but being suddenly left alone like she was for her was just as traumatic. She came good and raised you the right way. If she hadn't, then you would not be here with me right now.”

Her words hit home. Hard.

“Darling, just ask yourself this… ‘Can Sylvie let you carry on growing up from little girl I used to know into the fine woman that I see before me?' You are still an unfinished masterpiece despite what you look like. Inside you, there are a lot of things that need work. From what I saw of Sylvie, she fits the bill perfectly."

“I don’t know. There is so much that I don’t know about so many things.”

“Then go and talk it over with her face to face. Make sure that it is not all about you.”

“Me?”

"Yes, you. For years, you have been thinking about you and only you. If you and she are going to make a thing of it, then you will have to let her into your life even more than she has been up to now, understand?"

"Yes, Mom, I understand."

"Good. Now it is time to hit the sack, and get yourself ready for tomorrow."

---

Phoenix was hot and dry after the very autumnal east coast, even at 8 pm. Still, it wasn't raining as it had done all the way from Queenie's home to Dulles. I'd booked a hotel away from the airport but not in the city centre. Paying for it would not be an issue, as I had the cash, but I had to rely on the credit card that I had borrowed from Queenie to guarantee the room.

It worked, and I was relaxing in my room just before 10 pm. I was surprised at how tiring sitting in a car and then a metal tube for hours on end can be. If flying was supposed to be a romantic thing, then frankly romance sucks. I’d been stuck between two large women who just would not stop talking. They’d let rip on me when I suggested that one of them swapped seats with me.

Flying was very much overrated in my opinion. Perhaps for the super-rich in their private jets and gourmet food, it would be better, but I was not impressed. Even the bus was preferable in that there was something to look out of the window at.

---

Bright and early the next morning, I left the hotel and took a taxi to the local FBI Offices. The cab driver gave me a strange look when I gave him my destination. I smiled sweetly and said,
“I’m a serial killer on my way to hand myself in…” I said with a grin on my face.

He laughed.
“I shall have to remember that one. Thank you.”

I gave him an extra $5 tip for laughing at my feeble joke.

---

The FBI Building was already very busy. People were coming and going all with the same stern expression on their faces. For a moment, I wondered if I had been transported to a parallel planet where no one knows how to smile.

I stepped up to the information desk and made my pitch.

“I’d like to see Special Agent Sylvie Marshall.”

“And who might you be?” said the man behind the counter.

“I’m Tiffany Miles.”

“And what might your business with Special Agent Marshall be?”

“That is for her ears only. I helped her on a recent case and what I have to say is related to that case.”

He fiddled with something on the computer. His face remained expressionless.

"Special Agent Marshall is not in the office at this time. She is on temporary assignment to our office in Yuma."

“Ok,” I replied.

“Can another agent help you out?”

“No. What I have to say is as I said, for her ears only. She will know what to do with the information that I have to give her.”

I didn't wait for him to react but left what was possibly the most depressing building I had even been inside of in my life.

---

My bright start to the day, was soon dashed when thanks to Mr Google, I discovered that getting from Phoenix to Yuma was not the easiest journey in the world. It looked like I’d have to head back to Sky Harbor Airport and take an airport shuttle.

Luckily, I didn't have long to wait for a Shuttle to come along. That was the end of the good news. Having to pay forty-five bucks for a ride in a dirty, smelly mini-van with a suspension that was long past its best, was not my idea of fun, but until I am old enough to rent a car that is how it is going to be when doing journeys like this.

The Yuma FBI office was a much more friendly place than the one in Phoenix. That got my hopes up. When Sylvie appeared from behind a screen, my heart stopped. Sylvie stopped dead when she saw me. Then she grinned and gave me a big hug.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise, but what the hell are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“Duh! I’ve come to see you that’s what.”

Then she came over all serious.
“I’m working on a case at the moment. I’ll be done by six. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“No. I stayed at a hotel in Phoenix last night. I could do with a nice meal though.”

Sylvie laughed.
“No change there then?”

“Eh?”

“When you arrived at the house on Lake Superior, that was about the first thing that you said to me, and if my memory serves me right, food was been always on your mind, especially when we were in Queenies' Ford?”

I grinned.
"Ok, ok. I get the message. I was travelling all day yesterday, and didn't get to my hotel until after nine. I had a bagel at Sky Harbor, and that’s it for today.”

"I was joking, but I can see that you need feeding up before you waste away."

“Can I wait here until you are done? Then we can go somewhere? I do want to talk to you.”

"I guessed that. You can come and stay with me. Let me get the keys to the apartment the Bureau has rented for me. It is a bit out of town though.”

I shrugged my shoulders.
“I can just about afford a cab.”

Sylvie looked at my straight face. Then I burst out laughing.

“I’ll get you the keys. Don’t go anywhere!”

“I won’t.”

---

Within a few minutes of Sylvie arriving at her temporary home in Yuma, we were chattering away about nothing serious or important as if we hadn't been apart for days. There was so much that I wanted to say, but I found myself tongue-tied.

I felt that I had my confidence back once we’d eaten. I’d been busy while I waited for her to come back from work. I'd made some burgers, and had got the outdoor grill going. Her cupboard was a bit bare when it came to seasoning, but a good dose of smoked paprika and plenty of pepper helped a lot.

“Sylvie, I said that would come and tell you what I’d decided to do. The thing is that after you left me in DC, it got a lot more complicated.”

“How so? You were going to leave and see your friend Queenie?”

"I did, but before I left, I had a visit from a lawyer. She'd twisted some arms in the DOJ to find out where I was staying.”

I saw a concerned look on Sylvie’s face.
"It wasn't bad news, but it has complicated matters quite a bit. The lawyer was the daughter of Judge Francis. She told me that he'd left me the land where his cabin was located and the pay-out from the Insurance after the arson.”

“Are you tempted to go and live there? I know that you have a soft spot for the place.”

"That's where it gets a bit complicated."

“How?”

"I had a long talk with Queenie ,and boy... she didn’t hold back in what she said. That was hard to listen to, but most of what she said was right on the nail. A lot of home truths as you'd expect."

I took a deep breath before continuing. This had seemed be so simple before, and now it wasn't.

"After a lot of thought, I came to a decision, but it isn't that simple. What I do with my life depends on you.”

“Me?”

"Sylvie, I know that we have kissed a bit, but these past months have made me just want to be part of your life. I know you have a career and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize your career.”

“Stop!”

The strength of her statement startled me.

“Tiffany, I’d be honored to be part of your life. I’m probably stuck here in this backwater because a day after I returned from DC, I gave them notice of my intention to leave the Bureau at the end of the year.”

Those words will be etched on my brain forever.

For the first time, we embraced without restraint.

---

Neither of us wanted to get up in the morning. It had been quite a night.

“I’ll get a key cut for you,” said Sylvie over breakfast that consisted of coffee and an orange. That was Sylvie’s preferred menu for the morning. I’d grown to like it even though Amy had resisted all the time we were in the house up north.

“First things first. As I said last night, there is still some unfinished business up in Oregon. I have to work out how I’m going to get from here to Portland.”

Sylvie smiled.
“You like to do things in person don’t you?”

"I do. Being without a smartphone all these years is why, but seeing all of the people I'm talking to helps me to read them.”

Sylvie laughed.
“That’s what my interrogation instructor at Quantico used to say. Body language is very telling. These days with tools such as Facetime and Zoom, we are getting pressured to use them to cut costs. Somewhat shortsighted if you ask me."

Sylvie’s phone bleeped. She looked at her phone and shook her head.
“My idiot boss wants me in the Office at six tomorrow morning.”

“Is that for the job that you are working on?”

"No. I'm collating a load of witness reports for a forthcoming murder case against the State Cops. That isn't due to going to trial for three weeks. He’ll be wanting to tear me off a strip for leaving before him last night. He is the sort of non-field agent who wants his team there before him, and for no one to leave until after he does. He’s in Phoenix all day today so it is the calm before the storm.”

Suddenly an idea came to me.
“How about you go and see him in Phoenix? After all, what can he do to you?”

“And you would like a lift to the airport?”

I grinned.

“Ok.”

"Look darling, I know that we still have a lot to work out, but I can be here for you once I get this done."

"I know you will, but just as you come back into my life, you are gone again."

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of days.”

Sylvie came and hugged me.
“I know but… Just a couple of days then, I want you here!”

“Yes, Mrs Boss!”

---

We hit the road twenty minutes later after I’d twisted Sylvie’s arm to let me use her personal credit card to book the flight and a hotel.

“At least then I know that you are coming back. You aren’t the sort to renegue on a deal.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. As Arnie once said, 'I will be back'."

[The final part of this story will be posted next week]

[Author’s note]
There are a good number of home truths exposed in this chapter. They reflect one view of life in the USA as I saw them in Feb 2022. I hope those views do not offend anyone.

[three days later]
“Thanks for picking me up. This is most unexpected,” I said as I embraced Sylvie at Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix.

She grinned.
“It is all your fault you know!”

“Me? I know nothing!” I replied grinning at my feeble joke.

“Getting me to confront my idiot boss was noticed by his boss, and I've been transferred back here until I quit. I'm not doing anything that productive, but it is regular hours, and that beats playing who blinks first with him. The grapevine says that forcing agents to work silly hours just to satisfy his vanity is just not on, and he was sent back to Yuma with his tail very much between his legs. The head of operations has sent out an email to all staff telling them that his practice of making everyone wait until he leaves is not allowed. If HR get involved, then that's his career over, and if it is, a lot of my fellow agents will be very happy.”

I grinned.
“Glad to be of some service.”

We walked towards the car park holding hands. It felt a little strange but nice. There were so many things that a normal teen does as part of growing up that I’d missed out on that something as simple as holding hands with someone special gave me a warm gooey feeling inside. Sylvie noticed this.

“What’s wrong?”

"Nothing… Nothing is wrong at all. This is the first time that I've held hands in public with someone other than my mom, and that was a long time ago."

Sylvie did a bit of a double-take but stopped herself just in time.

"I will need to remember this moment. All that work that Amy and I did on you missed out on some very basic things about how we develop as people."

“Eh? It won’t be an issue in a couple of months, will it?”

"It is not that, but I'll need to update my report on what we did so that in future this sort of thing isn't missed."

“Oh. I get you… I think.”

When we reached the car, we kissed.
“I missed you,” she whispered into my ear.

“Same here.”

We kissed again before getting into the car and leaving the airport.

On the drive to her apartment, Sylvie asked,
“You didn’t say if your trip was successful or not?”

"Oh… I was going to leave it until this evening, but the simple answer is that in the end, it went better than I ever thought it would be but it was far from plain sailing, but that can wait. I'm just enjoying being back with you."

---

[Later that evening]
“Ok, what did you mean ‘not plain sailing’?” asked Sylvie after we’d eaten.

I smiled back at her. I’d spent hours trying to decide how I would tell her about my little adventure in Portland.

“Everything went well until the plane came up to the gate in Portland. For some reason that I was unaware of at the time, the door at the front was not opened for a good ten minutes after the gate thing moved into position... Many of the passengers were getting rather impatient. I sat in my seat mainly because I was in the very last row so I’d be the last one off anyway. I learned a long time ago that being impatient generally gets you nowhere.”

“Did anyone explain the reason for the delay?”

I shook my head.
"I couldn't see very much, but I saw a bunch of cop cars come and pretty well surround the plane. That told me that someone was going to get arrested. There was no way that I ever thought that it would be me!"

“You? Arrested? Why? Was it related to what happened with the Judge?”

I shook my head.
"As far as I was concerned, I have done nothing illegal in the past year in the state of Oregon other than the incident that led to me meeting the Judge in the first place. Three cops cuffed me when I tried to get off the aircraft. They would not answer any questions, but I didn't press them. The look in their eyes, and the hands-on their guns said 'don't mess with us', so I didn't. I learned a long time ago that protesting my innocence would be futile and only serve to irritate the cops."

I swallowed hard and continued before Sylvie could interrupt.
“They took me in one of the cop cars to another part of the terminal. I assumed that it was an airport police station, but I was mistaken as I found out when I was taken inside."

I managed a smile.
"Waiting for me were Jared and Amy."

"I'm at a loss here. Why were they there, and why did they have you arrested?"

"It was all a diversion. At the request of the DOJ, the FBI has been monitoring any chatter relating to my father and half-brother. Because Amy was familiar with the case, she was given the job. She soon picked up that my dear half-brother had four visits from his lawyer in the last week. At the time of the last visit, the lawyer was accompanied by a known hit man, David 'Blue' Taylor, who was posing as a paralegal. The FBI identified him from a mugshot he had taken when he was arrested for a DUI in Orlando five years ago. He slugged a cop in that arrest but he was as they say, a ‘person of interest’ in other cases. That was enough for her to alert the DOJ, who in turn, assigned Jared to handle the case. I soon realized that Jared and Amy. Had my back."

“Someone has put out a hit on you?”

"Yeah, and not for the first time, but not now. Following Amy's tip-off and the visitor logs, Lane went to a judge and got a warrant."

“Hold on there a moment sunshine! You seem very blasé about this?"

I took her hands in mine and smiled.
“I have lived with the threat of being ‘hit’ for years. I came to terms with that prospect a long time ago. If it happens then it happens and until I met you and Amy, there was nothing I could do about it. I have to admit that this one did worry me because of you. I’m not on my own now, but Jared assured me that it would not happen.”

“How?”

I took a deep breath and carried on.
“They… as in Jared and Amy, had followed David Taylor from DC to Portland. He flew with a four hour lay-over in Chicago while they flew direct to Seattle and had a quick connection to Portland. Thanks to his name being put on an FBI watch list, they were alerted to his booking. If it had been on the homeland list, he could not have flown. Anyway, Jared and Amy were waiting for him when he arrived in Portland, but didn't arrest him right away."

"Wait a minute… How did they find out about you going to Portland?"

"Someone was illegally watching your credit card. They don't know who, but within two hours of us booking my flights, Mr Taylor had booked his flight west as well as making some phone calls to three well known suppliers of illegal weaponry in the Portland area."

“Then it is time for me to get a new card.”

"I think so too, but to continue, when I arrived, Mr Taylor was under surveillance by Agents from the local FBI field office. He was tracked to one of the dealers he’d called, where he bought two Glock 19s and five hundred rounds of ammo. Then he was tailed to my hotel where he checked in and dropped a Benjamin to the clerk at the front desk for her to inform him of my arrival."

“You didn’t…?”

I shook my head.
"No. One of the local FBI agents took my place, and went to the Hotel. I was taken to a different hotel with Amy as my bodyguard. At the original hotel, Jared and two other agents slipped into what would have been my room, and waited for Mr Taylor to make his move. He made a move a little before 02:00 this morning. He was arrested after a small scuffle, and will be charged with conspiracy to murder along with the lawyer who represented my half-brother. The FBI broke down the lawyer’s door just before 07:00 DC time this morning and carted him off to FBI HQ. Mr Taylor will be extradited within a few days to face Federal Charges in conjunction with the Lawyer.”

Sylvie sat there shaking.
"I'm ok, and so is everyone else."

"I know, but just when we thought that it was all over…?"

“It is now. From what Lane said on the phone just before I flew back from Portland, the judge who sentenced my half-brother after his plea agreement is not happy, and wants to send him for trial on the conspiracy charge. That is still up in the air, but for the moment, we are free and clear. Lane also said that the DOJ is seriously considering applying to formally negate the plea agreement for my half-brother. That will mean a trial but Lane assured me that they have more than enough evidence to put him away for life without my direct testimony. The statements he made when accepting the plea deal are in his words, the ‘winning touchdown at the Superbowl’. The trial for that would be in Oregon which may explain the delay in extradition."

I squeezed Sylvie’s hand.
“We owe Jared and Amy a lot. Even Mr Lane as much as I hate lawyers… Without them and you would not be here today."

Sylvie looked at me.
“And? Out with it. I know that there is something that you are itching to tell me.”
She could read me like a book.

I grinned.
“Jared and Amy are an item. She’s put in for a transfer to the Marshall’s Service with his recommendation.”

Sylvie just shook her head in bewilderment.

“But… what happened with the Judges daughter? That was why you went to Portland wasn’t it?”

I went into some detail of the discussions that I'd had with Naomi Francis about the distribution of assets identified in her father's will.

“Are you saying that this Naomi woman has found a buyer for the land that the cabin was on?”

“Naomi as you know is the daughter of the judge. He left her his whole estate other than the land where the cabin was and the insurance pay-out which came as you know to me. I saw the figures, and her part of the estate is worth well over six million. Much of that came from his wife's family, and he lived a pretty frugal life both here and back east. The land is less than one-tenth that. Add the insurance, and it comes to just under three-fifty thousand. That made me feel a lot less guilty about the land, but I wouldn't budge on selling it. Enter a colleague of hers armed with cash.”

Sylvie shook her head.
“Talk about landing on your feet smelling of roses!”

“That’s not all,” I said calmly.

“Out with it!”

“Is over three hundred big ones enough? But… this is nothing to do with the judge. Naomi put me in contact with a lawyer who deals with compensation claims.”

"Blood-sucking leeches then!"

“Yeah but… It seems that I have a claim against my father’s estate for compensation for the loss of my mother. That could end up in the millions if his last tax return is anything to go by. We looked it up on the internet. If I get even a bit of that, then I won't regret paying the lawyer his fifteen per cent."

“Only 15%?”

"He and Naomi are cousins so with a bit of arm twisting, he agreed to the lower rate."

Sylvie sat back grinning. Then she said,
“What did I say about coming up smelling of roses?”

“With the IRS hot on my tail…Those bloodsuckers will want their pound of flesh…” I said half-joking.

Then I said,
“There is more. Something that could help both of us.”

Sylvie sighed and after crossing her hands on her lap she looked me right in the eye.
“Ok, so what other deal did you cook up in Portland?”

“Naomi is going off on assignment at the end of the year with the Diplomatic Service.”

“Yeah, you told me that the other day. How does that affect us?”

“She’s looking for some long-term house sitters.”

Sylvie looked at me with total surprise in her eyes.

“You didn’t agree, did you?”

“Do you think I am a simpleton? No, I didn't. All I said was that I would discuss it with you and would let her know in a couple of days."

Sylvie closed her eyes. This was her way of thinking things through on the spot. It had worried me at first, but I'd grown used to it.

A broad smile appeared on her face as she opened her eyes.
“I think it is a great idea. It solves one huge problem in where we are going to live when I leave the Bureau. I wasn’t looking forward to going back to Maine with my tail between my legs.”

I laughed.
“Have you told them yet?”

Sylvie’s body language told me the answer. I reached over and held her hand.
“I know that you will find the right time but don’t leave it until the day that you leave the bureau.”

She smiled back at me.
“Yes, Mrs Boss!”

---

[Maine. Three days before Christmas]

“Ready?” asked Sylvie.

“Ready to step into the lion's den…”

“I’m sure that it won’t be that bad.”

“I don’t know. Falling for a woman is bad enough but falling for a woman of color is beyond the pale for many parents. This feels like a scene from ‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner’.”

“Let’s get this over with and if it all goes sour, we can head south and spend Christmas with Queenie.”

“Queenie means well but she does not have the room for both of us as I’m not throwing her out of her bed.”

“I’m sure that it won’t come to that.”

“Lets’ get this over with before I freeze to death. That wind is reaching the parts of me that it shouldn’t!”
I'd worn a dress for the first time in ages after a good deal of nagging by Sylvie. It was all part of wanting to make a good impression on her parents and my future in-laws. That had given me a few sleepless nights until Sylvie took charge and calmed me down. We’d treated each other to the outfits that we were wearing but I was already regretting getting a standard shoe fitting when a wide one would have fitted better.

Sylvie laughed and gave me a peck on the lips.

“Mom, Dad, you have met Tiffany before but things are a bit different now. We are engaged to be married,” announced Sylvie almost as soon as we got inside her parents’ house.

Her father just grunted and smiled. That wasn't the case with her mother.

“What? How could you do this to us?”

“What do you mean ‘do this to us?’ It is our life,” said her mother.

Her father, Ralph came to our aid.
“Dorothy, calm down. Just because those nosy bitches at the Golf Club will not like this and your bid to get on the committee has just been flushed down the toilet does not mean that we cannot accept the choices our daughter has made. We did it before, when she joined the Marines and again with the FBI and we can do it now.”

Dorothy glared at her husband. He took his chance to own the scene.

“Welcome to our home Tiffany. Please ignore my wife. Our daughter has a long and very checkered history of putting her mother’s nose out of joint.”

Another even sterner glare went from Dorothy to her husband.

“Mom! Calm down or you will have one of your turns,” said Sylvie.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Mrs Marshall, I do not mean to cause offence. If I am such an embarrassment to you then I’ll go. I love Sylvie and strange as it seems to you, she loves me.”

That seemed to calm Dorothy down a bit.

“How did you two meet? in the first place I mean?” asked Ralph.

We’d been very circumspect about why I was with Sylvie when we were in Maine the last time.

“Are you with the Bureau? Neither of you would say much when you were here before but now that… Things are different aren’t they?”

I looked at Sylvie who nodded her head.

“We met when Sylvie was assigned to guard me before I testified to a Grand Jury.”

“What?” exclaimed Dorothy.
“Are you a criminal?”

“I am not. I was there to testify against my father, the former Governor Boyd for the murder of my mom.”

It took a few seconds for what I’d said to sink in.

“That man was dirty. The whole world has known it for years,” said Ralph.
“Good for you. Taking him down was long overdue wasn’t it, Dorothy?”

I loved the way he’d put his wife on the spot. She had been looking at me and then at Sylvie while her mouth did the drowning fish impression.

“Mom! Swallow!” said Sylvie.

“I had never met anyone like Tiffany before. I tried to resist but we went through so much together that we just bonded. When it was all over with the Grand Jury, we tried to stay apart but it failed and we fell in love. Now that I’m not with the FBI, we can be ourselves.”

Dorothy seemed about to explode.
“You had such great prospects with the Bureau but you have thrown it all away.”

“Prospects my ass,” said Sylvie.
“I got about as far as I was ever going to get in the Bureau unless I sucked up to my bosses who loved putting me in my place with their Ivy League Frat or Sorority rings. Those jerks would not have passed boot camp in the Marines so they can keep their pinkie rings. Besides, I’d been thinking about quitting for some time but I didn’t have a plan ‘B’. Falling in love with Tiffany made the decision very easy.”

Dorothy sat down looking a bit forlorn.

“Mom, there is something else that you should know. We are expecting a baby in June.”

Sylvie’s mom went into overdrive. I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. It was her father. He motioned me to follow him out of the room. I didn’t want to go but Sylvie saw what was going on as Dorothy started on another tirade of indignation and horror that was aimed at Sylvie. Sylvie nodded in my direction and smiled.

I followed Ralph into what was clearly his den. He shut the door behind me shutting out Dorothy’s ranting.

“She’ll burn herself out in a few minutes,” he said smiling.

“I hope so.”

“Take a seat and we can have a talk.”

For a moment I felt like a prospective groom asking permission from a father to marry his daughter. Then it hit me. That was pretty well what I was doing.

“I read a report about your father when Sylvie told us that you were dating. It said that you were his son. Is that correct?”

“I am but I knew from an early age that I should have been born a woman.”

He smiled.
“That is good to know. My dear wife does not need to know this. She might be able to accept that her daughter is a lesbian but to be in love with a transwoman would be way too far out there for her. We have been married for over thirty years. We decided early on that politics was forbidden in this house. She’s a Republican through and through but… don’t say that I told you this, she voted for Hillary because Trump is a crook just like your father.”

“That’s good to know. Sylvie and I have talked about this whole thing. We decided that if we are asked, we will tell the truth.”

“I think I’m going to like you. What Sylvie has told me about you is a pretty fantastic story. Dorothy will move on to saying that our daughter is too old for you but you had to grow up pretty quickly. From what I’ve seen so far, you two are clearly devoted to each other so no matter what my wife says or does, I’m on your side.”

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Sylvie and I were literally thrown together, and after all we have been through together, we… we just felt right to take our relationship a bit farther. I didn't set out to fall in love with anyone, let alone one of the FBI agents assigned to keep me safe. Things and events conspired to throw us together. Adversity can have strange effects on people. After the incident with two rednecks, I knew that she was the one for me.”

Ralph grinned.
“Sylvie told me what you two did. I saw the posts on Facebook. From what she said, they deserved it. The comments from locals seem to echo that.”

"It sort of just happened, but after that I trusted her implicitly."

“Good for you. Sylvie deserves someone who can make her happy, and since you came into her life, I’ve never seen her so happy. That is a win in my eyes.”

“She makes me happy, so it kinda rubs off on each other.”

“What are you two going to do for money now that Sylvie is no longer with the agency?”

“As you know, we are house sitting in Portland for a friend. That gives us free accommodation for the next three years should we need it.”

“That’s a long time for a house-sit?”

“The owner is away with the Diplomatic Service.”

“Ah, I get you now. What about jobs?”

“Sylvie was going to tell you tonight but we got a bit diverted by other matters. She has a position lined up with the local Medical Examiner as an investigator. She starts on the 2nd of next month.”

“Good for her. What about you?”

“I’m going back to school next month to get my GED. The last formal schooling I had was at the end of the 7th grade.”

“That will be hard work. Are you up for it what with the baby coming?”

I nodded.
“If the doctor is right then I should graduate two weeks before the due date. Then I’ll stay at home and look after our child.”

"Don't you want a career of some sort?"

“Perhaps one day and if circumstances permit it, I’d like to go to Law School.

“From what my daughter tells me you should be teaching at law school or even at Quantico?”

"That's for the future. In the short term, I will be a stay-at-home mom. It will be a nice change to put down some roots at least for a couple of years."

The noise from the other room seemed to have quietened down.

“Shall we go and see what has happened? I hope that they haven’t throttled each other?”

He laughed. I was going to like having him as my father-in-law.

Sylvie and her mom were discussing marriage. As soon as I heard that I knew that we were on the home stretch. Dorothy wanted us to get married in Maine but Sylvie was standing by her guns.

"Look, mom, we are not having the wedding here for many very good reasons. Mainly because you'd never hear the end of it on the local gossip system for one thing. We are going to get married in Oregon. We have a lovely place already picked out. It is right by the river east of Portland. There is even a lovely waterfall that would be perfect as a backdrop.”

“When is this going to happen?”

“Relax mom. We are thinking of around Labor day. An FBI friend of mine, Amy, will be my matron of honour and my old CO from the Marines will give Tiffany away. They have just gotten engaged to marry. It was working on the case that brought them together in the first place just like it did with Sylvie and me.”

“Tiffany, I hate to say it but you are just the person that my daughter has needed in her life for years and thankfully, you two have found each other. At least, Sylvie already knows all your deepest and darkest secrets…?” said her mother.
It seemed that the little talk they just had did the trick.

I smiled.
There was a lot of detail about my life on the run that I had omitted totally or had glossed over its importance when asked. There would be plenty of time for all that to come out but we need to be a real couple first.

[New Year's Eve]

To my surprise, both Dorothy and Ralph came with us to the local Airport where we were taking a short ‘puddle jumper’ flight to Boston.

“Look after our daughter Tiffany,” said Ralph as we said our goodbyes.
“She will need it with a baby on the way.”

“I will Ralph, I will.”
I gave him a big hug and wished that he had been my real father rather than my prospective father-in-law.

Dorothy hugged Sylvie and then she did the same to me. Sylvie looked happier than I’d ever seen her.

My quest for justice had been sorted now it was time for me to find peace and love and in time, a settled home life. Those desires just happened to match those of the woman that I loved. Isn’t karma great!

[the end]

[Authors Note]
This tale came about because of a stinking cold and head over the Christmas and New Year period of 2021/22 prevented me from going out with friends.
I used a number of sources for the legal and current affairs backgrounds of this story. In particular, I'd like to give a shout-out to the following YouTube Channels.
The first is ‘Justice Matters’ with Glenn Kirschner.
The second is ‘Lehto’s Law’ with Steve Lehto.
Next comes ‘Beau of the Fifth Column’ with Beau.
Finally, Farron Cousins ‘Farron Balanced’ and ‘The Ring of Fire’.

The Steve Lehto channel, was especially helpful with the practice of Civil Asset Forfeiture. Glenn Kirschner gave me a lot of insight into how depositions and Grand Juries work. Being a former DC Federal Prosecutor, I would have not liked to have come up against him in court. He takes complex legal arguments and turns them into plain English. That is a skill that many lawyers simply do not possess.
Beau of the Fifth Column might look like a hillbilly but his thoughtful arguments deserve to be heard by a much wider audience. IMHO, he would be a very worthwhile member of Congress.