Jerry eyed me as I receded and then approached again. “Why do you walk like a duck?” he ask me straightforwardly. I thought about it.
“Because I don’t want anyone to notice.”
“Notice what?” he shot back.
I indicated myself. “Well, *this*.” I wore kids sneakers. I had kids’ hair. But I was no kid. There were butterflies fluttering about in my midsection. But I wasn’t nervous. Except for the revealing, top to bottom.
Jerry — he said his name was Jerry earlier — reached into the News of the World van through an open window, pulled out a file left conveniently on the passenger seat. “I think you’re looking for this.”
—–
Norris was backing trooper car 0407 into its usual spot. Recognizing him (another Harry!), I grasped the file from Jerry’s outstretched arm and went across the parking lot to this new guy on the scene, hoping to get more information. However, my head was turned as I approached the driver’s window by a head on the hood, directly above the word Fidelity. It hit too close to home.
He didn’t ask about the duck walk, even though I approached and receded and approached him as well (I think). “Get in,” he said, but not the one within. The butterflies fluttering about my stomach became real as I realized I was an already cuffed prisoner of the state ready for transport to… somewhere. Jerseyville? Wouldn’t that be appropriate.
“Bring the other head in too while you’re at it,” Interior Norris requested. “And make sure you don’t bend anything in that file. We’ll need both for evidence.” SLAM
I was inside.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 