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dent in the rear driver’s side quarter panel, and the fading paint on the hood, and maybe a couple of other little imperfections, here and there. Oh well. I didn’t have the heart to part with old car. It had been my faithful steed for too long. It still ran fine, after all. I sat there for a bit.  
    After another minute or so, I heard another car approaching. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw that it was a limousine. Well of course it was a limousine. I wasn’t expecting his employer to show up in anything like a Subaru.  
    I stepped out of the car and assumed what I hoped was a friendly posture. The limo pulled up next to my aging Buick and stopped. As I supposed would happen, two large, well-dressed men got out and walked to where I stood.  
    “Mr. Longville?” the first one asked with a certain emphasis. I nodded, and raised my hands gingerly. The other man came forward and patted me down. I wasn’t carrying a gun. No point dragging a gun along if it’s just going to get taken away from you, I’d learned a long time ago.  
    The two men stepped back. The one who knew my name opened the limo’s rear door, and with a theatrical sweep of his hand, invited me to enter. Two seats faced one another. I took a seat in the one facing backwards, which was empty. Two men sat across from me—Baucom and a tall, white, gray-haired man. I knew him instantly. He wasn’t George Washington, but they were in the same business. I had seen this man’s face on the news many times.  
    He was Senator Keith Patrick, who had recently announced that he was running for Governor. Many suspected he wanted to be President, too, if the gig as Governor panned out. His presence here meant he had trouble, and it was probably of the hush-hush variety. I supposed that there must be a few snags that the big man needed to shake loose from before the election began to heat up. No wonder all the cloak and dagger stuff. I figured his problem must be pretty serious.  
    Baucom gave a little cough and opened up the conversation. “Mr. Longville, let us apologize for all the subterfuge. For a man in Mr. Patrick’s position, this sort of thing is necessary, at times.”  
    “Keith Patrick, Mr. Longville. Thank you for coming here.” The older man reached out his hand and shook mine in a practiced, firm, yet gracious manner, and gave me a caring, fatherly smile. I’m really a heck of a guy, I wish we could be pals but I’m just too busy, the smile seemed to say. I was almost tempted too believe it all, too. But not quite.  
    “I won’t waste your time; I’ll come right to the point. This matter concerns my daughter, Mr. Longville. Her name is Constance Patrick, and she is my only child. She has always resented certain aspects that are part of the reality of my life. As a child, for example, she protested that she was often left alone too much,” Patrick volunteered, although he fairly squirmed as he said it. “Her mother died when Connie was very young, leaving just the two of us. She was frequently, therefore, left with nurses and the like while I was away.” He paused for a second.  
    “I take it that she demonstrated this resentment in some way, Senator.”  
    Senator Patrick nodded. “She has always been, well, sort of a wild child, to be blunt, Mr. Longville. As she grew into a young woman, childish resentment gave way to rebellious behavior, which only grew worse as my law practice, and then my political career, kept me away from home, sometimes for extended periods of time. I love my daughter, and I have always striven to give her the very best of everything, Mr. Longville, but try as I might, I’m only one person. The harder I worked, by necessity, the more I was away. Connie was lonely rather often as a child, and I suppose she harbors some resentment toward me on those grounds. Perhaps a great deal more than I had supposed.”  
    Patrick eyed Roland for a second before going on, and then glanced at Baucom.