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Totally relaxed now, my head turned slightly toward the passenger seat. I glanced out the passenger window to see the once mist covered window turn to long lines as the damp air merge into water droplets that slid gracefully down the glass. A small ornamental tree in the front yard just beyond the glass was covered in the blue-white light of LED christmas lights. I ran my hand across my chin, noticing the start of a good five o’clock shadow as a warm sensation was overtaking me. The sensation that had been worth ignoring the fact that I was on a stake out. The sensation that could cause a veteran FBI agent to throw away the concepts of duty and priorities. I couldn’t help myself. Yeah. I’m not only a liar, I’m weak too. Just a few weeks earlier I had made my confession to a priest. It was a big one, the sexual addictions, affairs, alcohol addiction, and more. I could almost imagine him pouring himself a whisky and lighting a cigarette on the other side of the carved, wooden lattice. Not in this State.”“But if anyone saw you like I saw you, there would be no question!” said Marian. “Even the doctor said something should be done.”“They’d say I sassed him, or tried to steal from him or whatever they needed to say to make it all my fault. He called me a whore, Mrs. Wilson. And if I raise my voice others will call me that too. They’ll say I led him on.”“But my son was here! He saw the whole thing! The doctor saw you. He could testify about that.”“And that doctor would never say a word. You heard him. He won’t even treat a Negro, much less testify for one. To speak on behalf of a Negro is the kiss of death. You know that! And Nathan has a bright future ahead of him,” said Flossie. “He’s smart, and he has courage. He’ll make a fine police officer, or whatever he ends up doing. But pitting him against his own father is not something I want to do. What happened was bad enough. Can you imagine your son, standing in front of the judge? Do you think that would make a big.
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