“Three days… three days… three days…”

“Three days… three days… three days” they whisper in her ear. Someone is failing. Someone who has information who can no longer hold on. Someone who needs to disgorge before it is too late.

A feather fell before me yesterday on the shore.

Last night they told me:

“Go to page 14… page 14… page 14. Go to the 7th line down from the top… read.”

Then they followed with:

“Page 21… page 21… page 21… read.”

I went to page 14 and page 21. It talked about a Phillips 66 gas station, the people by the riverĀ and the phone call made from the farmer with the cheese cutter the night Charley died.

Mentioned the men of WoW…not WOW.


They talked about Carlos. They talk about the innocence. They talked about the set-up and the money he was paid to keep an eye on things. Then they said:

“Open the envelope…. the white envelope… just open it.”

I will.

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