Step forward…

10/19/12

I am heartened by the attention to detail by my readers…

You do so much of the work for me as you ponder each clue and submit your suppositions. I am appreciative of all those who continue to crawl from the shadows of fear and retribution to aid in this noble quest. Those precious few of you who sit in the afternoons and evenings racking your memories to help me piece this all together. This recent clue about the car is important, for that car has been seen in many other scenarios throughout this entire spree of violence.

Last night I was sent the image of one of Charley’s lighters with his initials engraved on the silver casing. It was all I cold do not to cry. Immediately I could sense the personal ownership, hear the rasp of the wheel as it grated against the flint and filled the air with the ensuing familiar scent of Butane. I could see the smoke wind and curl about his features…watch as the trail of smoke wound its way through the Georgia pines surrounding him that night.

I know you are speaking to me lately Charley and the feeling is bittersweet as another anniversary has passed, and still you wait amongst the ethereal shadows of the Clyatteville-Nankin   Road for justice to be served. I see them standing there Charley- screaming at you about the location of the __________. The swirl of the gun barrel, as the shooter threatened you…the cursing and swearing of G and the other men, like wild wolves of an officer’s pack as they begn to close the margins surrounding the car-diminishing the possibility of your escape. All this while Hazel sat at a table with a stale cigarette and a cold cup of coffee, worried about the future of her marriage as her children slept fitfully in their beds not knowing their father was being slaughtered.

So far this month, Jessica has stepped to the plate…Charley has held my metaphorical hand…Roxanne hints of her presence in the autumn air and even G has steeped forward-brazen as she is, I appreciate her efforts to reverse her Karma.

What I need now if for the MOT to reach out and help me pin down the final details of his last moments in the Daniel Ashley Hotel that night.

Hear me MOT?

Step forward…

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