MADISON
A heaver still uncertainty
It’s almost lunch time by time I manage to reach the White Oak Ranch.
“Here I am!” I exclaim as I go into his office or, rather, into the large room in which meetings, official and unofficial, were organized chez Levi. I tried to come as soon as possible, but it was difficult to get a car without having to explain every last detail to security.
I find Chris intent on his mail, or seeming he is, at least. He’s got a letter in his hand, even if he doesn’t seem to be concentrating very much on reading. He is pale and sweaty of face.
I draw closer and am sure he’s not actually reading, but randomly crumpling a court letter up instead, his hands shaking.
“Goddammit!” he curses, making the letter an unusable paper cone.
“Chris?” My tone voice gives m
