Epilogue
“I’m sorry.”Agent Amy said when I finished. She handed me a Kleenex.
I took it, wiped my eyes, and threw it behind the seat to land on a couple of McDonald’s bags and an empty Jim Beam pint bottle. She’d eaten twice while we drove and I talked. I drank the Jim.
“I leave anything out, Skeeter?”
“Nope, that’s the story I heard. And the parts I saw.” Came the voice from my earpiece.
“Anything else you need to know, Agent Amy?” I asked. I hadn’t looked at her the whole time I was telling the story. I didn’t know how much I liked Agent Amy, but it was a little more than I’d liked any woman in ten years. And the last woman I liked for longer than a three-song lap dance special ended up dying in my arms, so I wasn’t crazy about getting too attached.
“Where can I get silver bullets
