October the twentieth, 2009. District Attorney Hugh Livingston was not having a good evening. He figured he’d hired the stupidest PR man on the f*****g planet for this campaign. Who else but a complete i***t would schedule back to back events only two hours apart when the drive time alone from Plano to Waco was almost two hours? And that was in good weather. This evening had turned misty, with thunderstorms forecasted. Fuming, he waved off his entourage in disgust, walked quickly to his car, and slammed it into drive. If he absolutely hauled a*s, he’d just make it.
Running for Governor of Texas wasn’t worth dealing with all this s**t.
Almost, he amended.
To be honest, it was the fruition of a dream he’d had since the 1980’s. He’d worked hard, being sure to keep any high-profile cases for himself rather than handing them to staffers; he’d cultivated strategic friendships across political lines. Every single bit of it had paved the way to this point. Currently he was ahead by a large gap in the polls, but he needed to keep this insane schedule to stay out front for another few weeks. Just a few more weeks until the public went to the polls on November fourth and it would all pay off.
He screamed down US -75 heading south toward downtown Dallas and switched lanes whenever possible to try to get an edge. He made his way through the ninety-degree right-hand motion to merge onto westbound I-30, and then on to I-35E South without incident. He was almost in Waxahachie when the tie rod the Raven had sabotaged finally broke under the strain. Livingston could no longer control his car. It snapped hard right on the rain-slicked road, left the elevated freeway and barrel-rolled down the embankment to land wheels up on Solon Road below.
He was pronounced dead at the scene.
As he listened to the police scanner, the Raven smiled. Nice job, he congratulated himself. That worked out perfectly. This hobby was already way more fun than either one of his day jobs. Absolutely. And when they inventoried the car’s contents, they’d find the subtle little souvenir he’d left behind.
He consulted the memo feature on his phone. Time to line up the next on his list.
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