Will yawned for a moment, then looked around. The stars were starting to come out in full force, and the night air was helping him get his mind in better focus. He yawned again, then rubbed his eyes and started to walk around the car again. He heard the jingling of the kind of door bell that only rang when a door was being opened. He opened the car door and plopped down as Clayton ran towards the driver’s side of the Crown Victoria. Soon, the car was roaring away from the convenience store and was heading North on US-281. Will took a sip of his water and glanced at Clayton. “I wanted a soda.”
“That stuff is bad for you.”
“Driving 120 miles per hour on US-281 isn’t exactly good for me either. This isn’t exactly a road built for this sort of thing.”
“Relax. We’ll be fine. So, what else can you tell me about Sioux Falls?”
“Look, I appreciate you trying to learn more about the state, my city and my time in school, but how come you keep asking all those questions?”
“Just making conversation. And, to be totally honest, I’m trying to see how with it you are after your concussion.”
Will fought back a small laugh. “How am I doing?”
Clayton bobbed his head to the right, and then straightened it out. “Well, you’re don’t strike me as a recent concussion victim.”
“Thanks. I’ll take it.” Will took a long drink from his water, then screwed the cap back on. “Now, what about you? How did you end up in the F.B.I. and then out here?”
“Oh no, we’re not talking about me.”
“Why not?”
Clayton turned his head and stared Will right in the eyes. Will looked away, and Clayton looked forward. “Because” Clayton said, as he reached to flip on the radio.
***
Phil slowly folded the letter back up, and placed in back in the envelope. Bob still had his head in his hands, and he had not looked up since he had started looking down. Phil took a deep breath and asked “Why? Why would you do that?” Bob didn’t answer. “Dammit Bob, answer me!” Phil grabbed his shoulder and started shaking Bob, but Bob wouldn’t look at him, nor would he answer. Phil threw the letter to the floor of the car and reached for Bob’s throat. Bob’s neck was slowly compressing in Phil’s hands, and Bob was fighting back, albeit with halfhearted punches at Phil’s forearms. He weakly punched Phil’s fists as Phil shouted “WHY?” over and over. Michelle was hesitating to stop Phil, but she was still trying to pull Phil away from Bob before Bob died. Phil’s grip only tightened. Another voice was just at the edge of Phil’s mind.
“Turn right, then park behind this building.”
Phil kept squeezing as Bob’s weak punches stopped coming. Bob was becoming a rag doll in Phil’s grip, but he couldn’t stop squeezing.
“We’re here. Phil. Phil? PHIL!”
Phil snapped his head up and snapped back to reality. He looked down and saw his fists clenched so tightly a few fingernails had actually dug into his hands. Bob was looking around, and Michelle was sitting behind the wheel, her face a mask of concern, anger, and confusion.
“Where’s here?” Bob asked.
