Her boots struck the pavement, slapping the ground with that familiar click. Each heartbreaking step took her farther and farther away when her whole being cried out for her to turn around, find her pixie, and convince her that they could make it out together. It didn’t matter where she went now. It was never going to be the same. Teardrops fell from her chin to splatter on her dusty toes. On she walked, replaying the events over in her head like some movie reel stuck on repeat. Her eyes went dry after a while and she kept ever chasing the horizon, unsure where she was going or what she was doing. She knew simply that she had to get away, to find a retreat where she could go to ground. A place where she could make a home for Jazz to come to. Somewhere the world hadn’t touched, where they could be together again. The rattle of a car behind her grew louder, drowning out her thoughts. A tan outback station wagon rolled to a stop beside her, hissing and sputtering. She glanced over. Only the ACLU was defending them, and they had offered their services. (Westboro Baptist promptly condemned them as being part of the ‘Jewish power elite’, but with their assets frozen, it wasn’t like they could pay for lawyers; they couldn’t afford to be picky.) Harry Reid and Congress were not going to be able to come after me by chewing on Marilyn.Likewise, Elizabeth Warren was out of the line of fire at Treasury. The Dems who wanted to fry me were simply consternated by the fact that the Secretary of the Treasury was also a Democrat. That took care of another concern.On the other hand, the Secret Service was about to get a reaming the likes of which they hadn’t seen since the Kennedy assassination. Politically, attacking me through the Secret Service was cheap and easy. I wasn’t all that interested in helping to fend off the attacks, either. Her detail had screwed up across the board, and if anything had happened to her, I would have never forgiven them. The Senate Finance.
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