A Twenty-Dollar Bill Dropped Into the Dust Beside a Tennessee Highway

“And then what?”

“Then hit the hold key,” I said.

“Give me fifteen minutes exactly while the wire sits in suspense.”

Brenda checked her watch, nodded once, and turned for the door.

“If this goes wrong, Garrett, I lose twenty-eight years of pension,” she said.

“It won’t go wrong,” I said.

She slipped out into the alley and pulled the door closed after her.

At eight that night I turned the green Buick LeSabre onto Union Street and pulled into a space fifty yards down from the main entrance of the law firm tower.