ENTRY SEVENTY-SEVEN

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Charlie and I are in the living room again, only now it is day.

“It’s a three hour drive until we meet Senator Church. Perhaps you should nap on the way,” Charlie suggests as he packs a box of tape recordings, all labeled by date, into a briefcase.

“No,” I firmly reply. And this time it is really me speaking. Charlie knits his brows at me; I begin to worry he can hear the difference in my voice to Sugar’s and that I will be found out for taking his wife's body hostage. But then I banish the silly thought. What could he even do to me if he suspected?

“I need to be alert,” I explain. “In fact, why don't you let me drive. The distraction will relieve my mind from anxiety.”

Charlie seems to accept this. He finishes packing, and then smiles. I study his face. He looks grim. But the fondness for Sugar hasn’t left his expression entirely.

“This is it,” he says, “It’s almost over.”

I nod, and then we walk out the door into the bright sun.

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