At least I know what needs to be done.
I rise with sun and head to the office, intending to track down the bastard Scotsman. Today, I will be the hand of justice, and I will make amends. Killing him won't undo the evil he's caused, and it won't get me paid. Will my soul be angry? Maybe. But maybe my hands will stop trembling.
Something is wrong at the office. The door is ajar. I grip Faith silently and prepare myself for whatever is inside.
If it was The Scotsman, I would have been ready. If it was a thief, Faith would have been ready. But the small office was silent, dark, and cluttered as ever. I put Faith on the table and reach for the bottle of Whiskey, my guardian of liquid fire by the phone, and see the note on the table. I'm not prepared for the note.
It's from Charlie. It shows the Insurance Company's head office address, and a time. Underlined at the bottom, it says The Scotsman will be there. And, the big surprise, an apology scribbled across the back. It's a daisy through concrete. She came back for me.
But what does it mean? Ahead of me is a road with two yellow lines that goes for years. I can turn off, or I can keep driving. Charlie's eyes didn't lie to me. She's getting played every bit as much as I am. Times are fierce, times are fine.
Yeah, it goes that way.
I sit in the gloom and let the Whiskey ask all the hard questions.