I was holding the file when Walt entered my office.
“Doug, you’re not dressed! C’mon, man, it’s time to go!”
Walt looked like he’d stepped out of the early 1960s: crew cut, black-framed glasses, dark suit, a thin blue tie.
“I see you’re ready.”
“We’re all ready – except you. We’re waiting for you!”
“I’m not going,” I said gently. “Go without me. You’ll be fine.”
“What are you talking about? We can’t do this without you!”
“You can. You must! I’m depending on you. My place is here, with my family. Go, while the window is open.”
Walt didn’t budge.
“Go! It will close soon, and so will our hopes!”
He left then, without a backward glance.
“Good luck, Walt,” I whispered. I stared at the name on the file I held: WORMWOOD.
I pulled up to the cabin where my ex-wife and daughter live. Work had been…
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