Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving (in the U.S., anyway), Mr. B. called Alex Merriweather, my trustee and not so incidentally, my lawyer. Alex cal...ed me and wanted to have lunch. It was important, he said.When I got to Alex's club and asked for him, I was directed to a private room. Mr. B. was there. He stood when I came in and crossed to meet me."I'm sorry to have used Mr. Merriweather as a ruse, but I didn't know if you'd meet with me," he said."Of course I'd have met with you. You're my. You seemed happy enough despite how sordid my past has been. Then you call it off. You think I care how you phrased it?” Alex wanted to scream.“Ok, fair enough,” he said. “I think this will explain it faster.” He pulled out his iPhone. The one with compromising pictures of her, she remembered with regret. If they broke up, would he post them? He fiddled with the screen.“You’re breaking up with me. Is there’s an app for that?”Despite himself, Kevin smiled at her sarcasm.“Probably there is. But. I learned that my wives weren't the only ones who had gone missing. There had been reports of several other women who were missing in the Oregon City/Portland/Fort Vancouver area. No one had been able to find any of them and there had been no clue as to what had happened to them. My information was the first that they had received of a possible slavery ring operating in Oregon. This caused a sensation among the people when it was shared and some wanted to immediately make an attack on the. Later on that evening Debbie and I ran into each other at dinner and I asked her and her party to join our table. They did and that wasn't too unusual until Debbie made her way around the tables and purposely sat next to me. Usually we’d sit across from each other. This time she made a point of sitting next to me. We sat down and everyone ordered and talked about the events of the day. Debbie seemed too quiet to me, there was a tension in the air. Then I found out why Debbie was sitting next to.
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