CALLING AN AUDIBLE
Clarice and company had no idea how quickly Lloyd Bowman would move. He was on the road heading northeast even as they began their return. Of course there was no worry their paths would cross. Logan was maintaining the speed limit, but Lloyd always traveled five miles under, just to be safe.
At each stoplight or traffic delay, Lloyd tugged papers from his file. Staring at the photographs pulled from the cameras at the NYC tow pound didn't help. No matter the angle, any identification was inconclusive. As if the man understood the geometry of each camera lens, not one angle showed a good clean shot of the face. Still, identification or not, it felt like Hannibal.
They're my friends…please don't let it be Hannibal.
After parking in a designated area, wary, Lloyd approached the worn page-link gate. Trying not to make eye contact didn't help. One of the desperate looking individuals leaning on the fence approached.
"You got any money, mister?" a college-aged man begged. "I swear on my mother I never even saw a no parking sign! Christ, I wasn't there ten minutes before they pounced. Fucking tow truck driver hadn't even lifted the car from the ground, but he wouldn't listen. Said once it was on the hook there was nothing he could do…liar."
Now that we have been entertained, it's time for the question of the day: What would you do with a billion dollars?