Write Her Story
by Suzie Lockhart
Sunlight glistened off the water as I reclined on the dock, feeling thankful to be alive as I watched my grandchildren letting out whoops of joy. My son-in-law was in his speedboat, pulling them from behind in inner tubes.
It was the happiest I’d felt since my partner, Donald had died suddenly last year from a massive stroke.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket.
I recognized the number instantly, and contemplated not answering.
“Hello, Abraham.” Cassandra Moxie’s cool voice came across the line. “I’m afraid this isn’t a personal call.”
“I’m retired, remember,” I stated flatly, waving at my grandkids. “Surely you have an agent that can handle whatever is going on.”
“Not this time, Abraham. Not many agents remember what it was like to work for the FBI when things started, 35 years ago.”
Unfortunately, Moxie had my attention.
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