***
Next-day was sunny and crisp he was hungry so he went to the outdoor market had a nice breakfast at a diner and began what would be the last-leg of his long journey. He would ride through Washington D.C., Maryland, Massachusetts and New York, New Hampshire and Vermont. It was a long-ride but he was headed to the place-of childhood significance. A shore long since, in his past. Somewhere once, deserving-of hope, innocence and discovery a place his brother knew nothing-about... But for now the Fall and Winter had to be prepared for. Nature was turning colder. And the welcoming-land of hospitability was less fortuned. He wandered around the city, as college-businesses and populations went about preparing-for the harsher-season... David Garr alias ‘Sam Nauts’ resided at a local-diner for its warming hot-chocolate then prepared his Ford F-150, for long trek: North. It would be a quiet journey yet one of complete-resolve... As the Halogen street-lights of town turned into dark and silent roadway he pondered in one-thinking the last resolution. He thought of his life, those he’d known and people who’d meant something to him. Of an official-life, a D.F.S. agent and brother-along a lonely trail. Of love, passion and pride those once honors and umbrage-of will and contention which he had not deny. And whose duty had been a way-of-life.
Yet it all seemed a find and kaleidoscope-vision now a faint-sense of time lived or gone. He parody it all in his-sight yet the time then and now, were as brittle and thin as when it was gone in a blink of an eye. He knew there was only one thing driving him now. The last hope of an individual as in life; doing what he knew best. A man’s remembrance had often skipped important points, acknowledgements and duty, price paid. Most forget the great rationality grown enamored and distant. Umbrage was often forgot when the deep-’reality’ had been compromise... A mirror is not always a wise-dimension. Yet Sam(David) had Bo Jon on the case. He was in Georgia were he’d visited the last of the oil rigs. Dutch was still a character in a long hard story. He was a murderer yet with Bo Jon being the intercession he had chance a sight duly that would play-out among the courts. He was a ’‘middle-weight’ in courtagency. He’d stood up as well as would bring to justice-when, and ’‘might’. ...That justice imported Bo Jon Littlehorse-agent as the men of court honor. A native-American of honorable credibility. Bo Jon was above-board, doing what he enjoyed most; carrying out the best-duty at-hand. A man on-the-run, of reputable-character wanted in a strange proxy of legal-effect... Now raised to the level of contrition and misfortune needing a ramification in terms.
He knew he had to flesh-out that contention. Working as liaison on David’s case in ascension. He’d peri-caudal an instrumental élan on Garr’s behalf, intention-interstitial and obviate aside, he’d completed many parallels in the crime. He’d been specific about each tentative, actual and committing. Put his competence and reputation on-the-line to gain registry on the crime. The ‘thoughts’ he gave on the crime could save David C. Garr, a fugitive of ’‘misfortune’. Incited in alluding and con-functions, it depended-on the capture of Garr, and the fragments of past and inevitable collusion of his history... Many criminal legalist understand that a case hinged upon nominal-cohesive; he and the defense-attorney would exacted a truer-relevance to the ‘Habeas Corpus’. ...He, would become a considerate contributor to the case... ...David left Virginia-on a windy and dark-day. The fortune of leaving a horrendous weight behind; he was looking forward to life anew. He understood, and his time was limited; and now, in what little time there was, he would treasure.
End
Sixteen
...Heading toward the light.
A hopeful-light, lay ahead. So David thought, as he drove the interstate. Night’s darkness gave way to dawn’s twilight clearness then morning’s daylight. He was in Maryland. And by 8 a.m. he was in Boston at an eatery. He drank fresh coffee and ate sausage and French toast with Maple syrup. He decided to take a stroll down-town and visit some of the sites. The vacationers had long since gone and now local-folk went about their-lives... He’d found a hotel-room with off-peak prices, he had a nice room with a bed, room-service and an indoor-pool. He decided to stay-in, and enjoy his-amenities. He slept all-day, had room-service and went-about town, at night. He enjoyed the night-life and had drinks at pubs. He came home around 1 a.m., and then by morning rented a bicycle to ride-uptown. He went down to the harbor to enjoy seafood-cooking. He sat at the pier and watched the boats and ships come in... He spoke with some of the Longshoreman and talked about the sea. Hurricane season was nearly over and that the new sea-going laws had the Coast-Guard watching every ship since 9/11. David, alias ‘Sam’, realized he was also’ ‘briefed’ and mandated ’‘since’ his-days, as attaché. Days he’d never see, again.
He went aboard some public-vessels to admire the ships. He came back to the piers often and even-went out to the shoals by tug-boat. He’d missed the sea, and wondered ‘why’ he and his brother had never been boating. He was an expert-seaman yet those-years were his own. David rarely, spoke to Chris on his-ventures in the Navy. For one thing they-were classified; for another he kept the war like other men; to himself. As other-men, it brought back bad-memories yet he-earned medals and, of his ’‘duties’, with honor; the country-knew that... One day when Chris was young, and David had earned a position that would lead-to attaché possibly, they went on a camping-trip. Then, Chris-had wanted to see the mountains at 17; between high-school and college his-brother tried-to impart wisdom and patience. Yet a brother, full of spunk and energy, would take time to gather him together. He’d been a C.G. Lieutenant Commander near Maryland in the early ’‘90s. David was 39, 17 years older. They were close and the elder-one was his younger brother’s only kin. He’d put in extra-work to spend the last few years with a young-boy; before manhood and responsibility; he’d seen after him for 8-years and now they were turning a-corner... 'David, I love it here.' 'I’ve never seen such tall-trees...' David smiled-over his younger brother’s astonishment. He’d decided-to keep a custodial eye-on him, till he-could make it on his-own.
After all, besides his career, his brother was his only-occupation... His brother needed him. David remembered that and other times he’d had good-times with him, which turned-out to be some of the ‘best’-times of his life. David thought-back in deep-reflection contemplating the instances, moments and of those meaningful-times. He looked-at the ’‘big’-picture from his-times as a child; with parents, when his brother came along until they went there own-ways. He had a fulfilled life of obstacles, obligations and overcoming. It had been a distinguished, satisfying and fulfilling-experience... He’d taken to, in selfresponsibility. Never having, an issue... ...Now, all that remained was a life-of a violator. This was all he’d done in aversion. Purpose, purport and propriety were all-gone. Well-worthy, yet now he’d wished that ending-reversion had not have happen. He knew some strange ’‘innate’-sense, was now his-own. He‘d-done his duty and now the unusual comprising had to be dealt. He-was running from it. He began to hollow-out, that ‘anomaly’ which he conceived-on his life. ’‘Erected’-conditional, expound and incredibleness he’d furthered... Now, in unmitigated, circumstance. David knew he both, committed and averted from a crime and ‘wronging’. It was not in his-code to do such things...
He’d put together in-perceiving; the comparative-adventures and turned a ‘silent-ear’ to what had occurred. It-was his-life now, and he wanted to live it to its end. He’d been in a sense, superstitious; but perhaps it had been a practical-one. One, which had hid anger, fear, and disavowal which had ‘complexity‘. Just ‘sheer’ and hard-reality for which 5-men paid with their lives... Had he been a ‘monster’ or a ‘mouse’, in a man for which pressure in the deepest-sense had made honor-abominable and in-faith, blameful. He was not the first to epitomized the ‘evidence’ and law against. He-was not stubborn; just a man of integrity, espousing and of suspicion. His efforts, were all the same... Yet killing though an aspect of war
, it had came-home with him. The ‘ill-certainty’ and savagery-all had been a delimitation of actual... He had known in-duty; there would be travesty only now-it erupted from within... He was a person, dishonest-only that-honor confused the reality-of demeaned-ratification... The issues he had out-defined insistence and effectives, known as out-growth of those in the battle-zone. It stood like a pillar of conundrum, instead-of anchor in honor... He was told to fight a war yet the design of declarative was his personal-conviction each leader went to war with. This, was his-contradiction every-soldier lived-by.
‘Foul-play’-a sequence of ‘borne’, bravery and leading to the irony of beseech and being counter-balanced... Out-running the law; laid his resigning-smarts on the line-for the recovery by others... He-was growing in times of intercession, and acts to further earn a little-time. Never personally, knowing the impression of dishonor, under-handedness or dishonesty. Yet, it was laying out now, on a large-scale. Though his schemes and scope were suspect; in injuring-task. The extensity of crime perpetrator had always been a series of ‘wrong‘-choices. If David had realized in augment the occurrence of war though in in an obscurity, was unsanctioned-by way disturbance and hardship. He lived, in that reality as a self-abjection. ’‘Peri-center’, was the ‘allusion’-of duty, selfless and demand-for which many men gave there-lives. War was ’‘insane’, an insanity-suffered or over-come and in some, allowed-to become abominable at-times, without ‘will’. Although now, he-seemed delusional that delusion was not easily, evident. He-suffered from the denial in collusiveness a seeming, consciousness. The ‘madness’-of his preclusive of ‘fire-worship‘. A strange chaos, a disturbance of obsession and aversion which had serve its purpose, too well. Occult worship which served the ever-debilitating reliance and receptacle. Yet the energy came-out. He chose not to give it any further heeding. It, that fragile-state, realizing-it would not have served a purpose...
Bo Jon knew of this ‘alien‘, dormancy within David Garr. He-knew this would be where his ‘trumpcard’ would be played. Bo Jon Littlehorse knew this was where potent-evidence would come-in... He wasn’t sure this was the case. All ‘other’-things would have to be cancelled-out. Implored in his dysfunctional-mentality and perhaps facilitate-to reoccur... This was now purely, coincidence. Yet many a criminal psychologist would play strategist on a non-concomitant in as multi-murderer with anti-social and escapist traits... He could almost be sure David would go through a battery of them. Bo Jon didn’t want to play ‘cue’, just yet; David had a chance to sway less avenues once captured and arraigned... Bo Jon knew case-study motives and judicial-conundrums would put on a show. But the most difficult aspect so far would be his arrest. Bo Jon wanted to play a delicate surgeon in that operation. Making it as ‘painless’ and bloodless as possible. This would take ‘gravitas’ thinking. While at the Secato S, he-was plotting-in plan of such respective. He figured he had two-choices; confrontation or itinerary-‘confiscation’; taking him by surprise inordinate. Bo knew few choices came in the latter; and his ‘future’ might be determined by the former.
Thus, whose case was constituently, episode. An episodic-alluding of challenge and chance. He also figured denying could figure to ’‘quall’, and in-turn a certain-level of civility. Wanting, if not knowing David would become less of an entity. Yet Bo kept-up hope, and in that ‘hope’ plotted the stages of David’s case to use on him proactively, are injured-retroactively.
Sequoia Trail-A Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. Novel. Second Edition Page 31
