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You dont want much, do you? Im being selfish, Cindy. If the recorder proves that Dorsey was involved in the staged shooting, weve cleared Jesss name and won the campaign.’ It was an oversight, he knew, that the owner would no doubt rectify one day, though Devine hoped not, at least while he was riding the 6:20. He felt a bit like Jimmy Stewart inRear Window, the champion voyeur movie of all time. But he wasnt looking out the window because his leg was broken and he was bored, as was the case with Stewarts character. He was looking out the window because ofher. Last week, I said. It rang last week. The same type of weapon. I buy revolvers in pairs, so that I can do target shooting with a friend and we will both have the same type of weapon. This letter is dynamite, she said. Young voice, male. Cory Tucker, the volunteer driver. Go ahead, Gloster said, with a wide smile on his face. Tell us exactly what the man did that you saw. Yes. Then, You should see my folks. Now came the tears. He was a good kid who loved his folks. He had no trouble empathizing with how frightening this would be for them. And embarrassing. He fought crying. The tears just shimmered on the blue eyes. The woman who answered it was red-haired, blue eyed, about thirty, with high cheekbones and a mouth which, despite an attempt to change the lines with lipstick, remained a thin straight line. She brushed the hair out of her face.Do you really think so? Christ, the Candidate said. Whats your source? Did you ever see an expert marksman testing a gun from a rest, Paul? He sits on a stool and holds his arm along a shelf, where sandbags furnish a brace for his arm. He rests his hand holding the gun on a sandbag which has been partially filled with sand, so he can scoop out a place for the gun and his hand. He takes careful aim from this position and squeezes the trigger. It was to send a message, is what Im thinking. What that message was, who knows. He looked at his watch. It was not yet 6 p.m. They let you off early on Saturday, or so they said. Actually, hed just walked out. There were other newbies up there still analyzing away, writing reports to later be trashed, terrified to leave their seats until the coast was truly clear. Which would, in truth, be never. She blinked back the tears.But, Mr. Mason… somehow … that paper… Whats he want to see me about? If I can do anything, well — you know...