Two weeks later I was walking out of my last physical therapy appointment. I had finally been relieved of both my cane and brace, and was released from all restrictions. (Not that I'd been following them anyway) Arnold's friend, Mart Kessler, said Arnold told him Dewayne had involved them with something relating to credit cards, but he said all they did was type the numbers into a screen and copied down the resulting codes. Turns out the website was not only verifying the card numbers, but feeding the good one's to a Russian company that allegedly manufactured beach umbrellas. Mart's lawyer was plea bargaining for a lighter sentence with full cooperation. I hoped he got it. My car? Well, that was the work of Arbutus' brother, Jeff. He is bi-polar, and was off his medicine when Kennedy was killed. When he found out I was helping Aaron, he became violent. He's in a treatment facility now. I reached into my purse for my keys. I'd started the car before I left so it would be warm. (I'm getting spoiled by that luxury) About fifteen feet away, I realized that a man was sitting on the hood of my car. My hand, still in my purse, closed around my gun. Second realization: He was holding a bouquet of pink flowers. I took a few steps more, prepared to draw my weapon. He stood up, and walked toward me. I recognized the nervous grin.
"Aaron, what are you doing here?"
"I- uh- wanted to give you these, Quinby." He held out the arrangement, "Garrett told me you'd be here. Thanks for everything you did. Without you I'd be in jail right now."
"I can't take all the credit," I said smelling the flowers. "God did it."
"I don't know much about that, but you're my hero. I was a real pain too. Sorry."