Free The Senator's Choice by Noel Nash

scribbled on the bottom.
    We ’ re watching you. Be careful.
    He started to look around the restaurant casually. His disengagement from the conversation was obvious.
    “Are you sure you ’ re okay?” Sarah asked.
    “Yeah, I ’ m fine. But I think I am gonna skip out on this fundraiser tonight and go home to be with Luke. I ’ m just not feeling up to glad-handing folks and putting on a smile.”
    “I understand, honey. I still had a fabulous evening with you. Do you want to drop me by your office so I can pick up my car now?”
    “Sure,” he mumbled as he stood up and slid his chair back under the table. “Let ’ s go.”
    On their way back to his office, Sarah launched into a discussion about her recent discovery of Hildegard of Bingen and her incredible music. Her exuberance over the topic reminded Daniels why he liked her so much — and underscored why he thought she would be the perfect woman to influence Luke in his last few years before he left home. But the moment she kissed him goodnight and got out of his car, his thoughts returned to the gravity of his situation.
    He followed her until their routes parted ways. That ’ s when he noticed the black sedan behind him. It didn ’ t take long before he realized he was being followed.
    Daniels gunned the engine and whipped his vehicle down several back streets in an effort to lose the tail. He managed to shake the car three blocks from his house.
    When Daniels pulled into his driveway, he hustled up the steps toward his house. He was unlocking the deadbolt to his front door when he looked back over his shoulder just in time to notice the black sedan pulling up to the curve and turning off its lights.

CHAPTER 13
    THE DIGITIZED CHIMES announced Greg Zellers ’ entry through the Cambridge Truck Stop. Not that Zellers needed anything to trumpet his arrival. His boots thudding on the dingy tile floor sufficed. He leaned on the counter, peering behind it.
    “Hello? Is anybody here?” he called.
    A thin man scurried from the back and up to the counter. He struggled to swallow his mouthful of ham and Swiss sandwich, a fact Zellers knew only because of the man ’ s lack of decorum when it came to eating.
    “Can I help you?” he asked.
    Zellers could barely stand to look at the man. The glop of mayonnaise hanging tenuously from his chin served as a major distraction.
    “We ’ re looking for a kid we think may have been taken against his will,” Zellers said as held up a picture to the man. “Have you seen him today?”
    The man wiped his chin with the back of his hand and reached for the picture. “I think I remember him from earlier today.”
    Zellers jerked the picture back, unable to take his eyes off the man ’ s hands slathered with Dorito dust. “Don ’ t touch it.” He paused, giving him time to think of a graceful way out of the situation. “It ’ s the only one I have of him.”
    The man backed off and squinted as he stared at the image. Then he took his glasses off and nearly pressed his nose against it.
    “Yep, I remember him,” he said triumphantly. “He was in here earlier today. He bought a bottle of Mountain Dew and some chips, I think.”
    By this time, Jones had joined Zellers.
    “Was he with anyone?” Jones asked.
    The man nodded. “Three other men. I remember them because they were an odd-looking crew, but then again, I work at a truck stop. Odd is normal around these parts.”
    “You got that right,” Zellers mumbled under his breath.
    “Is there anything else I can help you boys with? Maybe a Twinkie or some Cheez-its?”
    “Did you say Cheez-its?” Jones asked. “I love some—”
    Zellers slugged him in the arm, breaking him out of his trance.
    “Oh, yes, you can help us with your security camera footage.”
    “I ’ m gonna have to call my boss about that,” the man said as he rubbed his hands on his blue work apron.
    “Mr. — Gordon, is it?” Jones asked.
    The man nodded.
    “Mr. Gordon, this is a federal