Free 3 a.m. (Henry Bins 1) by Nick Pirog

I say. “I think he
was telling the truth.”
    She exhales.
    I reach out and touch her arm. I'm not sure
why, but I do. It is an automatic response, as unconscious as my
next breath.
    She looks at my hand on her
shoulder, then looks up at me. I don't know what is going
on behind her soft brown eyes. But I want to know.
    “ You want to stay for some
coffee?” I ask.
    “ It's three-thirty in the
morning,” she says with a laugh. “I've got to get to bed. Tomorrow
is going to be a circus.”
    Lassie jumps off the couch and rubs up
against her leg as she starts for the door. She leans down and pets
him, then stands and pulls the door open.
    “ Did you vote for him?” I
ask.
    She turns. Stares for a second. A
flash of her crooked smile.
    “ Rain check on the coffee,” she says.

 
     
     
~Th:rteen~
     
    Within ten seconds of waking up, I am on the
Internet.
    PRESIDENT ARRESTED!
    PRESIDENT ARRESTED FOR MURDER!
    PRESIDENT SULLIVAN A MURDERER!?!
    PRESIDENTIAL MURDER!
    MURDERGATE!
    Those are just a few of the headlines.
    I click on a video and watch as the
President is escorted by his Secret Service detail and no fewer
than fifteen FBI agents down the White House steps. The Director of
the FBI is one of Sullivan's strongest opposers. He is making
a statement. No one is above the law. Even the President.
    There are other videos, Wolf Blitzer,
Anderson Cooper, Bill O'Reilly, all chomping at the bit, this is
the biggest scandal since Cain and Abel went to the old fishing
hole and only Cain came back. I don't spend too much time on the
videos, but do watch a couple flashes of press conferences; the
head of the FBI, the White House Press secretary, even one where
Charles Barkley weighs in, “That guy an idiot.” Bottom line, the
President was arrested for the murder of Jessica Renoix. The
Senate and House were calling for an impeachment and the wheels
were in motion. For the moment, Connor Sullivan was still the most
powerful man in the world, but that could change any moment.
    “ What do you think buddy,
should they impeach him?”
    Lassie cocks his head to the side,
thinking.
    Meow.
    “ Stone him?”
    Meow.
    “ Cut off his
hands?”
    Meow.
    “ Okay, no
more  Game of
Thrones  for you, buddy.”
    We get out of bed, get some grub, and sit
down to the breakfast table. I search, “Ricky Sullivan.”
    I read a couple tidbits about him,
corroborating most of what my dad had already told me. The latest
hit was from twelve hours earlier. Some website called TMZ.
“Risky's Wild Spring Break.”
    I read the small blurb, then call
my dad.
    He answers.
    “ Get the car. We're going
to Vegas.”
     
    …
     
    The drive time from Alexandria to Las Vegas
is approximately thirty-four hours.
    When I wake up we are in Colorado.
    “ Good morning,” my dad
says.
    “ Morning.”
    I turn around.
    “ Hey guys.”
    Lassie is chewing on Murdock's ear. He stops
long enough to give me a quick kiss then goes back to the business
at hand. Murdock seems to be enjoying it thoroughly.
    “ You mind driving for an
hour?” asks my dad.
    “ Not at all.”
    We pull over and switch spots. My dad is
asleep within three miles.
    I pull out my phone and log onto the
Internet. It takes me a couple moments to find what I'm looking
for. I click play.
    Connor Sullivan is standing behind a lectern
on the White House steps. At the time of the press conference, he
is still the POTUS.
    “ My fellow Americans,” he
begins. “I come before you not as the President, but as your fellow
man. A man wrongly and unjustly accused of a crime I did not
commit. I have every faith in the United States judicial system and
that I will be found unequivocally innocent of this heinous crime.
I am not disenchanted but proud that we live in a democratic state
where its highest powers are not above the law, and hold no ill
will towards the FBI or any other institution. The truth will come
out. God bless this great nation.”
    Not bad.
    I wonder how long he