Fillin’ Chet
By J.M. Snyder
Chet Swearingen turned off Broad down an unlit side street. This wasn’t a part of Richmond he normally visited during the day, let alone at a little after 10:30 on a cold night in February. His car’s heater was turned up full blast, the seat warmer keeping his butt and legs cozy, but a scrim of frost clung to his windshield that the wipers and defrost hadn’t managed to clear away. It was late and cold and, by the looks of things, he was the only person alive in the world.
Bad idea, he told himself over and over again. Bad idea, bad idea.
On Tuesday nights he took a lecture class at Virginia Commonwealth University downtown. It ended at ten, and he usually headed straight home. But when he checked his cell phone during the break, he found a cryptic text messa
