CHAPTER 5February 11
Sunday, 8:00 a.m.
The phone woke him early the next morning. Frank sat up, startled, feeling the stress in his lower back and neck, and slowly surveyed the room. An empty glass lay on the floor next to a dark liquid stain in the rug. The CD player had switched itself off, but the red light on the amplifier still glowed. He fumbled for the phone.
“Mr. Adams? This is Richard Russell,” a heavy male voice said on the other end. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Mr. Russell was a man who got straight to the point.
“I’m investigating the accident that took the life of your son-in-law, Charles Rawlson, and I want to ask you some questions,” Frank said, trying to sound awake and alert.
“I thought the feds were handling the investigation.”
“They are. I’m working o
