10:13 PM

29

10:13 PM

     William Reginald Peterman, Jr. was left with the sad fact of his fatherhood: he had failed his eldest son. He had done his best, but he had failed him. It had probably been all those moments when he had terrorized the boy. All those night when he had gotten liquored up and been angry about some small sleight.
     Of course his son had always had a darkness in him. Something that made him have a tendency to view conspiracy in everything around him. That had been with him since the beginning. When Bill was just a little boy who they called Skip.
     He scolded himself. All he could think about was, what if it was an item in the news; what if the news item was picked up nationally. It was just the sort of thing that newspapermen liked. "State Senator's Son in Murder Probe."
     But he had to think about these things, because they were important to that split second decision people made in the voting booth.
     As he sat on the porch and smoked his cigar, he realized he had always put his career above his family, and especially his eldest son. But now the question was, would he use his significant resources to aid his boy in escape, or would he use them to catch him?
     Catch him, Bill's father decided. Catch him and get him the best defense lawyer in the world. Hope that he got a lenient sentence, mostly served at home and that something could be salvaged from the rest of his life.
     He had ignored his son for too long, and when not ignoring him, had injured him, had mentally scarred him. It was now his responsibility to find the boy.