I shifted into Park and turned the engine off. I got out and felt the crisp night air on my face, then was startled when two men approached me in the driveway. They were both wearing knee length overcoats and I could see their spit-shined black leather dress shoes glimmering from the street lamp overhead.
“Michael Lowecki?” the lanky, more serious one asked, pulling his lapel open and reaching inside his overcoat.
I froze with confusion. Who are these two men? Where did they come from? Why are they converging on me like this? And why are they looking for me!?
“I’m agent Dwyer with the FBI, and this is Mr. Lefko with the U.S. Attorney’s office,” he stated after retrieving a leather pocketbook and opening it to display a shiny badge.
“I… I’m Mike Lowecki.” They’d surprised me, sneaking up in the dark like that. Now I was pissed, and ready to defend myself if need be.
“We’re investigating Ada Brooks. We’d like ask you a few questions,” Lefko spoke up.
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