Greyson

Morning traffic had picked up by the time I parked my car a few blocks from The Wasteland. Even though I hadn’t slept, I felt rejuvenated by the information concerning Cecilia’s whereabouts. I would do more research on the plane and while waiting at O’Hare. A direct flight to Boston on such short notice was more than I could ask for.

It should go without saying that my plan for greatness included a private jet.

At least I was flying first class. ...