Chapter 37

A million thoughts went through my mind as I was being cuffed by Agent Lowe, whom I understood was in control of the circus at the cottage: the many young men that had given me rides on those expansive highways I had traveled along, learning and studying me for such short miles; how quickly a Swiss Army knife could pass over the stringent cords that ran along a smooth neck and cause profuse bleeding; violent and sometimes unsafe sex with male strangers; headlights on various vehicles; my different aliases throughout the years; makes and models of vehicles along different highways. My mind also recalled the few men that I had let live, which I now regretted as Lowe cuffed me. All of it was over for me now. All of it had come crashing down and around me. My persona known as the Highwayman had ended abruptly, just as I had assumed it would. The FBI had deemed such an act possible, with the help of Damian Truth and his damnable sketches and bizarre skills, of course.