He'd picked up the wine

  bottle where he'd found her. 

  "DID YOU USE MY WIFE LAST NIGHT?!?" He'd stalked up to the other man with the bottle cocked like a catapult.  Some women scattered into angles and hurriedly fished photographic equipment from various handbags. 

  "WHO ARE THEY?" He called to fact-gatherers. 

  "Like umpires in this time of suspension." 

  "TAKE MY PICTURE!" He roared. 

  "Bah, but it, it looks awfully threatening whatcher doin' there Suh." 

  "They won't do it." A man sadly folded a flip phone. 

  "What do you mean (i)won't(i)?" 

  "The organization won't let the Networks break in." 

  "Not even with (i)breaking(i)?" 

  People looked out of the plywood cubicles for Press and Media at the cars going around and around the track. 

  "Come on! Let's beat the storms getting there!" 

  Moon half covered in a jagged mountain of cloud.  The Bronco now creeping, now flying.  Big squares of highway. 

  "They're closing in on us." 

  (i)gulp(i) "Any soda left?" 

  "No pop honey, it's too much sugar (i)sugar(i)." 

  "You seem distracted." 

  She held up a hand, two fingers poking through a cut seam of skirt pocket. 

  "What's missing?" 

  "My silver bullet." 

  A black towncar pulled into the empty parking lot first.  Man got out.  Fancy cowboy boots, perfectly pressed dress pants, and two different kinds of flak jacket.  And a boxed cheese danish. 

  Hands to hair.  Pushing it around, it not re-morning-ing (i)ready for the day(i).  "Stay in the truck.  Don't unlock it." 

  "But I don't have the keys!" 

  She held them up, then attached them to a necklace beneath her shirt.  

  "We NEED to talk," the man came towards. 

  "I can't talk to anyone right now." She started walking towards a pile of metal roofing.  The man slammed the cheese danish on the hood of the truck.  Cussed.  Motioned and spoke slowly, (i)Open the door(i). 

  "I can't Mr. you're not my husband or Dad.  We're all property of you guys." 

  Pulling a folded up sheet of looseleaf out of a pocket and three or four mugshots out of another, he spoke slowly and lips articulated, "Stay there." 

  The woman was shaking arms and hands and looked to be almost dancing as she shook the loose combs from a head full of hair. 

  (i)THWAP!(i) the word MATCH between a name and a mug shot was smacked against the window and held there.  The man looked around all face and lips.  "EX.  I CHECKED." 

  "Now open the door honey." 

  "(i)No.(i)" 

  The man let the photo and name slide down the window.  He grabbed the cheese danish and slid himself down the side of the truck.  Struggled to open the box as a line of headlights flooded the scene.