The water he'd remembered to put in the bowl outside was still there but the dog food he'd managed to set out was gone. That was the bright spot of the day. When he got to work, made even more paranoid by the attempted sniping of a Dallas cop car in one of the predominantly black balkanized sectors which had dominated the morning news, the damn guys from the AG's office were all over him like white on rice and he was maneuvered into a room and found himself even before he'd had his morning coffee watching Ukie on videotape: “Okay. Start it.” To Eichord with a self satisfied, smiling we-told-you-so-but-you-wouldn't-listen type of nod. “Watch this." “He never lets himself be seen. He stays back. In the shadows. You can see he's tall from the shadows. Tall like a professional basketball nigger. He likes to hur—" “Stop it. There! See that! Go back,” the one named Sawyer told the man standing by the video playback. “What?" “Rewind.
