Stone looked out the window. “That.”

Knox crowded next to him and gazed down at the lights of the prison.

“Supermax prison,” Stone volunteered.

“Why the hell are drug runners taking us to a super—” Knox broke off, his face ashen. “We’re screwed.”

“Yes, we are.”

Chapter 60

CHAPTER 60

AS THE VAN DRIFTED down the street early the next morning, Annabelle, Caleb and Reuben eyed the people walking by on the sidewalks; several of them stared back with suspicion.

“Not a very welcoming lot, are they?” said Caleb.

“Why should they be?” growled Reuben. “They don’t know who we are or what we want. All they know is that we’re not from here.”

Annabelle nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to tread carefully.”

“We may not have time to tread carefully,” Reuben pointed out. “Knox had a big head start. He might have already gotten to Oliver for all we know.”

“There’s an obvious starting place,” Caleb pointed out.

The three of them stared at the sheriff’s office and jail next to the courthouse.

“Stop the van, Caleb,” said Annabelle. “I’ll go in.”

“You want some backup?” Reuben wanted to know.

“Not now. We need to keep something in reserve in case things go to hell.”

“How are you going to play it?” Caleb asked. “FBI or wronged woman?”

“Neither. New angle.”

She checked her face and hair in the rearview mirror, slid open the door and climbed out.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, pull off and I’ll meet you at that end of the street.”

“What if you don’t come out at all?” asked Reuben.

“Then assume I blew it, just start driving and don’t stop.”

She slid the door closed and walked into the building.

“Hello?” she called out. “Hello?”

A door opened and Lincoln Tyree stepped into the small waiting area.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Annabelle stared up at the tall lawman resplendent in his crisply starched uniform and highly polished boots with a leading man’s jaw and brooding eyes.

“I sure hope so. I’m looking for someone.” She drew a photo out of her pocket and showed it to him. “Have you seen him?”

Tyree studied the photo of Oliver Stone but made no immediate reaction. “Why don’t you step on in here?” He held open his office door.

Annabelle hesitated. “I just need to know if you’ve seen him.”

“And I need to know why you’re looking for him.”

“So you have seen him?”

He indicated the open door.

Annabelle shrugged and walked past him and into the office. There was another man seated there. He was in a seersucker suit with a red bow tie.

“This here is Charlie Trimble, runs the local paper.”

Trimble shook Annabelle’s hand.

Tyree closed the door and motioned for her to sit. He plopped behind his meticulous desk, still clutching the picture.