“We have to have a bit of good faith there. But I can tell you that he struck me immediately as not being your typical drifter. He was too well-spoken, too cunning. And his physical abilities spoke for themselves. According to what I’ve learned, he beat up three men on a train, saved a man’s life using battery cables and fought off three other men wielding baseball bats. Not your typical wandering soul.”

“He had some special skills, yes.”

“And your relation to him?”

“My father.”

“Excellent. I’d heard he was in the military.”

“Vietnam.”

“Special Forces.”

“Very special.”

“And does he make a habit of wandering the countryside?”

“He had a job in the government for a while but got tired of sitting behind a desk.”

Trimble gave her a patronizing smile. “I doubt your father ever sat behind a desk. If you don’t tell me the truth, I have no reason to accord you any.”

“Well, it seems like I’ve told you a lot already. How about some action on your end?”

“All right, that seems fair actually. Your father has been spending a lot of time with Abby Riker and her son Danny. He’s a troubled youth. Sort of the epitome of the high school poster boy who reached his prime when he was eighteen and everything’s been downhill since.”

“Is he a druggie? A boozer?”

“Not drugs, but he does like his alcohol. His mother won a big lawsuit against a coal company involving an accident that cost her husband his life. So they have a lot of money, live in a big house, but Danny’s life has been off track for a while.”

“The sheriff says he’s missing too.”

“Your father struck me as a good man trying to do the right thing. My advice would be to not assume that anyone else here has those same intentions, including Danny, even though your father saved his life.”

“Would that caveat include you too?” she said.

“I’m a fairly recent arrival here. I called Washington home for forty years. I still have a lot of friends there, get regular updates. And—” Trimble broke off, his eyes seeming to look right through Annabelle and on to something of far greater interest.

“Mr. Trimble?” Annabelle did not like that look at all.

He seemed to refocus on her, but his eyes showed his mind was still elsewhere. “Excuse me, I have something I need to check right now.” He hurried off.

Annabelle raced down the street to the van and climbed in. She quickly filled them both in on what Tyree had told her and her run-in with the reporter.

“You think he suspects who Oliver really is?” asked Caleb.

“I wouldn’t bet against it. And right now our margin of error is zero.”

“Damn, Oliver can’t buy a break, can he?” exclaimed Reuben. “The one town he picks turns out to be teeming with killers.”