“Let’s hit the rooming house fast. The clock is running.”

A few minutes later Annabelle had charmed the entire story out of Bernie Sandusky.

She got back in the van. “Knox was here. He found out about Oliver. Bernie told him that Oliver was in the hospital or else he could try Abby Riker’s place, A Midsummer’s Farm. If Knox went to the hospital and found Oliver gone he might have tried Midsummer. Let’s roll.”

Chapter 61

CHAPTER 61

STONE AND KNOX SAT, manacled to metal chairs that were bolted to the slab floor, in a windowless cement block room painted gray. They’d been here for many hours now and the room was so cold that they were both shivering. They jumped when the door banged open and the group moved in. There were five of them, all in blue uniforms and all armed with pistols and billy clubs dangling from thick belts. They formed a semicircle of flesh behind the pair of prisoners, arms folded across their muscular chests.

So fixated were Stone and Knox on this little army that they didn’t hear the other man come in until he closed the door.

When Stone turned to look at this new arrival, he flinched.

It was Tyree. Only it wasn’t Tyree. Not Lincoln Tyree anyway. It was a shorter, stouter version of the man.

In an instant Stone made the connection—Howard Tyree, the older brother who was also warden of this place. He wore a navy blue polo shirt, pressed khaki pants and tasseled loafers; wire-rimmed glasses covered his clean-shaven face. He didn’t look like a rottweiler warden at a supermax. He looked like an insurance salesman on a golf holiday.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Tyree.

Stone’s heart sank with the words. It was the voice he’d heard when he’d made the call on Danny’s phone. He and the sheriff sounded nearly identical.

Son of a bitch!

The other men had instantly come to attention when Tyree walked in. He sat down behind a small table opposite Stone and Knox. The warden held a file in his hand, opened it and read through the contents.

A minute later he slipped off his glasses and gazed across at Stone. “Anthony Butcher, triple murderer, fortunate enough to have done it in a state that does not believe in capital punishment. So you received a life sentence without possibility of parole instead of the execution you so well deserved. Transferred out of four different correctional facilities over the last twelve years, including the supermax in Arkansas, because you have an anger issue.” He glanced down at the file. “And a problem respecting authority.”