“But not so anyone can see it,” said Annabelle. “Crappy on the outside and I bet she doesn’t encourage visitors.”

“She must just like to be surrounded by nice things,” ventured Caleb.

“I’d like to get a look at her bank statement,” said Annabelle. “What do you want to bet it shows she’s loaded?”

“And still staying in this place,” said Reuben. “Why?”

“Greed,” said Caleb, and they both stared at him. “She’s doing something up here, something at that courthouse, and she’s getting paid for it. But she wants more and she won’t get it if she leaves.”

“I bet you’re right, Caleb. Nice deduction. She did strike me as the greedy type.”

“The thing is, do we know it’s connected to whatever happened to Oliver?” asked Reuben. “We could be wasting time with her and meanwhile Oliver might be in serious trouble.”

“I think they are connected, Reuben,” said Annabelle. “From what the sheriff told me, Oliver was right in the middle of all this stuff. I can’t believe a small town like this would have two completely unconnected major secrets. Whatever Shirley’s got going on has to be tied to all the other stuff. It has to. It’s the only thread we’ve got.”

An hour went by and then another. Finally, the front door to the house opened and Shirley came out. She was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved blouse and flats and carried a bag. The way she meandered to her car indicated that at least some of the wine she’d purchased had made its way down her throat.

“She’s going to drive like that, up here?” Caleb said worriedly.

When Shirley shot out of her drive, Caleb followed. They headed back to town and through it. Shirley finally turned off and drove up a dirt road, pulling the car to a stop in front of the demolished trailer.

She popped open the car door, grabbed her bag, and staggered up to what was left of the front steps and sat down. She opened the bag, pulled out the bottle of wine and chugged it. It went down badly and she ended up throwing most of it back up. She tossed the bottle down and lit up a cigarette. Then she started to weep, her head resting on her knees.

“Willie! WILLIE!” she sobbed.

“Can I help?”

Shirley jerked up and saw Annabelle standing there. She wiped her face with her sleeve, stared at her suspiciously for a moment and then shook her head wearily. “Nobody can help me, not now.” She indicated the destroyed mess behind her.

“Was this where your son . . . ?”

Shirley nodded and dragged on her cigarette. “What the hell are you doing here?” she slurred.