Stone worked half the day at the restaurant and the other half at Abby’s home. And every minute he was desperately trying to think of some way out. If he left Divine he would probably be caught. If he stayed in Divine someone might put two and two together and one morning the feds would rumble into town. For one of the few times in his life, Stone did not know what to do.

On his way back to his rooming house that evening he saw Bob Coombs standing in front of it. The old man looked nervous, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the pavement. Stone crossed the street.

“Hey, Bob, is Willie okay?”

Bob looked nervously around. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Stone led him up to his room. “What’s up?”

“Talked to Willie this morning and the docs over at the hospital and some things don’t make sense.”

“Like what?”

“It was sort of like you said. Drugs Willie said he took don’t add up to what happened to him.”

“Was it crack?”

“That’s what Willie said he was on.”

“He might have made a mistake.”

Bob was shaking his head. “I know some folks think Willie’s nothing but a pillhead, but he’s not. He’s a smart boy but killing himself in the mines. Started there right out of high school and looks like he’s been there thirty years, just the way it is. But if he said it was crack, it was crack, you can count on it.”

Stone studied him, not really sure why the man was telling him this. “Well, if you think something’s wrong, Bob, you should let Sheriff Tyree know.”

“I was wondering, sort of, if you could maybe step in.”

“Me? Step in what exactly?” Stone said cautiously.

“You saved Willie’s life. Easy to see you been around, know stuff. I was just hoping maybe you could talk to Willie, get his side of things and see what you can find out.”

“I’m not a PI.”

“Lost my son, see. Willie’s the only thing I got left. Can’t lose him too. Well, that’s all I got to say. If you go see Willie, I thank you. And if you don’t I still thank you for all you done.”

“Has that fellow Trimble from the paper been by to see you?”

“Yep. Had some questions. Told him what you did. He said he’s writing up the story. Said you wouldn’t talk to him.”

“I’m not much into tooting my horn. Is he from Divine?”

“Oh, no, he retired here. Got a little place up near the river and then took over running the newspaper here.”

“Was he into journalism before?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Where?”

“Somebody told me once. The Washington Post.”

Oh, shit.

“Look, Ben, I can pay you if you’d look into it.”