Shaw walked into the Steuben County Sheriff’s Office, where he asked to see Detective Sonya Malloy.

As he waited in the small entry hall, he thought: Odds this’ll be productive? Ten percent tops.

Still, the woman, in her thirties, handsome, eyes still and unsmiling, came to collect Shaw and escort him back to her office. He had not worn his concealed weapon because when you go to police stations, that causes all kinds of high blood pressure.

Malloy seemed sharp, well-organized, conscientious. The folders on her desk—all closed when he arrived in her small, cramped office—were laid out according to time and date priorities. But there were a lot of them, and more on the credenza behind her. It told Shaw that the department was overstretched—like lawyer Cummings’s firm. Not much incentive to look too deeply into a—literally—smoking-gun case. Take the fast and easy ones when you can. Close them quickly and move on.

Shaw explained to Malloy that Sterling’s father had offered a reward for information that would lead to his son’s being exonerated either by identifying another individual as the killer or uncovering facts that would prove Sterling was innocent of the crime. Shaw had come to town for that reward.

Unlike the lawyer, Malloy was clearly defensive at his presence. She told Shaw that he would have no access to police reports, statements, or other documentation, only information that was already in the public record. Shaw confirmed that he understood this. He said, “I’m sure it was a righteous investigation. It’s just that the parents will feel a lot better knowing that everything was done for their boy. His life is over with.”

She didn’t seem moved. He wondered if she had children herself. Shaw had noted no wedding band and there were no pictures of husband or offspring on the desk, but this was often true about law enforcers. Since suspects—some murderous, some psychotic—were occasionally in their offices, they tended to avoid displaying evidence of their families.

“You do this for a living? Rewards?”

“That’s right.”

Now she seemed less defensive—because, he sensed, she wasn’t taking him seriously. He got this some.

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s the story with Daryl Williams?”

“High-level dealer. One of the main sources of meth, fent and Oxy in this part of the state. I will tell you, Mr. Shaw, I’m not troubled he’s no longer with us.”

“Was this his turf?”

“Steuben County’s a free trade zone. We get some peddlers from Akton—that’s Akron and Canton. Nobody as big as Williams.”

“So he’d have rivals.”

“You’re thinking somebody drove down here, shot him during a deal and left the gun. Make it look like the sale went bad, or the buyers tried to perp his supply?”

“Just considering options.”