“How would you like to go on a wild–goose chase with me tomorrow?” I asked him before he could comment on Morrell. “Be a grieving grandfather whose darling baby ran away from jail and died a sad death?”

He revived instantly.

Chapter 18: These Walls Do a Prison Make

18 These Walls Do a Prison Make

The next morning, while Mary Louise sat at my desk organizing files, I collected my maps and set out with Mr. Contreras and the dogs for the long drive across the state to Coolis. The muffler was rumbling more loudly than ever. The air–conditioning didn’t work, so we had to ride with the windows open and our teeth rattling.

“That muffler wasn’t this bad when we picked up the car,” Mr. Contreras observed when we stopped at the Elgin toll plaza to throw in our quarters. “Guy must have stuck it on with duct tape to sell this heap.”

“Let’s hope the thing holds together until we’re back in Chicago.”

The dogs kept their heads out the windows, periodically switching sides as we moved into the real country and they picked up the scent of the river. West of Rockford we pulled over at a rest area for lunch. Mr. Contreras was a willing but uncertain partner in the outing; while the dogs swam in the Fox River we went over his lines until he felt confident enough to fly solo.

Even with that long break, by keeping the Rustmobile roaring at its top speed—around seventy—we managed to get to Coolis a little after twelve. It was a pretty town, built in a valley of two small rivers feeding the Mississippi: the big river lies ten miles to the west. Coolis had been a lead–mining hub in the 1800s, but was close to death when the state decided to build its new women’s prison here.

I’d never known who in Coolis had enough money or clout to grease Jean–Claude Poilevy’s wheels, but as we drove through town to the prison, we passed Baladine Hardware, followed by Baladine Lincoln–Mercury. I could see BB as a boy at Baladine Hardware, playing with the combination locks and fantasizing about someday playing with really big locks and keys. As a friend of Poilevy’s, Baladine would have had the inside track anyway on where the legislature awarded the prison contract, but the decision to build in his family’s town must have taken a major contribution to the Republican party coffers.