“No, never. I take it that he is either a captain or a lieutenant because of the color of his shirt, but I couldn’t see his collar.”

“What time did all this take place?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said.

“It’s very important. Was it before or after eleven?”

“Oh, after. It was way after eleven. Why?”

“The shift changes at eleven. So does the shift OIC. While you were at the institution, how many different officers did you see?” I asked.

“One in the control room. Three in the chapel.”

“Wonder how many saw you.”

She shuddered at that.

“You willing to come with me to report this to the warden, the inspector, and the sheriff?”

“What? No. Absolutely not. I’m . . . No. Never.”

“I have to report it.”

“I don’t. I’m not. I’m gonna work on getting Tony transferred and never come back here again.”

“But—”

“Don’t even think about involving me. If anybody from the prison or the cops ask, I’m gonna swear that none of this ever happened.”

“Then why’d you tell me?”

“I want you to check on Tony, take care of him, help him. Protect him from those officers.”

“Be a lot easier to do with your statement.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I . . . just . . . can’t.”

I nodded. “Okay. Want me to get the sheriff to assign someone to watch you while we work on this?”

“You can do that? You’re something else, Chaplain.”

“No. Just related to him.”

18

“What exactly are we doing here?” Anna asked.

We were sitting at the large conference table in the medical break room.

Designed more for meetings than breaks, it was a conference room with a Coke machine. The corridor ending here led past the steel doors of the suicide cells on one side and the glass walls of the infirmary on the other.

I was drinking a can of Florida orange juice, she a Diet Coke.

“We’re taking a break,” I said.

She looked confused.

“We’re state employees. We take lots of them.”

“Oh, we do?”

“Okay, so we never do,” I said, “but today we’re turning over a new leaf.”

I had called her just after returning from my meeting with Molly Thomas, and just before calling both Dad about assigning a deputy to watch her and Tom Daniels to fill him in and ask about getting the FDLE crime scene technicians to examine the chapel floor for trace evidence that might verify Molly’s story.

Anna sipped some more of her Diet Coke, then raised the can and said, “To taking more breaks.”

I held my juice up and we clinked cans.

“What we’re really doing here,” I whispered, “is looking for clues.”

Her eyes widened. “Clues? Cool. Am I playing Watson to your Holmes? Actually, I should be Nancy Drew or your Girl Friday.”