An involuntary smile curved James’s lips as deep understanding flowed like a balm over his body. Travis had done it again—eased all anxiety with a simple, but profound truth that was beyond the man’s own level of comprehension. James had often contemplated the possibility that Travis had a direct line to God, to make up for what he lacked otherwise.

Yes, they both had their problems. And there was only one thing to do about that.

Deal with them.

He scooted back the chair and moved to the barred window while he tried to gather his thoughts. Snow fell to the ground in a thick sheet of flakes obscuring the view beyond a few scant feet—Like in here, where the truth was obscured behind a thick blanket of doubt.

“Looks like we’re getting dumped on pretty good.”

James turned and stared at Travis, bemused by the man’s calm exterior. What was going on in Toad’s mind? Was that absolute peace a gift from God? Or was it because Travis had no idea of the implications of his plight?

“Hey, don’t suppose you could oil the chain on my old bike? She’s one of my favorites. Rescued her from the dump and worked real hard on her, and the damp will just…do her in.”

James struggled for patience. He wanted Travis to give him some straight answers, but the guy’s mind just flitted from one thing to the next. He let out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t Toad’s fault, yet his inability to focus was frustrating. Travis lived in the moment, he didn’t have the foresight to plan anything…especially setting a fire that killed. Once again, James wondered how he could clear Travis’s name without any help or understanding at all—not even from Travis, himself.

He moved back to the table and leaned across it, got in Travis’s face. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t!” He straightened and pulled off his jacket. “Travis, listen. I want you to tell me everything that happened exactly. Everything that happened that night after you left the game at Taft.” He chunked his coat across the table and studied Travis in earnest. If he looked like he meant business, maybe Travis would open up more, explain…let something slip the police may have not heard or understood. Something that would clear him. Something James could investigate, could grab hold of, could actively pursue instead of sitting here helpless as a baby.

Travis sucked in a deep breath and then scanned the room as if searching for conspirators. For a brief moment, James thought he was about to hear the truth, but then Travis dug into the pockets of his coveralls and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

He eyed James as he lit one and took in a deep drag.

“You allowed to have those in here?” James asked.

“No, but what’re they gonna do? Put me in jail?”

Travis snickered, but James wasn’t amused. Somehow, he had to get Travis to understand just how grave his situation was.