“No,” Rafe said quickly. “From former inmates who were released after serving their time.”

Shipley visibly relaxed. “Oh good. Current inmate involvement would be a nightmare of paperwork. I can tell you what I remember and I also have notes from my old boss, who’s since passed away. He was the contact of record when the FBI investigated thirty years ago, after Aubrey Franklin robbed his second bank. My boss was old-school thorough and kept copies of everything he said or sent to the FBI. I’ll send his notes when we’re finished here.”

And when I’m satisfied that you’re not lying to me went unsaid.

“Aubrey served fifteen years. He was barely eighteen when he was convicted of the first robbery in the early seventies. I remember his kid brother and his mother. They’d visit like clockwork, twice a month. The mother never believed her son had committed any crime, and the kid brother looked at Aubrey like he was Superman.”

“And his conduct as he served his sentence?” Rafe asked.

“At first he was a belligerent ass,” Shipley said candidly. “I was young and female and . . . well, I suppose you can imagine the comments I got from the prisoners. It toughened me up fast. By the time Aubrey was incarcerated I’d been working on my cell block for more than six months, and I just let his comments roll off my back. Besides, I never believed he was serious. He wasn’t into women my age.”

Mercy felt the edge of anger licking at her control, because Gideon’s face flashed in her mind. Edward McPhearson, a.k.a. Aubrey Franklin, would have raped her brother if Gideon hadn’t fought back. “No, Aubrey was more into young men.”

Shipley nodded. “I got that impression. Did he hurt someone when he got out?”

“Yes,” Mercy said. “But that’s not my story to share.”

Shipley was quiet for a few seconds, studying Mercy. “I understand,” she finally said. “Aubrey got the reputation of a fighter. He worked out and bulked up. Anyone who laid a finger on him got their fingers broken. He broke one inmate’s neck, but he didn’t take credit for it and another inmate took his punishment—thirty days in solitary.”

“Who took his punishment?” Mercy asked.

“Guy by the name of Waylon Belmont.”

Mercy tried hard to contain her excitement, but inside she was jumping up and down. Yes.

“Did he have prison tats?” Rafe asked. “Maybe a teardrop for that broken neck?”

Shipley nodded. “He did.”

“Did Waylon get extra time for the murder?” Mercy asked.

“No,” Shipley said. “Waylon was never formally charged.”

“Because your lives were safer with the asshole dead so it got covered up,” Rafe said flatly.

Shipley shrugged and said nothing.

Mercy approached from a different angle. “Do you know why Waylon took credit for a murder he didn’t do?”

“Now, that’s an actual question,” Shipley said. “Waylon was a troublemaker. He spent a lot of time in solitary. Aubrey’s ‘alleged’ murder of the other inmate happened when Waylon was in the hole. It was his final day for that infraction. He came out of the hole, found out what happened, said he did it, and went back in.”