“Yes.” He gives a single hard nod. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m in the clear. That’s why I felt I could come to you.”

I lean back in my chair and look at him, seeing him in a completely different light. He repulses me. I’m aware that Thornsberry has gone silent. “Is there anything else I need to know about any of this?” I ask. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Johnston raises his gaze to mine. “Two days after … that night, Blue Branson and Jerrold McCullough asked me to meet them down at the covered bridge. They beat the hell out of me. They broke two of my fingers. Broke my nose. A couple of ribs.” He looks away. “They basically told me they’d kill me and my parents if I ever said a word to anyone.”

“That’s intimidation,” Thornsberry asserts.

I nod, but my mind is reeling. I stare at Thornsberry, who can’t quite meet my gaze. I can’t look at Johnston; I’m not sure how to handle this, how to feel. While he wasn’t directly complicit in the crimes that were perpetrated that night, he had some advance knowledge. Yet he hadn’t known enough to stop it. Still, once news of the crimes became public, he could have gone to the police. He’s had thirty-five years to come forward and didn’t.

Gathering the file, I rise and turn off the recording device. “Under Ohio code,” I tell both men, “prior knowledge of a crime could mean a complicity charge.”

“I didn’t know anything! I did nothing wrong!” Johnston rises, but Thornsberry presses him back into the chair.

“Chief Burkholder.” Across from me, Thornsberry rises. “He was a minor. Sixteen years old. He’d been intimidated and physically assaulted.” He lowers his voice. “That’s not to mention we have a deal. On tape.”

“I’ll get with the prosecutor,” I tell him. “In the interim, I’ll have a statement typed up for Mr. Johnston to sign. We’ll talk about a deal after he signs it. For now, Norm, you’re not to leave town. Do you understand? One foot over the line, and I will throw everything I’ve got at you.”

Johnston slumps in his chair. “I was a victim, too,” he says.

“The prosecutor won’t bring charges,” Thornsberry tells me. “My client did not break the law. In fact, he just solved a major case for you.”

“I guess it’s about time, isn’t it?” I pick up the file and start toward the door.

Thornsberry blocks my way, smiling, my best friend now. “Because of my client’s position as councilman—and the unlikelihood of any charges being levied against him, I’d like to keep this discussion confidential until an official agreement is reached.”

“This was not a discussion,” I tell him. “It was an interrogation.” I go around him.