Caitlin hunches low behind the wheel of her car and takes a sip from a can of diet Dr Pepper. She’s parked between two trucks in the lot of the Bargain Barn on Highway 15. She knows Darla was lying. The girl was so flustered that she’s bound to panic and leave the store at her first opportunity. Forty minutes have passed since Caitlin left the store, but her cell phone has not rung. Despite Caitlin’s promises of confidentiality, Darla was too rattled for that. But Caitlin has dealt with enough sources to recognize the signs of panic. This is a lot like fishing, or what she remembers her father trying to teach her of it during the summers she stayed with him. Only out here there’s nowhere to pee. Using her cell phone, she’s trying to Google some more recent information on local Pentecostals when Darla McRaney hurries through the door of the Bargain Barn, looks right and left, then runs to an ancient Pacer hatchback parked in the corner of the lot. Once she’s inside, Caitlin starts her own car but stays low behind the wheel until the Pacer reaches the highway turn. Darla crosses the westbound lanes, then turns east toward Vidalia and Natchez. Caitlin follows, but since there aren’t many traffic lights on this road, she leaves ten or twelve car lengths between them. Less than a mile down the highway, the Pacer turns into a used- car dealership. It’s a small operation with older-model cars and pickup trucks parked on a vacant lot with the grass worn down to mud in many places. Garish signs scream EASY TERMS! and NO MONEY DOWN! while the banner over the gate reads NO CREDIT, NO PROBLEM! Caitlin pulls onto the shoulder fifty yards from the entrance, then gets out and walks into the parking lot of the adjacent business, a small engine-repair shop. Its parking lot is crowded, making a covert approach to the car lot easy. Ten yards from the border between the lots, she sees Darla gesturing vehemently at a silver-haired, red-faced man. They’re standing between a van and a large SUV, apparently to shield their conversation from anyone in the trailer that serves as the dealership’s office, but Caitlin has a good view of them both. She creeps along the side of a trailer until she hears Darla call the man Pastor Simpson. That’s got to be right, Caitlin thinks, because now she remembers Simpson from the story she did on charismatic religions. Having heard enough to be sure of what she’s seeing, Caitlin steps out of cover and walks right up to the pair. “Pastor Simpson?” she says. “I’d like to speak to you for a minute.” Simpson looks up sharply, as though prepared to respond angrily, but then he mistakes Caitlin for a customer. “Ma’am, I’m busy just now, but if you’ll wait a minute, I’ll be right with you.” “I’m not here about a car.” “That’s her,” Darla says anxiously. “The newspaper lady.” “Aw, hell,” Simpson says. “What do you want with me?” “I’m here about Linda Church.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I never heard a nobody by that name.” Caitlin sighs wearily. “I find that hard to believe, since the first person Darla ran to after I questioned her about Linda was you.” “Well, you flustered this poor girl. I’m her pastor. She’s afraid you’re going to put her in the newspaper or somethin’.” Caitlin holds up both hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not here to put anybody in the newspaper.” “That’s a bald-faced lie,” says Simpson with conviction. “That’s what you live for, to see your name in the paper. I remember the story you did on our church, don’t think I don’t. You twisted the truth ever which way to make us look like fools. I got nothin’ to say to you.” Caitlin steps closer and speaks with all the sincerity she can muster. “Sir, my only concern is the safety of Linda Church. She’s a material witness to a major crime, and I believe her life is in danger.” “Well, what’s that got to do with us?” “I believe you helped Linda. I think you got Darla to carry a note from Linda to Penn Cage.” “What makes you think that?” “The mayor and I are very close friends.” Simpson snorts. “Livin’ in sin is what you mean, ain’t it?” “Mr. Simpson, I believe you acted as a Good Samaritan to Linda, just as your faith teaches, but I’m not sure you understand how dangerous the people who are looking for her are. If you really want to help Linda, you’ll tell me how to find her. I’ll make sure she receives around-the-clock protection.” Simpson stares at Caitlin for a long time, as though about to come clean. Then he says, “It’s hard to stay protected when you’re on the front page of a newspaper. I tell you what, missy. If Linda Church had asked me for help—and I’m not saying she did—I woulda got her straight outta town where no slimy sons-of-bitches could hurt her. Okay? Now, that’s all you’re gonna get from me without the sheriff.” Caitlin turns to Darla, but before she can speak, Simpson interposes himself between them. “You leave this girl here alone too, or I’ll have some law on you. We don’t take kindly to harassment on this side of the river, especially by the likes of you. Now, get off my lot.” Caitlin tries to step around Simpson to address Darla directly, but he steps in front of her and shoves her backward. “That’s assault,” Caitlin says quietly. “You don’t get your ass off my property,” Simpson snarls, his eyes blazing, “I’ll show you some battery too. Git!” Caitlin holds her ground for a face-saving moment, then turns and walks back to her car.