A moment later Bell hurried back into the room. “Got it!” He examined the sheet of paper in his hand then began tracing directions on the map, ending at Location B-4. He circled a spot. “Right here. Head of investigations at revenue said it was a big operation. They raided it a year ago and busted up the still. One of his agents checked out the place a couple, three months ago and saw that somebody’d painted it brown so he looked it over good to see if it was being used again. But he said it was empty so he didn’t pay any more mind. Oh, and it’s about twenty yards from a good-sized Carolina bay.”

“Is there any way to get a car in there?” Rhyme asked.

“Has to be,” Bell said. “All stills’re near roads—to bring the supplies in and get the finished ’shine out.”

Rhyme nodded and said firmly, “I need an hour alone with her—to talk her out. I know I can do it.”

“It’s risky, Lincoln.”

“I want that hour,” Rhyme said, holding Bell’s eye.

Finally Bell said, “Okay. But if Garrett gets away this time it’s gonna be a full-out manhunt.”

“Understood. You think my van can make it there?”

Bell said, “Roads aren’t great but—”

“I’ll get you there,” Thom said firmly. “Whatever it takes, I’ll get you there.”

Five minutes after Rhyme had wheeled out of the County Building, Mason Germain watched Jim Bell return to his office. He waited a moment and, making sure no one saw him, he stepped into the corridor and headed toward the front door of the building.

There were dozens of phones in the County Building Mason could have used to make his call but instead he pushed outside into the heat and walked quickly across the quadrangle to a bank of pay phones on the sidewalk. He fished into his pockets and dug out some coins. He looked around and when he saw he was alone he dropped them in, looked at a number on a slip of paper and punched in the digits.

Farmer John, Farmer John. Enjoy it fresh from Farmer John…. Farmer John, Farmer John. Enjoy it fresh from Farmer John….

Staring at the row of cans in front of her, a dozen over-all-clad farmers staring back with mocking smiles, Amelia Sachs’s mind was clogged with this inane jingle, the anthem for her foolishness.

Which had cost Jesse Corn his life. And had ruined hers as well.

She was only vaguely aware of the cabin where she now sat, a prisoner of the boy she’d risked her life to save. And of the angry exchange now going on between Garrett and Mary Beth.

No, all she could see was that tiny black dot appearing in Jesse’s forehead.

All she could hear was the singsong jingle. Farmer John … Farmer John …