I followed the signs for the county attorney, which pointed me to the basement. An elderly woman sat behind a reception desk loudly chewing gum. She looked up at me suspiciously and put her glasses on to get a better look.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ms. Barnes.”

“One moment.”

She—painfully slowly—picked up the receiver and called someone. She spoke a few words and then realized she hadn’t asked who I was. “Who are you again?”

“Tatum Graham.”

She said my name into the phone and then waited a few seconds before nodding as though the person on the other line could see her.

“You can head back.”

The District and County Attorneys’ Offices in Florida were locked down like military bases. The insane and desperate in the cities needed to take it out on someone, and the prosecutor who had said all those horrible things about them in court was a good place for them to start. The last time I went to the Miami-Dade County Attorney’s Office, I had been searched, ushered through a metal detector, and scanned with a handheld device before my identity then had to be verified. Here in Ute County, I opened the door, walked inside, and had access to the entire place.

Since no one was there to direct me, I wandered around, looking into the various offices. I came across a kid—probably early twenties—who looked at me curiously. A good-looking kid with blond hair and a pencil behind his ear who said, “Tatum Graham?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re . . . you’re really Tatum Graham?”

“In the flesh. And you are?”

He nearly jumped out of his chair and almost tripped over it. He held out his hand. “Will. Will Aggie. One of the deputy county attorneys here.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Will.”

“I watched some of your trial with Marcus Green on Court TV. I mean, it was awful what happened and all, but the trial itself was amazing. I mean, the way you got the prior convictions for the victim in by introducing them as eleven-oh-two statements was incredible. I never would’ve thought that would work.”

“Well, you gotta throw everything at the wall and see what sticks.”

“I just read something about you quitting your law practice after that case. Is that true?”

I glanced around. “Is your boss here?”

“Gates?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, sure. The big office at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.”

As I strolled down the hall, I felt him looking at me. When I turned around he was leaning out of his office, staring at me.

Gates was writing something on a notepad. She stopped when she realized I was there, placed the pen down, and leaned back with a grin. “I thought you’d’ve left by now,” she said.

I sat down across from her and rubbed my forehead. “You got any Advil?”