Doug had debated whether or not to tell Stevens all, and he had decided it would be better for Hobie if he did not. At least not yet. He didn’t want the lawyer to think both of them were nuts, and if Stevens discovered during his research what was really going on here, well, then they’d have another ally on their side. If he discovered nothing, Doug could always fill him in on the details later. “I’ve had trouble too,” Doug admitted.

“If, as I believe, this is a townwide problem, we may be able to work this to our advantage.”

Doug smiled. “Let’s hope so.”

The lawyer looked at him. “Do you think your friend’s guilty? Tell me the truth. We’re covered here by lawyer-client privilege, and it will never go further than this.”

Doug was surprised by the forthrightness of the question. “He’s innocent,” he said.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“What do you think?”

Stevens chuckled, a low mellifluous comforting sound. “I’ll make my decision once I talk to my client.”

At the police station, they were searched, then led into a small room empty save for three chairs and a table, all bolted to the floor. Hobie was brought in, handcuffed, and remained silent until his guard left the room. He looked even worse, even crazier, than he had last night, and Doug had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d been hoping Hobie would make a good impression on the lawyer.

“Okay,” Doug said. “Now we can talk.”

Hobie glanced furtively around. He looked under the table, felt under the chair, as if searching for electronic listening devices. Under other circumstances, the paranoia of Hobie’s reaction would have been funny. But nothing seemed funny anymore.

“There’re no bugs,” Doug said. “Our police department can’t afford any.”

“And even if there were,” Stevens said, “evidence gathered through their use would not be admissible in court.”

“This is your lawyer,” Doug said. “Yard Stevens.”

The lawyer held out a thick pink hand. “How do you do?”

“How do you think? I’m in jail for murder.”

“Did you do it?”

“Hell, no.”

Doug felt a little better. Hobie still looked awful, but the shocked incoherence of last night and the dissolution of the past few weeks seemed to have disappeared. He seemed more confident now, closer to his normally abrasive self.

“Doug?” Stevens turned toward him. “I would like to speak to my client alone from here on. I may need your testimony in court, and I don’t want to jeopardize its validity by allowing you access to privileged information.”

Doug nodded. “Okay. I’ll be waiting right outside.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks,” Hobie said.