Actually Stone was sure. He was six-two with exceptionally long arms. He had gauged that with the muzzle perched in his mouth he could have managed to pull the trigger. Barely. He thought back to the photo of Debby that Willie had shown him. There was no way the petite Debby could have done it.

Someone had killed her.

Stone walked outside. That's when he noticed the sign on the one-story building across the street.

Peterson's Accounting Service.

He crossed the street and peered in one of the windows. He saw a desk, file cabinets and shelves and a dead corn plant. Other than that the place looked to have been cleared out. There wasn't a computer, printer or fax machine in sight. He noticed some people passing by on the street who were staring at him. He smiled at them and ambled off. Crossing back to the other side of the street, he pretended to be window-shopping. He passed by the bakery and decided to go inside when he saw Bob Coombs standing at the counter.

"Hey, Bob, how's Willie doing?"

Bob smiled and said, "Docs say he'll be coming home real soon."

"I'm going over to see him today. I've been using his truck. Hope it's okay."

"After what you did, you can use anything of his you want."

Bob bought a cup of coffee and some donuts while Stone admired the half-finished mural of a country meadow scene on the wall behind the cash register. Bob offered to buy Stone a coffee but he declined.

The two men walked outside where Stone said, "I ran into your daughter-in-law the other night. She told me that the whole town blames her for something. Any idea what?"

Bob's features turned dark as he bit into his donut. "It was because of Josh's death. He wasn't even supposed to be hunting that damn day. Shirley had been nagging him about not killing any deer that season. Now, Josh was a good hunter, but the truth was Shirley didn't give a crap about eating venison. Couldn't cook it worth nothing, all gamey. It was just her way of cutting Josh down. Well, she wouldn't stop nagging and Josh finally headed out that morning by himself. He was real upset."

"How'd you learn all that?"

"Josh called me when he was driving over to the woods and told me what had happened. Hour later my boy was dead."

As the two men parted company, Stone glanced over at the courthouse. There was a white Cadillac parked in front with the license plate HCDJ. Then Stone froze when he saw her.

Why was Shirley Coombs going into the courthouse?

CHAPTER 44

AFTER A LONG DRIVE Annabelle and Caleb had arrived in the town where Stone had gotten off with Danny. Annabelle had done a quick recon of the small downtown area and then settled herself at the counter of the venerable One T. A few other butts were parked next to hers, all of them male. She got more than one look from some of the younger men at the counter. She shot back a smile here, a nod there to keep the interest stoked in case it came in handy later.

"Where you coming from?" the waitress asked her as she poured coffee into Annabelle's mug.

" Winchester, Virginia." To Annabelle, mentioning that area was good enough to give her a bit of rural cred.

"Got a cousin lives up that way. Horse farm."

"It's pretty country," Annabelle agreed, sipping her coffee and ordering off the menu. "Kind of reminds me of around here, only a little flatter."

The man next to her chuckled. He was big and broad and wore a checkered shirt, jean jacket with Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s image on it and boots with all the shine worn off. "Just about anything's flatter than 'round here."

"You been out to see the Rockies?" Annabelle said.

"No, ma'am, can't say I have."

"They're a lot bigger than these mountains, but not nearly as pretty. Just chunky and brown with a top hat of snow. Not many trees. These mountains are green."

"You just passing through or looking to mark yourself out a piece of green?" said the waitress, coming back to them after placing Annabelle's order.

"Neither, really. I'm looking for somebody. Maybe you've seen him?"

The waitress and Annabelle's stool mate glanced at each other.

"Who might that be?" said the man warily.

"Son of a bitch ex-husband who skipped town owing a year's worth of child support for our two kids."

"Prick," said the man. "What's he look like?"

Annabelle gave them a description of Knox.

"Sounds like the feller who was in here asking questions right before I finished my shift," said the waitress as she made doodles on her order form. "He was a fed. Least he said he was. Asking questions. Didn't like that."

Annabelle said, "He is a fed. And I know Uncle Sam's paying him enough to keep his kids clothed, with food on the table. Got a tip he was working on something up this way. That's why I'm here. Tired of the man coming and going when he pleases. You think he gives a crap I can't even afford proper meds for our son? He's got really bad asthma. Almost died once."

"Prick," the jean jacket man said again as he pushed a forkful of biscuits and gravy in his mouth, and chewed with a force to match his choice of words.

"If you see him, don't say anything," Annabelle warned. "He's armed and prepared to use it. Don't get him pissed. Believe me, I've been on the receiving end of that."

"Are you telling me the asshole struck you?" the jean man asked as he swallowed his mouthful and partially lifted his wide butt from his narrow seat.

Annabelle said, "Just be real careful around him, you hear me?" Every time she spoke her voice picked up more of a drawl, as though she was absorbing their twang whenever they opened their mouths. She edged him back on his stool with her hand.

"So what's your plan?" said the waitress, obviously taking an avid interest in this little drama.

"I'm going to find his ass." Annabelle handed her a slip of paper. "You see him, call me on this number please."

The waitress nodded. "My old man did that crap to me too. Took me eight years but I got my money."

"Hope I'm as lucky. Any place to stay around here?"

"Don't go to Skip's Motel down the street," said the waitress, a smile playing across her lips.

"Why not?"

"'Cause that's where he's staying, honey. Or at least he asked for a place to crash and I told him about that one. Try Lucy's at the other end of town. She's got a couple nice rooms for let."

"Thank you. Skip's, huh?"

"You got it, sweetie."

The waitress grabbed Annabelle's plate off the pass-through counter and put it down in front of her. "So what's your plan to nail the scumball, honey?"

"I brought someone with me," Annabelle said. "He works for the government too and he specializes in bagging other feds who pull crap like this."

"Shit," said jean jacket man. "They got a department for that too? No wonder our taxes are so damn high."

"Hush up, Herky," said the waitress. "Can't you tell this young lady's distressed?"

"Sorry, ma'am," said Herky, his gaze downcast as he stuffed a whole sausage patty in his mouth.

"So you gonna nail the little weasel good?" said the waitress eagerly.

"Something like that. Just give me a call if you see him and meantime I'll check out Skip's too. Thanks for the tip."

Annabelle finished eating and ordered some takeout for Caleb.

She walked out of the diner, looking cautiously around for Knox. She made it back to the van and told Caleb what had happened.

"Apparently he's staying at this Skip's Motel. We can ease down there and see if we pick up his trail. If not, I've got friends in high places here now."

Caleb looked at the platter of food. "It's all fried," he said in dismay.

"I'm sorry, Caleb, that's all they had."

"Not even any yogurt? Or fruit? Do you have any idea what my LDL cholesterol count is? And my triglycerides are off the charts. I could literally drop dead at any moment, Annabelle."