'There's an obvious starting place,' Caleb pointed out.
The three of them stared at the sheriff's office and jail next to the courthouse.
'Stop the van, Caleb,' said Annabelle. 'I'll go in.'
'You want some backup?' Reuben wanted to know.
'Not now. We need to keep something in reserve in case things go to hell.'
'How are you going to play it?' Caleb asked. 'FBI or wronged woman?'
'Neither. New angle.'
She checked her face and hair in the rearview mirror, slid open the door and climbed out.
'If I'm not back in ten minutes, pull off and I'll meet you at that end of the street.'
'What if you don't come out at all?' asked Reuben.
'Then assume I blew it, just start driving and don't stop.'
She slid the door closed and walked into the building.
'Hello?' she called out. 'Hello?'
A door opened and Lincoln Tyree stepped into the small waiting area.
'Can I help you, ma'am?'
Annabelle stared up at the tall lawman resplendent in his crisply starched uniform and highly polished boots with a leading man's jaw and brooding eyes.
'I sure hope so. I'm looking for someone.' She drew a photo out of her pocket and showed it to him. 'Have you seen him?'
Tyree studied the photo of Oliver Stone but made no immediate reaction. 'Why don't you step on in here?' He held open his office door.
Annabelle hesitated. 'I just need to know if you've seen him.'
'And I need to know why you're looking for him.'
'So you have seen him?'
He indicated the open door.
Annabelle shrugged and walked past him and into the office. There was another man seated there. He was in a seersucker suit with a red bow tie.
'This here is Charlie Trimble, runs the local paper.'
Trimble shook Annabelle's hand.
Tyree closed the door and motioned for her to sit. He plopped behind his meticulous desk, still clutching the picture.
'Now why don't you tell me what this is all about,' said Tyree.
'This is sort of confidential,' she said, looking at Trimble. 'No offense, but I'd like to speak to the sheriff in private.'
Trimble got up. 'We can talk more later, Sheriff.' He glanced over at the photo. From this angle he could see it was the man he knew as Ben. 'Maybe you and I can talk later too, ma'am.'
Once he'd left Annabelle said, 'My name is Susan Hunter. Here's my ID.' She handed him across a professionally done and totally fake driver's license. 'The man in the photo is my father. He might go by Oliver or John, or maybe another name.'
'Why so many names?' asked Tyree as he studied the license before handing it back.
'My father worked for the government many years ago. He left under somewhat unusual circumstances. Ever since then he's sort of been on the run.'
'Unusual circumstances? Is he a criminal?'
'No, these unusual circumstances are that enemies of this country are looking to kill him because of what he did to them.'
'Enemies? Like who?'
'Like governments, the names of which you would recognize. I don't claim to know the whole story, only that between the ages of six and when I started college, we moved fourteen times. Different names, histories, jobs were lined up for my parents, we had handlers.'
'Then y'all were sorta like in witness protection?'
'Sort of, yes. My dad was a real American hero who did incredibly dangerous work for his country. That work came with a price, though. We've been paying that price for a long time.'
Tyree rubbed his chin. 'That might explain a lot.'
Annabelle leaned forward eagerly. 'So he has been here?'
He leaned back in his chair. 'He was, yes. Called himself Ben, Ben Thomas. How'd you track him up here?'
'Something he managed to send me, a coded message. But it hasn't been easy. I've been to just about every small town in the general vicinity. I was running out of hope.'
'Well, like I said, he was here, but he's not here now.'
'Where did he go?'
'He was in the hospital the last time I saw him.'
'Hospital? Was he hurt?'
'Got himself nearly blown up. He was okay, though. I went by the hospital early this morning to see him but he was gone.'
'Gone voluntarily?'
'I don't know the answer to that.'
'You said he was nearly blown up?'
'We've had some strange things happening here. Haven't gotten my arms around it. Your dad was helping me. And he's not the only one missing. Fellow named Danny Riker was at that hospital too. Had a guard posted to watch him because some folks tried to kill him. But Danny slipped by my guy and he's gone too.'
'And you have no idea where my father might be?'
'No ma'am, I don't. Wish I did. I'm a one-man police force in over my head. But if he was in protection why is he on the run now?'
'A few weeks ago an attempt was made on my father's life. He made sure I was okay and then he left. The way the attempt came I believe he thought it was an inside job.'
'Well, if he was looking to hide out here and get a little peace and quiet, he was sorely mistaken.'
'What are you talking about?'
Tyree took a few minutes to sketch out what had happened in Divine since Stone arrived there.
Annabelle sat back, thinking fast. She didn't want to get bogged down in whatever was happening in Divine. Yet if these events were connected to Oliver's disappearance it also might be the only way to find him.
She rubbed her hands nervously over the arms of her chair. 'Has anybody else been in town, another stranger, asking questions about my father?'
'Not that I know of. He was staying over at Bernie's, that's a little rooming house right around the corner from here. You could check there.'
'I will, Sheriff, and thanks.' She rose and so did Tyree. 'Anybody else in town you think I should talk to?'
'Well, there's Abby Riker. She owns Rita's just down the street. She and Ben seemed to get on right good.'
Was it Annabelle's imagination or did she detect a note of jealously there?
'Thanks.' She handed him a card. 'Here's my phone number in case you think of anything else.'
She left Tyree standing in his office looking troubled.
Outside the jail the man had obviously been waiting for her.
Charlie Trimble said, 'I couldn't help but see the photo of the man you were looking for. I interviewed him in connection with some of the things occurring in town. Perhaps the sheriff explained that to you?'
'Murders and suicides and people getting blown up, yeah, he filled me in. You say you talked to him? What did he tell you?'
'Well, perhaps we could have a bit of negotiation there.'
'Excuse me?'
'I own a newspaper, ma'am. I thought when I moved here and started running the little town paper that the most exciting thing I'd have to report was when someone drove his truck off a mountain road or a mine cave-in.
