“I took it as a compliment. Forget it.”

Mrs. Zoeller blushed slightly. “It’s just that I don’t like that other lawyer Bill got, the new one. Celeste. He keeps calling us on the phone, wantin’ us to sign something for some book or something.”

“A release,” Mr. Zoeller said. “He wants us to sign a release.”

Mrs. Zoeller shook her head. “I don’t think he has Bill’s interests at heart. He’s seeing dollar signs. Now, Bill did tell me about you. He said there was no way you could have murdered anybody.”

“It’s true.”

“He told me he trusted you. I think he really likes you.”

I felt touched. “I like him, too. He’s a nice kid, but he’s in way over his head.”

“I know, I know.” Mrs. Zoeller ran her fingernails across her forehead, leaving a tiny red wake. “It’s all because of Eileen. I warned him about her. First time I met that girl, I said to Gus, ‘She’s half crazy, I swear.’ Didn’t I say that, Gus?”

Mr. Zoeller didn’t reply, but continued staring at my attorney’s card for the Pennsylvania bar. What could be so interesting? Supreme Court ID No. 35417?

Mrs. Zoeller kept shaking her head. “I tried to tell him, but he fell so in love with her you couldn’t tell him anything. Thought she was so smart and exciting. Sophisticated, I guess. He couldn’t see what was right in front of him. That’s just the way he is. The way he’s always been.”

I nodded, identifying.

“And that girl has some history, I’ll tell you. He knew all about it, but he ignored it.”

“Mrs. Zoeller, I can help Bill if you let me. Tell me where he is. I know he’s not responsible for the murder of that CEO.”

She frowned. “Oh, I mean, I don’t know. What do you think, Gus?”

He didn’t answer, but switched the focus of his attention from my bar card to the white doily at the center of the table. Silence fell, and I became suddenly aware of a loud grandfather clock in the corner.Tick, tick, tick.

“Mrs. Zoeller,” I said, “I know it’s hard for you to trust me with Bill’s life, but you have no choice. I’m the only one who can clear him.”

“He’s the only one who can clear you,” Mr. Zoeller countered gruffly.

“Fair enough, I need Bill as much as he needs me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he needs me. I’m the only one who can prove the murder of the CEO was Eileen’s idea. If she did it without him, as I’m sure she did, I may be able to get his charges dropped or at least get him a plea bargain.”

“How can you do that?” Mrs. Zoeller asked, arching a delicate eyebrow. “You’re hiding.”

“I know plenty of criminal lawyers. I’ll get your son the best one I know and tell them he’s telling the truth. I can help Bill without showing myself.”

“What if they put him on trial for murder?” Her voice began to tremble slightly. “Won’t you have to be there and testify?”

“By then I’ll have this thing over with. I have a life to get back to, and a mother of my own.” It was a corny touch, but I wasn’t above it. Not with the stakes this high.

“Oh my. Your mother, too.” Mrs. Zoeller’s hand flew to her chest. “She must be so worried about you.”

“Worried sick.” Sick, sick, sick.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Mrs. Zoeller, you can trust me. I believe in what I do. I believe in the law, whether you’re rich or poor or cop or bad guy. And that’s enough with the speech.”

She smiled cautiously, then looked at her taciturn husband. “Gus, what do you think? Do you think you should take Bennie to see Bill?”

Eeek. “No, wait, Mrs. Zoeller. Tell me where Bill is and I’ll go alone.” I didn’t want Mr. Warmth anywhere near his stepson. Unless I missed my guess, he was half the reason for Bill’s acting out.

“Why? It’s far from here and hard to find. You said you got lost finding us.”

Think fast. “The police might be surveilling you and Mr. Zoeller. They know your car, but they don’t know mine. You don’t want to lead them to Bill, do you? Tell me where he is. I’ll go alone.”

She looked at Mr. Zoeller, who looked at his fingernails. “Gus? Should I?”

He turned his fist over, making her wait.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Gus?” she asked again, and it occurred to me there are many forms of domestic abuse. “Honey?”

“Up to you. He’s your son.”

She turned back to me. “More coffee, dear?”

“I’d love some,” I said.

And she smiled.

Tick.

I got back in the bananamobile with my written directions and Mrs. Zoeller’s homemade map. Bill was holed up in a cabin his uncle owned and kept for hunting. The Zoellers thought it was untraceable to them and also that Bill hadn’t told Eileen about it. I wasn’t so sure. I had to believe Eileen knew about it, and had maybe even been there. A young man and a young girl, not shacking up in a shack? This was still America, wasn’t it?

I studied the map. The cabin was at the godforsaken frontier of the state, probably seven hours north of here and as far west as Pittsburgh. I needed gas, food, and more coffee. I ended up getting it at a minimart far from the Zoellers’ farm, in case there were any cops around.

“Nice car, Jamie,” said the teenaged attendant, who also sold me two bloated hot dogs.

“Jamie?”

“Your license plate.”

“Oh. Right.” I kept my head down, hurried back to the car, and took off.

I drove through tunnels blasted out of stony mountains and around corkscrew highways carved into grassy hills. It began to rain, and I sped by strip mall after wet strip mall. By the time I had gulped down the hot dogs and terrible coffee it was the worst storm the radio disc jockey had ever seen. Thunder rumbled in the western sky and my stomach rumbled, too, but not from the provisions. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore and made a call on my cell phone.

“Is she okay?” I asked, when Hattie picked up.

“What? Bennie? Is that you?”

“Yes. Is she okay?” Gray rainwater pounded on the windshield. Between the storm and the static, we could barely hear each other.

“She’s fine! Fine!”

“When does she have the ECT?” The signal broke completely, and I waited for the crackling to subside.

“-Saturday morning, eleven o’clock! Bennie? You there? You okay?”

More crackling. It was maddening. When it stopped I yelled, “Why so soon? Can’t it wait until I’m there?”

“You worry about yourself! Your momma’s fine!”

“Make them wait, Hattie! You can’t do it alone!”

“She can’t wait!” she shouted, before the signal broke for the last time.

It was inconceivable that cops had followed me here, I couldn’t have followed myself here. I was utterly and completely lost. I sat in the bananamobile with the ignition off and the car light on. Rain pelted the roof, and I turned the homemade map this way and that. As best I could tell, I was in the middle of the woods, in the dark, in a thunderstorm.

There were no streetlights in the magic forest because there were no streets, just skinny, unmarked roads that snaked through the woods. I’d passed a nature preserve an hour ago, but since then the roads meandered around forgotten ponds and alongside endless stretches of trees. Trees were even less help than corn, and they all looked the same. Brown with green at the top. I wished for a match.

I grabbed the Keystone AAA map I’d found in the glove box and held it next to Mrs. Zoeller’s map. I would’ve called her if not for the cell phone records. I didn’t want to leave a paper trail, especially one consistent with the cops’ theory of me as Eileen and Bill’s accomplice. Besides, I should be able to figure this out myself. I stared at one map, then the other. Damn. I should be close.

Fuck it. I felt like I was close; I’d rather drive around and find it. I threw the maps on the mustardy hot dog wrappers, snapped off the light, and slammed the car into reverse. When I clicked on the high beams, they shone on a tiny sign through the trees. 149. What? I rubbed a hole in the foggy windshield with the side of my hand. 149 Cogan Road. That was it! The cabin. Holy shit!