"Talked to Willie this morning and the docs over at the hospital and some things don't make sense."

"Like what?"

"It was sort of like you said. Drugs Willie said he took don't add up to what happened to him."

"Was it crack?"

"That's what Willie said he was on."

"He might have made a mistake."

Bob was shaking his head. "I know some folks think Willie's nothing but a pillhead, but he's not. He's a smart boy but killing himself in the mines. Started there right out of high school and looks like he's been there thirty years, just the way it is. But if he said it was crack, it was crack, you can count on it."

Stone studied him, not really sure why the man was telling him this. "Well, if you think something's wrong, Bob, you should let Sheriff Tyree know."

"I was wondering, sort of, if you could maybe step in."

"Me? Step in what exactly?" Stone said cautiously.

"You saved Willie's life. Easy to see you been around, know stuff. I was just hoping maybe you could talk to Willie, get his side of things and see what you can find out."

"I'm not a PI."

"Lost my son, see. Willie's the only thing I got left. Can't lose him too. Well, that's all I got to say. If you go see Willie, I thank you. And if you don't I still thank you for all you done."

"Has that fellow Trimble from the paper been by to see you?"

"Yep. Had some questions. Told him what you did. He said he's writing up the story. Said you wouldn't talk to him."

"I'm not much into tooting my horn. Is he from Divine?"

"Oh, no, he retired here. Got a little place up near the river and then took over running the newspaper here."

"Was he into journalism before?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Where?"

"Somebody told me once. The Washington Post."

Oh, shit.

"Look, Ben, I can pay you if you'd look into it."

"Bob, go see the sheriff. That's his job. Not mine."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Bob. I can't."

LATER, Stone walked to the craft shop and did something he really didn't want to, but he was out of options. He called Reuben.

"Oliver, tell me where you are," he said immediately.

"Just listen, Reuben. I need some information."

Another voice came on the line. It was Annabelle.

"Oliver, we want to help you. But you've got to tell us where you are."

"I'm not getting you involved in this, Annabelle. So stop trying to help me. I don't deserve it anyway."

"I don't care if you killed those men. What I care about is you."

Stone took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, Annabelle, I really do." Stone glanced up to see Wanda, the shopkeeper, eyeing him from across the room. He smiled and turned away from her.

"Oliver, are you there!"

"Look, it means a lot to me that you want to help, it really does. But if I'm going to go down, it's going to be just me, not all of you."

"But-"

He cut her off. "If you really want to help me, put Reuben back on."

He could hear her accelerated breathing for a few seconds and then Reuben said, "What do you need?"

"Has Knox or anyone else been back?"

"No." Technically Reuben wasn't lying since Annabelle had gone to see Knox, not the other way around. In fact, they were parked out on Knox's street right now watching and waiting for the man's next move.

"The news said that they have all the airports, train and bus stations under watch."

"I heard that too."

"That's a lot of ground to cover, even for the FBI."

"They're working with Homeland Security on this, which has opened up all local resources as well. Lot of street cops out there looking."

"You said Knox knew it was John Carr, and that he and I were one and the same."

"That's right. Though nothing in the press has said anything about John Carr now being Oliver Stone."

"Have any photos of me been circulated?"

"Not to my knowledge. At least publicly. But who knows what's going on behind the scenes."

Stone leaned against the wall and studied a miniature black bear formed from a lump of coal. Coal is king. Stone is dead. "Any idea if they think I'm still in the area?"

"Are you?"

"Reuben!"

"Okay, slit my throat for caring. Nothing specific, but you can count on the fact that any place within a few hundred miles of D.C. will be under close watch."

Stone sighed. "Thanks for the info, Reuben. I hope I won't have to call you again."

"Oliver, wait-"

Stone hung up the phone and walked toward the front of the shop, managing a smile at Wanda as he passed her.

She said, "Heard about Willie. That sure was real smart of you."

"I'm just glad I could help."

"I told my husband about it. He was in the army. I told him I heard you were too. He wanted to know which part."

"The part that fought in Vietnam," Stone said as he closed the door behind him.

He went back to the rooming house and packed his few belongings. The bus ride to the vicinity of Divine had taken three hours from where they had gotten off the train. He remembered the general direction they'd come, but the corkscrew roads and hairpin curves were impossible to recall with any specificity. He thought back to the night he and Danny had come here via hog truck. He remembered the towers of Dead Rock prison. The main street of Divine. The warm bed above Rita's. The shotgun in his face the next morning. Abby Riker's scowl that had somehow turned to a smile.

He waited until it was well dark and then headed out of town. His route carried him past the road leading to Willie's place. A few minutes later he saw the burn of car headlights coming his way and he quickly stepped off the main road and onto the dirt one leading to Willie's trailer. He quickly retreated into some bushes lining the dirt drive as he waited for the car to pass. He only got a glimpse at the driver as it sped by and continued to watch as the car kept on going before it rounded a curve and its rear lights vanished.

Stone looked back at the main road and then glanced the other way. He was on his way again when yet another car came along the main drag, forcing him to scurry once more back down the road to Willie's place. He obviously hadn't waited until it was late enough. Right now, for him, every car could be a state trooper with his digital picture painted on the laptop computer in the cruiser.

He hustled down the dirt road and stopped. The car was parked in front of Willie's trailer and there was a light on inside. He glanced at the car; it was a small red two-door Infiniti. He looked inside. There was a purse on the front seat and the smell of cigarette smoke was heavy. He peered around at the trailer. The front screen door was partially open. He heard a small crash from inside.

He quickly moved up the steps and said, "You okay?"

"Who is it? Who's there?" It was a woman and her voice trembled.

She appeared at the door a moment later; a tall bleached blonde with a spare tire wedged into slim jeans and spiky heels. A cigarette dangled from her left hand. She looked to be in her late forties, although the amount of makeup she had on made it difficult to tell.

"I'm Ben, the man who helped Willie last night." Her features looked familiar. "Are you Willie's mom, Shirley Coombs?"

She took a drag on her cigarette and nodded absently, but the suspicious look only deepened. "How'd you know that?"

"You look like each other." Stone glanced over her shoulder into the trailer. She followed his gaze and said hurriedly, "I came over to check on things when I heard 'bout Willie. Got folks round here that might take advantage of him being laid up in the hospital. Messing with his stuff and all."

It occurred to Stone that Mom might've been messing with her son's stuff too.