“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.”
CHAPTER 30
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.
Okay. “I was sorry to hear about your husband.”
She stiffened. “Who told you about him? Bob?”
“No, Sheriff Tyree. He mentioned the hunting accident. Pretty tragic.”
“Yeah, real tragic.”
Stone looked at her quizzically. “I hope Willie will be okay,” he said, after an awkward silence.