"I'm just glad he's okay. But he's got a long road ahead of him. Apparently he has a drug problem."
"Most miners do. Willie Coombs is actually a good young man. He and Danny played ball in high school together. Best of friends but then they had a falling-out."
"Over what?"
"When we were all poor, that was one thing. Then when we got the settlement money Willie seemed to think Danny owed him. We gave him some money, sure, but most of it went up his nose so we stopped."
A tall, thin man came over to them. He was the only man in the place dressed in a suit and tie. His gray hair was neatly parted and fashionably cut. His eyes were gray and alert and his face was deeply lined, carrying the gravitas one usually found in scholars.
Abby said, "Ben, this is Charlie Trimble. He runs the Divine Eagle, the local newspaper."
It was all Stone could do not to leap up and run out of the place.
A smiling Trimble said, "I would love to interview you about your experience with Willie, Ben.Not only because it's an amazing story but it shows why we need to reinstate the volunteer rescue squad program here."
Abby looked at Stone. "Is that okay?"
Stone said slowly, "What I did wasn't all that special. And I'm not looking to get any publicity just because I helped someone."
Trimble smiled more broadly. "And modest too. That will work well in the story angle. It's just a few questions, Ben. We can even do it here or back at my office."
Stone stood. "Abby, if you have some more work for me to do that would be great." He looked at Trimble. "I'm sorry, Mr. Trimble. I'm sure Bob would love to talk to you. He helped as much as I did. Maybe more."
Trimble looked put off. "Just a couple of questions?"
"No, I'm sorry."
Abby gave him a list of jobs to do while Trimble sat at his table, drinking a cup of coffee and staring at Stone. And Stone could feel the burn of the man's gaze.
Stone worked half the day at the restaurant and the other half at Abby's home. And every minute he was desperately trying to think of some way out. If he left Divine he would probably be caught. If he stayed in Divine someone might put two and two together and one morning the feds would rumble into town. For one of the few times in his life, Stone did not know what to do.
On his way back to his rooming house that evening he saw Bob Coombs standing in front of it. The old man looked nervous, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the pavement. Stone crossed the street.
"Hey, Bob, is Willie okay?"
Bob looked nervously around. "Can we talk somewhere private?"
Stone led him up to his room. "What's up?"
"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."
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.
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.