Chapter 45: Visiting Hours

I parked the truck outside the county jail at half past two.

It was a low grey building behind the courthouse, with a flagpole and a parking lot half full.

Cade sat for a minute with his hand on the door.

"Twenty minutes," he said. "I told them twenty."

"I'll be here."

"If it's longer," he said.

"I'll be here."

He got out.

I watched him cross the lot in a clean shirt, no vest, with his shoulders set, and go through the glass doors.

Then I opened the thermos and poured a cup of tea I did not want.

I had a library paperback in my bag, a romance with a pirate on the cover, and I read the same page four times.

The dog slept on the seat beside me with his chin on my thigh.

A woman came out of the building crying and walked to her car with her hand over her mouth.

A man came out grim and silent and drove away fast.

I thought about the stranger in the vest.

I had been thinking about him for two weeks.

Nobody had ever asked what his name was.

The deputy had told me that morning that she would look, for the first time properly.

She had the county's old files and a photograph of Rory's jacket.

"It may take months," she'd said. "It may not be anything."

"Please try."

"I will, Mrs. Donohue," said the deputy.

"Prescott."

"Not for long, I'm guessing," said the deputy, and smiled.

At ten to three the doors opened and Cade came out.

He did not hurry.

He walked across the lot with his hands in his pockets, and I watched his face from forty yards and could not read it.

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