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Mister Miles. And I don’t like it when troublemakers come back to my town. What’s your business here?”
    “I’m Todd Randolph’s lawyer. I’m here to get him released.”
    Travers smiled, an unpleasant turning of his lips that narrowed his eyes even further. Cory remembered how he and his friends would always make fun of Officer Travers, calling him Clint Eastwood because of his squinting gaze and cowboy mustache. For his part, Travers had always been happy to catch them smoking behind the school or drinking beer in the cemetery. He’d take great pleasure in bringing them to the station so their parents would have to come pick them up.
    “Randolph’s lawyer? Figures you’d be representing that scumbag. Well, you’re gonna have to cool your heels awhile. It’s already after six.” The Chief nodded at a nearby wall clock. “Ain’t no judges around on a Friday to arrange bail. You’re boy’s stuck in there ‘til Monday. And between you and me...” Travers leaned closer, his garlic breath filling the space between them, “...I doubt he’s gonna get out then either.”
    “Why’s that?” Cory tried to breathe shallow breaths.
    “The man murdered one, maybe two people, out in that cemetery you kids used to party in. It’s gonna be right back to the nut house for him on Monday. Do not pass Go, do not collect a hundred dollars.”
    “Two hundred,” Cory said as he finished writing his name and address in the log book.
    “What?” Travers’ eyes closed even further as he frowned.
    “Two hundred. You collect two hundred dollars when you pass Go.”
    “Still a smart ass, huh? Point is, you might as well go back to wherever you came from. Randolph’s never gonna get out this time.”
    “Well, I think I’ll stick around anyway, reminisce a little. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a client to see.”
    Cory followed the desk sergeant as the man led him towards the holding cells at the back of the jail. As he walked away, he heard Travers call out from behind him.
    “I’m gonna have my eyes on you Miles.”
    Great. Welcome home, Cory. No wonder you never missed this town.
    The sergeant unlocked the cell and slid the door open. “You got thirty minutes. No more than that, understand?”
    “Got it,” Cory said, stepping inside. He waited until the door clanged shut and the officer wandered down the hall before addressing the man seated on the single cot.
    “Jesus, Todd. You look awful.”
    He’d expected Todd Randolph to look different; hell, it’d been twenty years since they’d last seen each other. He knew he’d changed over the years, filling out in the chest and gut, losing an inch of hairline, adding some wrinkles around the eyes. No one looked the same at thirty-six as they did at sixteen. So Todd’s salt and pepper hair was no surprise. Nor was his skinny frame or the bags under his haunted eyes.
    But the bruises and scrapes covering his face and arms weren’t part of getting older.
    Todd managed a small smile. “Nice to see you too, Cory.”
    “Sorry. But what the hell happened to you?”
    “Apparently asking what I was being arrested for constitutes resisting arrest in this town, at least when you’re the resident psycho. A few of the officers decided they needed to subdue me.”
    Cory gave a low whistle. “It looks like you went six rounds with Mike Tyson. Did you get the names of the officers?”
    “Yes, I believe their names were billy club, fist and shoe. Does that help?” Todd leaned back against the wall with a moan and shook his head. “Sorry. I was too busy getting the shit beat out of me to check their badges.”
    “That’s all right. The names of the arresting officers will be on the police report.” Cory sat down on the bunk. “Are you hurt? Anything broken? Have they brought in a doctor to see you?”
    “No, no, and no, but it’s okay. Listen, I want to thank you for calling my mother and letting her know I’m all right. Goddamn cops did this right in