Custody of the State by Craig Parshall Page A

thirties, named Jason Bell Purdy—had his name and picture on flyers in the store windows. He was inviting the townsfolk to the annual pancake breakfast and fundraiser for Project Child Care—“offering affordable day care for low-income families.” Next to his name were the words “Delphi’s Favorite Son.”
    Will also noticed a few for-sale signs and for-rent signs up and down the street. Most of them were listings of the Jason Bell Purdy Realty and Development Company.
    A few blocks down, at the corner, there was a large Catholic church—St. Stephen the Martyr—with a sign outside listing Father Harold Godfrey as the rector. Beneath his name were the words “A Clear Conscience Lets in the Light.” Across from the church was a Nickel, Dime & Dollar Store, on a cross street that bore the name “Stanfield Purdy Avenue.”
    As he walked back to the courthouse, Will decided that he was starting to get a good feel for the town.
    By the time Will returned to the prosecutor’s office, Harry Putnam was back from lunch. He greeted Will with a firm handshake and a hearty welcome.
    â€œYou’re a bit outside of the Commonwealth of Virginia, Mr. Chambers. What brings you to our fair city of Delphi?” Putnam asked, leaning back in his desk chair.
    â€œI’ve just been retained to represent Mary Sue Fellows.”
    â€œWell, that is very interesting. You licensed to practice here in Georgia?”
    â€œNo. I’ve got local counsel. I’m filing a motion for pro hac vice admission for her case,” Will replied.
    â€œDon’t say. Then I’ve got a question for you.”
    â€œFire away.”
    â€œIf you represent her—you must have been in touch with her.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWhere is she, Mr. Chambers? Where is your client? We’ve got a warrant out for her.”
    â€œI really don’t know.”
    â€œYou don’t know,” Putnam repeated, nodding his head a little as he said the words. “Counselor, did you bother to ask your client that? Did you ask where she’s got that little boy of hers hidden away—that little Joshua who is being poisoned by his mother?”
    â€œMr. Putnam, you know better than that,” Will countered. “Even if I knew that, to disclose that conversation would be to violate attorney–client privilege.”
    Putnam’s face was now twisted up, his eyebrows down low over his eyes, which were reduced to mere slits.
    â€œCounselor, you may want to think about heading back to old Virginny. Otherwise, you’d better be ready for some old-fashioned bare-knuckle boxing here in Delphi. We’re mighty serious about child abuse. I’m not about to let some outside counsel ride in here and tell me he’s going to hide a fugitive from justice—while that fugitive is slowly killing her little boy. Not going to happen. Not here. Not with me. You read me?”
    Will nodded, managed a smile, and rose to say goodbye. As he was leaving he turned and said, “I do read you, Mr. Putnam,” squelching the temptation to add what he was already thinking— I’m reading you like a fifty-cent comic book.

10
    M ARY S UE F ELLOWS HAD BEEN at the ranch on the Sioux Indian reservation for only a few days. Yet she already felt a strange sense of belonging. The geography of the place gave her a feeling of shelter and safety. She would take Joshua out on walks through the canyons of the South Dakota Badlands. They would stop and gaze at the high plateaus of brown stone and tan earth that jutted up, surrounding them with sheer rock walls that towered up into the open sky.
    At the end of the afternoon, as sunset was approaching, the shadows would begin creeping over the rock formations, casting strange shapes over the canyon walls where darkness was meeting the last light of the day. Along the high plateaus that were flat as tabletops, the rims would