Moon Underfoot by Bobby Cole

why she had gone to law school. She wanted to help those who couldn’t help themselves. As she drove to the Kroger, she prepared by pushing the knowledge of her clients robbing the store to the back of her mind.
    Walter parked his car next to a distant light pole in the Kroger parking lot, exactly as Sam had directed. She watched and then pulled her green Volkswagen Bug over next to him.
    “Cute car,” Walter said as he opened Sam’s door for her.
    “One more time, I need to know what you’ve told them.”
    “I haven’t said shit…excuse me…I-I’m just nervous. I’ve just answered their questions about that night, what I did, what I saw.”
    “Okay, good. I understand. I’m nervous too,” she said in a moment of anxious honesty and immediately wished she hadn’t. She quickly added forcefully, “I’m going to find out the tenor of this meeting and decide my next move. This may not last long at all.”
    “These guys don’t show any emotion. They’re impossible to read. They make me nervous.”
    “You’re nervous because you’re guilty,” she said, bending over to check her makeup in her car’s side mirror.
    “Yeah, okay, so why are
you
nervous?”
    “Because you’re guilty…and this is my first real case. Okay?” she said as she reached inside her car and grabbed her briefcase and a scarf, which she wrapped around her neck as she headed for the store.
    “Your first case?”
    “Yep. They say you always win your first. Don’t you feel lucky?” She smiled to hide her tension.
    “Not especially.”
    Sam glanced up at the giant building and saw security cameras pointed downward, presumably recording everyone and everything. “Actually, neither do I. But what’s the worst that could happen?”
    “I could go to prison.”

CHAPTER 27

    J AKE PARKED HIS truck in front of the Pickens County Sheriff’s Office and surveyed what he could see from his truck. Aliceville, Alabama, like much of the rural South, particularly in the Black Belt, had endured a rough couple of decades, maybe longer. Times had obviously been better, but people still held fast to small-town life and tried to maintain it. A shrinking tax base, however, made it all the more difficult.
    Jake remembered his dad telling him that in the 1940s during World War II, Aliceville had one of the largest prison camps of German and Italian prisoners of war. At one time, the prison had hosted nearly six thousand POWs, some from the infamous Afrika Korps who fought under General Rommel. It was a significant part of Aliceville’s history that easily could be forgotten, since the prison camp had long been gone, except for one huge stone chimney.
    Jake had already been to see his camp house, or what was left of it. Everything was gone except for the chimney.
Just like the prison camp
, Jake thought. The pile of ashes that had been his family retreat was still smoldering. Nothing of value had survived the hot, consuming fire, and yet less than forty yards away was a huge river of cold water. A number of family antiques that weren’treally worth much were gone, along with dozens of family photos. All Jake could think about was arson.
It had to be arson.
    Jake pushed open the sheriff’s office front door and announced, “I’m Jake Crosby. I’m here to see the sheriff.”
    “Yes, sir. I’ll get him for you,” an older black lady in a deputy’s uniform offered.
    Jake glanced around and thought about his time in the Sumter County Sheriff’s Office.
Not much difference. Probably had the same interior decorator
, he thought.
    Jake saw an office door open, and a huge, uniformed man with a very friendly face and demeanor waved him on back.
    “Jake Crosby?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I’m Rosco Blue. Pleased to meet you. Just hate that it’s under these circumstances.” Rosco’s giant hand swallowed Jake’s, but his warm smile kept his enormous presence from being too intimidating. He motioned for Jake to sit.
    “I just left out there…it’s