“What?”
The sheriff stared.
“That’s Nathan Mercer.”
Several reporters gasped.
Apparently everyone knew the name except me.
The sheriff spoke quietly.
“Federal investigators have been looking for him for two years.”
The crowd exploded.
Questions.
Whispers.
Shock.
My mother covered her face.
My father looked ready to collapse.
And suddenly I understood.
The prison lie.
The isolation.
