WELCOME TO RYLAND said the sign. The Sheriff’s Department was in the old courthouse, a structure ten times larger than the county now needed. The post office sat across the street. Du Pré went in, got an express mail box, put the book and the letters in it, scribbled an address, and took it to the window. A heavy woman with tightly curled gray hair came out of a back room. The little plastic square on her uniform shirt read BERTIE. “Seven eight-five,” she said. “Hope you got change or a ten. I just got cleaned out, big money order.” Du Pré pulled out exact change, paid, took his receipt. “You want a delivery guarantee?” said Bertie. Du Pré shook his head. “Thank you.” He walked out and across the street to the Sheriff’s Office. Booger Tom and Rudabaugh were in the office, pitching darts at a picture of Osama Bin Laden.
