Lucas followed him, and they did find the jail, which was not much of a jail, more of a closet for people who wouldn’t be there long. A cop ushered them in, where blue-eyed Jesse Purdy was stretched out on a cot, looking not at all uncomfortable. He was reading a battered book called Chevrolet: Yesterday and Today. “What?” Wood identified himself and said, “We need to talk to your mother and brother, in a hurry . . . but they’re not home. You know how we could get in touch?” “Well, you could call them and ask,” Jesse said, not getting up. “What’s this all about?” “We’re wondering if they might have involved themselves with the Michaela Bowden campaign,” Lucas said, hiding in the weeds of ambiguity. Jesse sat up now and said, “Awww . . . shit. What’d they do?” “You think they might have done something?”
