Forty-Three“Nobody’s going to lynch you, John. Be grateful for small mercies.” Seb’s calm, serious face flickered with a wry smile. His rangy frame was perched on a bench outside John’s cell, the damaged shoulder dangling in a sling across his chest, his voice soft and low. He leaned forward awkwardly. “We can get a lawyer to spring you tomorrow. Just give it twelve hours for the heat to die down out there. We boys will ensure there’s extra security tonight. This is just Samson’s way of dealing with a restless town.” The Nevada City deputy had gone back to base, leaving Seb in charge.
“I haven’t done anything.” John’s voice was gravelly with boiling frustration. “My revolver was stolen last night while we were out watching Hale. And every minute I sit here Lily or Ollie are in danger. It’
