Free Where Southern Cross the Dog by Allen Whitley

you sure that’s what he said?”
    â€œThat’s what I heard. Sounds a little crazy to me. But get down there and see what you can find out. We’ll need to run a story by tomorrow at the latest. You can drop everything else you’re working on. I’ll get Buddy to finish up your other stories.”
    Lewis hurriedly gathered his notebook, pencils, and a couple of files and stuffed them into his briefcase. He slipped on his jacket, slung his camera over his shoulder, and then set out by foot for the county jail. He assumed Luke would still be there.
    The inmates were just starting to stir when Lewis slipped into the jail. He walked to the guard’s window and recognized one of the jailers by sight, but not by name.
    â€œMornin’,” Lewis said casually. “I’m Lewis Murphree from the paper.”
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Murphree,” the guard said. “Isn’t it a little early to be visiting the jail?”
    â€œMaybe,” Lewis said, the man’s name nowhere near his tongue. “Anybody brought in late last night?”
    â€œLet me check the log.” The guard took out a large book and scanned it, searching for any new names. “Here’s a new one. Came in ’bout midnight.”
    â€œWhat’s the name?”
    â€œAh, let’s see,” said the guard. “Luke. Luke Williams.”
    Lewis steadied himself to ask the next question smoothly. “Can I see him?”
    The guard looked back in his book. “The note says no visitors. Sheriff Collins hasn’t had a chance to talk to him yet. No, can’t let you see him.”
    â€œOh, I don’t want to talk to him. I just want to look at him.”
    â€œLook at him.” The guard was puzzled. “What for?”
    â€œDo you know why he’s here? What he’s in for?”
    The guard looked at the logbook again. “No, it don’t say.”
    Lewis decided to play his trump card. “They think he might have killed a bunch of people. You know, the ones in the paper.”
    Suddenly the guard was interested. “All by hisself? That’s a whole lot of killin’ for one man.”
    â€œSure is. I want to see the face of a man who killed that many people. That’s a lot of hate.”
    â€œWell, let me call the sheriff’s office and see if we can go peek at him.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” Lewis said hastily. “Let’s don’t bother the sheriff with this. Let’s just go down and see him. You and me.”
    â€œI don’t know if I can do that. Who’s gonna watch the door?”
    â€œWe’ll only be gone a minute.” Lewis could feel the guard’s ambivalence. Duty was battling with curiosity. “If someone shows up, we’ll tell ’em you went to the toilet. Come on, let’s go.”
    The guard put the book away, walked out of the admitting office, and locked the door behind him. “We’ve gotta hurry. I’ll get in trouble if I’m gone too long.”
    They walked quickly through a set of double doors, the guard leading the way, then down a set of stairs and into a hallway. The jail was old and dingy, and even so early in the morning it was hot. The thick, dank air, mixed with stale smoke from an endless supply of cigarettes, choked Lewis; he could scarcely breathe in the airless hall. It took him a couple of minutes to get acclimated to the smell.
    They walked down the hall, and Lewis looked out of the corner of his eye into several cells. Most men were still asleep, but a few stood in the dim light staring at the guard and Lewis. They didn’t make a sound, but Lewis felt their stares.
    â€œHe’s around the corner,” the guard said.
    Lewis peeked around the corner, and saw a cell occupied by a motionless man. Luke Williams was awake, sitting on the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were open; he stared straightahead, cigarette smoke hanging heavy around