He nodded. “They’ve given it to the press. It’ll be in the evening papers.” He took out his comb and fiddled with it.
“They’ve had six hours to work on her before we knew they’d got her,” he went on. “That’s plenty of time to make a girl talk…”
Tim nudged him. “Shut up,” he said.
“That’s all right,” I said, but I knew my face had gone white. “I’m not kidding myself what those heels have done to her. Well, they’ll pay for it.” I lit a cigarette while the other two exchanged glances. “Any ideas how we can get her out?” I asked suddenly, looking at Davis.
He gaped at me. “Get her out?” he repeated. “It can’t be done. There just isn’t any way of getting her out. That jail’s like a fort, and Flaggerty has about twenty guards around the outside. I went down there with Coppinger and they wouldn’t let me in. They’re reckoning you’ll try to get her out. They’ve got a couple of searchlights rigged on the roof, and every guard has a Thompson. They’ve even got dogs patrolling. Not a chance.”
I suddenly felt better. I grinned at him.
“I’m getting her out of that jail,” I said.
“I’d like to know how you’re going to do it,” Davis said, his eyes opening.
“Is this place on the main road?” He nodded. “It stands back a quarter of a mile from State Highway Four. You can see it from the road as you leave town.”
“I’ll go out and look it over,” I said. “When do you reckon Coppinger will be along?”