All of the parts were adjustable, polished and gleaming in the bright spot lights focused on it."How do you like the chair?" he asked.He called it a '...hair.' Now she knew why those knobby things had filled her with dread. No, not dread. Uneasy anticipation."It looks uncomfortable, Sir." HA!" he burst out, as if that was the least of his concerns. When she thought about, she supposed it was. It pleased her that he wasn't concerned with her comfort, in a perverse way. She wanted to experience, to. He was a gregarious man of middle age, who acted mostly as the town’s jailer. I guessed that he didn’t get to talk all that much, being cooped up with the taciturn Sheriff Faulkner. Faulkner had a staff of eight deputies spread out between working the courthouse, tending the jail, patrolling the town and policing the county. He had a big job and a small crew with which to accomplish it. I didn’t envy him a bit.When I arrived at the jail, Faulkner was sitting at his desk with Carlos Trujillo. More

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