Sam Saint Cloud was the closest thing Bartonsville had to the law.
Bartonsville was an out of the way village deep in the Pocono Mountains
that time seemed to have forgotten and was home to a ragtag collection
of Pennsylvania Germans, Lenni Lenape and those from the distant cities
of New York and Philadelphia who wanted to get away from their pasts.
Beyond the range of most cell towers and of little interest to cable
providers, the village existed in relative isolation and infamy and was
a magnet for long-haul truckers and fans of roadside porn.Sam handled
every kind of case from burglary to murder. Seated behind the wheel of
his sometimes trusty 1969 Buick Skylark, he crisscrossed the Poconos and
beyondin pursuitof clues for his cases, and wherever he went, crime
never seemed far away. Regardless, from the seedy streets of Albany, New
York to the hard flagstone sidewalks of Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, Sam
never tired in his quest for justice, even if that meant turning a blind
eye to the law.