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“Oh no?” asked Harlan. “Who else we gonna call? Paintbusters?”

Tammy giggled.

Travis loped down the hallway to see what the commotion was at the back door and took a look at the punk kids. “What did you guys do to piss Tammy off?”

“Take a look at the back of my squad, Sheriff. You’ll see why we’re booking them.”

“Malicious property damage,” said Harlan, “for starters.”

Travis tramped outside and came back a minute later and he was fuming. “Get their names and home phone numbers. Molly can call their parents and get them in here with their lawyer. Meantime, book them and lock them up.”

Travis turned to the two boys who were standing next to the booking station with their hands cuffed behind their backs. “You punks think about picking up a can of spray paint in Harrison County ever again, and I’ll bust your asses.”

“We won’t, Sheriff. Honest, we won’t.”

“Get at it, Harlan. Tammy, write down their names and numbers and give them to Molly. And take a couple of pictures of the squad for evidence.”

“Copy.” She handed Travis the printout of the knife buyers at the feed store.

“Art Andrews?” Travis frowned. “Don’t know the other guy, but I guess we’ll pay him a visit and get to know him a bit better.”

Harlan helped Tammy through the booking process and then together they locked the punks up in the run to wait for their parents to show up.

“You boys enjoy it in here,” said Harlan. “Can’t wait to see the look on your parents’ faces when they see you sitting on your bunks in here.”

“We was only pranking on the girl sheriff just for fun, Deputy. Didn’t mean no harm.”

The other one said, “How were we supposed to know she was a wild west shooter n’all?”

Harlan smiled. “You mess with the law in Coyote Creek, you got trouble, boys. Big fuckin trouble.”

Ted came in from the parking lot with the prints he’d lifted from the pickup truck and the camper, and he and Billy ran them through the system and made a list of possible suspects.

“Add this guy to the list,” Travis gave Billy the printout from the feed store. “He bought a knife in the last two weeks.”

“Yep, adding him to the interview list. What about Art Andrews? He’s a piece of work,” said Billy.

“Yeah, write him down. I’ll brace him, but I don’t picture him as a killer. Art is too fuckin stupid to kill anybody—like pre-meditated. He can’t think that far ahead. Just say’n.”

Ted nodded his head. “He’s into drugs heavy now, boss. Might be worse than he’s ever been.”

“Okay, we’ll give him a serious look, Ted. Just in case he went off his fuckin nut. Put him on the list.”

Travis’s cell rang and it was Wyatt Thompson calling from the Cut Bank paper. “Yeah, Wyatt. We got an investigation going on here at the office. Can’t give you much but meet us for lunch across the road at noon and I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Thanks, Travis. See you in a bit.”

Tammy was calling outfitters and asking about the knives, and I was sitting at my desk in the squad room getting caught up on my reports when the parents of the two punks came in the front door.

Each set of parents had a lawyer with them. The fathers looked pissed, and the mothers were red-eyed like they’d been crying.

They walked up to the front desk and told Molly who they were. “We’re Darryl Levine’s parents,” said the woman, “and these people are Todd Toohey’s parents.”

Travis heard them come in and strode down the hall into the squad room to meet them.

Mister Levine took a stance in front of Travis and that was definitely the wrong thing to do. I watched my dad shift gears and tried to hide my smile.

“Sheriff, why don’t you tell me what my boy did that was serious enough to call me away from work? I don’t have time for trivial matters in my life.”