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“Copy, boss,” said Ted.

“I’ll take my own truck,” said Travis. “Harlan, take the Sheriff’s squad, Billy will drive Tammy in his truck, and Ted can take the other squad. That will work just for today. Don’t see the county buying us more squads anytime soon, so we’ll have to manage and put in for mileage on our own vehicles. Keep track.”

“Copy, boss.”

Gregory Residence. Coyote Creek.

Kyle Gregory lived right in the town of Coyote Creek and his house was only five minutes from the sheriff’s office.

Billy parked in the driveway and turned off the engine. “Got your comm on?”

“Yep. I’ll holler if I need you.”

“Make sure you do,” said Billy. “Away you go, little girl.” Billy sat with the driver’s door open and lit up a smoke.

I knocked and a guy about thirty-five with bedhead opened the door and peered out at me.

“Deputy Bristol, sir. Are you Kyle Gregory?”

“Sure am. What does the sheriff’s office want with me? I ain’t done anything—that I know of.” He grinned as he opened the door a little wider, and I stepped into the small front entrance.

“You bought a knife from Needs and Feeds recently?”

“Umm…yep. Sure did. Hunting knife. Ain’t a crime to own a knife.”

“No, sir. I wonder if you’d mind showing me that knife if you have it handy?”

“Sure. Wait right there and I’ll get it for you.”

Kyle came jogging back a little out of breath and showed me the knife still in the package. “Haven’t opened it yet. Saving it for hunting season in September. I won’t be using it until then.”

“Thanks so much, Kyle.” I smiled at him for being so nice. “We’re checking knives like that one county-wide. One was used in a recent crime.”

“Only recent crime I heard of was those campers down at Lake Frances. They got killed with a knife like this?”

I couldn’t confirm it, so I said, “We’re checking all the knives fitting the description that were bought recently. Thank you for your time, Kyle. Appreciate it.”

“No problem, Deputy. Happy to help the sheriff’s office anytime.”

I ran back to the truck and Billy butted out his smoke in the ashtray. “Anything?”

“He ain’t opened the package yet. Bought it for hunting in September.”

“Cross him off the list, Tam.”

“Nice guy. I liked him.”

Billy frowned.

Both he and Travis were a little over-protective of me at times—most of the time.

Sunburst Acres Trailer Park.

I parked the sheriff’s squad in front of Art Andrews’s scruffy single-wide. Me and Travis had been to this trailer often enough in the past. If we were ever short on arrests for the month, we could be sure of getting a couple here in this trailer.

Drug capital of Sunburst, small town twenty miles shy of the Canadian border.

I banged on the door and hollered, “Sheriff’s Office, Art. Open the door.”