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I went back to the squad and gave Harlan the truck keys. “Bring the truck to town. I’m going to put it in for service. It needs it.”

“Sure,” said Harlan. “I’ll follow you.”

He looked happy to be driving. Soon be time for his license.

Pellegrino Ranch. Shelby.

The girls broke for lunch on their second day of training and a lot of the barriers were down. Sweat and hard work had evened the playing field, and the girls were bonding.

Only a couple of girls thought they were better than the others, and those two were Athena Adams from Wyoming and Patty Donaldson from Arizona.

Patty boasted Native American blood—Navajo—and she was an excellent rider. Even though Patty had a high opinion of herself, she was still in a beginners’ class, and that said something. If she was so far above the others, why didn’t she wait for the advanced class to start?

Those were the questions Lucy asked Tammy, and of course, Tammy didn’t know the answers.

Peterson’s Service Center. Coyote Creek.

I parked the squad in front of Peterson’s convenience store while Harlan parked my truck in front of one of the three garage bays in the attached garage.

With a smile on my face, I strolled into the garage and told Gary Pikeman my truck was there for service. Peterson’s operation wasn’t large enough to have a service desk or a parts and service counter. Just two guys working in the garage, plus Kirby Pratt pumping gas.

I leaned on the workbench and waited until Pikeman had a minute before I said, “She stalls out at the lights every now and then.”

He glanced up at me and nodded and that was it. I walked out and the tag was in.

While Harlan was waiting for Travis to get the tag in the garage, he sat in the passenger seat of the squad getting texts from both girls.

“I wish I was kissing you right now.”

“I miss you too.”

He liked Lucy at lot, but he liked Tammy a lot too. Hurting either one of them was not something Harlan wanted to do. When he got his license, he might get a girlfriend who wasn’t so close to home.

Travis came back to the squad, and Harlan put his phone away.

“We won’t bother telling Ted we have a tag in the garage. It’s just between you and me.”

“Sure. I get it. He used to work there.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit touchy about the tag.”

I started the squad and pulled into the street. “Before we go back to the station, let’s go talk to Tory Masters’ neighbor.”

“The one who heard the fights?”

“Yeah, Margaret Wise.”

Wise Residence. Coyote Creek.

I drove down Pine Street and turned on Elm and easily found where Margaret Wise lived next to the Masters’ house. The yellow tape was still across the front door.

I knocked and a cheerful lady in her sixties opened the door and invited us in. “Sheriff Frost, I was so hoping you’d call around. Such a tragedy about Tory. I can hardly believe something like that could happen on our street.”

She pointed to a sitting room to the right of the front foyer. Harlan and I sat down.

“Yes, ma’am. Crime can be a shocker, and the thing is, you can’t be prepared for it—it just happens.”

“So true, Sheriff. You certainly know what you’re talking about.”