Page 54

Dean and I both look up in horror-filled surprise.
Reed stares at him. "Assault with a deadly weapon? That's complete bull?—"
"One of the boys you beat up needed stitches," the sheriff interrupts. "Claims you hit him with your pistol."
Reed's voice is tight. "BS. I tossed my gun onto the seat of my truck before the fight. On purpose. Ask anyone at the bar."
"I did. And nobody's contradicting their story."
"Yeah, well, they're all his friends. That doesn't make it true. And it's also bullshit about 'soliciting a minor'. I never did any such thing".
"We've got several eyewitnesses saw you talking to the younger sister of the guy you beat up. She's only sixteen you know, and that makes it 'soliciting a minor'. That's a felony. Carries four to twelve years jail sentence."
Reed's eyes flash in anger. "First off I never approached her—she approached me. Secondly, she was the one doing thesoliciting. I told her I wasn't interested. Told her to get lost, in fact."
The sheriff shrugs. "So you say. Ain't what she's saying. Anyway, you can explain all of that in your statement down at the jail. Now…" he takes a step into the room, reaching for his cuffs as he says, "We can do this the easy way or?—"
"Do you have a warrant?" I cut in, my voice cool and steady.
The sheriff stops. "I've got probable cause."
"That's not a warrant," I say, holding his gaze. "So, unless you're arresting him for something that just happened, you can't take him anywhere. Not without the right paperwork, which it appears you do not have, Sheriff."
Reed's face that a moment ago looked more than a little concerned, brightens up considerably at this. Dean steps up to stand beside Reed at the door in a show of support, making it that little bit harder for the Sheriff to try anything funny. Even Lennon is on his feet, an ugly look on his face. Dean speaks first. "In that case, Sheriff, why don't you go right ahead and leave? Come back when you've got your warrant—if you can get a warrant."
The sheriff ignores Dean and looks me up and down like he's memorizing my features for future reference. "You're that Thompson girl, aren't you? I remember your folks coming up here when you were little. You've got your mom's looks, I'll say that for you. Shame you didn't inherit her common sense. You got any idea what kind of trouble you're walking into, shacking up with this… 'crew'?" He pronounces 'crew' as if he's actually saying 'scum'.
I say nothing. Just stare him down.
He sighs. "Fine. But I'll be back. Don't say I didn't warn you, and next time I'll?—."
Dean shuts the door in his face, cutting off his final words.
Reed exhales. "I didn't use a weapon, and I didn't hit on an underage girl. That's all bullshit."
"We believe you," Dean says. "But they're not going to let this go. We're gonna need to stay sharp."
Reed heads off to his duties, muttering, "Guess I'm not getting a sick day, huh?"
Dean doesn't respond. I offer, "I've got a lawyer friend back in Aurora?—"
Dean cuts me off, politely. "Thanks. We'll let you know."
His voice is careful. Distant.
We wash dishes in silence.
Later that day, I spot Reed working near the cattle pens. I hesitate, then walk over.
"Hey. Can we talk?"
He turns, expression guarded. "Sure."
"I'm sorry. About everything."
"Don't be. The fight wasn't about you."
"It wasn't?"