their incompetent DA down to the lowest possible charges. Malcolm might get a little prison time, but by the time his case wound through the courts, he stood a good chance of winding up on probation with a suspended sentence. And few people in his circle would shun him for his act or think less of him.
On the other hand, if he’d murdered for another man’s wife as Deborah and Isabel and Charlie Barefoot thought? The Barefoots might be blue-collar, but they were as well respected in Cotton Grove as Shelton Johnson and his two sons. Probably better liked, too. To learn that Malcolm had killed Jeff to get Sarah? No, that was not something people would easily overlook. Nor Sarah either, he suspected.
“We know about your friend Gallie,” he told Malcolm. “Or should I say Gallagher?”
It was a direct hit. The blood drained from Malcolm’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You don’t remember the guy who hitched a ride home with you the Christmas that Jeff died?”
Malcolm’s eyes darted toward the front door. “You’re not going to say anything like that to her, are you?”
“Why not?” said Bo, stepping in to get a closer look at the fear on Malcolm’s face. “If she’s involved, she’s gonna need a lawyer, too, won’t she?”
“
“No deals,” Dwight said. “But we don’t have to say anything about that other matter now.”
Malcolm let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you.”
Richards came down the front steps with the handgun inside a plastic bag. “Smells like it was recently fired, Major.”
She was followed by Sarah Johnson, whose dark eyes seemed to have sunk even deeper into her skull. “Your dad’s on his way over. Pete said he’d meet you in Dobbs.”
“Thanks, darling. Everything’s going to be all right. I promise you. I’ll be home as soon as Pete can sort this out.” He gave a rueful laugh and looked at Bo. “Am I under arrest yet, Sheriff? Or can I change clothes and wash up?”
“No need to change,” Bo said mildly.
“I’m coming with you,” said Sarah.
He smiled down at her and drew her thin body close to his. “Thanks, honey. Just let me wash up and get my wallet, Sheriff.”
Dwight glanced at Bo, who shrugged. While it was most unlikely that Malcolm Johnson would try to run, the house did back up on thick woods and probably had several rear exits. Better to forestall that possibility than risk having to stage a manhunt, thought Dwight, and he signaled for McLamb to follow their suspect into the house.
Bo patted his chief deputy on the shoulder and shook his head in wonderment at Mayleen Richards, who was standing there, too. “Well, Dwight, I said I wanted the Wentworth killings wrapped up by Christmas and damned if you didn’t do it. Sure didn’t expect it to come out like this, though.”
“Me either, Bo.”
“You got any hard evidence in that other matter?”
“Nope. And after all this time, I doubt there is any. His mother’s dead and Shelton Johnson’s sure as hell not gonna remember anything about a dinner party that would cast suspicion on his son. We can question this Gallagher man, see just how much he actually did tell Charlie. As for Charlie, it’ll depend on which he wants more: revenge for his real father’s death or to spare his mother any more hurt.”
“Don’t forget his password,” Mayleen Richards said.
Bo Poole looked puzzled. “His password?”
“For his phone,” she told him. “Avenger.”
Bo gave a sour laugh, then rocked back on his heels. “Mayleen and me, we can take it from here, Dwight. You might as well go on home and enjoy your Christmas.”
“You sure?”
“You know good as me that this is just the opening round. Shelton Johnson will post his boy’s bond and he’ll be back home before dark.”
“You’ve got my cell number if anything comes up,” Dwight said, then, wishing them all a merry Christmas, he got in his truck and headed for the farm. Not even four o’clock yet, and because he would be practically passing it on his way through town, he swung by the Wentworth house.
As he reached the door, Mrs. Wentworth opened it and was even more startled than he to see someone standing there.
“Major Bryant!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t hear the bell.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t get a chance to ring it yet.”
“I was just coming out to turn on my lights,” she said and reached down to plug a tangle of cords into the multi-outlet socket beside the door. Immediately the near bushes twinkled with colorful lights. “Was there something I can do for you?”
“No, ma’am. I just stopped by to say that we’ve arrested the man who shot your stepsons. I can’t give you any names or details yet, but I thought you’d like to know that.”
“Did he say why he did it?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’ll come out, but I can’t talk about it right now.”
