Blood Trail

broke off his gaze. Reed had been sent in to see if Joe would admit something.

Joe took a step back, his chin in his hand, as if mulling things over. Suddenly, he lashed backward and hit the mirror with the flat of his hand.

“Christ!” McLanahan yelled from the hallway, his voice muffled by the glass.

“Reed . . .” Joe said. “I thought you were better than that.”

Reed looked down, mumbling so low it couldn’t be picked up outside. “He sent me in here to see how you’d react. No offense, Joe.”

“None taken,” Joe whispered back. Then, loud enough so the sheriff could hear him again: “I’m not accusing Klamath Moore of pulling the trigger, although it could have been him. Or one of his sympathizers. And I’m damned sorry Bill Gordon is dead, because I think he was one of the good guys. But I want it known that while I do work for the governor, I’m not a hack. I’m doing this job for Robey, and Nancy Hersig. Not for the governor.”

Joe turned to the mirror, addressing McLanahan. “You might as well come in, Sheriff.” Reed looked up from the table. “Just so you can be prepared, Randy Pope is on his way here. McLanahan called him at home tonight and told him what happened. He’s not happy, from what the sheriff said.”

“Great,” Joe said. McLanahan opened the door and came into the witness room and sat on a corner of the table. “You like to scared me to death with that stunt,” he drawled, nodding toward the mirror.

Joe shrugged.

“Do you know what night it is? What night it was?” he said, looking at his wristwatch.

Joe was confused.

“It’s American Idol night. My daughter and my wife and I pop some popcorn every week and sit down and watch it. But not tonight, because I get a call right after the first singer saying we’ve got a body in Winchester Park and a busted-up town cop. Now here it is, one in the morning, and I haven’t been home and didn’t get a chance to vote. You may have ruined the whole season for me.”

“Sorry,” Joe said, feeling for perhaps the first time in his life some sympathy for McLanahan. Not because he’d prevented the sheriff from voting, but because McLanahan was denied a night with his family.

“He’s likely to press charges,” McLanahan said, meaning Byron. “You may be facing some time.”

“It was a speed trap but it was personal on his part,” Joe said, not even convincing himself.

“You busted his nose and kidnapped a cop. Think about it.”

“I have.”

“I don’t know who is going to get you out of this one. I don’t think even the governor’s gonna try.”

Joe sighed. McLanahan was right.

“Plus, I went against my better judgment and listened to my deputy here,” he said, putting a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “He said if you saw Klamath Moore leaving the scene, you saw Klamath Moore leaving the scene. So we rousted an innocent man who turns out to have an alibi, and we look like idiots and could face a civil suit. Klamath Moore’s claiming he’s a political prisoner, that the only reason we rousted him is because of his anti-hunting agenda. He says he’s got a shitload of high-powered attorneys working probono and he’ll unleash ’em on us. And I don’t doubt that he does.”

Reed looked away from both Joe and the sheriff. He looked like he could shoot himself, Joe thought.

“I saw what I saw,” Joe said.

“I’ve got a question,” McLanahan said. “Randy Pope asked me and I couldn’t answer.”

“Yes?”

“He claimed you’re working with Nate Romanowski, that he’s in your custody. He asked me if Romanowski was with you tonight. I had to tell him that not only was that son of a bitch not with you, he is nowhere to be found. So I learn from a state bureaucrat that the suspect in the murder of Sheriff Barnum was in my county but nobody bothered to let me know. So tell me where he is.”

Joe swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I don’t know where he is.”

“And do you see a problem with that?” McLanahan asked, his face flushing. He was really angry.

“Yes I do.”

“You are in so much trouble.”

“I think I already heard that tonight,” Joe said gloomily.

“I’ve got to go release Klamath Moore now,” the sheriff said. “I’ve got nothing to hold him on and an eyewitness saying he never went to Winchester tonight. Then I’ve got to go see that little pissant Byron at the clinic and see if he wants to press charges against you. Then I’ve got to see Doc Speer to see where in the hell we’re going to put another body, since the morgue is full.”

“I wish you wouldn’t release Moore,” Joe said. “I’d like to talk to him.”

McLanahan laughed angrily. “Not a chance. We already know what happens when you want to talk to people.” The sheriff made a pistol of his hand and pressed his index finger to his temple and worked his thumb twice.

Joe winced.

“I should hold you tonight,” McLanahan said. “But I’m just too damned tired to file