“Not the point,” Norton said. Before Mac could ask him what the point was, Norton’s radio went off.
“Sheriff? We’ve got a situation,” a young male voice said anxiously.
“What’s up?”
“We went to serve those papers on Jorgensen? He’s barricaded himself inside that trailer of his, and he’s threatening to shoot.”
Norton sighed. “I’m on my way.”
He looked at Mac. “You better get that photographer of yours here ASAP, or I will leave her behind.”
“I’m here,” Angie said cheerfully coming up to them from the side.
He grunted.
“So, who’s Jorgensen?” Mac asked as they pulled away from the farm.
“Not a bad guy,” Norton said. “Well, OK, so he’s kind of a bad guy. Lives in a trailer on the edge of Sedro-Woolley. Has a small shop where he sells porn and guns. And I suspect meth, but we haven’t been able to catch him at it. And given the way he lives, he isn’t making a very good living off it if he is. His wife left him, and we’ve been tasked with serving the papers. No private server will touch them — Jorgensen’s known to have a temper. He’s off balance because he’s losing his kids, and that makes him touchy. Can’t blame the man.”
No, of course not, Mac thought. A local sleazebag who’s probably cooking meth and is now pissy because his wife took off? Kudos to the woman. And he has a gun shop? Whoa. No wonder that deputy sounded anxious.
“So, I’ll go and talk him down,” Norton said with a shrug. “My deputies probably surprised him. And men like him don’t take surprise well.”
“He’s shot at people before?” Mac asked. Because if he was reading between the lines correctly, the deputy thought he might.
“He’s been a bit touchy since his wife left,” the sheriff conceded. But he didn’t say anything more.
Norton pulled up alongside another SUV with sheriff written along its side. “Should have dropped you off,” he said with a frown. “Stay in the car, please.”
“Not me,” Mac said. “I want to hear how it goes. Angie?”
“Can’t take photos from the car,” she agreed, and she got out before the sheriff could say anything further.
“Jesus,” Norton muttered.
Mac looked at him levelly for a moment. Norton looked away and got out of the car. Mac followed the sheriff up to his men. His men gave him a rambling account of trying to serve the papers, and Jorgensen’s response. He had actually shot at them. Norton sighed.
“Give me the damn papers,” he said.
Norton walked up to the steps that led to the trailer, a small travel trailer, that Jorgensen had parked next to a single-wide mobile home. It looked like Jorgensen had recently moved the travel trailer to his place of business to live in. At least, Mac couldn’t imagine a family living in it. There had been mention of a wife and kids.
Mac looked over the mobile home. It was old, and the skirting was coming loose. Two doors had small stoops in front of them. One had a sign that said guns above it; the other said adult movies. No frills, Mac thought, amused. But then people knew what they were after when they came here. They didn’t just drive by and think, ‘Oh! We should buy a gun’ or ‘Oh, let’s rent a porn flick for tonight.’ Although he couldn’t imagine coming here for either one. He wondered idly if there was a back door that said meth above it? Because he couldn’t be making a living off sales through the front doors.
He focused on Norton. He was standing at the base of the steps. Move to the side, you idiot, Mac thought. He was about to call out to the man, when Norton started speaking. Mac rolled his eyes.
“Lucas, it’s Pete Norton,” the sheriff said.
“Pete! They want to serve me papers and make me give up my boys!”
“No, man, this is just a notice to you that you’re going to have to go tell the judge why she shouldn’t do that,” Norton said. “It doesn’t do anything. Just makes an appointment. You’re going to need to get your attorney to help you out. I know you’ve got one.” There was amusement in his voice.
The man in the trailer laughed, too. “Yeah, I got a lawyer,” he said. “He’s beaten you a couple of times. Do you think he can beat my wife?”
Norton snorted. “Wouldn’t phrase it like that,” he advised. The two men laughed. Mac rolled his eyes. “But I know how you feel. Been there, still am there. A man wants his sons. But you can’t go shooting at my deputies, Lucas. That’s not right!”
“Sorry, man,” he said. “Sorry guys,” he said louder. “I’m on edge these days. The bitch is trying to take my boys away!”
Norton winced, but he didn’t say anything. “So, Lucas, you need to come out and take these papers and give them to your attorney. And no more threats!”
The door opened and a tall man with thinning hair and a scruffy goatee stepped out. Mid-30s, Mac thought, but they hadn’t been easy years. He had a shotgun in his right hand, dangling as if he’d forgotten he was carrying it. Mac tensed. The man had a hair-trigger temper. Why the hell didn’t the sheriff tell him to put the gun away? He was beginning to think he should have pulled the weapon out of his backpack.
But Jorgensen just nodded at the sheriff and accepted the papers. “I’ll talk to my attorney,” he said. “Can’t talk to her.”
“No,” the sheriff said. “Don’t go see your wife. She’s got a restraining order. We don’t want to lock you up, now, you hear?”
Jesus, Mac thought. Norton was a piece of work. Wife’s got a restraining order. Cops have arrested him more than once. Probably deals meth — and isn’t a combination? Guns, sex films and drugs? He shot at the deputies. And Norton’s talking to him like they were buddies?
Well, it was
