A Thin Dark Line

blacks.'

'Don't bring it up, Gus,' Pritchett said. 'It just calls to mind those ugly vote-hauling allegations made against you.'

He started toward his Lincoln, where his caddy stood, waiting to drive him back to the country club. 'Doucet!' he barked. 'You come with me. We have charges to discuss. What all do you know about the statutes on conspiracy?'

Gus watched the lawyers climb into the Lincoln, then stomped back into the station, muttering, 'Dickhead college-boy prick. Threaten me, you little-'

'Sheriff?'

The bark came from Hooker. Gus rubbed a hand against his belly. Hell of a Saturday this was turning out to be. He stopped in front of Hooker's open door and stared inside.

'My office, Deputy Broussard.'

'You think someone put that snake in your Jeep.'

'Yes, sir. It couldn't have gotten there any other way.'

'And you think another deputy put it there?'

'Yes, sir, I-'

'Nobody else could have had access to the vehicle?'

'Well-'

'You keep it locked at home, do you?'

'No, sir, but-'

'You got proof another deputy did it? You got a witness?'

'No, sir, but-'

'You live over a goddamn convenience store, Deputy. You telling me no one stopped at the store last night? You telling me folks weren't in and out of that parking lot to do this deed or see it done?'

'The store closes at nine.'

'And after that, damn near anybody could have put that snake in your Jeep. Isn't that right?'

Annie blew out a breath. Fourcade. Fourcade could have done it, had motive to do it, was disturbed enough to do it. But she said nothing. The snake seemed an adolescent prank, and Fourcade was no adolescent.

'Hell, I've seen the inside of your Jeep, girl. That snake coulda hatched there, for all I know.'

'And you think it was a coincidence that York was patrolling that stretch of road this morning,' Annie said. 'And that Mullen just happened along.'

Gus gave her a steady look. 'I'm saying you got no proof otherwise. York was on patrol. You ran off the road. He did his job.'

'And Mullen?'

'Mullen's off duty. What he does on his own time is no concern of mine.'

'Including interfering in the duty of another officer?'

'You're a fine one to talk on that score, Deputy,' he said. ' York ran you in 'cause he thought you mighta been drinking.'

'I wasn't drinking. They did it to humiliate me. And Mullen was the ringleader. York was just his stooge.'

'They found a half-empty pint of Wild Turkey under your driver's seat.'

Dread swirled in Annie's stomach. She could be suspended for this. 'I don't drink Wild Turkey and I don't drink in my vehicle, Sheriff. Mullen must have put it there.'

'You refused to go through the drill.'

'I'll take a Breathalyzer.' She realized she should have insisted on it at the scene. Now her career was crumbling beneath her feet because she'd been too proud and too stubborn. 'I'll take a blood test if you want.'

Noblier shook his head. 'That was an hour ago or better, and you weren't but five miles from home when you had the accident. If you had anything in your system, it's probably gone by now.'

'I wasn't drinking.'

Gus swiveled his big chair back and forth. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He never shaved on Saturday until his evening toilet before taking the missus out for dinner. He did love his Saturdays. This one was going to hell on a sled.

'You been under a lotta strain recently, Annie,' he said carefully.

'I wasn't drinking.'

'And you was kicking up dirt yesterday, saying someone keyed you out on the radio?'

'Yes, sir, that's true.' She decided to keep the muskrat incident to herself. She felt too much like a tattling child already.

A frown creased his mouth. 'This is all because of that business with Fourcade. Your chickens are coming home to roost, Deputy.'

'But I-' Annie cut herself off and waited, foreboding pressing down on her as the silence stretched.

'I don't like any of this,' Gus said. 'I'll give you the benefit of the doubt about the drinking. York should have given you the Breathalyzer and he didn't. But, as for the rest of the bullshit, I've had it. I'm pulling you off patrol, Annie.'

The pronouncement hit her with the force of a physical blow, stunning her. 'But, Sheriff-'

'It's the best decision I can make for all concerned. It's for your own good, Annie. You come off patrol until this all blows over and settles down. You're out of harm's way, out of sight of the many people you have managed to piss off.'

'But I didn't do anything wrong!'

'Yeah, well, life's a bitch, ain't it?' he said sharply. 'I got people telling me you're trouble. You're sitting here telling me everybody's out to get you. I ain't got time for this bullshit. Every puffed-up muck-a-muck in the parish is on my case on account of Renard and this rapist, and the Mardi Gras carnival isn't but a week off. I'm telling you, I'm sick of the whole goddamn mess. I'm pulling you off patrol until this situation blows over. End of story. Are you on tomorrow?'

'No.'

'Fine, then take the rest of the day for yourself. Report to me Monday morning for your new assignment.'

Annie said nothing. She stared at Gus Noblier, disappointment and betrayal humming inside her like a power line.

'It's for the best, Annie.'

'But it's not what's right,' she answered. And before he could reply, she got up and walked out of the room.

16

It cost $52.75 to get the Jeep out of the impound lot. Financial insult added to ego injury. Steaming, Annie made the lot attendant dig through all the junk on the floor and check every inch of the interior for unpleasant surprises. He found none.

She drove down the block to the park and sat in the lot under the shade of a sprawling, moss-hung live oak, staring at the bayou.

How simple it had been for Mullen and his moron cohorts to get what they wanted-her off the job-and she had been powerless to stop it. A thumb on a radio mike switch, a planted pint of Wild Turkey, and she was off the street. The hypocrisy made her mad enough to spit. Gus Noblier was well known for ordering a little after dinner libation to go, yet he pulled her off the job on the lame and unsubstantiated suggestion that maybe she'd had a little something to spike her morning coffee.

Her instinctive response was to fight back, but how? Put a bigger snake in Mullen's truck? As tempting as that idea was, it was a stupid one. Retribution only invited an escalation of the war. Evidence was what she needed,