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two raccoons? What did that kind of crazy look like?
    Libby Gabaroni slapped down a napkin roll and gave him a grin, no doubt recalling their wrangling behind the high-school gym. Her bouncy bust had amazed him then. Now she took jigglers to a whole new realm.
    Jonah opened the menu and chose the burger that topped the list, a half-pound beef patty with pickles, onion, and mustard—no ketchup, they knew. He sipped the icy Coke she brought a few minutes later and tuned in to the conversations around him. The booths were low and good for eavesdropping, not that people hushed up around him anyway, not the way a room had gone silent when the former police chief walked in—people sitting a little straighter, clearing their throats as though they could scrape out anything he might not want to hear.
    People nodded and waved, but no one slid in to chat. Jonah swallowed the last of his burger and wiped his mouth. Libby had kept him supplied with refills, but he put a hand over his glass and asked for the check. She had it ready in her pocket, and he handed over the total plus tip.
    She looked at the money in her hand. “You want change?”
    It’s yours.
    She blushed. “No need to hurry out, you know.”
    He nodded but got up as soon as she had cleared the way. Hanging around would send her a message he didn’t want to send.
    “Chief.”
    He turned at the tug on his sleeve.
    Merv Brothers pressed a key into his palm. “This’ll get you into the you-know-what. You take a look, and tell me there isn’t something funny going on.”
    “How’d you get the key?”
    Merv raised pale blue eyes in his whisker-studded, leathery face. “Gave it to me himself, long time ago, when we were speakin’.” He ran a hand over his wispy hair. “You watch yourself going in. He says it’s wired to blow. Might be for alls I know.”
    “He told you the shed is wired?”
    “He could be lyin’.”
    “I’d still need a warrant to look without permission. But I’ll hold on to this.” If Tom Caldwell had booby-trapped the shed between their properties, he didn’t want Merv deciding to sneak in himself. “I’ll go by and talk to him.”
    Merv shook his head. “Won’t do a spit of good. He’ll jump your throat like a junkyard dog sayin’ what’s his business is none of yours.”
    “Well, I have to follow protocol.” He pocketed the key. “But I’ll look into it.” He’d made it to the door with Merv still at his elbow.
    “Take my word for it. You oughta have you a look without getting his back up.”
    “I’ll do my best.” He passed through the door and left Merv rubbing his jaw. He avoided neighbor disputes as much as he could. Open that door and he’d have a continuous stream of whiners. In this case Merv had shared some troubling observations, and it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, but not tonight.
    Since the officers on duty had the patrol cars, Jonah took his Bronco down the mountain. He had shampooed the upholstery, cutting the stink in half, but only time would fully eradicate it. The medical center that served the surrounding region was about a fifty-minute drive away, so there was no chance he’d hold his breath. Helicopter could make it in twenty, but most people requiring that lift were taken farther down to a larger, better-equipped hospital. It was good Sarge remained at Tri-County—though the staff might disagree. His hollering carried all the way down the hall.
    When would Sarge stop needing to give the orders? Jonah stepped into the room. The corners of the old man’s lips were white with spit as he reprimanded the nurse who depressed the syringe into his IV. She said nothing, but the tight line of her mouth gave her away.
    “Hey, Sarge.” Jonah said. “Why’re you giving the nurse a hard time?”
    She looked up with a little hitch. Sometimes it was about the uniform, but he’d changed clothes before coming. Her cheeks flushed. “Are you a relative?” She meant, Could you possibly be related to