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often in fact, that after a while you just learn to ignore them. Most of the threats come from anonymous e-mails sent to our Web site or crank phone calls to the EEWA office or our home. Sometimes callers leave obscene voice messages. Other times, all you can hear is heavy breathing—nobody says anything.”
    â€œAny idea whose been sending the messages?”
    â€œNobody in particular, but we assumed the threats had to be coming from locals who are associated with the Citizens for a Free West.”
    â€œDid you report the crank calls and anonymous e-mails to the police?”
    She forced a laugh. “You must be kidding, Ranger Books.”
    â€œPlease, call me J.D.”
    â€œOkay. We did at first, but it didn’t take long to realize the sheriff’s office didn’t have the slightest interest.”
    Sutter bristled but didn’t say anything.
    â€œWhat makes you say that?”
    â€œWell, why should they? Most of them either belong to the CFW or are CFW sympathizers.”
    â€œThat’s not true,” said Sutter. “My men investigated every one of those incidents just as we do all citizen complaints that come into this office.”
    Books turned to Sutter. “Were you able to identify any suspects?”
    â€œNo, never did, but it wasn’t because we didn’t try.”
    Books shifted his attention back to Darby. “Has anyone ever threatened you or your husband directly?”
    She started to shake her head and then paused. “Come to think of it, there was an incident about two, maybe three months ago involving that gorilla who works for Neil Eddins. Tommy something-or-other, I think his name is.”
    Books glanced at Sutter. “Help me here, Charley.”
    â€œMcClain, she’s talking about Tommy McClain.”
    â€œYeah, that’s him. Big guy, tall, with very yellow teeth and stinky breath you can smell clear across a room.”
    Sutter fidgeted in his chair, not caring for Greenbriar’s characterization of Tommy McClain.
    Books suppressed a smile. “Well, I’ll be damned. Tommy ‘Trees’ McClain—haven’t heard that name in a few years.” Books had played basketball with McClain in high school. Trees had sprouted to six-feet-seven by the end of tenth grade. For a small-town high-school basketball team to have a six-seven center was akin to Shaq O’Neill playing for a local church team. Unlike O’Neill, Trees couldn’t walk and chew bubble gum at the same time. McClain must have decided to remain in Kanab and work for Neil Eddins.
    â€œTell me what happened, Darby.”
    â€œDavid and I had just finished dinner at the Stagecoach Grill. It was a Friday or Saturday night, I think. We were in the parking lot about to get into our truck when this Tommy and some other guy I didn’t recognize stopped us. They’d been drinking and were headed into the Stagecoach Bar when they saw us. After a couple of sexual innuendos directed at me, McClain asked David if he knew what happened to tree-huggers in Kane County. When David didn’t answer, he laughed and asked us if we’d seen the movie Fargo. As I recall, he found it quite amusing telling us that ground-up body parts from a wood-chipper provided an excellent source of protein when mixed into hog feed.”
    Charley Sutter had heard enough. “If this incident happened as you say it did, why didn’t you report it?”
    â€œHello, haven’t you been listening? We don’t report this kind of harassment because your office refuses to do anything about it.”
    Books interrupted to stop the acrimonious exchange from going further. “Aside from members of the CFW, can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to see your husband dead?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œWhat about members of the EEWA? Were there any members who seemed opposed to the direction your husband was taking the organization?”
    That