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up?”
                 
    Louis shrugged. “We were at the crime scene a good while. The coroner had just arrived and was getting his mitts dirty when they waved their city badges and told us to get lost. I have no idea how they knew that the girl from Pete’s was connected, since even we didn’t know, but they asked a few questions, frowned a little bit and then carted Travis off to the station.” Louis clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sound that meant he was irritated, and he added, “If Travis did this, then I’m my own Aunt Fanny.”
                 
    Jon had pulled into the station and was out of the car before he thought to remark on Louis’ comment. The station had marked cars from the bigger city to the north taking and they took up the prime parking spaces. Even as he neared the door, he could see the figures of about five men in uniform meandering all through what appeared to be the remains of the deputy’s work desks and files. They’d torn the place upside down.
                 
    As the front door to the station closed behind him, Jon demanded, “Who the hell is running this circus?”
                 
    The nearest cop turned slowly in his direction, his crisp suit crinkling as his eyes took in what probably appeared to him to be a civilian, and he said, “Who the hell are you?”
                 
    Jon scoffed and stepped forward to make room for Louis who was just making his way inside. He replied, “I’m Sheriff Jonathan Harper, this is my station. I want an explanation and quick like.”
                 
    A man moved from around the edge of the hallway leading to the two interrogation rooms they possessed, and judging by his official pickled-rear way of walking, Jon knew he was the chief among the Indians. He was tall, though perhaps an inch shy of him, bronzed from too many days in the sun, and his deep brown eyes whispered intelligence.
                 
    “It’s about time you showed, Sheriff. I was just about to send out an APB for you, perhaps with the thought that you might have helped your brother kill off his conquests. Do you think it might be wise to arrest you, too?”
                 
    Jon fought the reflex to grab the man and choke the life from him. For one thing, it wouldn’t have satisfied him, and for two, there were more of them than there were of him. He said, his teeth together so he was almost hissing, “Your asinine reasoning aside, what evidence do you have to arrest anyone?”
                 
    The man moved to stand in front of Jon and he extended his hand. “My name is Sheriff Martin Pence. I can understand your anger, particularly when our suspect happens to be your brother, however you ought to cool down some before your temper leads you to make some bad decisions.” Sheriff Pence smiled. “Maybe you’d like to ask your deputy some questions? I have a mind that he might talk to you.”
     
    As he was led into the interrogation room where they had Travis handcuffed to a chair, he’d fought hard against the inclination to lose his control. When this was over, he was going to need a series of stiff drinks from his trusty flask.
                 
    Travis looked as if he’d been pulled through a car wash by the hairs in his nose. Since the last time he’d seen him, Jon thought his brother had undergone a disturbing transformation. It really was true about what they say of wild animals getting locked inside of cages. No longer than it had been Travis looked as if he’d given up all hope.
                 
    “Hi there, bro.” Travis said as Jon took a seat across from him.
                 
    “Hey yourself.” Jon replied as he leaned in forward on his elbows against the table that was set between him and Travis. He added, “Heard you had a rough morning.”
                 
    Travis smirked. “Nothing I