I lean on the small desk behind me, crossing one ankle over the other. "Jumpy, aren't you? Everything all right?"
Dan glares at me. He has beady eyes and a jaw that extends beyond the line of his forehead, making his head look slightly inverted. "In trouble again, Wyatt? I can only assume that's why you're here."
I cross my arms. "You know what they say about assuming…"
"Cut the shit. What do you want?"
"Ricky and Chris Marks. What do you know about them?"
He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Who?"
I'm willing him to look at me, but he doesn't. He removes his glasses from his desk, followed by cleaning solution and a cloth.
"So you don't know them?" I ask.
He looks me straight in the eyes and lies.
Sheriff Monroe comes through the front door of the station, boots stomping on the ground.
"Wyatt," he says, stopping when he sees me. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I smirk. Pleasure is a bit of a stretch.
I grip Dan's shoulder and squeeze. He shifts, but I hold on. "Just dropping by to see an old friend."
I could press the issue, maybe even ask the sheriff to look in on the Marks brothers. He would if he knew who they were related to. Dixon Calhoun was a menace to this town, and the sheriff knows apples don't fall far.
But I have a feeling whatever Dan is up to with them is bad news, and I'd like to give him just enough rope to hang himself.
The sheriff gives Dan a stern look. "Socialize on your own time."
"I didn't—" The words die on Dan's lips. The sheriff literally waved him off.
He starts for his office, and says, "Come with me, Wyatt."
I turn back. "Bye Dan. Nice visiting with you."
He gives me a hate-filled glare. I smile and wink, then follow the sheriff into his office.
"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" I ask, folding myself into the same chair I sat in when he doled out my community service.
He stops behind his desk and grips the back of his chair. "How long have you been out at Jo Shelton's ranch?"
"Two months."
"How many hours?"
I shrug. "I haven't been keeping track."
"Would you say one hundred hours?" His eyebrows raise and his chin drifts like he's leading me to an answer.
I nod slowly. "That sounds about right."
"Good, good." He pulls out his chair and sits. "I hereby declare you finished with community service."
"So formal."
Sheriff grunts a laugh. "Don't get mouthy with me, boy."
