Wade smiled as if it was the answer he’d expected. “If you keep saying shit like that, I don’t want to hear any more lectures from you about the difference between can’t and won’t.”
That was probably fair. “You really think it’s going to be that bad? Like, leaving-town bad?”
“Yeah,” Wade said slowly. He looked reflective. “I don’t know these guys too well, but I know you; you like to be in the middle of shit. And this isn’t something you should be in the middle of. Whatever happens, it’s going to be ugly.”
Jericho didn’t respond, and Wade snorted. “And that just made you determined to be in the middle of it, right? I swear, Jay, you’ve got more balls than brains.”
“I killed three men yesterday.” It had been popping into his mind uninvited all day, the cold reality of it. “I don’t know why it happened, but it did. I can’t— Shit, I won’t walk away and pretend I’m not involved. And I have a responsibility to the town, and to Kay—”
“How many men have you killed in your life, Jay? I mean—how many tours of Afghanistan did you do? And you were out in the field, not pushing paper somewhere. Don’t tell me you only started killing people since you got back to Mosely.”
There was a throbbing in Jericho’s head: not quite pain, just an awareness of pressure. He wished it would go the hell away. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” he admitted. “And, I don’t know, maybe I’m being racist, thinking these people matter more because they’re in the US—but we were at war in Afghanistan. We’re not at war here.”
“I think the militia gang would disagree with you on that.”
The two of them stood in silence for a while, and then Kayla called, “Jay? Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” he called back, then, in a quieter voice, asked Wade, “You going to come by later? Or we could— Shit, I don’t even know where you live. You want to meet at your place?”
“Can’t.” Wade didn’t sound too broken up about it. “I’ve got work to do.”
“With everything that’s going on? Shit, Wade, that’s not smart! There are feds everywhere.”
“That’s part of the fun,” Wade replied with a jaunty smile, and he started back toward the others.
Of course Kayla insisted on taking all the information to the FBI, and of course they downplayed the value of her intel while playing up her decision not to arrest Sam Tennant and bring him in so they could question him.
“It would have cut off a potential stream of information,” Kayla said. She and Jericho were behind her desk with a room full of senior agents frowning at them. “We would have blown the trust not just from Tennant, but Granger as well. As it is, they’re working with us, trying to de-escalate the situation. If I’d brought Tennant in, he wouldn’t have been able to feed us any more information and it might have endangered the child at the compound.”
“Or we could have used the insulin as a bargaining chip for some other concession,” Special Agent Casey said. He seemed to have aged about ten years since the morning, and he’d already looked pretty shitty back then.
But him having a hard time was no excuse for sloppy thinking, so Jericho said, “You’re assuming anyone in charge out there gives a shit about the kid. I don’t think that’s a safe assumption. Hell, if the martyrdom theory is accurate and this is all about publicity and perception, they’d love it if they ended up with a dead kid they could blame on the big, bad feds. You think they wouldn’t have an internet field day with you even mentioning the possibility of withholding a kid’s medicine?”
Casey scowled at him. “Why were you contacted in the first place? And why didn’t you inform me of the meeting before it occurred?”
“I was contacted because I’m a local—they know me, and they know the sheriff. Come on, Casey, this isn’t news to you. When the feds roll into town they’re supposed to work with the locals because we’re the ones who know the players. You lost some people, and it’s made you want to be a cowboy—believe me, I understand the cowboy instinct—but that doesn’t mean it’s good police work. You should be using us, not ignoring us.” He waited a moment, saw no sign of softening in Casey’s glare, and added, “And I didn’t tell you about the meeting before we went out because I didn’t know what it was about. It could have been anything, any of the large number of concerns we deal with in this county. I didn’t know it was militia until we got there and saw Sam.” He managed to keep himself from saying that if he had known, he still wouldn’t have told the feds. Hopefully Kayla would appreciate his discretion.
“You’re aware of the penalties for impeding a federal investigation?” Casey demanded.
“Is that the best way to spend your energy?” Kayla asked. Her voice was gentle, but surely Casey wouldn’t be stupid enough to miss the strength behind her words. “I understand that you’re frustrated; I can’t imagine having to negotiate with the assholes responsible for the death of any of my deputies. But we’re on the same side here. We’re not trying to get in your way; we were simply responding to a call.”
“And we’re all just pretending you got that call because you’re locals,” Casey said. “We’re supposed to ignore the relationship between your under-sheriff and one of the suspects in this investigation?”
“I was unaware that Mr. Granger was a suspect in this case,” Kayla said, still calm. “As you know—as you ordered—my department hasn’t been made privy to your investigations. In terms of other cases?” She shrugged. “Again, I don’t think worrying about my other cases is the best place for you to spend your energy. Do you?”
Casey clearly wasn’t interested in Kay’s advice about where to direct his efforts, but her points were pretty hard for anyone to argue with. Instead he growled, “I’m watching both of you,” and then stalked away.
“Aren’t you glad you talked to them?” Jericho asked as the other FBI agents trailed after their boss.
“Yes, I am glad,” Kayla said. “Because I know I did my job. I did what I should do, and I didn’t let someone else’s issues interfere.”
Well she was more mature than Jericho, but that was hardly news. He watched the feds leave, then said, “Shit. We’re back where we started, right? We still don’t have anything to work on.”
“We have the ‘large number of concerns we deal with in this county.’ Don’t think they’ve gone anywhere.”
“You want me to go check on Mr. Williton’s traps again, make sure he’s not catching the neighbors’ cats?”
Kayla looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head. “No. I think a fourteen-hour day is enough. I want you to go home and get some sleep, and come back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.”
