CHAPTER 32
“Sheriff,”Travis drawled. “What brings you all the way out here?”
Micah kept his voice level. “You been home all afternoon, Travis?”
Travis tilted his head, the toothpick shifting to the other side of his mouth. “Yeah. Why?”
“Someone fired shots from the woods behind your property. Nearly hit three people.”
Travis’s eyebrows rose—just enough to register interest without committing to concern. “That right? Must’ve been hunters. Happens sometimes.”
“This close to a residential property?” Micah asked.
Travis shrugged. “People don’t always pay attention to boundaries.”
Micah held his gaze. “Anyone been out in your woods today?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Your brothers around?”
“Jared’s in town. Kyle’s inside.” Travis leaned against the doorframe appearing casual and unbothered. “You need to talk to him?”
“Not yet.” Micah let the words sit for a beat. “Mind if I take a look at your firearms?”
The amusement in Travis’s eyes sharpened. “You got a warrant, Sheriff?”
“Not yet.”
“Then no. I don’t mind—I just can’t let you.” Travis’s smile widened. “You understand, I’m sure.”
Micah didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Instead, he let the silence stretch, let Travis sit in it, let him know that this wasn’t going away.
“Someone fired two rounds near your property. I’ve got the casings. I’ve got boot prints. And I’ve got the trajectory.” Micah took a step closer, his voice dropping. “If I find out anyone on this property was involved, I’ll be back with a warrant, and I’ll press charges. Reckless endangerment at minimum. Attempted assault if I can make it stick.”
Travis’s smile didn’t falter, but something behind it shifted. “Well . . . it’s a good thing it wasn’t anyone on this property then.”
Micah held his gaze another long moment before stepping back. “I’ll be in touch.”
Before leaving, he glanced at Travis’s feet. He wore boots with fresh mud on them. He would bet the print that shoe left was the same as the print he’d found in the woods.
He stored that information to the back of his mind.
Then he turned and walked off the porch, Wyatt and Thunder falling into step beside him.
They didn’t speak until they’d crossed back over the fence line and were deep enough into the trees that the house was out of sight.
“He knows exactly what happened,” Wyatt said. “Most likely, he was a part of it.”
“I agree.”
However, without a confession or a witness or a matching firearm, Micah couldn’t prove it.
Not yet.
At least he had the casings and boot prints. If he could get a warrant—if he could match those casings to a rifle on the Hendersons’ property—then he’d have enough.
He didn’t have answers yet.
