I let my eyes go wide.
"Aw, hell."
He waited.
"This about the goats?"
A flicker in his face. The smallest one. Recovery, immediate.
"I beg your pardon."
"Senior year of high school. We rounded up six goats from a guy's farm out by Marfa and put 'em in the gymnasium of our rival in Alpine the night before homecoming. I told Grant. I saidGrant, you put six goats in a gym, eventually the FBI is going to want a word.I saidGrant, if we don't watch ourselves, this thing's going all the way to the President.Grant said no. Grant said the statute of limitations would protect us. Grant—" I shook my head, sad. "Grant was always cocky."
Craine's face didn't change. Credit where it was due.
"Mr. Dane, on two separate occasions in the last twelve months, your brothers Wyatt and Grant were in close proximity to federal agents who subsequently died under suspicious circumstances. The Bureau has reason to believe they were directly involved."
"Huh."
"Yes."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"They're your brothers."
I waited. He waited. I waited longer. He went first.
"Mr. Dane, I'm trying to be a friend to you here."
Plan B,I thought.He was going to lean. The lean didn't take. Now we're trying friendship.
"Appreciate it," I said.
"My agents will be in Charleston in significant numbers over the next several weeks. The investigation is active. The investigation is expanding. I would suggest, very strongly and as a matter of personal kindness, that you get on a plane today and return to wherever it is you are based. The next time we have this conversation, it will not be informal."
There it was.
Plan C. Remove the wild card from the board before he learns the rules.
I let it sit a beat. Tilted my head. Made a face like I was working through it.
"Mr. Craine," I said, "I appreciate the heads-up. I do. But I have to tell you, I've got no clue what you're talking about. Wyatt and Grant—my brothers Wyatt and Grant—they're scattered across about three time zones doing whatever it is they do, and I haven't seen either of them in over a year." I did the small wince. "Last time I saw Grant, we ate barbecue and he beat me at horseshoes. That's about the size of it on my end."
He watched me.
"Of course," he said.
"But I sure do appreciate you stopping by. Real Southern of you. Got my day off to a hell of a start."
"Mr. Dane?—"
"And as much as I would love to keep chatting, I told you I had a hot shower and a nice long morning planned, and a man's word is a man's word. So, if you'll excuse me, Deputy Director, I'm going to go enjoy that shower. Place around the corner does a cheese danish I've been thinking about since I landed."
He stood.
I stood.
He pulled a card from his inside pocket and held it out between two fingers.
