Sheriff Reed said, “Joe, no,” and wheeled his chair to block the entrance.

Joe reached down to shove the wheelchair aside, but Reed’s pleading eyes penetrated his rage, and he hesitated.

“I’m not moving,” Reed said firmly. His grip on the outside push rim of his back wheels was like iron.

Joe took a breath and looked up. Dulcie had turned and was shaking her head apologetically. Patterson covered his face with his hands. And Tilden Cudmore puffed up his chest.

“Sorry, but some things just need to be said.”

The bailiff moved toward Cudmore while fumbling for his handcuffs. Cudmore had six inches and fifty pounds on the man and stiff-armed him when he got close, rocking the bailiff back on his heels.

“Mr. Cudmore!” Judge Hewitt roared from the bench. “Sit your ass down and shut up, or I’ll light you up right here and now.”

Hewitt was on his feet, holding a black semiauto Sig Sauer aimed at Cudmore. It wasn’t a secret that he always carried a concealed weapon out on the street. But until that moment, Joe didn’t realize he packed heat under his robe as well.

“You don’t need to shoot me,” Cudmore whined. He turned to Patterson. “He can’t do that, can he?”

Patterson moaned into his hands.

The courtroom door burst open and two of Reed’s deputies came in, guns drawn.

“Here they come!” Cudmore sang out. “The jackbooted thugs again!”

Reed gestured to Cudmore and rolled his chair back. Joe stepped aside to let them pass, but he thought about joining them. He wanted a piece of Cudmore.

“Throw him in a cage,” Hewitt said when the deputies secured Cudmore on each side. “Get him out of here.”

Cudmore didn’t fight them, but he made himself go limp so they had to practically drag him to the side door.

To Patterson, Hewitt said, “Is he prepared to make a plea? Or do I have to send him for a psych evaluation first?”

“We talked about a plea of not guilty,” Patterson said sullenly. “Either that, or nolo contendere.”

“There’s a difference, Mr. Patterson.”

“I know that, Your Honor. He can’t make up his mind.”

“He better make up his mind.”

“If he’ll even talk to me,” Patterson said, shaking his head from side to side.

To Dulcie, Judge Hewitt said, “We’ll bring him back in tomorrow morning with leg and hand restraints and a gag over his mouth and try this again.”

Hewitt lifted his robe, holstered his handgun, and let the robe drop. He said to Joe, “I’m sorry you had to hear that. And I’m sorry I lost control of my courtroom. This is the first time that’s ever happened.”

Joe nodded.

“If it happens again,” Hewitt said, “I’ll let you have a go at him, if you promise me I get a shot at him when you’re through.”

“That’s a deal,” Joe said. But his face was still flushed with anger.

—

WHEN HE TURNED to get his hat, Joe saw that Brenda and Bull Cates had come into the courtroom during the fracas. Bull wore bib overalls with a C&C SEWER AND SEPTIC TANK SERVICE patch over the breast pocket, and he had a length of straw in his mouth. He wouldn’t meet Joe’s eyes.

Brenda used the backrest of the bench in front of her to stand up. She looked at Joe with profound sadness.

“So that’s the animal who did it,” she said. “Just like I tried to tell you people. He drives around on the highway just looking for victims. I tried to tell you people, but you were all so sure it was Dallas. Maybe next time you’ll listen to an old lady when she tells you something, even if you think she’s no better than poor white trash.”

Joe grunted.

“I heard what he said about April. I’m just grateful Dallas wasn’t here to hear that. I’m sure he still has feelings for her and he probably would have killed Cudmore with his fists. He’s faster than you.”

Joe’s blood was still running hot, so he clamped his mouth shut and retrieved his hat from the bench.

“He would have been here if he was healthy enough,” Brenda said. “He really wanted to come to support you and your family.”

Joe fit his hat on his head.

“Has she had a chance to say anything yet?” Brenda asked.

11

Has she had a chance to say anything yet?”

Of all the things that had been said that morning in that courtroom, it was Brenda’s parting question that lingered in Joe’s mind as the most bitter and profound. It hung in the air in the cab of his pickup like a foul smell, and it lingered as he exited the town limits and merged onto Bighorn Road. He needed to feed the horses and Daisy before embarking on his two-and-a-half-hour trip north to Billings.

It wasn’t: “How is she doing?”

Or: “When is she expected to recover?”

Or: “When can we see her?”

But: “Has she had a chance to say anything yet?”

Joe answered aloud: “What are you afraid she might say, Brenda?”

—

DESPITE TILDEN CUDMORE’S crazy guilt dance of a performance in the courtroom that morning, which seemed designed to show Judge Hewitt he was mentally incompetent to stand trial, and what he had said about April—who he’d not admitted to even knowing when he was arrested—Joe wondered why Brenda had asked that particular question.

And he wondered why the Cateses had shown up for the arraignment.

—

HE MADE THE LAST straight ascent to his home. In the distance, Wolf Mountain was budding green through his passenger-side window. And when he approached his house, he saw the white pickup with U.S. government plates parked in front.

For a moment, he wondered if the horses and Daisy could wait to eat until late that night. Then he groaned and continued into the driveway.

Annie Hatch opened the passenger-side door and walked over to greet him with her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans. Her body language said: I am remorseful. Revis Wentworth stayed behind the wheel of the pickup. Apparently, he wasn’t as remorseful, Joe thought.

Joe parked and got out. “Now isn’t a good time, Annie,” he said.

“That’s why we’re here,” she said, looking up from her boot tops to Joe. “Why didn’t you tell us about what had happened to your daughter? I—we—feel terrible about pressuring you during this time in your life.”

“You’re doing your job,” Joe said. “I didn’t want to bring my own personal stuff into it.”

“But if you would have told us . . .”

Joe chinned toward Wentworth, who seemed to be studying something fascinating on the dashboard. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Joe said.

“It would have to me,” she said.

“Thank you, Annie.”

“How is your daughter?”

“She’s stable. It’s complicated.”

“Good, good,” Hatch said. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Joe nodded. It was apparent there was more on her mind, but he didn’t want to hear what it was. He said, “Well, it was nice of you to come by, but I’m on my way to the hospital right now.”

Because she didn’t turn around and walk back to her truck, Joe knew that she definitely had more to say.

“What?” he asked.

“Well, I almost hate to ask,” she said, “but we were wondering if you’d sent that box of evidence from Lek Sixty-four to your people at the lab.”

Joe took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The anger he’d felt in the courtroom had dissipated, but it was still within reach.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. The evidence box had been taped up and labeled, but was still on his desk in his cluttered office. He hadn’t even thought about it the past few days.