“I don’t know,” the man spat.
“Yeah, right.” Deke snapped handcuffs onto the man’s wrists, the metal clicking cold against his skin, then patted him down, and removed the man’s wallet. He flipped it open to see the man’s name, then put the wallet back into the man’s pocket and gripped the crook of his elbow and guided him down the sun-bleached steps toward the road. Ahead, the dusty trail stretched toward a hauler idling in the road. Killian stood before it, a rifle steady in his hands.
Chapter Seven
Deke heard Killian yell, “Get out of the truck!” but instead the engine roared, tires spinning against the dirt. A staccato of shots rang out.
“Damn it!” Deke muttered, pulling his prisoner behind as Killian’s voice cut through the echoing shots.
“Next one goes through the windshield!” Killian yelled.
At last, the truck ground to a halt. Killian strode forward to the driver’s door, looked up, and aimed the rifle at the driver. “Shut it off and step out.”
Deke ushered the cuffed man into the back seat of his truck. The air inside was already thick with heat. Deke thumbed through his phone’s directory for the sheriff’s office number as he watched Rawley arrive on foot, pistol strapped to his hip, dragging the younger man in handcuffs. Winchester sneered at him, then kicked back, hitting Rawley in the shin, making him swear at the pain.
“You little dick,” he said as he rubbed his sore leg.
The kid laughed. “Little? I bet I have a bigger dick than you.”
Rawley straightened up and looked at him. “Well, hell, son. Whip it out and let’s compare.”
Deke and Killian laughed as Rawley looked at the kid again and raised his eyebrow but the kid wouldn’t look at him.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. If you’re lucky, your balls will drop soon. Let’s go.” Rawley grabbed him by his elbow and led him to the truck.
“You’re nothing without that gun. Uncuff me and I’ll show you.”
Rawley’s eyes glittered as he grabbed the kid by the collar and spun him around. “Threatening me? Hell, you’ve already assaulted an officer,” he said, voice low. The boy’s bravado wavered under Rawley’s six foot five frame and easy confidence. “Hell, you’re not even shaving, and you’re trying to intimidate me?” Rawley laughed and released him. “Get in the damn truck.”
Killian slid the second suspect into the back seat. Deke put down both rear windows. “We’ll wait for the sheriff’s department,” he said. “Killian, can you go back to that house and look through it. I doubt if there’s anything in there, but if we could find something, it would help.”
“No problem,” Killian replied, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked down the gravel drive, carrying the rifle with him.
A voice from the back added, “Could you turn the air on? It’s like an oven back here.”
Deke shook his head. “You’re lucky I let you catch this breeze. Keep it up, and I’ll close those windows.” Deke stared into the truck. “Is your father involved in this?” he asked the older Winchester.
“I ain’t saying shit.”
“Fine. One of you will crack,” Rawley said, arms folded. “Might earn a lighter sentence if you’re first.”
“I just wonder if old man Winchester’s behind it,” Deke admitted.
“He has to know,” Rawley muttered.
Deke squared his shoulders. “Proving it’s another story.”
“I’m going to check those cattle,” Rawley announced, his voice steady and determined, before striding toward the back of the hauler. Dust swirled around his boots as he moved.
Deke nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and leaned casually against the truck gazing into the distance with a contemplative expression. He heard Rawley open the gate, then climb inside.
Ten minutes later, Killian came back toward the truck.
“There’s nothing in that house but spiderwebs and dust. It’s abandoned.”
Deke remained silent.
“What are you thinking?” Killian asked, breaking the silence, his eyes narrowing slightly.
