“Anthony Dyer?” Deke inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity and suspicion.
“That’s the name I was told,” Johnny confirmed. “We’ve never met him, but Dad was in constant contact with him. Anthony paid him a lot of money.”
“Why would your dad need money?” Deke asked, puzzled. “By the looks of that house, he has no need for money.”
A dry laugh escaped Johnny’s lips. “He was broke. It was all an act.”
“So, he thought stealing cattle and dealing with the black market was the way to make money?” Deke pressed on, trying to piece together the puzzle.
“Smith contacted Dad about a job on the ranch,” Johnny explained. “But once Dad found out that Smith had been arrested before for rustling, he propositioned him and offered him a lot of money. Smith was all for it and told Dad that he knew how to do it without being caught. He suggested Hollister’s cattle because he knew the lay of the property, how to get in and out with no problems.”
“Is it just you, your dad, Smith, Dyer, and your brother involved?” Deke asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“No,” Johnny replied. “Tommy went with us.”
“Which time?”
“This last time since there were so many cattle to take.”
“How many times have you stolen livestock?” Deke continued, his voice steady yet probing.
“Hell, I don’t know,” Johnny confessed, his tone resigned. “I didn’t count.”
“Did you help remove the ear tags from Hollister’s cattle?” Deke’s question hung in the air, tinged with both accusation and curiosity.
“No.”
Johnny’s voice was low, nearly swallowed by the oppressive hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. He sat hunched at the steel table, fingers drumming against its scarred surface.
Deke leaned forward, the brim of his Stetson casting a shadow over his eyes. He set an evidence bag with a cattle tag inside, on the table; the edgesstill flecked with dirt. “We found these on a property down the road from where the cattle were hidden. We’ll dust them for prints, and just in case you forgot, we have yours, your brothers, and Smiths, to compare them to. You’d better tell the truth.”
“Fingerprints? Shit.” Johnny’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists.
“Is that your way of admitting you helped remove them? Like I told you, interfering with ear tags is a federal offense.” Deke’s tone was cold, precise.
Johnny swallowed hard. “So… what happens now?”
“Will I find your prints on those tags?” Deke snapped.
“Yes,” Johnny whispered as if he’d just realized the severity of his crime.
Deke’s reply was softer but no less firm. “I need details, who else was involved.”
“I don’t have more,” Johnny snapped, desperation creeping into his voice.
“Stop fucking around with me,” Deke barked, slamming a hand on the table. The clang echoed in the tiny room.
“Alright, alright!” Johnny raised his hands in surrender. His voice trembled. “My dad’s beef never sold as well as Hollister’s, and he was pissed. He figured, if we could lift Hollister’s cattle and sell them on the black market, he’d put him out of business.”
Deke frowned, rubbing his jaw. “Hollister had insurance. You didn’t hurt him, moneywise.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Who was there the night the cattle werestolen?” Deke asked, his gaze unflinching.
Johnny exhaled a shaky breath. “Me, Teddy, Smith, and Tommy.”
“Smith?” Deke leaned even closer. “Hewasactually there?”
