The door swung open. Mrs. Winchester stood framed in the dim hallway light, her shoulders slumped, the lines around her eyes deep with worry. She exhaled, a soft hiss of resignation. “What do you need, Agent Anderson?”
He nodded once. “I need to speak with Tommy.”
Behind her, Chet Winchester filled the doorway. His jaw tightened when he saw Deke. “Anderson, what are you doing here? You’ve already jailed two of my boys. You’re not taking another.”
Deke met his glare, voice low and even. “Winchester, that’sAgentAnderson to you, and you’re lucky I’m not arresting you right now. I know you were involved in stealing Hollister’s cattle—”
Winchester’s face hardened. “That’s a lie.”
Deke’s lips curled in a smirk. “Not according to John Smith… and one of your sons.”
Winchester’s eyes shifted to his wife, then back. “None of my sons would speak against me.”
“One did,” Deke said quietly. “He wants a deal. With his cooperation, you’ll go down with your sons and Smith.”
“Which one said I was in on it?”
“I’m not saying, but what I will say, is that your time is coming.”
“Then arrest me,” Winchester barked. “If you have proof—”
Deke folded his arms. “I will. Right now, I’m here for Tommy. He took part in rustling those cattle.”
Winchester’s face turned red. “You’ve got nothing.”
“Oh, but I do.” Deke folded his arms across his chest. “Fingerprints, ear tags—”
“When do I get my phone back?” Winchester demanded, changing the subject.
Deke glanced at him. “Call the sheriff’s department.”
“I want it now.”
Deke grinned. “Then go get it. I’m sure Sheriff Jones will hand it over.”
Winchester’s lip curled. “I wouldn’t speak to that man for all the money in the world.”
Deke’s eyes glinted. “Funny, I hear you’d do just about anything for money. Like selling stolen livestock to Anthony Dyer.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Winchester spat.
“You can keep lying,” Deke said softly, “but I know who has done what. And you’ll go down for it. Now get Tommy, or I’ll search the whole house again. That warrant’s still valid.” He placed his hand over his weapon on his hip, and casually tapped his finger against it.
Winchester let out a weary sigh. He glanced at his wife, then shrugged. “Go get him.”
Mrs. Winchester’s shoulders rose. “Alright. He’s upstairs.” She slipped away down the hallway.
Deke watched Winchester turn and lumber toward his office. He wanted that confrontation, but tonight his focus was on the younger boy. He listened to distant, hesitant footsteps on the staircase, then saw Mrs. Winchester descending alone. Deke’s jaw clenched.
“Where is he?”
“He won’t come down.”
“Fine.” Deke stepped past her and bounded up the stairs two at a time.
At the end of the landing, he paused by Tommy’s closed door. He shoved it open without knocking.
“Get out of here!” Tommy’s voice cracked. A half-made bed sagged beneath rumpled sheets.
