“Do not tell me he’s not here,” Deke cut in, stepping forward. “If you don’t get him, I’ll arrest you for refusal to cooperate.” Her cheeks blanched; she stood aside, her fingers trembling on the doorframe. “Where is he?”
“In his office. I can get him—”
“No, thank you.” Deke and Rawley brushed past her into the dim hallway. They walked in silence to Winchester’s office door. Deke didn’t knock. He pushed it open and stepped into the room.
Winchester sat behind his big desk cluttered with ledgers. He sprang to his feet, his eyes narrowing like a cornered animal. Rawley clicked the door shut behind them.
“What now, Agents?” Winchester’s voice was smooth, but his fingers drummed nervously on the desk.
“You’re under arrest for the theft of Rudy Hollister’s cattle, along with Drury’s,” Rawley announced, stalking around the desk in slow, precise strides.
Winchester laughed, a short, brittle sound that grated against Deke’s nerves. Deke sank into a burgundy wingback chair, and folded his arms. “Your boy gave you up, Winchester. Though he led us on a wild goose chase at first, he decided to talk.”
“None of my boys would implicate me,” Winchester spat, voice tight.
“Save it,” Rawley said, and Deke leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Johnny and Teddy talked.” He let the silence stretch until Winchester’s face tightened.
“Bullshit,” Winchester muttered.
“Tell us where to find Walsh,” Rawley demanded. Both agents watched as Winchester’s bravado faltered and he slumped back into his chair. Sweat beaded on his brow, thin rivulets clinging to the skin.
“I don’t—”
“So help me, if you say you don’t know, I will be pissed,” Rawley said as he spun Winchester’s chair so he could look him in eye.“Where is he?”
“As far as I know, he’s in Liberty, Montana.”
“How do you reach him?” Deke’s tone was flat, steel-edged.
“I call him,” Winchester said.
“Not on your cellphone.”
“We used burner phones.” He shrugged, defiant.
“Call him now.” Deke crossed his arms.
“I don’t have that phone anymore, we got rid of the burners, but I can give you his address.”
Winchester hesitated, then sighed. He pulled open a drawer. Rawley’s hand dropped to his holstered sidearm.
“Slowly,” Rawley warned.
Winchester removed a piece of paper and scribbled an address. He slid the slip across the desk. Deke rose, voice crisp, “Stand up. You’re under arrest for rustling, removing ear tags, and anything else I can add.”
Winchester obeyed. “How about a deal?” he offered, desperation creeping into his tone.
Rawley chuckled. “Everyone wants a fucking deal.”
“I’m done making deals,” Deke replied. “You, your sons, and Smith, are all going down. Once we locate Walsh, he’ll be in a cell next to yours.”
“That man will kill me.”
“You should have thought of that before.” Deke watched silently as Rawley snapped steel handcuffs over Winchester’s wrists and led him toward the door.
At the door, Mrs. Winchester hovered in the doorway, knuckles white on the frame. “Where areyou taking him?”
“The sheriff’s department will be here to pick him up.”
