"I'm a pragmatist."
"Pessimist," I muttered.
When we walked into the little jail that, along with Susan's offices, was part of the municipal building, I didn't miss the expression of relief on the sheriff's face.
"We're here," Jack said flatly. "Bring on the murderer and his confession."
I elbowed him. "Jack. Stop. Susan, I'm exhausted. Can we just get on with this?"
Susan took us into her office, where Bubba, in handcuffs, sat morosely in a chair against the wall.
When he saw me, he jumped up. "Tess! You tell them!"
"Tell who what? I thoughtyouhad something you wanted to tellme."
"Tell her," Susan demanded. "It's too late to play games."
His eyes shone with a kind of desperate hope. "If I told her I wanted you to vouch for me, Susan?—"
"That's Sheriff Gonzalez to you," she said in an icy tone.
"Sheriff Gonzales wouldn’t have called you, on account of it being so late and all."
Jack took a step closer to Bubba. "Yes, it is late, and Tess is very tired. So, if you have something to confess, maybe you could get to it."
Suddenly, I was irritated. "Tesscan speak for herself. So, Bubba. Please sit down and tell me why you wanted to talk to me."
"I wanted you to tell them I'm no killer. You know me, Tess. You held Snake Hissken, and I don't let anybody hold my snake."
Susan's eyes widened, and she clamped her lips shut, but behind me, I heard Jack cough.
"Okay. Yes. Let's leave the snake out of it. What do you want to say about the murder?"
He slumped back down into his chair. "I saw him. Cletus. I saw him on the ground, so it must have been after somebody shot him. And I saw a woman with long hair kneeling next to him … next to his body. She yelled at me to get out, so I got out, because she sounded crazy. And that's the honest truth."
He reached out a hand to touch mine, but I backed away.
"Bubba. You know the last thing I want to see is how you die."
He hunched over in his chair, the picture of abject misery. "I hope I don't die in jail for something I didn't do, that's all."
"Okay. Susan, can we talk?" I turned and walked out of the office, and Jack and Susan followed me.
"Gunshot residue?" Jack asked.
"None on either Bubba or Skeeter, according to Lizzie, but of course they could have worn gloves," Susan said with frustration. "And the rest of the McKees are alibied. Even Lola. They were all at Connor's Pub getting hammered in true McKee style."
"Cameras?"
"Yes, Jack, I looked at the camera feed. It’s not my first day on the job," she snapped.
I held up my hands. "Hey. You two. Cut it out. Sniping at each other will not solve this or make us any less tired."
Susan scrubbed her face with her hands. "I know, I know. Sorry, Jack."
"I'm sorry, too. I got too accustomed to snapping orders at soldiers. I need to move past that," Jack said.
We heard footsteps and turned to see Carlos walk into the hallway.
