He shook his arms and fingers out. Get a grip, man.That’s you making yourself miserable, not her. She has no control over your choices. Ha. Right.

The futile self-affirmation brought a sarcastic uptwitch to the corners of his lips. Excellent. Exactly the face he wanted to present to Meyer. When he played the role of the smart-ass punk with no respect for the county’s established guard, Meyer lost his cool. Vaughn loved it when the visage of paternal condescension evaporated from Meyer’s face to reveal the disdain he usually kept in careful check. Didn’t happen often, but enough to make Vaughn hungry for it.

He ducked into the gift shop for a pack of gum, dialing Stratis as he paid the cashier. “Where are you?”

“Outside the post-surgical recovery room, waiting for the all-clear to interview Junior.”

“Any lawyers buzzing around?”

“Not yet.”

Interesting. Vaughn had been so certain Meyer would’ve gone on the defense straight out of the gate that he hadn’t given much consideration to the alternative, that Meyer had reached the decision that his son hadn’t done anything criminal, or at least criminal enough to bring a lawyer into the situation.

“Did you get blood samples?” he asked Stratis. “If Junior’s on drugs again, that could answer a lot of my questions.”

“I sent Binderman to the lab with samples. He put a rush on it, so we should have the tox results by the end of the week.”

The end of the week was four days away. Maddening, how slow the system worked.

That was the rub of enforcing the law in a rural county. Just about every forensic service the job required had to be outsourced to Albuquerque or Santa Fe. Every so often, they utilized the Tucumcari hospital’s lab, but not when a crime had occurred, and definitely not when that crime involved a high-ranking Tucumcari official’s family.

The hospital was little more than a sprawling complex of doctors’ offices, an out-patient surgery wing, and an emergency room. At three stories tall, it was one of the larger buildings in town, but wasn’t ideal for treating medical problems greater than broken bones or kidney stones. Or gunshot wounds, for that matter. Hell, broken bones and gunshot wounds were an integral component of life in the wild west of New Mexico’s high desert.

Outsourcing everything from fingerprinting to tox screens was impossibly slow, which was why Vaughn had come to rely on his ability to get people to talk, perps and witnesses alike. Over the years on the job, he’d become a criminal psychology expert out of sheer desperation to deliver justice to those who deserved it, despite the staggering odds stacked against such an outcome.

He cracked his knuckles, took a slow breath, and lowered the volume on his radio. Then he sauntered across the lobby, whistling. Showtime.

When he dropped into the chair next to Kathryn Meyer, Wallace let his hatred for Vaughn shine through for a split second before his eyes shuttered into cool benevolence.

“Cooper. I was wondering when you’d find your way to me.”

Vaughn flickered a glance at him before extending his hand to Kathryn. “Mrs. Meyer, it’s been a long time. I’m so sorry we’re meeting again under such unfortunate circumstances.”

She shook his hand with a strained, dewy-eyed expression. “Thank you.”

“My deputy informed me Junior’s out of the woods,” Vaughn continued in his most consoling tone. “Sounds like the bullet was successfully removed without complication. You must be relieved.”

“The Lord has blessed us with His mercy once again.”

He patted Mrs. Meyer’s hand. “I’m sure that’s true.”

Wallace stood and hitched his slacks up around his bloated belly. “Kathy, Sheriff Cooper and I are going to step away, talk business.”

Vaughn stood, following Meyer’s lead. “Would you like a cup of coffee from the cart out front, Mrs. Meyer?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you,” she said.

He smiled with his kindest eyes, then followed Meyer through the sliding double doors and around the corner, out of sight from the glass-enclosed lobby. They positioned themselves in the sliver of shade on the side of the building.

It was seven o’clock, a half hour before sundown, but the heat was still oppressive and Vaughn’s long-sleeve uniform and tie weren’t helping matters. When he’d won the sheriff election three years earlier, he’d toyed with the idea of wearing a short-sleeve dress shirt, as he had while a deputy. But with the tie and the pens in his chest pocket, he’d looked like one of those Geek Squad workers who fixed computers, not a high-ranking law-enforcement officer. So instead, he suffered in silence through New Mexico’s months of debilitating heat.

He jammed his hands in his pants pockets and rocked on his heels. “Chief, I just thought of something funny.”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me about it.”

“Yeah, well, it occurs to me that you have a press conference on the books for this Friday. One of those grandstanding affairs to publicly congratulate yourself about the drop in illegal drug activity in Tucumcari this year.”

“What’s so funny about that? I’m damn proud of those numbers.”

Vaughn fished the pack of gum from his shirt pocket and popped a stick in his mouth. He’d purchased it exclusively for Meyer, because it drove him ape-shit. “You should be. Sure. But it’s ironic timing, don’t you think? I mean, if Junior’s tox results show drugs in his system, which you and I both know will be the case, that could put quite the damper on your media party.”

“Are you daring to insult my son while he’s recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound? Classy, Sheriff. Real classy.”

Vaughn smacked his lips, enjoying the sound of squishing saliva as he bit down on the gum. “Classy’s my middle name, haven’t you heard?”

Swabbing a hand over his whiskers, Meyer said, “Tell me what happened in the Parillas Valley today.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Son, you are not the first sheriff I’ve worked with in my lifetime, and you won’t be the last. I understand you’re dense when it comes to professional courtesy, being as young as you are, but there are unwritten rules in our profession that you would do well to follow.”

“Uh-huh,” Vaughn said stupidly.

Meyer’s eyes flared with anger. His ears turned pink. Oh, yeah. The dumb punk act was crawling under his skin real good. Wouldn’t be long before he blew his top.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Meyer said with a forced grin. “What happened to my son?”

“Junior can tell you himself.”

Meyer puckered his mouth and spit a nasty bit of juice from his chew into the potted shrub to his right. “Is the Sorentino property fenced?”

Guess he already knew some details of the crime scene after all. Didn’t surprise Vaughn that Meyer did his research. He probably had a team of officers scouring Rachel’s personal information, trying to dig up dirt on her. Vaughn had looked her up in the system himself as a matter of due process after her father died. At the time, she hadn’t a single blemish to her name. Not even a speeding ticket.

“No, it’s not fenced,” he answered.

“Signed?”

Vaughn smacked his lips again, chewing the gum openmouthed for maximum effect. “Are you trying to tell me your biggest concern is whether or not I’m going to bring Junior up on criminal trespassing charges? That’s cute. And really”—Stupid? Pompous?—“short-sighted of you.”

“I’m not worried about you charging my boy with anything. I feel safe in assuming you’ll show the same understanding toward my son as you’ve so graciously done in the past.”

“True, true. My deputies and I have done our share of ignoring Junior’s growing pains over the years. But what happened today, I think you already realize, was a lot more than boys being boys or whatever bullshit logic we’ve used to excuse his delinquent behavior.” He blew a bubble and popped it with his teeth.

Sweat broke out on Meyer’s neck as he watched Vaughn’s mouth work the gum. Good. The fucker deserved to sweat it out. With any luck, Meyer would lose his cool right there in front of the Tucumcari hospital’s main entrance, with half his adoring public as witnesses.

Meyer glanced side to side and leaned in toward Vaughn. “It’s a give and take, Cooper. My officers and I have held up our end of the bargain by looking the other way with regard to your sister. If you pursue criminal charges against my son, I can no longer protect Gwen from the”—he ran the chew along the inside of his lower lip—“consequences of her criminal proclivities. Her sticky fingers are going to catch up with her one of these days.”

Here we go. Vaughn smiled his broadest smile, but his stomach took a dive. He hadn’t considered what this latest development would mean for Gwen. But he’d always known he couldn’t protect her forever. Especially now, with Rachel hurt. Not to mention that this case was the chance he’d been waiting twenty years for, the reason he’d first thought about a career in law enforcement as a bright-eyed sixteen-year-old—to crush Wallace Meyer Sr. and his entitled, arrogant family with the hammer of justice. Gwen would have to find a way to control herself, because it was time for Vaughn to play hardball.

He blew another bubble, then matched Meyer’s leanin—just two dudes sharing a secret. “I am profoundly grateful to you and your officers for the associative privileges you’ve afforded my sister.” He gave an exaggerated wink. Meyer sneered. Vaughn allowed his expression to turn taunting. “But there comes a time when we each must face up to the crimes we’ve committed, and there’s a big difference between shoplifting a candy bar and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.”