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“Dozens of things.”
“Name me one.”
“Can’t think of one right now. Stop talking and eat your fuckin eggs before they get cold. We have to go to the station and book prisoners.”
“Come on, Travis. You always go to the roadhouse on Saturday night.”
“I’ll go, probably will be going, but I’m not on a date with a horny twin.”
Billy grinned. “Deal.”
I pointed a finger at Billy. “Today you’ve got to get started on your campaign. We’re hitting a printer for posters and stuff.”
“Okay. I agree. I’ve got to get started on that. Maybe Brenda will want to help me.”
“Depends how you are in the sack, Billy-boy. That’s relevant to how much effort she’s going to give to your campaign,” I said. “Women judge you like that. Performance in the bedroom is their marker.”
“Their only marker?”
“Yep. They don’t give a flying fuck if you can ski down Mount Everest or swim across the fucking Nile. They only care about how you perform naked.”
“Fuck. Why’d you have to say that?”
I laughed. “To put you on your best game.”
“Or to hex me and make me be my worst ever.”
Peterson’s Garage. Coyote Creek.
For a change, the roads were clear as we drove down to the station. No need to have the wipers on. Been a while since we didn’t need them.
“It’s hard to believe it’s only October and winter ain’t actually here yet.” I looked at Billy when I said it. “I’ve got to get out of Montana before it gets any worse.”
Billy chuckled as he pulled into Peterson’s garage to pick up my squad. I hopped out and he went on ahead to the shop.
I wandered into the office looking for Kirby and he was there behind the parts counter, working. His boss, Clay Peterson—mechanic and part-time drug pusher—didn’t seem to be around.
“Hey, Kirby, that turned out to be a hundred dollar tip you gave me, kid. I owe you eighty bucks.” I handed him a folded wad of bills and his eyes widened.
“Jeeze, thanks, Sheriff. I heard you brought them in.”
“You heard right and I appreciate the info.” I gave him a fist bump and he handed me the keys to the Sheriff’s SUV.
“She’s all ready to go and purring like a kitten, Sheriff. I put a reminder sticker in the window with a date on it for the next scheduled service.”
“Thanks, Kirby. I owe you.”
Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.
Molly had come into the office early and brought the prisoners breakfast from the diner across the street. By the time Billy and I got to the station, it was almost time for their lunch.
“Billy is going to handle the bookings,” I said to Molly. “It’s good practice for him.”
“Yes, it is. For when he’s on his own in a few weeks. Burke has been asking for a phone call.”
“How about Purcell?”
Molly shook her head. “He hasn’t said a word. The girl is crying.”
