“What the hell makes you think you’ve got a say in what we do in our own town?” Denim Guy said. “You’re a long way from Pocahontas County.”

“I’m pretty sure that murder is as illegal here as it is there,” Victoria said. “Who among you is in charge here?”

“I am,” said George.

Green Eyes said, “He is not. He just thinks he is. The real answer is nobody’s in charge.”

“No mayor?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What about the police?”

“We depend on state police and county sheriffs,” Denim Guy said.

“What we really do is depend on ourselves,” George said. “We can look out for ourselves.”

Victoria let that go. The immediate aftermath of an attempted lynching was the wrong time to get high-and-mighty about local governance.

“They’re okay, Mom,” Caleb reported. “Lots of bruises and some chipped teeth, but they say they’re okay.”

“What are your names, boys?” Victoria asked the would-be victims.

“Kyle Foster,” the shirtless one said. “That’s my brother, Caine.”

“Stand up, both of you,” Victoria said. “George, do me a favor and step back a bit.”

George stood along with the Fosters, but hesitated.

“You can take your rifle with you,” Victoria said. “Okay, Kyle and Caine, what’s your story?” Now that they were standing next to each other, she realized that they were identical twins. The different injuries and swollen facial features had concealed that.

“They’re thieves!” the old lady said again. Apparently, it was the only tune she knew how to sing.

“You be quiet,” Victoria snapped. To the Fosters: “That mess that I saw on the way down Charleston Street. Was that your doing?”

“No’m,” Kyle said. He seemed to be the pair’s mouthpiece.

“That’s bullshit!” yelled the little girl who kicked them.

Victoria spun on her and snapped her finger as she pointed at the girl’s nose. “You watch your mouth, young lady. You will not use that language around me. Not at your age.”

A woman standing next to her puffed up. “That’s my daughter you’re snapping at.”

“Then act like her mother,” Victoria said. “Kyle, you were saying. . .”

“We didn’t have nothin’ to do with the gas station nor the pawnshop. I don’t know who done that. Neither of us does.”

“That is bullshit!” Denim Man said. “And don’t you dare snap your fingers at me, lady. We caught these two in the act.”

“In the act of what?”

“Of stealin’ shit. They was inside the pawnshop. My pawnshop.” Joey’s Pawnshop. She supposed that meant Denim Man’s real name was Joey.

Victoria looked back to the Foster boys and waited.

“Okay, yeah, we was inside, but we didn’t steal nothin’. Shit, there was nothin’ in there left to steal. We sure as hell had nothin’ to do with all the breakin’ in and stuff.”

“The place was already empty,” Caine added.