“You’re not only going straight over to Mrs. Demeara’s and clean up every last scrap of pumpkin guts and apologize for being a moron, but you’re going to pay a fine for possession of illegal explosives and willful destruction of property—five hundred dollars.”

“Five hundred dollars!” The boy, thirteen at the outside, Nell calculated, lifted a head that had been sunk low. “Jeez, Sheriff Todd, I ain’t got five hundred dollars. My mom’s going to kill me as is.”

Zack merely raised his eyebrows and looked merciless. “Did I say I was finished?”

“No, sir,” the boy mumbled, and went back to looking so hangdog that Nell wanted to go pat his head.

“You can work off the fine by cleaning the station house. Twice a week, three dollars an hour.”

“Three? But it’ll take me“. . .” The boy had smartened up enough to shut up. “Yes, sir. You weren’t finished.”

His lips wanted to twitch, but Zack kept them in a firm, hard line. “I’ve got some odd chores around my place, too. Saturdays.”

And oh, Zack thought, that one stung. There was no crueler fate than being imprisoned by chores on a Saturday.

“Same rate. You can start there this Saturday, and in here Monday after school. If I hear you’re in any more trouble like this, your mother’s going to have to stand in line to skin you. Clear?”

“Yes, Uncle Zack . . . um, I mean, yes, sir, Sheriff.”

“Beat it.”

He beat it, nearly spinning the air into a funnel as he raced past Nell.

“Uncle Zack?”

“Second cousins, really. It’s an honorary term.”

“What did he do to earn the hard labor?”

“Stuck an ash can, that’s a firecracker, in his history teacher’s pumpkin. It was a damn big pumpkin, too. Blew that shit all over hell and back again.”

“Now you’re sounding proud of him.”

He pokered up, as best he could. “You’re mistaken. Idiot boy could’ve blown his fingers off, which is what I nearly did at about the same age when I blew my science teacher’s pumpkin to hell and back. Which is beside the point, especially when we’ll be in for similar Halloween pranks tomorrow if I don’t make an example now.”

“I think you did the job.” She walked over, sat down. “Have you got time for another matter, Sheriff?”

“I could probably carve out time.” It surprised him that she hadn’t leaned over to kiss him, and that she sat so straight, so still, so solemn. “What’s the matter?”