“That’s how it is, Burke. You want my advice, you’ll get back on that bus and ride off to where you came from, forget you ever heard of Deception Cove.” Harwood’s smile was gone now. “Because if you stick around here and keep stirring up trouble, I’m liable to get angry. And I bet you’ve pissed off enough cops in your life already.”

Mason gathered his cash from the deputy’s desk. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, turning to leave. “Anything else?”

“Get out of my town, Mr. Burke,” Harwood called after him. “Next time I won’t be so polite about it.”

*  *  *

Harwood watched Burke walk out of the detachment. When the drifter was gone, the deputy walked to the door of his office, called across the room to his men.

“Sweeney, Whitmer. My office.”

The deputies looked up from the coffee machine, fell in line. Came over to the office, where Harwood sat behind his desk, waiting for them.

“Close the door,” Harwood told them. “We’ve got trouble.”

The younger deputy, Cole Sweeney, sat across from Harwood. Dale Whitmer closed the office door, remained standing. Harwood tented his fingers.

“I heard from Okafor,” he told the men. “He gives us to the end of the month.”

Whitmer nodded. Sweeney glanced at the calendar on Harwood’s desk.

“Three days,” Harwood told him. “Three days, we get Okafor that package, or we get him his money. Or not, and we’re all in one hell of a shitstorm.”

“Jess isn’t panning out,” Sweeney said. “Maybe she really doesn’t know where her old man hid the package.”

“Maybe she’s not looking hard enough,” Harwood replied. “We didn’t give her the proper motivation, and now this asshole’s come sniffing around, distracting her from the task at hand. We need to set her mind back on what’s important.”

“How do we do that?”

“The dog,” Harwood said. “We haven’t been severe enough. First thing tomorrow we start sending pieces. We run out of pieces, we start in on Jess herself.”

Sweeney made a face. “Jeez, Kirby.”

Harwood looked at him, stern. Watched the younger man wither.

“I’m just saying, we got into this to make money, boss,” Sweeney said. “Nobody said we were going to have to be killers.”

“Them or us.” This was Whitmer, from the door. “You see eight hundred grand sitting around, Cole? What do you think Okafor is going to do if we don’t make him whole?”

Sweeney went paler. “I know, but still.”

“We don’t have to worry about Okafor,” Harwood told them. “Because once we lean on Jess harder, she’ll get us that package. We just have to up our game.”

Sweeney didn’t reply. Whitmer was smirking.

“Yeah, what is it, Dale?” Harwood glared at him. “You got something to say?”