Farman took a big breath, heaved a big sigh, put his face in his hands for a moment.

Come on, come on . . . Vince could feel he was on the edge of saying something. The moment hung there, getting heavier and heavier. And then it was gone.

“Dixon wants to search my house, fine,” he said, though he clearly was pissed off at the idea. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Vince nodded. “Okay.”

“But he has to do it himself. I don’t want Mendez in my house again.”

“Fair enough.”

“I want to see my son now.”

“You know that’s not going to happen until your wife shows up.”

“Then I’ll go,” Farman said, standing up. “I’ve got to get the boy a lawyer.”

Vince nodded and rose from his chair. “This is a tough situation, Frank. I’m sorry.”

Maybe the guy was a dick. Maybe he was worse than a dick. That didn’t make what was going on with his son any less a tragedy. If the man had any humanity at all, that had to hurt.

Farman nodded and walked out into the hall where Anne had just stepped out of the room next door.

“You put that in his head, didn’t you?” Farman said to her.

Anne stood right up to him. “Yes, because you wrote me a ticket for driving on your lawn, I got your son to stab another child and then accuse you of murder.”

“I told you before to mind your own business,” Farman growled, stabbing a finger at her.

“Your son is my business, and somebody should have stepped in a long time ago and done something. Now look what’s happening to him.”

“That’s not my fault,” Farman argued.

“He can’t be your son without you taking responsibility,” she said fiercely. “He didn’t turn out this way by accident.”

“You fucking little bitch,” Farman said quietly, backing her into the wall.

Adrenaline surging, Vince stepped in between them, put his hands on Farman’s shoulders and shoved him back against the opposite wall hard enough that he banged the back of his head.

“I was nice to you in there, Frank,” he said, pointing toward the interview room as he advanced on the deputy. “You give this lady a hard time, I’m not gonna be nice. I’m gonna kick your ass up between your ears. You should leave now before that happens.”

“Leave?” Anne said, incredulous, as Farman stalked off. “Isn’t he under arrest?”

“They don’t have anything to hold him on besides the say-so of a mentally disturbed eleven-year-old child,” Vince said. “We don’t know Sharon Farman is dead, or even missing. Did Child Protective Services get here?”

“Yes, they’re in with Dennis now,” she said and sighed. “He wants to know when he can go home.”