The memory of a few weeks ago when Ketch had slammed Wynn’s face to the table came back. Wynn had been drunk. Ketch began to put the pieces together from that night. Wynn and Bull had been with a couple of guys who fit the profile of the bomber. Drunks, dropouts, mad at the world. One wore dirty jeans, like he’d been kneeling in mud all day. Ketch had noticed that the drinking buddies seemed more Bull’s friends than Wynn’s.

Ketch walked into the pizza place with all his senses on full alert.

At three in the afternoon the crowd was small. One old couple was splitting a pizza, and half a dozen middle-schoolers were playing video games in the back.

Ketch stopped by the counter and ordered a large pizza.

Bull and his little brother were already at a corner table. Before Ketch could get settled in his seat, WW started talking. “I told Bull you said he was on the team to solve this problem we got in Clifton Bend. He knows the rules. We talk to no one but you.”

“Thanks, Wynn. You did me a favor for recommending him.” Ketch turned to Bull. “Another rule. You stay clean and sober? You keep your eyes open.”

Bull straightened slightly. “I’m sober. I know this is important. I’ve always thought I should be in law enforcement. Do I get a badge? I should have already had one at the hospital, but they said they didn’t have one.”

Ketch swallowed down a scream. “No, you wouldn’t wear a badge; you’re undercover. That’s the most dangerous job on the force. No one, besides your brother and me, is to know you’re going deep.”

Bull’s head seemed to be loose. It just kept nodding.

When three beers arrived, Ketch said, “Drink up, boys. This is the last drink until we’re on the other side of trouble.”

Ketch didn’t even make sense to himself, but the Wills boys were eating up the talk. “Swear on your life that not one thing we’re about to discuss will go beyond this table. All our lives depend on it.”

Now Wynn’s head started nodding. He raised his hand. “I swear if I ever let one word out I’ll eat a bullet.”

“Me too,” Bull said.

Ketch wasn’t sure Bull understood what his brother was promising. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bull asked if he got ketchup with the bullet.

“Now first, boys, I’d like you to tell me if either of you have heard about anyone wanting to cause trouble here in Clifton Bend.”

After twenty minutes of worthless stories of students wanting to beat up a teacher, or kill an admissions clerk, or fights over women, Ketch still had nothing.