“You a Fed?”

“I am attached to a federal task force and thus endowed with federal authority, yes.”

“And you can cut me a deal?”

“I’m not a prosecutor. But I am the guy who talks to them.”

“Then you’re no fuckin’ good to me.”

Willy placed his hand on Buttner’s foot. Although he did nothing more, the threat to the broken hip farther up was clear.

“Are you free enough of the influence of painkillers and other drugs to think and speak clearly and coherently?”

Buttner’s eyes widened. “What the…?” His gaze switched to Willy’s hand before he finished in a flat voice, “What d’you want?”

Willy chose the direct approach. “We’re thinking of hitting you with the murder of Don Kalfus after all.”

“I told the older cop I didn’t do that. I never found the son of a bitch after he ripped me off.”

“You told the older cop all sorts of things, Trevor, but you left out where you walked in on Don screwing your wife on your living room couch.”

Buttner made to protest but apparently thought better of it, shutting his mouth again.

“You going to deny that?” Willy asked.

“I didn’t care,” he then said. “I cheat on her all the time.”

“Good for you. I don’t think you like her doing the same thing to you.”

“I told you. I don’t care.”

“Which is why you tore out of the house right after, looking for him? I don’t think so.”

“I was looking for what he stole.”

“And why do you think he did that? Your old buddy?”

“He’s an asshole. He’s no buddy.”

“Why, Trevor?”

“He’s a thief. That’s why.”

Willy shook his head and gave Trevor’s foot the tiniest nudge, causing him to wince. “I don’t believe that. I think he knew he’d need leverage over you, ’cause he knew how pissed off you were, despite all the kidding around. And you’d just showed him your footage of Angie.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“You two weren’t alone in the apartment, Trevor.”

That brought him up short, although Willy had no proof of any private viewing.

“Did you track your own phone?” Willy pressed him. “Find him that way and then knock him off? What did you use, Trevor? Knife? Gun? Your fists?”

Trevor became sullen. “What do I know about tracking? I’m no computer nerd. I put out the word, sure. He fucks my woman, steals my shit. Damn straight I wanna even things up.” His eyes narrowed as he emphasized, “But I never found him. Next I knew, you people told me he was dead and you had my phone. I did that, okay? I admit I took those shots of Angie and offered them up, all right? Is that what you wanted? Fine. But I did not kill Don Kalfus. You cannot lay that on me.”

Willy considered that, nodded once, gathered up his recorder, and left.

The system worked without a hitch. Lester phoned Fred. Fred, on his behalf, completed the proper federal application online and forwarded it to the Boston-based agent assigned to expedite such matters. In just over an hour, Lester heard back. His warrant to enter the barn and search the vehicle was granted and on file.