She honestly didnt believe in that little tidbit but she did know the sort of man Barnes was describing. Shed seen a lot of it in the South, especially. There were some rural areas where men had simply not caught up to the world, not only disrespecting women but unable to see them as equals…even when they were carrying a badge and a gun.

They left the station together, heading for the bureaus rental that DeMarco had driven in from DC. Wow, that was just this morning, she thought.

It made her think of Allen and the plans he had tried making for thema quick escape away to the mountains to drink wine, sleep in, and other things in a bed that werent exactly sleeping.

And while she was still rather down about missing out on such a thing, she was also willing to admit that she was just as excited right now, with a case unfolding in front of her. She still had some work to do in keeping a proper balance between her personal life and her unique bureau schedule but for now, she felt that she was exactly where she needed to be.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Floyd Branchs property was a living embodiment of all Southern stereotypes. As DeMarco pulled the car into the lightly graveled driveway, the lyrics to about a dozen country songs all presented themselves in the form of Floyd Branchs trailer, yard, and scattered possessions.

The grass was only slightly better than what they had previously seen at Jeremys place. Portions of the lawn around the trailer had at least been mown, dead spots showing through here and there. The mower itselfan old riding mower with a rusted hood, was parked directly beside a shed to the back of the house. Two junked trucksone completely missing its back endsat on concrete blocks next to it. Beside the shed was a weak-looking dog pen, made primarily of wooden planks, a few metal poles, and what looked like chicken wire. As DeMarco parked the car and they all got out, two pit bulls inside the pen started to make ungodly noises, something between a bark and a roar.

Kate, DeMarco, and Barnes had taken only a few steps away from the car before a middle-aged gaunt-looking man came out of the shed. He carried a broom with him, looking angrily toward the pen and cursing at the dogs. He then saw that he had visitors. His anger dropped and he tossed the broom back into the shed as if embarrassed by it.

Hey there, Sheriff.

Floyd, hey yourself. How are you today?

Okay, I guess. Working on an old dirt bike motor for the Wells family. The bike is oldern hell. Seems like a waste to me, but he already paid, so…