“You’ve got a serious meth problem in this parish. Not just users, but meth labs. Major labs, and suppliers, too.”

Sheriff Dennis stares warily back at me, and even Henry looks puzzled by my digression. “What’s the local meth trade got to do with these bones?”

“More than you might think.”

After glancing at his office door as if to make sure it’s completely shut, Walker speaks softly. “What the hell’s going on here, Penn? You walk in my office out of the blue and start talking about our meth problem? You think you don’t have crystal meth over in Natchez?”

“Of course we do. I’m not interested in the meth. I’m interested in the men who make and sell it.”

Walker’s eyes narrow, then go wide with comprehension. “And what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Clamp down on every meth dealer in the parish. I mean hit them hard. Shut down the supply for at least a month, maybe two.”

“To what end?”

“To what end?” Henry echoes, almost shrilly. “How about enforcing the law of the land? Is there some reason you don’t want to arrest local meth dealers?”

A pained expression comes into the sheriff’s face. “Henry, we’re off the fuckin’ record here.”

I hold up my hand to restrain the reporter. “I want you to hit the Knoxes,” I say evenly. “I want them to feel some heat.”

Dennis licks his lips, but he gives me no clue to his inner reaction. “I’ve actually been working up to a big bust for a while.”

Henry snorts, but the sheriff ignores him.

“That’s how we do it over here,” Walker goes on, “like it or not. We build up tips from our informants, then hit a big load of dealers all at once.”

“Is Billy Knox on your hit list?”

Sheriff Dennis shifts his weight in his chair. He looks even less comfortable than he did when we were discussing the bones. “Penn, I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about Billy over the years, but so far as I can tell, he’s a legitimate businessman. And a damn successful one.”

“Too successful,” Henry mutters.

The sheriff expels a long rush of air, like a deflating balloon. “How exactly do you define that, Henry? Making money ain’t a crime yet, is it? If you boys have some hard information, I’ll be happy to follow up on it.”

“We have information,” I tell him, “but not the kind you need. I’ll just say this: if you hit the meth dealers in this parish hard enough, Billy Knox is going to feel it.”