“Buck fever,” says a new voice from behind us—a voice that sounds almost as amused as it does certain. “There’s prob’ly a ten-year-old kid crappin’ his pants somewhere right now, wondering if he shot a hole in somebody’s bedpan.”

As Kaiser turns to argue, the deputies part for the newcomer. I shine Kaiser’s flashlight on a man with a hard, angular, copper-hued face, gold bars on his shoulders, and a gold badge in the shape of the Pelican State gleaming on the breast of his blue uniform shirt.

“Who are you?” asks Kaiser.

“Captain Alphonse Ozan, state police. Who are you?”

Kaiser hesitates before answering, his perceptive eyes taking in the new man. “Special Agent John Kaiser, FBI.”

Captain Ozan grins as though at a private joke. “Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you.” He points at me. “Get that light out of my eyes.”

I lower the light but leave it high enough to keep his face illuminated.

“What are you doing here?” Kaiser asks.

“I was in the area working a drug case, and my CO asked me to stop by and make sure this murder was being handled properly.”

“It is,” Sheriff Dennis says in a defensive tone.

“Who’s your CO?” asks Kaiser.

“Lieutenant Colonel Forrest Knox, Criminal Investigations Bureau.”

A brittle silence descends on the group.

“Ain’t that some shit,” Sheriff Dennis says under his breath.

“What was that?” Ozan asks.

“We were talking about the bullets,” says Walker, looking back at the building. “And this coon. Mighty queer situation, I’ve got to say.”

Captain Ozan steps forward and prods the dead raccoon with his boot. “We see this kind of tragedy all the time in rural areas. You know what they say about sport shooting these days? Every bullet you fire comes with a lawyer attached.”

“It’s a tragedy, all right,” Kaiser remarks. “But I can think of a dozen men who’ll be celebrating tonight.”

“Who you talking about?” Captain Ozan asks.

“The Double Eagle group.” Kaiser’s gaze is like a laser locked on Ozan’s face. “And the Knox family.”

Ozan returns the stare without a word, but he radiates the same energy as a wild animal in captivity—seemingly docile, but capable of lashing out with lethal speed and effect at any moment.

“That raccoon is the killer’s idea of a joke,” Kaiser says. “The Double Eagles are laughing their asses off right now.”

A strange smile stretches Ozan’s lips. “How do you figure that?”