Kaiser smiles back, but the expression contains no goodwill. “When the FBI came to Natchez in the mid-1960s, the Klan wrangled up a mess of rattlesnakes and snuck them into the agents’ hotel rooms. The agents killed all the rattlers and barbecued them in front of their hotel. The Klan guys drove by laughing and whistling. It was all a big game to them. This is the same kind of crap. I’ll bet they’re watching us right now.” Kaiser points across the highway. “I wish I had a thermal scope to scan that tree line.”

Everybody turns and peers into the dark field opposite the hospital.

“I want a time of death on that raccoon,” Kaiser says.

Ozan laughs out loud.

“Is he kidding?” asks a deputy from the surrounding darkness.

Kaiser’s eyes almost blaze in the dark. “Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

“How the hell are we gonna get that?”

“Shove a thermometer up its ass! Somebody in the Smithsonian will know the cooling curve on a dead raccoon. I want to know how long ago that goddamn ringtail was shot.”

“We’ll get it,” Walker says, hoping to keep the peace.

“High-tech law enforcement, boys,” Ozan says in a mocking tone. “The FBI wants to send a dead raccoon to the Smithsonian Institute.”

Muffled laughter comes out of the dark.

Kaiser ignores the disrespect and speaks with military precision. “Has anyone found shell casings out here yet?”

“Not yet,” answers a Yankee-accented voice.

“You need metal detectors and floodlights out here. Anything that comes out of this field other than grass or dirt, I want it. Bag it and tag it, no matter how trivial it may seem. Find out where the shooter fired from. I’m guessing inside thirty yards, at a perfect right angle to the window glass. That’s how—”

“Hold up there, fellas,” Captain Ozan calls. “This is now a state police crime scene, and you’ll be taking your orders from me. FBI assistance has not been requested and won’t be required.”

Kaiser can’t hide his shock, and Ozan doesn’t give him time to argue. “If you have any questions, Agent Kaiser, have your SAC in New Orleans call the governor. That’s who we take our orders from down here. Washington’s about as much use to us as tits on a boar hog, which Katrina just proved for all time. You can go back to your sump pumps and your forty-year-old bones. We’ll handle this crime scene.”

Kaiser stares at Ozan in furious silence. Though neither man speaks, the air between them seems on the verge of ionizing in a blue flash. The rest of us have become an audience to a confrontation we don’t quite understand. I’m not sure it will end without a blow being struck until Caitlin steps up and speaks to Ozan in a strong voice.