“It’s interesting that you have so many expensive tools, yet the burglar or burglars didn’t take them,” West observed.

“He was after guns,” Bubba said. “I know they’re missing.”

He pointed to the cabinet and its severed padlock on the floor.

“You got bolt cutters?” West asked.

“Toolsmith, eighteen-inchers.”

“Still have them?” Brazil said.

“I can see them from here,” answered Bubba.

“What kind of lock was on the gun cabinet?” West asked.

“Just a plain Master lock.”

“Case hard?”

Bubba looked ashamed.

“I was meaning to get around to it,” he said.

“So it wasn’t case hard,” Brazil wanted to make sure as he took the report.

Bubba shook his head.

“That’s too bad,” West said with feeling. “I’ve never seen a pair of bolt cutters that can go through a case hard Master lock. And considering what you had in your cabinet, you should have had the best.”

“I know, I know,” Bubba said as his shame deepened. “I know how foolish I was.”

West walked in to inspect more closely, noting that Bubba had painted his initials in white on all tools and equipment. She stepped over dozens of step-by-step books on plumbing, deck and patio upgrades, painting and wallpapering, pruning, and home repair problem solving.

She picked her way around a Stanley thirty-foot heavy-duty tape measure and its Nicholas leather holder, a Makita tool holster, a McGuire-Nicholas wide saddle-leather belt, a top-grade cowhide Longhorn hammer holder, red Nicholas heavy-duty suspenders, and a foam rubber knee pad with double straps that had become separated from its mate.

West recognized top quality. She knew all the brands and how much they cost. She was curious. She was envious.

“And you have no alarm system,” Brazil said.

“The ‘No Trespassing’ sign and the bell in the driveway. I can hear anybody drive in.”

“I didn’t know they used those anymore,” Brazil said.

“Muskrat’s Auto Rescue has a bunch of them,” Bubba said.

“What about your dog?” West asked.

“Half Shell bawls all day and night. Nobody listens to her anymore.”

“So Half Shell and the gas-station bell were your only alarm system?” West gave him a skeptical look.

Bubba could tell she wasn’t impressed with him. He was suddenly conscious of how pretty she was. Bubba felt fat, dirty, unattractive and inferior. He felt the way he had most of his life. Deputy Chief West saw through his guns and tools and home repairs. She saw Bubba as a persecuted little boy with an awful name and a world that ridiculed him. Bubba could see it in her eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that she might have gone to school with him.

“Are you from around here?” he asked her.

“No,” she said.

“You sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure?”

He was paranoid and obsessed. He had to be convinced.

“So you’re not from Richmond,” he said.

“No.” She was getting curt with him.

“It’s just that you look like someone I went to school with whose name was Virginia,” Bubba lied.