“My imagination, Lieutenant, or do I detect a serious change in attitude?”

“I… believe that’s an accurate assessment.”

“That’s a good start. An even better start would be an apology.”

“I was embarrassed. I was an idiot. Does that suffice as an apology?”

Merrin smiled, his watery blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His mouth held bruised banana-colored teeth. “I accept.” A sip of coffee. “Now, what do you need, Decker? You wouldn’t come here voluntarily eating shit unless you required something in the way of help.”

Decker raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I ain’t as dumb as I look.”

“I’m from Gainesville, Chief Merrin. You know we’re not all that different. Matter of fact, I use it all the time.”

“Use what?”

“The accent,” Decker said. “Whenever I’m with a highbrow— someone I perceive as a slicker—the drawl gets thicker and thicker. The things people try to pull once they hear that twang in your voice.”

“Then you shoulda known better. Whaddaya need?”

“A girl’s been murdered. Brutally.”

“Brutally, yes, but in New Jersey.”

“I think the reason for her death originated here.”

“Go on.”

“Her death was a side effect of her uncle’s murder. And I’m not willing to rule out the family—yet.”

“You want me to investigate the family based on… what?”

“Sir, I don’t expect you to do anything. You’ve got a town to run. I, on the other hand, have a few more empty days to play with. If possible, I’d like the names of the north side kids whom Shaynda Lieber used to hang out with. Maybe she confided in someone outside of her community.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’re probably right. Nevertheless, I’d like to give it a shot.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you names. They’re minors. While I feel very bad about that girl’s death, I believe with all my heart that it had nothing to do with Quinton or its citizens. Sorry, Charlie, can’t let you disrupt my town just on a hunch.”

“Well, how about this? Through my wiles and resources, I managed to land a couple of names. Would it get your nose out of joint if I paid them a call?”

Merrin’s eyes narrowed, staring at Decker over the rim of his coffee cup. “What names?”

“Just a few local Quinton kids who were hauled in for possession of ecstasy down in Miami. Correct me if I’m wrong, but some of them might even be eighteen by now.” Decker maintained eye contact as he sipped. “Of course it’s up to you, sir.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you found out about it.”

“We all have our ways, right?”

“You are one sneaky bastard.”

“Coming from you, I’m sure it’s a compliment.”

“Which ones do you want to talk to?”

“Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell. Both of them have reached their majority.”

“What do you know about them?”

“Nothing.”

“Then I’ll tell you something.”

“Please.”

Merrin sat back, eyes on the ceiling, hands resting on his belly. “Every town, every city has its share of bad boys. For Quinton, it’s Anderson and Caldwell—two nasty little pricks who think it’s a hoot to throw shit in their hometown and watch with glee while someone else cleans it up.”