Reggie Caruthers walked into Quinn’s office and shut the door behind him. It was past six now, dark and cold outside, and Reggie still had on his slick green sheriff’s coat with the Sherpa collar. Quinn had been waiting for him, Reggie coming on to take over the night shift even though he’d been working through the day. Time didn’t much matter now anyway, and Quinn had already warned Maggie not to expect him for supper.

“How’d it go?” Quinn asked.

“You were right.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Reggie took a seat in an old wooden chair before Quinn’s desk and pulled out his notebook. He was as direct and driven as they came, and Quinn was damn lucky to have him as his chief deputy. His uniform immaculate, boots shined, with mustache and short afro cut to precision. Reggie was a man of details.

“Looks like Chester Pratt had some roof work done at his home and during the renovation of the liquor store building,” Reggie said. “I spoke to his neighbors and stopped by Bluebird this afternoon. His manager didn’t seem to like the folks on the job but admitted they did good work. Nix & Nix Roofing and Remodeling.”

“Brothers?” Quinn asked.

“Father and son,” Reggie said, reading over a few more details he hadn’t shared yet. “I need to ask. How’d you get your eye on these two?”

Quinn opened up the right-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out two Ziploc baggies. One contained the broken blade he found in Gina Byrd’s car and the other was the blade tip Raven Yancy had gotten from the nurse.

“Shingle cutter,” Quinn said. “Made by Rigid. I never did think of Chester as a do-it-yourself-er.”

Quinn shook the pieces out onto the table, prints already taken off both, and showed how the tip fit right on with the blade. Reggie didn’t move, staring down at the exact match and then looking back up at Quinn. “These boys are no joke,” Reggie said. “Flem Nix, the daddy, did time in Parchman for manslaughter and arson. The boy, Dusty, has more than a dozen assault charges. He was the main suspect in a killing over in Calhoun County a few years ago. Only one problem.”

“They couldn’t find the body.”

“Yep.”

Reggie tossed the two printouts of Nix and Nix on Quinn’s desk. Quinn checked out their descriptions, noticing both didn’t stand much more than five feet tall. He tapped at the height and weight. “This right?”

“Apparently so,” Reggie said. “Either makes them easier to find or harder to spot.”

“I need you to take these photos to a nurse that works at a clinic up in Yellow Leaf,” Quinn said. “They’d be closed now and you’ll have to find her at home.”