“She say ole Bradley Wayne called and said he’s coming for his shit,” Cleotha said. “He got himself a big-screen TV and one of them rowing machines. Some porno movies and beef jerky. Woman said it just like that. Like she’s the star of her own goddamn Hallmark movie of the week. The Stripper and the Shitbird.”

Quinn looked down at Reggie, who stood and opened his hand for the call-back slip. Quinn intercepted it, checking out the address. He hadn’t realized Dana Ray had stuck so close, living up on Perfect Circle Road. “Y’all have enough on your plate,” Quinn said. “And you’re down a deputy tonight.”

“Sheriff, I don’t know why you mess with that trash,” Cleotha said. “I seen that girl when she come in to press charges and, damn, if she didn’t have a tattoo of a pistol aimed down at her privates. That’s what I’d call asking for your own damn shit.”

“Serve and protect, Cleotha,” Quinn said. “If we cut out those who made some poor life choices, we all would be out of a job.”

“I’ll get Kenny to follow you out,” Reggie said. “That fella sure has it in for you, Sheriff.”

“Do I look concerned?”

“Petrified,” Reggie said, smiling.

Quinn patted him on the arm and reached for his cap and jacket. A rough wind buffeted the windows, stirring up dirt in the jail yard. The sky filled with a weird orange glow.

“Sometimes I feel like we running a damn day care center in this county,” Cleotha said, turning and heading back to her desk. “You doing the Lord’s work. You hear me, Sheriff?”

*   *   *

Maggie and Boom sat in the gazebo on the Square, watching the kids running loose, filling pillowcases and little plastic pumpkins with candy from the back of cars and pickup trucks. Boom had insisted on coming along, Tashi and Jessica now headed back to Brooklyn to piece together their story, leaving some of the details with a few local reporters. The oak tree branches shook in the hard winds blowing across the Square. Maggie hoped they’d get enough trick-or-treating in before it started to rain.

“Wasn’t like this when me and Quinn were kids,” Boom said. “Miss Jean just kicked our asses outside and told us to get back before midnight. We’d knock on a few doors, but mainly we liked to fuck with people. Shooting out lights with BB guns. Rolling folks’ houses. Putting shaving cream and eggs all over teachers’ cars. We just ran wild.”

“Y’all were lucky you didn’t get arrested.”

“Naw,” Boom said. “We were just having a little fun. Real thin line between cutting up and being a juvenile delinquent. Me and Quinn walked that razor’s edge.”