He took a deep sniff and filed away in his mind the scent of coffee—really strong, and a little harsh—and the smell of the dust that sort of tickled the nose.
He tried to remember just how the phone sounded when it shrilled on the sheriff’s desk, how the sheriff’s chair scraped against the floor, how the deputy scratched his head, then his cheek, as he put papers away in the file cabinet.
He already had the sound of the sheriff’s voice. It was deep and slow, and there was a hint of something in it. Humor, Connor thought, when he answered some of the calls. Other times it was brisk, kind of
official. Once or twice he’d seen lines form between the sheriff’s brows.
He sure did drink a lot of coffee, Connor thought, and he wrote a lot of things down. Connor had a million questions, but he held them in because he knew the sheriff was working.
Devin glanced up and saw the boy watching him. Like an owl, he thought. Wise and patient. A look at his watch told him he’d kept the kids hemmed in for most of their Saturday morning. He imagined Connor could sit there, quiet as a mouse, for hours yet. But he recognized the signs of trouble brewing in Bryan.
It was time to give them all a break.
“Donnie, you take over here. We’re going to get some lunch at Ed’s.”
“Yo.”
“The state boys call about the Messner case, you tell them I’ll have the report to them by Monday.”
“Yo,” Donnie said again, and crushed his brows together over the filing.
“I’ll pick up lunch for Curtis. Tell him, if he starts to make noises back there.”
“You got a prisoner?” Suddenly all of Bryan’s boredom was washed away in the thrill of it. “You didn’t tell us.”
“Just somebody sleeping off a night on the town.” He was almost sorry he couldn’t tell them it was a mad psychopath. “I could use a burger.”
“All right!” Bryan darted out of the door. “I’m starving. Extra fries, right, Con?”
“I guess.” Connor could hardly think about food with all the questions in his head. “Ah, Sheriff, how come you have that police radio on all the time? I mean, it has fire department stuff, and things from out of your jurisdiction.”
“Because you can never be sure what might come over that you’d have to pay attention to.”
“When you know somebody, does it feel funny to have to lock them up?”
“Sometimes if you know them it makes it easier to settle things before they get out of hand.”
“Have you ever had anybody break out?” Bryan wanted to know as he danced backward on the sidewalk. “Like, conk you over the head and run for it?”
Devin ran his tongue around his teeth. He had a wonderful image of poor old Curtis going over the wall. “Nope, can’t say as I have.”
“If they did, you’d have to shoot them, right?” The excitement of it leaped in Bryan’s eyes. “Like in the leg.”
“If they did, it’s likely I’d know who they were, so I’d just go to their house and bring them back.”
“What if they resisted arrest?”
Devin knew what was expected of him. “I’d have to rough ’em up.”
“Slap the cuffs on him,” Bryan said with a hoot. “And back into the cage. Wham!”
“The town’s quiet,” Connor said, “because the sheriff keeps it quiet.”
Touched, Devin flipped a finger over the bill of Connor’s ball cap. “Thanks. We aim to serve.”
“Sheriff.”
Devin turned and watched with an inner sigh as the ancient and wiry owner of the general store and sub shop approached. The man could talk the bark off a tree.