“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re drunk and you’re beat-up. What the hell is going on here?” She examined his swollen eye, but with a lot less compassion than she would have done if he was sober. She looked to Holly to fill in the blanks. “What happened?”
“I suppose you should ask him, ma’am.”
“I’m asking you.”
“I’m thinking he might want to tell you himself.”
“That’s enough,” Clayton said, grabbing the rifle and making his way toward the porch. “Holly, bring the file on your dead bandito to my office in the morning. Thanks for the ride.” He carefully took the steps and opened the screen door.
“Clayton!” Kate said, surprised—confused—disgusted.
“Just come inside, woman. You ain’t got no pants on.” Clayton disappeared into the house. Kate’s cheeks flushed a bright rosy red, but Holly was sure it was caused by anger and not humility. He studied his shoes and puffed his cheeks out. He kept his hands buried deep in his pockets. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. Kate twisted her head so fast from the front door to Holly, he thought it might snap right off.
“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” She didn’t wait on an answer. “Are you sorry Halford didn’t kill him? I know that’s what happened. I know he went up there with some fool idea that you put in his head. I know that’s a year of sobriety down the toilet because of this bullshit.”
“Wait a minute, Kate. It’s bigger than that.”
“Don’t use my name familiar. You don’t know me. Just get back in your car and drive away. I’d tell you to stay away, but we both know that ain’t gonna happen, is it?”
“I can’t.”
“Get the hell off my property.”
“All right, Mrs. Burroughs.” Holly moved to the driver’s side of the car and put his hand on the door. “You know,” he said, “the girl down at Lucky’s wanted to call you to come get him. I didn’t think you’d want that to play out in public.”
“What do you want? A thank-you?”
“Well, yeah,” he said. He kind of did.
Kate’s hip swiveled out to the side on instinct. It showed off her curves even more, and Holly struggled to keep his attention on her eyes. She grabbed the rifle from where Clayton had propped it against the door and flung her hair back out of her face. “I want you to listen to me, Agent Holly. Can you do that? I mean really listen?”
“Sure.”
“Good, because I don’t plan on ever having to talk to you again. My husband is a good man—”
“Mrs. Burroughs.”
“You just said you could listen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, he’s a good man and he’s a good sheriff—almost to a fault. He can handle himself and he’s capable of making his own decisions, but that doesn’t let you off the hook for planting the seed. Don’t think for a second that I won’t hold you just as accountable if anything like this happens again on your watch.”
“My intentions here are to do this peacefully.”
“Says the man whose face didn’t get pummeled today. I don’t care what your intentions are. I just want my husband to come home to me every night whole. Tonight is your one pass. But after tonight, if you get him hurt again, if anything happens to that man while he’s acting on your behalf, I don’t care who you are, or what your intentions were, you’re going to have to answer to more than just the Lord. Are we clear on that, Special Agent Holly?”
Holly studied her resolve; this woman was a piece of work. She’d just threatened a federal agent and meant every word of it. Holly nodded, more in admiration than agreement. He opened the car door.
“Holly, one more thing.”
“What’s that, Mrs. Burroughs?”
“Another thing about Clayton. Once he gets his mind set to something, there’s no stopping him until it’s run its course. Not until it’s done. So I’d be extremely careful what exactly you set him on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kate watched the twin red taillights fade to black before she gave her hands permission to shake.
5.
“I’m sorry, baby. It was a onetime thing. It won’t happen again.” Clayton was barely conscious, drifting off on their bed as he spoke. Kate covered him with the quilt and stroked his rust-colored hair. There was no point in trying to talk about anything now. Clayton waking up in his boots and dirty clothes with a monster hangover would have to be penance enough. She’d deal with the rest later.