Page 65 of Runaway for the Grumpy Daddy

Derek Kane was sleeping in a motel four blocks from the sheriff's office. Josie was eight miles away, frightened and blaming herself for telling the truth. She had promised not to go anywhere alone, but promises made in shock sometimes lost their shape once guilt got hold of them. I knew that because guilt had built half my life.

I stood and put both hands around the bars.

"Hutchins."

He looked up.

"Call the ranch. Tell Wyatt she doesn't stay alone."

His face gave nothing. "Your brother already said she won't."

"Tell him again."

A beat.

"All right."

He made the call where I could hear it. Full names. Plain instruction. Wyatt's answer too faint through the receiver to make out.

I sat again.

The town moved outside without showing itself. A truck passed. The Bluebird's lunch traffic became afternoon traffic. The fluorescent light stayed exactly noon.

Wyatt came at four.

He stood on the other side of the bars in his clean hat and ranch coat, holding a legal pad dense with writing. If he had slept, it had happened in another year.

"I've contacted counsel," he said. "You'll speak by phone within the hour. Bail cannot be set administratively because of the prior conviction and the alleged targeted nature of the offense."

"When's arraignment?"

His mouth tightened.

"The circuit judge is north of Ennis and will not be back before tomorrow evening at the earliest. The storm may move that."

"Say it."

"Day after tomorrow."

After the storm hit.

Wyatt folded the pad against his thigh. "I am working on an emergency review."

"Road'll close."

"I know when the road will close."

"Josie?"

"At the ranch when I left."

"That wasn't the question."

His eyes met mine. Pale gray, exhausted. "She believes she did this."

"I lied to her."

"You omitted sitting on your own porch."