"I got the warrant." She tells me.
"Come pick me up." I tell her and turn back to Jason's room.
My elbow finds a soft divot in the arm of the chair, my palm presses perfectly into my chin, my fingers extend to my hairline, and I close my eyes thinking how every hand fits its own head.
The softness of her voice matches the softness of her hand, "Walt."
I'm in that space, drifting to the surface, my hand covers hers and I press it to my chest, my eyes open, slightly out of focus, she's standing above me and my toothless thin smile is welcomed with one in return.
"Hi" I say my voice not quite there a little deep and a lot tired.
"Hi" she says back all subtle like she may have woken up with me this morning.
"Will you drive me to do the notification in person then we can go serve the warrant. Everything caught up with me and I just need a few winks on the way."
"Sure." She retrieves her hand like she suddenly remembered we were working and in the middle of a supreme who-dun-it, "kinda glad I took that nap on the way home."
"Not glad why you did but glad you did."
I stand-up and pull my O'Farrell on my head, leaving the straightening out for later, I walk over to Jason and lean over him hovering for just a moment. "Remember our man-to-man talk. I'll be back with your mom and dad."
"Here." She shoves a half toothbrush wrapped in plastic, "Becky hooked me up with one, thought you could use it."
"Thanks", I say as I wet the brush, the toothpaste embedded in the bristles, lather my teeth, and rinse.
She waits for me perched against the door frame.
"He's strong, Walt. Ferg called me and filled me in and any kid who can make it this far will make it."
She looks like she's floating, standing there, her face a little smudged, her hair out of place like she's been up all night 'cause she has for the most part, but she's never been more beautiful to me.
I climb into the passenger seat of her truck and roll my jacket up in a ball, my mock pillow, it props my head up just right as my hat shades my face.
The truck rolls to a stop and my eyes open. I move my hat to my head and adjust my eyes to the sun pouring into the windows.
"Hey, Walt I stopped here so you can kinda get your shit together." She hands me a brush and I notice a few of her blonde strands layered through the bristles. She flips down the visor then flips open the flap revealing the rectangle mirror and I brush my hair thinking I've never used one of these in my entire 48 years of existence but there's a first time for everything.
I pause for a moment and she adds, "In case you were wondering you really do look that bad."
That results in a quick chuckle and she holds her hand out for her brush. I hand it to her commenting, "Thanks."
I want to say more to her, like how intimate a brush is, next to a toothbrush but it won't come out right and I'm receding into the abyss my fingers clawing along the vortex walls desperately trying to stay in the daylight.
Vic parks in front of the Milestone home and we both slam our doors at the same time. Janette greets us at the door, as I step inside of their home; I take my hat off and hold it in my hands patting down my hair despite the brush down.
"Sheriff, any word?" She asks desperately while Jack wraps his arm around her shoulders.
I start strong, "We found Jason. He's alive. He's at Durant Memorial." Janette nearly collapses in her husband's arms but he holds on tightly and they sit on the couch huddled together her sobs echoing in the pristine room.
"I don't know how to thank you, Sheriff." Jack's eyes penetrate mine, staring through grief and anguish.
"Don't thank me just, yet. Your son was shot and he's hanging on. I think its best we get you both to the hospital." I maintain Jack's eyes, "Can you drive?"
"Hell, yes." He's up and gets keys taking Janette by the hand.
"Follow us." I say and Vic hits the lights and siren all the way to the hospital. We bent a few Absaroka County Sheriffs' Department policies and procedures but none I can't straighten back out with a sledge hammer.
They are part relieved and part panicked when they see their son all taped up, tubed up, and bandaged up.
"Vic, get Ferg on the phone to see if he's done with those tire casts."
She pulls her phone from her back pocket, pinches her free ear closed, and talks to The Ferg. I can see her head nodding and she's not giving him any attitude which is a good sign.
"Walt, he said that both sets look like a match he going to send me a couple of photos but he's on his way back to the station so Ruby and send the photos and the casts to the FBI lab in D.C. He also said he found some shoe prints and he got those too."
I nod and add another reason to my mental rolodex as to why I kept Deputy Ferguson on board.
"Looks like we need to be sending Ferg to more schools, Walt. He is coming through like a champ."
"Yup"
I want to stay in this translucent space but I know I can't and won't, "Let's go serve this warrant."
I turn toward the Bronco and take a couple of paces and stop.
"Vic"
She turns around and comes back to me.
"About what we talked about before."
"Save it, Walt we gotta do this thing."
"Won't wait"
She looks at me, Ray-Bans on, arms folded.
"Nobody's ever come with me, it's bad where I gotta go, and if you do you gotta know there's no changing it once it's done."
She rips the sunglasses from her face and stares. "Are you sure?"
"Are you?"
"Fuck, yeah"
I know exactly what to think about that.
This time Bart isn't quite so friendly when he sees us but he can't help put forth his best smile for Vic's benefit. He's a little reluctant at showing us the Bronco parked out back with its shiny new bumper.
Vic snaps pictures of the bumper and the tires also taking pictures of the tire impressions in the soft earth below our feet. She is focused and intent. She's here with me, all the way, in this inferno.
I point, "New bumper, Bart?"
"Old one was rusted."
"You toss it?"
"Why?"
"Why not?"
He hesitates.
"Do I have to answer that?"
"Yup"
"I want a lawyer."
"You're not in custody."
"Don't you have to read me my rights?"
"You're not in custody, Bart."
"You don't have the right to question me."
"Now, Bart, I know you can read 'cause you were in the same English class I was with Mr. Preston. I also know that we studied the Constitution with Mrs. O'Reilly in American History so maybe you skipped over the 4th, 5th, and 6th amendments but I didn't now tell me where that damn bumper is!" I haven't raised my voice this loud since yelling at Branch and I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to think about that at all.
He points over to his red painted shed, "Watch him, Vic."
"I got this." She's not cocky when she says it but she means it. "Have a seat there David Duke."
Before I open the shed doors, I look over at Vic, she is vigilant at her post and we speak without a sound. She cuffs Bart, pats him down puts him in the backseat of her truck and seat belts him in.
I wait on the side of the door, at an angle, my Colt drawn but resting against my thigh. She takes a tactical stance behind me, her Glock poised, she taps my shoulder letting me know she's ready, and we enter the barn.
Almost immediately, our descension into treachery is apparent.