"24 arrived and approaching residence." Sheriff Peterkin said into her portable radio and then clipped it onto her belt.

She approached the home, the already loud music became deafening as she neared the front door, rattling the misaligned windows in their frames. She heard something crash to the floor.

"Luke Maybank?" She pounded on the door with a closed fist. She waited a moment, then repeated the name, knocking harder. "Luke Maybank! Open up!"

She heard muffled yelling behind the door, and then heavy steps approaching. Her hand rested cautiously on her gun.

The door cracked open, revealing a very drunk Luke Maybank peering through, balancing himself against the doorframe with an arm resting above his head.

"Luke Maybank?" Sheriff Peterson asked as if she hadn't already seen him three times this summer already.

Luke swore.

"No need for nastiness." She said firmly. "Just got some complaints about a noise disturbance."

Luke opened up the door a little more, trying to look over into the neighboring yard to see Lucinda Farrow. "Fucking hag." Luke slurred, pointed towards Lucinda's yard. "She's always hated me, ya know. Not my fault she goes to BED AT 7:30!" He yelled the last part across the yard.

"Okay, okay." Sheriff Peterkin said. "That's enough of that. Look, it doesn't matter who called me. The point is, I'm here, and I'm going to check what's going on." She waited until Luke's eyes focused on her own. "You been drinking this evening?"

Luke ran a hand clumsily through his short gray hair. "I've had a couple." Luke smiled at her simperingly, leaning heavily against his arm. "But that ain't a crime now is it?"

"No, sir." Sheriff Peterkin returned curtly. "But waking up half the neighborhood is. Where's your son?"

Luke looked off to the side and shuffled his stance, then turned his face back to face her. "JJ?"

She nodded. "That's the one."

"He, uh. He's at his friends." Luke scrunched his eyebrows together in a frown. "The one with the shaggy, blond hair. J something?"

"John B.?"

"Yeah, that's it." Luke snapped. "He's over there fucking around. Ungrateful little prick is always off running around when we got work needin' done round here."

"Mmmmhmmm. And where did you get that from?" Sheriff Peterkin pointed down to some red flecks of blood staining the bottom of his white t-shirt.

Luke looked down to where she was pointing, confused. Seeing the blood, he scrubbed at it lightly with a grease-covered thumb. He looked back up. "Must've cut myself in the shop out back. Ya know how us mechanics are."

Peterkin raised her eyebrows incredulously. "So, you won't care if I come look around then?"

Luke stood up a little taller in the doorframe. "You gotta warrant?" He stared at her challenging.

Sheriff Peterson kept direct eye contact. "No. I think that you know that I don't."

"Then we got nothing to talk about." Luke smirked, relaxing more casually against the door frame. He spat down on the porch at her feet. "You cops. Always up there.." He glanced upwards "…on your high horse. You're just as bad as the rest of us. Don't think I don't know where you're from Miss Peterkin…. You can't fool me. You were trash once and you'll always be trash. No shiny kook police uniform is ever gonna wash that off of ya."

Peterkin bristled, making sure to keep her face calm. "This isn't about me. This is about your son. JJ." Her temper flared in her chest. "I see that's his bike parked over that way." Peterkin nodded over to the dusty motorbike parked in the gravel driveway." She raised her eyebrows. "You want to try that story again?"

Luke spat. "No. I don't think I do."

"Well then, I don't think we have anything more to talk about." Peterkin replied. Before waiting for a reply, she yelled "JJ! You in there son?"

A look of surprised anger flashed across Luke's face as he leaned closer to her, a couple inches away from her face. She stepped back instinctively, smelling the alcohol on his breath.

"I told ya he's at his friends." Luke growled. "I don't appreciate being called a liar."

Sheriff Peterkin gave him a hard stare. "Then you shouldn't lie."

"Back here." A voice called out faintly, muffled against the clutter of the house and the pounding of the music.

Sheriff Peterkin raised her eyebrows, looking at Luke. Luke swore as she stepped back, drawing her gun. "Ground." Peterkin commanded.

"I got some friends over." Luke protested.

"Ground." Sheriff Peterkin said again, louder this time. "On your knees, hands behind your back."

Luke sighed, steadying himself against the doorframe as he slouched down onto his knees, hands hanging loosely behind his back. "You've got no right…"

Sheriff Peterkin cut him off. "You've got no right to lie to a police officer." She kneeled behind him, putting on handcuffs. "And I suggest you exercise your fifth amendment and shut the hell up. If you haven't done anything, you've got nothing to worry about."

She saw a flash of red and blue lights at the end of the dirt drive. She grabbed her radio. "24 to dispatch."

"Go ahead." Dispatch returned.

"32 on scene. One suspect in custody, making entry into the house." Sheriff Peterkin waved down the officer arriving.

With Luke handcuffed and her partner walking up towards the porch, Sheriff Peterkin stepped carefully behind Luke, gun still drawn, as she entered the home.