After he took Stu’s clothes into evidence, Lee left him with an officer and gave him orders to shower, change, and wait in lockup. He’d be damned if he’d interview the idiot while said idiot was still stinking of sweat and stale beer and puke.

In any case, he had to notify the deceased’s family, and wouldn’t that be a goddamn picnic?

Knowing the Drapers, he took both Silas and Ginny as backup.

Horace Draper answered his knock, stood sneering with his thin gray hair buzzed to his scalp, a home-rolled cigarette tucked tight in the corner of his mouth.

The air inside, barely stirred by a couple of standing fans, still smelled of breakfast grease.

“Y’all come out here looking for my boy, I’m gonna tell you again, he’s off camping. You ain’t stepping in without a warrant.”

“We found Clint, Mr. Draper.”

Something shifted in the old man’s eyes. “All right, then you know he wasn’t nowhere around when that lying bitch he married says he smacked her. Never smacked that lazy woman in his life. Might be she coulda used it.”

He jabbed a nicotine-stained finger at Lee. “You got my boy locked up, I’m gonna have your badge for it this time.”

Lee ignored the finger, ignored the threat. “Mr. Draper, I regret to inform you, your son Clint is dead. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“That’s a stinkin’ lie!”

“His body was recovered earlier this morning from Reflection Lake.”

From behind Horace, Bea Draper began to wail, “Not my boy! Not my boy! Not my boy!”

“You hush up, woman. They’s lying!”

Lee took out his phone, brought up the crime scene photo. “Is this your son Clint, Mr. Draper?”

He saw it then, the moment when reality and the grief that came with it overtook belligerence. Draper stumbled out the door, dropped into one of the chairs on the rickety porch.

“My boy’s gone?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Grief snapped into a wild rage that shoved Draper to his feet. “You done it!”

Before he could lunge at Lee, Silas had his arms yanked behind his back. The old man had plenty of ropy muscle with that rage fueling them. Ginny had to step in, help hold him back.

“We don’t want to put you on the ground, Mr. Draper,” she said. “We don’t want to cuff you.”

“We didn’t find him alive.” Lee spoke calmly. “The Lakeview Police Department didn’t cause his death.”

“Then who done it! My boy can swim like a shark. He didn’t fall into the cursed lake and drown. Who done it!”

“We’re investigating.”

“Investigating, my ass! Cops is nothing but corrupt all the way up to the FBI. You don’t give one good shit about me or my blood. Never have.”

“I’ll do my job. It’s best you sit down, get yourself under control. It won’t do your family any good if I have to take you in for assaulting an officer.”

“I’ll tell you who done it. That pissant Bigelow boy goes by Walker. The one who stole my boy’s woman, got her to say lies about him. You best put him in a cell right quick, ya hear? Before me and mine find him.”

“Be careful who you threaten. Now sit down before I put you down.” Lee jerked his head to Ginny, signaling her to go inside where Bea Draper continued to wail and sob.

“Zane never hurt your boy.”

“You’d say that.”

“I know that. When your boy was killed, Zane was busy protecting Darby McCray and himself from the bullets Clint shot through the exterior doors of his bedroom, and calling the police.”

“Bullshit. My boy did no such thing. That Bigelow scum, he’d lie and you’d swear to it.”

“We found Clint’s rifle, recently fired, in the truck he took from Stu Hubble, and we dug bullets out of Zane’s bedroom walls. They’re going to match. We found Clint’s prints on the steering wheel, smeared with the paint he used to deface Zane’s office building, Darby’s house shortly before he fired the rifle. The paint was still wet. Seeing as Zane had a half dozen cops in his house about the time Clint was dumped in the lake, he’s got a damn good alibi.”

“You’d lie, they’d swear to it. Every one of those useless police.”

“You know that’s bullshit. Even you know. We have the time logged on the nine-one-one. I’ve got Stu Hubble in lockup now, and from the looks of his place when I picked him up, he and Clint got good and drunk, smoked some weed, popped some pills before Stu passed out, before Clint took it into his head to grab some paint cans, his gun, and go on his vendetta.”

He crouched down now, looked into Draper’s eyes. “You think about this. If you and yours hadn’t lied to me yesterday, your boy would be alive right now. He’d’ve had his day in court. He might’ve done some time, but he’d be alive.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah.” Lee straightened. “That’s what I thought.”

He saw the fist coming, had a half second to calculate. He let it land, took the bare knuckles on the cheekbone.

“That’ll do it. You’re under arrest, assaulting an officer.” With Silas’s help, he wrestled Draper to the ground, cuffed him, while Ginny had to shift from comforting a grieving mother to restraining a wild woman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After a difficult hour with Traci, Zane drove back to Lakeview. A quick text with Darby told him she’d been cleared to go to her place—with her whole crew, he was relieved to hear.

Satisfied, he drove into town to assess his own damage.

He pulled up, got out, stood on the sidewalk studying the ugliness behind the police tape.

Worse, he thought, worse than the broken window—and it would take a lot more time and effort to repair. Several people stopped, offering sympathy or supportive anger.

He glanced over at the sound of his name, waited as Britt hurried to him. She simply opened her arms and took him in.

“I talked to Emily, and to Silas. I know everything. I’m so sorry.” She drew back, but kept her arms around him. “First I’m thanking God you and Darby weren’t hurt. Then I’m sick and mad about everything else.”

“We’ve been through worse. It’s just paint.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry he’s dead. Part of the sorry is because I didn’t get a chance to beat the crap out of him. If he’d aimed three feet lower, I don’t know. But I know Darby sleeps closest to the doors.”

“Where is she? Should I go see her? I can juggle appointments.”

“She’s up at her place—the crew’s with her, and Brody, too. He wanted to help.”

“He’s a good kid. We’ll all help, Zane. Make sure she knows that.”

“Will do. Look, we’re going to draw a crowd here, and I can appreciate the support and still just not want to hear it all right now.”

“Got it.” She gave him a last hug, stepped back for another look at the building. “He sure couldn’t spell worth shit.”

At least it gave him a laugh before he left to go buy a whole lot of paint.