One military dog.
Daniel expected the usual questions.
What happened?
Anyone seriously hurt?
Who started it?
Instead Sheriff Briggs looked directly at him.
"Daniel Cross."
Daniel felt his stomach tighten.
He had not given anyone in town his full name.
Lena knew only the first name printed on the card he had placed beside his plate.
"Damn," Wade whispered from the floor.
Briggs glared at him.
Daniel caught it.
Very brief.
But obvious.
Daniel looked at the sheriff.
"How do you know my name?"
Briggs ignored the question.
"Hands where I can see them."
Daniel lifted his hands.
"What am I being detained for?"
"Aggravated assault."
Five minutes later Daniel was in handcuffs.
Duke stood beside Lena.
The dog had refused to leave Daniel until he ordered:
"Go with her."
Lena touched the leash.
Her hands still shook.
Daniel met Duke's eyes.
"I'll come back."
The dog's ears lifted.
Daniel turned toward the sheriff.
Briggs leaned close.
"You should've kept driving."
Daniel stopped.
He looked at him.
"Excuse me?"
Briggs smiled faintly.
"Red Creek's not friendly to strangers."
Then he pushed Daniel toward the patrol car.
As the door opened, Daniel looked back.
Wade Mercer was standing now.
Holding one arm.
Watching him.
Daniel stared.
Wade mouthed four words.
Not loudly enough for the deputies to hear.
They were expecting you.
Then the patrol car door slammed shut.
The holding cell underneath the Red Creek Sheriff's Office smelled like bleach, rust and old sweat.
Daniel had slept in worse places.
Much worse.
At least this one had walls.
He sat on the steel bench and replayed the afternoon.
A retired colonel had once told him that when something made no sense, stop studying what happened and study what should not have happened.
The bikers should not have known he mattered.
The sheriff should not have known his name.
Wade should not have said they were expecting him.
Daniel had chosen Red Creek randomly.
Or had he?
He thought backward.
Retirement ceremony.
Fort Gordon.
Fuel stop.
Highway construction.
Detour sign.
Route 16 closed.
Local traffic directed toward County Road 7.
Daniel remembered following an orange sign.
Twenty miles later he entered Red Creek.
He closed his eyes.
A detour.
Could be legitimate.
Could be convenient.
His phone, wallet and keys had been placed in an evidence box upstairs.
Someone approached.
Boots.
Heavy.
Measured.
Sheriff Briggs stopped outside the bars.
Daniel remained seated.
"You calm for a man facing charges."
"Being angry wouldn't improve the furniture."
Briggs unlocked the outer corridor but not Daniel's cell.
"You military boys always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Act like everything's a joke."
"No."
Daniel studied him.
"We usually save humor for situations where somebody's lying."
Briggs's jaw tightened.
"Five witnesses say you attacked them."
"Five bikers."
"Residents."
"And the other customers?"
"Didn't see anything."
"All of them?"
"That's what they said."
Daniel almost smiled.
Too clean.
"Camera?"
Briggs paused.
"What?"
"Diner security."
"Broken."
"Of course."
Briggs stepped closer.
"Listen carefully."
Daniel waited.
"You're going to make a statement saying you misunderstood a joke."
"No."
"You escalated."
"No."
"You'll agree to leave the county."
"No."
Briggs exhaled.
"You always this difficult?"
"My wife says worse."
"Then think about her."
Daniel's expression changed.
Briggs saw it.
Good, his face seemed to say.
Daniel stood.
Slowly.
"How do you know I'm married?"
The sheriff said nothing.
Daniel moved closer to the bars.
"My ring isn't on."
He raised his left hand.
The ring was gone.
Daniel had stopped wearing it eight months earlier.
Not because the marriage ended.
Because Sarah died.
Pancreatic cancer.
Briggs had not said think about your family.
He had said wife.
Specific.
Current.
Wrong.
Which meant his information was old.
Daniel's military personnel file, perhaps.
Or someone who had researched him before Sarah's death.
Briggs realized the mistake.
Too late.
Daniel's voice lowered.
"Who told you I was coming?"
"No one."
"You knew my full name."
"Your ID."
"You said it before anyone searched me."
Briggs looked away.
"There are cameras upstairs."
Daniel continued.
"You're a sheriff."
"You should be better at lying."
Briggs hit the bars with one hand.
"Enough."
Daniel did not flinch.
The sheriff stared.
Then left.
Daniel sat again.
Now he had confirmation.
This was not random.
The question was why.
Three hours later the answer began with Lena.
She appeared at the station carrying a paper bag.
A young deputy escorted her.
The deputy looked uncomfortable.
"Lena brought food."
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
"Am I allowed visitors?"
The deputy shrugged.
"Sheriff's out."
Meaning no.
Daniel approached.
Lena placed the bag through the slot.
Hamburger.
Water.
Napkins.
Folded beneath the napkins was a piece of paper.
Daniel waited until the deputy walked away.
Then opened it.
Three words.
DON'T EAT HERE.
Daniel looked toward Lena.
She shook her head slightly.
He left the burger untouched.
"So Duke?"
"At my house."
"How is he?"
"Mad."
Daniel smiled.
"He holds grudges."
Lena did not smile back.
"You need to leave."
"I've heard."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She looked toward the hallway.
Then whispered:
"Briggs owns half this town."
"Sheriffs don't own towns."
"This one does."
"What about Wade?"
"Cousin."
Daniel nodded.
Useful.
"Why me?"
"I don't know."
"You knew they were waiting."
Her face changed.
Daniel stepped closer.
"You weren't surprised when they started trouble."
Lena whispered:
"They told me somebody was coming."
"Who?"
"Briggs."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"What did he say?"
"Keep booth four open."
Daniel stared.
That was where he had been sitting.
"He knew I'd eat there?"
"He said a man and a dog might stop."
Daniel's skin went cold.
"What else?"
"If you did, I was supposed to text him."
"Did you?"
Lena's eyes filled.
"I had to."
Daniel studied her.
He had spent decades interviewing frightened civilians.
Fear had patterns.
Lena's was practiced.
"Why?"
She touched the inside of her forearm.
A bruise was partially hidden beneath her sleeve.
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"Briggs?"
She shook her head.
"Wade."
Of course.
"Wade's your—"
"Husband."
The word barely came out.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
"Why did they want me?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
Lena closed her eyes.
Then:
"They kept saying something about a file."
"What file?"
"I don't know."
"Wade said the old man was right."
"Which old man?"
"Somebody named Turner."
Daniel froze.
Lena noticed.
"You know him?"