Page 16 of JoyRide

“Sure. I’ll show you what he did. Malicious property damage and I figure it’s gonna run you and Todd’s parents in the range of about three to four thousand dollars.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Harlan, show Mister Levine the squad.”

“Copy, Sheriff. Follow me, Mister Levine.”

“I might as well look at it too,” said Mister Toohey.

I took them out the back door and marched them around to the back of the squad and pointed at the black paint covering the tag, all around the tag on the hatch and sprayed upwards across the back window.

“Whole squad will have to be repainted, all the lettering and whatnot will have to be redone,” I said. “A costly paint job for the county.”

“And you can prove our boys did this damage?” asked Mister Toohey.

“They spray painted the squad right in front of Deputy Bristol. She caught them red-handed when she came out of the feed store, and both boys were laughing about it.”

“Any witnesses?” asked Levine.

“At least a dozen,” said Harlan. “Store emptied out to watch Tammy arrest the boys.”

Mister Toohey shook his head and sighed.

Back inside, the parents wanted the boys out of their cells, and Travis said no dice. “They’ll be arraigned tomorrow in juvie court and that’s when the judge will decide if they are eligible for bail.”

“I want to see my boy,” said Toohey.

Travis shook his head. “Nope. Only the lawyers will be admitted into the run.” Travis nodded at the legal beagles. “Y’all can speak to the boys for fifteen minutes and then they’ll spend the night here.”

“Come on, Sheriff,” said Mister Toohey. “They’re only kids pulling a prank.”

Travis pointed. “Have a seat on the bench by the door, sir. You can wait there for your attorney.”

“I’ve heard stories about you, Sheriff.”

“And? Your point, sir?”

“Never mind.”

Push my dad a little harder and you’ll find out all those stories are true.

Mainliner Diner. Coyote Creek.

Wyatt Thompson was waiting for us across the street at the diner. All the food for our prisoners came from the diner, and the office ran a tab that was picked up at the end of each month by Harrison County.

“Did you order?” Travis asked Wyatt.

“Nope, waiting for you and the kids.”

“Not kids anymore, Wyatt,” I said. “We’re sworn in now. Me and Tammy are full-fledged deputies working for the county.”

“Seems like you were kids just the other day.” He laughed. Wyatt was a good guy. About forty—around the same age as my dad. Short dark hair and dark-rimmed glasses. He looked like a teacher or one of those nerd guys, but he wasn’t like that.

Wyatt was a newspaper guy but not pushy like the city reporters. He wrote about our cases on his crime page and only printed what was true.

I knew the diner menu by heart we ate here so much, and I usually got a cheeseburger and fries. Tammy was trying to get Travis off fries and greasy stuff so he wouldn’t have no heart attacks. Neither one of us could afford to lose him. Getting ourselves a dad was the best thing that ever happened to either one of us.

“What can you tell me about the murders down at Lake Frances, Travis?” asked Wyatt. His notebook and a pen lay on the table in front of him. He ordered a turkey club sandwich and Tammy did too.

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