Bitterroot (Billy Bob Holland 3)

With the clarity of vision and singleness of purpose that seemed to characterize everything Sheriff Cain did, he arrested Doc Voss the next afternoon and lodged him in the county jail.

I went into the sheriff's office without knocking. He lowered the newspaper he was reading and looked at me over his spectacles.

"You grow up in a hog lot?" he said.

"What makes you think you can get away with something like this?" I said.

He took his feet off his desk. "Let's see if I understand you correctly," he said. "Putting a friend of yours in jail on a murder warrant is somehow outside my job description?"

"On what evidence?"

He yawned sleepily. "On a previous occasion he almost killed the victim in a bar. The victim later raped the suspect's daughter. The suspect, that's Dr. Voss I'm talking about, was in the Phoenix Program in Vietnam and probably did things to human beings that would make most people vomit. If you were still a Texas Ranger, who'd you be looking at?"

"Because he was in Vietnam doesn't make him a murderer. What's the matter with you?"

"Did I mention that a bone-handled skinning knife with the doctor's fingerprints on it was found at the crime scene?" the sheriff asked.

I wanted to speak, to say something that would refute his words, but my throat was suddenly dry, my palms damp and stiff and hard to close.

"Shut the door after you leave," the sheriff said.

"Ellison was in Doc's house. He took the knife then. Were his prints on the knife?" I said.

"No."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to think.

"Look, Maisey said at least one of the men who raped her had gloves on. That was Ellison," I said.

"Good. Dr. Voss's defense attorney can say all that in court."

"Ellison was a snitch. His own people wanted him dead. Talk to the ATE," I said.

"I classify most of those federal boys as A.A. Which means I leave them alone," he replied.

I looked at him incredulously. "You're saying the feds are drunks?"

"Arrogant Asswipes. Now go piddle around on the trout stream or visit your friend up in the holding tank or whittle some shavings outside under a tree. To tell you the truth, son, my estimation of the Texas Rangers has plummeted."

I went out of his office, my ears ringing. But I couldn't let go of his remarks. I opened his door again and went back inside.

"I'm representing Dr. Voss. He's not to be questioned unless I'm present. I'm going to hang this case around your neck," I said.

"Damn, I wish you would. I hate this job," he said, and picked up his newspaper again.

It was Saturday and Doc's bail would not be set until his arraignment Tuesday afternoon. I rode the elevator up to the jail section of the courthouse with a deputy sheriff and waited in a small interview room until the deputy brought Doc down the corridor in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit.

"How about it on the cuffs?" I said to the deputy.

"They stay on," he answered, and closed the door on us.

"I'll get you out Tuesday, Doc," I said. Doc stood at the window, looking down on the maple trees along the streets. "How bad is this going to be?" he asked.

"You know that knife I gave you?"

"Yeah, I couldn't find it the other day."

"It was in Ellison's cabin. With your prints on it."