Chapter 14

A minute later, or maybe twenty—Owen’s sense of time was telescoping—Finch came back, the all-important paperwork in hand. He sat opposite Owen in a matching orange chair. “Now, like I told you, you can have a lawyer here while I question you. Do you want a lawyer?”

A cloak of helpless impotence wrapped around Owen. In this close-knit town any lawyer he’d get would probably work more against him than for him. And he sure as hell couldn’t afford to hire one from outside the area. “No lawyer. Just ask your questions. I want to know what’s going on.”

The sheriff nodded. “Tell me what happened at your place this afternoon.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get any information until he gave some of his own, Owen started to tell his story. “I had to cut the weeds and grass—remember? You were going to give me a ticket.”

“You always use a scythe to mow the lawn?”

Owen could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. “Is that illegal in this town?”