Chapter 70

“Your murder case.”

The calm that had overtaken me at the prosecutor’s office flew away on the breeze, but I put on my Indian face and stood my ground. “If you’re any kind of a reporter at all, you’ll already know it wasn’t a murder case. Self-defense.”

“In every instance?”

“Yes.” I avoided his trap, but I could see he wasn’t going to let it alone. “Let me amend that,” I said. “There was a murder. The murder of my five-year-old nephew, Gabriel. And just in case you think that’s of no consequence because he’s mynephew, let me remind you he was the son of Captain Gideon Haleworthy.”

“I don’t hold one life dearer than another, Mr. Strobaw.”

My tongue was moving to say that he was a better man than the county’s sheriff when I realized those words would likely provide the headline for his piece. I tempered my words. “Admirable. But unusual.”

“So, you believe native lives are considered second class around here?”