Breaking Point by C. J. Box Page A

into town to be with her friends. She often declared her independence, yet was dependent when she wanted to be. Joe wasn’t sure yet how to act around her, and he thought Sheridan wasn’t sure what her role was, either. They had been extremely close while Sheridan grew up, and Joe thought for a while she might follow in his footsteps. Now he wasn’t so sure, and he suspected she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, either.
    In two weeks, she’d be heading off to Laramie for her second year at the university. Joe didn’t even want to think about it yet.
    “There’s pizza in the fridge,” Marybeth said.
    “I could make you a salad,” Sheridan offered. She was still wearing her T-shirt top that read BURG-O-PARDNER over the breast.
    Joe raised his eyebrows.
    “Part of my job,” she said. “After I take customers’ orders and turn them in, I have to make the salads and get soup and bread for them. So I’ve turned into quite the little salad jockey.”
    “I don’t eat salad,” Joe said. “You know that.”
    “You should start,” she said, grinning. “Man can’t live on meat alone.”
    “I have.”
    He sat down with a plate of pizza slices, glanced at Pam, and said, “So here we are.”
    “Sheridan . . .” Marybeth said.
    “Yeah, yeah,” Sheridan said, pushing her chair back. “Nice to see you, Pam,” she said.
    Joe noted she called her Pam, not Mrs. Roberson.
    Then to Joe and Marybeth: “I’ll be out back in the barn with my new bird.”
    “New bird?” Joe asked, surprised.
    “Just a little kestrel,” Sheridan said over her shoulder as she went to the back door. “You’ll need to come out and see it.”
    Joe and Marybeth exchanged glances. While Sheridan had been Nate Romanowski’s apprentice in falconry, both had assumed she’d lost interest.
Apparently not,
Joe thought.
    Marybeth said, “Joe, Pam wants to talk with you to see if you can offer some advice.”
    Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a lawyer.”
    “I know that,” Pam said.
    “She doesn’t need legal help yet,” Marybeth continued, “but since you’ve been involved in this . . .
thing
all day, you might have some insight.”
    “Or not,” Joe said.
    “I trust you and Marybeth,” Pam said. “Right now, I’m not sure who else I can trust. Is it true some big shot from the EPA put a reward out on Butch’s head?”
    “Yes,” Joe said.
    “Can he do that?” Pam asked, wide-eyed.
    “He seems to think he can.”
    “Joe, what is going on?” Pam asked.
    Joe chewed deliberately on a slice of pizza. He swallowed and said to Pam, “I was hoping
you’d
tell me what’s going on. Sheriff Reed said it was something he couldn’t even believe happened.”
    She nodded, and took a deep breath.
    Before she began, Joe said, “Pam, you need to have something clear in your mind before you start. I’m—we’re—your friend, but I’m also in law enforcement. I have an oath to keep. I’m not officially interrogating you, and you don’t have to tell me a thing if you don’t want. But if you do, keep in mind that it isn’t between friends, so to speak.”
    Pam looked desperate, and turned to Marybeth.
    Marybeth said, “Do you want me to leave?”
    “No,” Pam said, “I want you to stay. But I already told the sheriff everything. I don’t have any secrets. I’m just surprised Joe is acting like this.”
    “He has to,” Marybeth said, reaching out and patting the back of Pam’s hand. “Don’t take it personally.”
    “I’ll try not to,” Pam said, gathering herself together and throwing her shoulders back. Then, to Joe, “I’ll start at the beginning.”
    “Good place to start,” he said.

8
    “BUTCH WANTED A PLACE TO RETIRE IN THE MOUNTAINS, on a lake,” Pam Roberson said, “and he didn’t want to leave Wyoming. Montana would have been okay, or Idaho, but it was his dream to own a home closer to where he hunts and fishes. He practically lives for those things, you know. He likes to say he feels like he