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I hollered toward the line of officers back in the lane, who were out of sight of the shed, but not the house. I told them to leave any long guns back there and to come on in and help us. Three of them came in, and together we wrapped Bud in a blanket and carried him back to the police lines. He was a heavy load, and with the plasticized blanket being wet, we nearly dropped him twice. I had a cramp in my carrying hand by the time we got to the cars.

I went back into the yard, at first just to get my car, but then saw my rifle near my hiding place. I couldn’t leave that. And it was getting soaked. I would have hoped that another officer would have retrieved it. No such luck. Then I decided I wanted to talk to Herman again. What the hell. I was on a roll.

‘‘Herman!’’ You asshole.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I’m taking my car out. I want to talk to you. Give it up, Herman. We have enough people hurt now. Why don’t you just come on out?’’

‘‘Go to hell.’’

At that point, the door to the house opened, and the young man came out. He walked up to me. He was wearing a cammo raincoat with a hood, and he had put on fatigue pants and boots. The title of a movie came into my mind: A Soldier in the Rain. ‘‘Soldier’’ being the key word.

‘‘You better get out of here,’’ he said, stopping about twenty feet away.

I just looked at him. ‘‘I’m going over here, and I’m picking up my rifle, and putting it in my car.’’

‘‘Leave your rifle.’’

I was getting angry. ‘‘Listen, kid. One time. Don’t fuck with me. I said I’m getting the rifle, and that’s what I’m gonna do.’’

‘‘Dad’s got a bead on you, cop.’’

‘‘I’m sure he does. And I can kill you before the old fart gets off the first round.’’ Our eyes met. I shook my head in disgust, turned my back on him, walked to the post, and picked up my rifle. I was very, very careful to pick it up by the carrying handle on top. No point in pushing it too far.

As I got to my car, Junior spoke up again. ‘‘We’ll see you in the People’s Court!’’

‘‘Only for contempt, dickhead.’’

I got in my car and backed up the lane.

Fourteen

ANY RELIEF I felt about having gotten our people out of there lasted about five seconds after I got my car back to the top of the lane. As I was backing up, I thought about the People’s Court. I passed the sign, warning all to stay away. It was almost a billboard, being about eight feet by eight feet, white, with black lettering. Well maintained too. Stupid bastards. But to kill over an Original Notice? Hard to believe.

Several of the state TAC team officers had arrived, ready to go. They were being held back by the district lieutenant, who was waiting confirmation from the captain. Two of our people were there, Eddie and Tom Meierhoff. As I was mentally listing who else from our department might show up, it suddenly occurred to me that I had just been promoted. Lamar was out of it. Art was on vacation. I was senior officer, and de facto acting sheriff. Damn. Maybe I could find time to order cellular phones.

I talked to our people first, standing in a huddle under a tree. The wind had died down, and we just had a steady, heavy rain.

They wanted to know what had happened, and I really didn’t know. It was that simple. Just that two of our people were shot, and one was dead. That much I knew. As to why, I had a problem. As far as I could tell, it was over the service of an Original Notice. It did occur to me, however, that Deputy Johansen had just come back to work after taking a leave of absence after the killings in the park.

‘‘Ed, let the office know,’’ I said, ‘‘that Johansen is to be in charge at the office. Not up here. He doesn’t need another one of these.’’

‘‘Right.’’

That’s what I told the lieutenant as well when I sloshed over to him. Along with the fact that Herman was a little further to the right than most, and was heavily into organizations. And well armed, although I’m sure the lieutenant had figured that one out for himself.

I was tired, I was soaked, and I wanted a cigarette so bad I thought I’d kill