Shawn listened for a moment. “Yes, I see what you mean. But before they lost focus, what were they saying?”

Gus pulled Shawn aside. Or he tried to. He couldn’t quite get up the strength to actually exert a force, but Shawn noticed him brushing at his shirtsleeve.

“There’s something you need to know,” Gus said.

“And I’m about to learn it from the lovely detective.”

“I sure hope not,” Gus said, as Shawn stepped away from him.

“It’s a mess in there,” Coules said.

“You’re not looking so good yourself,” Shawn said. “Got a little spot on your suit there.”

Actually, there were several spots on the DA’s suit. His knee was stained with grease. His jacket was flecked with a goo whose origin Gus hoped he’d never learn.

“Metal building, hot sun, dead body, check,” Coules said. “You investigate a crime scene, you’re going to get dirty. You stay much cleaner if you just make up your facts.”

“And this place was a mess before the guy was dead,” O’Hara said. “Apparently, it hadn’t even been swept in the last decade. Which means every fingerprint that’s ever been left is still there.”

“That’s not going to stop us from finding the killer,” Lassiter said.

“Not when the victim works for the City of Santa Barbara,” Coules said. “That’s why I’m here now, and why I won’t let this case drop until it’s solved and the perpetrator is behind bars. At the district attorney’s office, we believe that anyone who’s willing to harm a member of our local government is targeting democracy itself. And I will not let that stand. Do you understand, Detectives?”

“We’ll take the prints and run every single one of them, even if it’s the entire population of Santa Barbara,” Lassiter said.

Gus felt Coules’ eyes boring into him. He tried to remember how many fingerprints he and Shawn might have left in the shack. Including the ones he must have left on the barrel of the shotgun. Not that he and Shawn had done anything wrong. They were the victims. But would that stop Coules from coming after them?