Otis also held on to a grudge.

He didn’t fully understand that until after Jonah was born. He’d arrested three of Otis’s brothers after a riot had broken out at their family reunion. A week after that, Missy was rocking four-month-old Jonah in the living room when a brick came crashing through the window. It nearly hit them, and a shard of glass cut Jonah’s cheek. Though he couldn’t prove it, Miles knew that Otis had somehow been responsible, and Miles showed up at the Timson compound-a series of decrepit mobile homes arranged in a semicircle on the outskirts of town-with three other deputies, their guns drawn. The Timsons came out peacefully and, without a word, held out their hands to be cuffed and were taken in. In the end, no charges were brought for lack of evidence. Miles was furious, and after the Timsons were released, he confronted Harvey Wellman outside his office. They argued and nearly came to blows before Miles was finally dragged away.

In the following years, there were other things: gunshots fired nearby, a mysterious fire in Miles’s garage, incidents that were more akin to adolescent pranks. But again, without witnesses, there was nothing Miles could do. Since Missy’s death it had been relatively quiet.

Until the latest arrest.

Charlie glanced up from his food, his expression serious. “Listen, you and I both know he’s guilty as hell, but don’t even think about handling this on your own. You don’t want this thing to escalate like it did before. You’ve got Jonah to think about now, and you’re not always there to watch out for him.” Miles looked out the window as Charlie went on.

“Look-he’ll do something stupid again, and if there’s a case, I’ll be the first to come down on him. You know that. But don’t go looking for trouble-he’s bad news. So stay away from him.”