His response, or rather the lack of his anticipated response, told her his mind was somewhere else. “You okay, sugar dumplin’?” He wasn't. There was no sense lying to Doreen. He knew she could read him like a map. "Not really." “Delbert?” she asked. “We arrested the man who called in the bomb threats. He may be the guy that murdered Delbert. He could be part of a group of crazy people with bad ideas. I don’t know for sure.” The thought of Delbert created a painful tear that slipped down Doreen’s cheek as she asked Zeb who he had arrested. “An old man. His name is Felipe Madrigal. To look at him you wouldn’t think he had a bad bone in his body. Most sociopaths can fool you though.” “Felipe Madrigal? I don’t recognize the name. I thought I knew everybody around town.” “He probably has never been in the Town Talk. He lives off of County 6, just south of the San Carlos Reservation.” Zeb slipped out of his boots, hung his cowboy hat, unbuckled his holster and walked to the refrigerator for a cold beer. Doreen had not seen him drink in a month of Sundays.
