Service had not slept well and called McCants in the morning. She agreed to watch the animals until he got back, and said she would pick them up around noon. “You made good time,” Denninger said. She was about five-eight or -nine and slender, with long brown hair knotted in a thick French braid, long legs. “Heard a lot about you,” she said, extending her hand. He left his truck and rode with Denninger. “Booger Baits,” he said quickly, trying to get them focused on the job. “It was started by the old man, Charley Main Jr. He moved up here fifty years ago. Now his son Charley Main the third runs the show. Locally he’s known as Charley the Turd.” “You get along with him?” “I’ve made a lot of people unhappy since I got here,” the young officer confessed. “My FTO told me the locals were going to piss and moan, complain and hate me no matter what I did, so I might as well bring the hammer down early and let them know how it was going to be.
