Jack had been working almost three weeks to gather enough evidence even to confront the Norman boys, and that was a big stretch. He didn't think anyone had ever told him outright the Normans ran and owned their own still, but they didn't have to. Most of the time, he was almost sure he wasn't just biased against them. Hell, little John Norman -- though the kid had grown since Jack had left for New York, little wasn't quite the right word anymore, even if he was the youngest of his family -- had joined the count police...though of course, that was under his piece-of-shit dirty sheriff of an uncle, so Jack wasn't so sure that counted. 

Still. If John really was the good apple Jack though, he'd fallen far from the tree. His older brothers had been reported by some 'anonymous tip' left in town (usually from the only church left in Pickett) to have been seen out in the woods carrying those infamous clay jugs. Now, on its own, that didn't mean nothing. But Jack had been by their old store, and they didn't make dirt. If that was the only way they were keeping food on the table, then Jack'd eat his hat. 

Besides, Tommy had told him a couple weeks ago he'd seen John chatting Kitty up outside her school. John was a good boy. But he wasn't [i]that[/i] good. 

Jack and Tom had been driving around the far side of town for a solid twenty minutes before they finally spotted the Norman's car. They'd parked half a block down from Water's (another establishment that ought to have crumbled to dust by now but still seemed to scrape by) and waited, Tom feeling antsy somewhere between boredom and frustration. 

"Aw, hell, Jacky -- Chief -- we know 'least Luke's in there, why cain't we just go bust 'em?"

Jack hadn't turned his heavy gaze from the window. He felt his jaw twitch slightly, but he kept his tone patient. "Don't wanna spook 'em too early. We're looking for something can put 'em away, not just scare 'em."

Tom sucked his teeth. "Well, shit, Jacky, I don't see why we cain't do both."

Jack looked at his partner with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's why you're the Lieutenant and I'm the Chief." 

Tom looked back like he wanted to say something, unsure of whether he should play off Jack's joking tone, or his more serious expression. Something dark passed across his face real quick, and then it was gone, and Jack wondered just briefly whether he'd made a mistake. Then Tom was leaning over, squinting up the road. 

"Look," he said evenly. "Luke Norman. Got 'im."

Jack started up the truck without a word and met Luke at the steps of the feed shop. He turned off the engine and he and Tom stepped out in practiced unison. 

Jack spoke first. "Luke. Evenin'. Don't think I've ever seen anyone leave a store empty-handed before. Mind if I ask what you're doing here?"