CHAPTER 6
It was nearly eleven thirty by the time Maschen and Polaski arrived in San Marcos, and the sheriff’s stomach was complaining loudly that it wanted to be fed. Both men in the car pretended to ignore the rumblings. They had made the drive back from Totido Canyon with only a couple of words exchanged between them. I guess we don’t have much in common, Maschen thought. Then, too, this is an awkward circumstance for a conversation.
When they arrived at the Sheriffs Station, Maschen led the way up the narrow stairs to his office on the second floor. “Anything happen back here, Carroll?” he asked his secretary.
“Nope,” she said shaking her head. “I made all the reporters clear out—told them to wait downstairs if they wanted to, but I had work to do up here.” She looked at Polaski for
