The Territory: A Novel by Tricia Fields Page B

talked with his daughter, Colt Goff, an angry twenty-year-old who was known locally for her support of the liberal left. Josie had interviewed Colt for an evening dispatcher’s position about a year ago, but the girl had refused to unspike her hair or remove her facial piercings. She had given up a six-dollar-an-hour raise from what she made stacking books at the public library.
    Colt lived above the Family Value Store in the run-down part of town. The downtown grid of streets in Artemis was shaped like a tic-tac-toe board, with the southernmost horizontal street containing the low-rent businesses and a few apartments. City offices and the more upscale stores were located closest to the courthouse; the nicer homes were a block back, the shabbier homes and cheap apartments were three blocks back, on the fringes of the downtown area. Josie parallel-parked in front of the Family Value Store and walked up a narrow flight of stairs that led from the street to the only apartment at the top of the landing.
    Colt answered the door in a pair of red plaid boxers and a man’s V-neck undershirt. She looked bored, but Josie thought it was affected. Her hair was jet black and spiked, but the long spikes drooped around her head like wilted grass. Her face was pierced, with studs in her nose, eyebrows, and tongue, and black eyeliner was smudged under both eyes. She looked like a young woman in need of a good night’s sleep and a bath.
    “What took you so long?” the girl asked, and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe to her apartment. “I figured I’d be first on your list of suspects.”
    “I’m sorry about your dad, Colt.”
    Colt pinched her thumb and forefinger together in front of her eye, looking through the crack between them. “Honestly, I’m not even the teensiest bit sad.”
    “Do you mind if I come in for a minute to ask you some questions?”
    “I’m good with here,” Colt said.
    Josie sighed. “I’m too tired to play games tonight. Let’s just go inside and have a seat and talk about a few things.”
    The girl stared at Josie a moment, then turned away quickly, leaving Josie to follow. The small living room was littered with pizza boxes, newspapers, books, dirty dishes, and clothes. With her back to Josie, Colt opened a newspaper and covered the contents on the coffee table as if laying out a tablecloth. Josie wondered what kind of drug paraphernalia lay beneath it.
    “When’s the last time you talked with your dad?” Josie asked. She pulled a small notepad out of her shirt pocket and sat on the couch opposite Colt, who had pulled over a chair from the kitchen table.
    “About two weeks ago. He stopped by my apartment to tell me my ex-boyfriend, Jessup Lamey, got picked up in El Paso. Thrown in the pokey for possession. It was a sweet conversation. Very loving, as you can imagine.” She rolled her eyes and lifted the newspaper high enough to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
    “Do you have any idea who might have killed your dad?” Josie asked.
    “Anyone with a gun and half a brain.”
    “A little more specific.”
    “It’s not like we ran with the same crowd.”
    “You don’t know of anyone specifically who would want to see your father killed?”
    She cocked her head and pursed her lips with a forefinger on her temple. “Let’s see. Me. My ex. The mayor. The people he called his friends. The people he called his enemies. You.” She gave Josie a half smile. “Because, let’s face it. You don’t mind Red’s gone, do you? He was a pain in the proverbial ass.”
    “Can you tell me where you were yesterday from about eight in the morning through dinnertime?”
    “Here.”
    “Don’t you work at the library?”
    “Not yesterday. I was home sick.”
    “Did you go to the doctor, talk to anyone throughout the day who can verify your whereabouts?”
    “Nope.”
    Josie stood from the couch and considered her a moment. “I’ll give you some advice from someone who grew up with a