"It's okay, Sam. Mike swore me in as a special deputy a couple years back. The badge is at the store."
"They'll hang me for this, won't they, Ed?"
Michaels put his hand on Collins' shoulder. "No, they won't do that to you, boy. We know you around here. They'll just put you away for a while."
"The asylum at Hannah, huh?"
"Damn it, yes! What did you expect? A marksman medal?"
"Okay, Ed, okay. Did you call Doc Van der Lies like I told you when I phoned?"
Michaels took a folded white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his square-jawed face. "You sure are taking this calm, Sam. I'm telling you, Sam, it would look better for you if you at least acted like you were sorry…. Doc Van der Lies is up in Wisconsin with Mike. I called Doc Candle."
"He's an undertaker," Collins whispered.
"Don't you expect we need one?" Michaels asked. Then as if he wasn't sure of the answer to his own question, he said, "Did you examine her to see if she was dead? I—I don't know much about women. I wouldn't be able to tell."
It didn't sound like a very good excuse to Collins.