The bar was a long scarred piece of plywood with one too many layers of shellac covering the surface, as if the shine could possibly make up for the cheapness of the wood. A woman who was my age, beautiful in the way of entitled coastal southern girls, held a shot of tequila. She smiled at the man next to her. I couldn’t see his face, but he must have been smiling.

“What?” I asked.

“That guy. He’s messing with the most dangerous of all pathologies.” Hutch leaned forward and whispered in my favorite voice of his, “the good girl come undone. The most dangerous of all women in the wild.”

“What?” I wanted to touch Hutch, but I didn’t.

“That is Bitsy Morgan—a friend of Drew’s. I met her the other night. The ultimate good girl. You know—straight A’s in high school; graduated from University of Alabama with honors; never did drugs or got in any trouble to speak of; married her college sweetheart and gave him four beautiful blond-haired blue-eyed children. Joined the Junior League, heads the PTA, jogs her three miles a day, teaches Sunday school. That kind.”

I sighed. “Doesn’t sound scary to me.”

“Ah, that’s because you don’t know the rest of the story.”

“Seems to be my biggest problem lately.”

He grinned. “Seems Bitsy Morgan has discovered that her sweet husband is sweet on more than just her. On more than just women, actually. So now, and only now, does this latent pathology come roaring to life.”

“Meaning?” I did touch him then, but only the back of his palm, the place above his wrist.

“Like a sleeping cancer cell come alive with the proper catalyst, she will officially come undone here and now. With tequila.”

I laughed too loudly, and both Bitsy and this man turned to stare at us.

“I need to be getting on,” he said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and dropping a twenty on the table. I stood and Hutch did also.

We were standing in the middle of the parking lot, his car parked next to mine. “So, I’ll see you around?” I asked.

“Of course. This was fun. Please just call me if you find out anything else. But I think I’ll take a trip to the museum in Montgomery tomorrow and dig through old film files and see if I can find a photo of the ride … you want to come with me?”

A dome of silence fell over us, and I leaned into it, rested for a moment.

“Do you?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes, that’s a great idea. And I’ll try and get more names.”

“Great. I’ll call you in the morning.”