“It was Randall Regan give us the job,” answered Charley Wise, the braver of the two boys. The other boy, Jake Whitten, had said nothing since their arrival. “Randall’s my uncle, Mr. Knox. I don’t even think Mr. Brody knows us by name. He’ll come around to wells when we’re drillin’ sometimes, even had a drink with us once. Told us stories about chasin’ pussy and getting into brawls and such. But it was Randall who called us with this.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked us to come out to Mr. Royal’s place on Lake Concordia. He told us he had a job for some tough boys, and there was good money in it.”

“How much?”

“Five grand apiece.”

Sonny whistled, and Billy and Snake shared a look. “What did he tell you to do?”

“He said to grab Mr. Henry and bring him to Mr. Brody’s house on the lake. To that basement room out there. They wanted to question him about something.”

“Did they mean to kill him?”

The two boys looked at each other. “I’m pretty sure they did,” Charley said. “Uncle Randall hates Mr. Henry. Always did. But he didn’t want us to take any guns on the job, in case a cop stopped us. He also told me that if Mr. Henry had anything in his Explorer, like a computer or anything, to bring it with us. That’s why we brought them files along.”

Charley pointed at a stack of banker’s boxes on the floor to his left.

“That’s the only smart thing you did tonight,” Billy said. “And what brought you to us?”

“Mr. Royal, I guess you could say. Once that old bitch shot Casey, we hauled ass and called Uncle Randall. He cussed up a storm and told me he’d call me back. I figure he must’ve called Old Man Royal at that point, because he called back and told me he couldn’t help Casey. He told me not to go to any hospital within a hundred miles, and that if his or Brody’s name got mentioned, we’d be dead by sundown the next day. I called Mr. Thornfield because I know some guys in the meth business, and I always heard your crew had a first-class operation. Cops on the pad, and even a doctor for emergencies.”