He fell back, trying to catch his breath, not caring if whoever this was wanted to pump some shells into him. Anything was better than six dogs. Anything was better than getting eaten alive down at Gonzalez & Smith Motors, red and green flags flapping in the cold wind. The dogs looked back and trotted away from him.

Ladarius closed his eyes. Opening them again, he saw a squat Mexican man dressed in a fancy-ass black cowboy shirt, black jeans, and a black cowboy hat.

The man had the shotgun aimed tight on Ladarius.

Ladarius covered his face, waiting for the blast.

“Ladrón negro,” the man said, turning his head to spit. “Por qué viniste aquí?”

Ladarius didn’t get the first word but understood the second.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

“Estúpido,” the man said, shaking his head. He removed his cowboy hat and looked around the car lot. One of the mangy black dogs trotted up and licked at the man’s strong brown hand. The mutt had Ladarius’s blood across his nose.

“I’m bleeding out,” Ladarius said. “Help me. You gotta help me, man. Por favor, señor.”

The man pulled a phone from his back pocket. He began to speak in clear, deep English giving the name of the business and address. Hector Gonzalez. Gonzalez & Smith.

“The dumb boy is injured,” the man said. “My dogs. Yes. They ate him for dinner.”

*   *   *

Lillie Virgil had had about as much fun as she could handle that day, spending most of the morning checking out video surveillance at the Salty Dog Marina on Lake Hamilton and later speaking to an old couple from St. Louis who’d had their new Kia Sorento stolen by the notorious Ladarius McCade. The old folks seemed more fascinated than pissed about what happened, wanting to know all about McCade and TJ Byrd, asking if Lillie thought they’d try to ride it out to the bitter end.

Lillie told them she had no idea but they sure better be checking on getting a new car. Ladarius McCade could be mighty hard on a vehicle.

She and Charlie checked into the Embassy Suites, grabbed dinner, and headed back to the Hot Springs Marshal’s Office before calling in to the Old Man back in Memphis and then Florencia at home. Lillie talked to Rose and gave her the PG version of events, Rose not that interested anyway and telling her all about a new trick she’d taught Jerry Lee. The dog would now sit still, not moving a muscle, with a treat balanced on the end of his nose. When Rose said okay, that dog popped a tongue across his nose and swallowed it whole.

“Just like his namesake,” Lillie said.

“What’s that, Momma?”

“Just a little joke,” she said. “Be good. Be good for Florencia.”

“When will you be home?”

“Soon.”

“You promise?”