As they drove away, Dusty noticed two flat black cars and a silver Charger speed past in the opposite direction. He wondered where the hell they were going in such a goddamn hurry.

TWENTY-SIX

At dawn, Lillie and Charlie Hodge, along with ten more marshals, four FBI agents, and six NOPD officers, raided the house on Audubon Park only to find four unarmed junkies inside sleeping it off. Lillie, never a stranger to threats and intimidations, kind of felt sorry for the kid who owned the house. A skinny-looking frat boy named Graham, with dark circles under his eyes, greasy black hair, and forearms poked so many damn times by a needle they looked like bruised fruit.

“And you’re sticking by that story?” Lillie asked, standing over Graham, who sat on his unmade bed, head in hands. “Chastity Bloodgood left New Orleans with TJ Byrd and her little brother sometime last night? But you don’t know why or where they’re headed?”

“That’s right.”

“You don’t look so good, Graham,” Lillie asked. “How long’s it been since you shot up?”

“I don’t shoot up,” Graham said. “Shit, lady. I don’t mess with that crap. What makes you think that?”

“Besides the marks on your arms and the fact your pupils are smaller than a mouse pecker?” Lillie asked. “Oh. I don’t know. You’re also about to fall asleep with almost twenty federal agents and cops tromping around your daddy’s house. Either you’re the chillest dude in the Big Easy or you’re on the backside of the big rush. Which is it?”

“You’re crazy,” he said, leaning forward on the bed, shivering like he’d been locked in a deep freeze. His teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. “I say no to drugs. And yes to life.”

“You’re a goddamn laugh riot, kid.”

Charlie Hodge walked into the room and lifted up a baggie full of white powder and a box full of what the cool kids call drug paraphernalia. Lillie nodded to Charlie as he turned back to the main room with the other agents and Graham ducked his head back between his legs.

“I spoke to your father,” Lillie said. “He sure is disappointed in you.”

“My father is a massive dick,” Graham said, lifting the shaggy bangs from his eyes, smiling in a sleepy, lazy way. “He and his buddies aren’t any better. Only difference is they get high and order up strippers like they were pizzas. My dad better be careful, or I’ll show my mom a video I found in his sock drawer. I have to admit. I wasn’t sure my old man had it in him.”

“Heartwarming,” Lillie said. “Maybe after you get out of jail, y’all can go on some kind of bonding trip where you both admit your weaknesses and shortcomings. I’m sure you both can hug it out by the campfire.”