TJ let the curtain drop and headed back into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the rusty faucet. She had on a flannel shirt over a red tank top from Walmart and a pair of frayed green camo pants. Her daddy’s old .38 was stuck into her waistband with plenty of bullets jangling down in her side pockets. Splashing cool water up into her face, she barely recognized the girl she saw. Her skin pale white, newly black hair up off her head. It had been Chastity’s idea to do it. She said it made her look just like some French woman who got burned at the stake.

When she walked back into the room, Chastity had taken her place on the bed, head up on the pillow and scrolling through a new phone they’d bought at Walmart right after leaving Memphis.

“I don’t think you should be doing that,” TJ said.

“Why?” she said. “It’s not registered to you. There’s no way to track us. Wow. You should see these hits. We added five hundred more likes in five minutes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

TJ nodded, her mouth feeling dry and her stomach empty. She nodded to Chastity.

“And what are they saying?” TJ said. “All these people?”

“Lot of boys want to see you naked,” she said. “But mostly folks calling you a hero.”

“A hero?” TJ said. “For what?”

“For snatching me up to your cause,” she said. “For sticking it to that greasy Chester Pratt.”

“What the hell do you know about Chester Pratt?”

“Only what you told me,” she said. “And that was plenty.”

“And you’re sure they can’t track us?”

“No way,” Chastity said, not looking up from the phone. “We’re all being too careful.”

*   *   *

Deputy U.S. Marshal Lillie Virgil hung up the phone, turned to her partner Charlie Hodge, and said, “They’re in Texarkana. The McCade kid just got caught trying to steal another car.”

“Why couldn’t these little bastards steal a car back in Memphis down on EP Boulevard?” Hodge said. “I haven’t been home in two days. I need a shower and some decent food.”

“Kid’s in bad shape,” Lillie said. “Some dogs got to him.”

“Dogs?” Hodge said. “Holy Christ.”

For the last twenty-four hours, they’d been working out of the Marshal’s office in downtown Hot Springs, an ancient government building up the hill from Bathhouse Row and across from the abandoned veterans’ hospital. The big brick fortress with dark windows reminded Lillie of an old-time asylum.

“That’ll teach him to throw in with TJ Byrd,” Lillie said. “Ladarius should consider himself lucky.”

Lillie stood up, reached for Hodge’s black slicker, and tossed it to him.