“Oh, Lillie,” Devynn said, the smile gone. “I’m so sorry. I know y’all were close.”

Della Mae’s eyes hadn’t left Lillie, the older woman sitting erect with her long, manicured nails clicking together. The room smelled like French perfume and down-home cooking. Della Mae was known for her family cookouts and homemade tamales as well as for dispensing her own justice on folks who crossed her. Devynn took a seat on a nearby couch, staying as quiet as her mother expected.

“You say Ladarius is in trouble?” Della Mae said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And that you’re the one gonna go look for his dumb ass?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lillie said. “That’s my job.”

Della Mae looked to Devynn, lifting her chin. Devynn looked at her mother and nodded. Lillie had known Devynn for about as long as she’d known Gina Byrd.

“Can you bring him back unharmed?”

“I can do my best.”

“I need more than that, Miss Virgil.”

Lillie swallowed and nodded. “All I can offer at the moment, ma’am.”

The room grew still. Lillie could hear music coming from the kitchen, a gospel station out of Holly Springs playing a song that kept on repeating, “something about the name.” Lillie smiled at Miss Della Mae and then over at Devynn. She kept quiet knowing that the old woman was thinking on what she’d said.

“All right, then, Lillie Virgil,” Della Mae McCade said. “You gave me your word. If that boy’s headed anywhere, it’s Memphis. He’s real close with his cousin Domino.”

TEN

Chester Pratt saw Johnny Stagg’s cherry red Cadillac El Dorado from across the highway, hanging there at the exit to the Rebel Truck Stop like it just might be headed this way. Pratt walked away from the liquor store and out into the rain, hoping to get in his car and out onto the road before Stagg saw him. But damn if Pratt didn’t still have the key in the door when that old ElDo crossed the street and headed right for Bluebird Liquors. If he piled in now, Stagg would know he was being avoided. But if he stayed, Stagg might give him more trouble than he could handle at the moment. Pratt waved as the red Cadillac swung into the parking lot, the driver’s window sliding down and Stagg offering a big toothy grin.

“Sure got us a cat strangler today,” Stagg said.

Pratt stood there in the cold without an umbrella, getting soaked to the damn bone.

“Been trying to reach you, son.”

“Yes, sir,” Pratt said. “Had some personal matters to tend to.”

“How about you hop in for a little ride,” Stagg said. “Get on out of the rain. Me and you need to talk.”

“It’s not a good time, Mr. Stagg,” Pratt said.

Stagg seemed to grin even wider, his teeth as big as tombstones.

“Ain’t a request, son.”