Ray lit the cigarette and blew out the smoke, the wind carrying it to the edge of the field, toward the sun. The big marquee for the casino flashing TONIGHT / COUNTRY PRIDE / CHARLEY PRIDE and FUNNY MAN JEFF DUNHAM COMING SOON / MENTALLY UNBALANCED TOUR. Ray had two hours to get the floor ready and make sure the doors opened on time, the bar stocked with booze, for when Charley Pride took the stage. “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’.” Fannie sure loved that song.

“Can I ask you something?” Ray said.

Vardaman didn’t answer. A long, white-hot silence between them.

“Are you starting to believe the bullshit you’re dishing out?”

The candy clicked in Vardaman’s teeth and the line went dead. Ray sucked on the cigarette until it burned down to the filter tip and he tossed it out into the weeds.

TWELVE

I didn’t think that old guy wanted to talk to us,” Tashi Coleman said.

“He didn’t,” Jessica said, driving their Toyota rental way out in the great wilds of Tibbehah County, looking down at the GPS on her phone, searching for their next turn. As Jessica drove, Tashi flipped through the notes she’d collected the day before. “I called him personally five times before we left Brooklyn. One time he started yelling at me, calling me a goddamn Communist Mexican.”

“Sweet man,” Tashi said. “I guess it wouldn’t have made a difference if he knew your parents were from Colombia.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “Once I mentioned the name Brandon Taylor, he got pissed. On the first call, he remembered the case. By the third call, he couldn’t remember me calling and said he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. Actually, he said ‘fuck,’ which took me aback because I didn’t think an old Southern man talked like that.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know what to make of it,” Jessica said, finding the turn, a road called Turkey Trot Landing, with a sign pointing the way to a community called CARTHAGE. Tashi held on to the door handle as the Toyota cut hard, a plume of dust behind them. “When he called the motel, he said he’d be OK with taking a visit from two real lovely little girls.”

“Ick.”

“I know,” Jessica said. “I know.”

Tashi stared out the passenger window, the sun filtering through the oak branches overhead as they passed long stretches of pastureland dotted with black cows and a few horses. She saw goats, a miniature donkey or two. A hand-painted sign read FRESH EGGS & RABBITS FOR SALE. She wondered if this meant pets or meat.

“E. J. Royce,” Jessica said. “When I asked if he went by his initials, he said sure or we could just call him Sweet Daddy.”

“You bring your pepper spray?”

“Oh yes.”