“What they said is all true,” Quinn said. “I did all those things. I used to get into fights. I stole a county vehicle. Sometimes I trespassed on people’s land. I may have poached a little bit when I was a kid. What my uncle did may not have been legal, but I’m thankful for it. He knew I didn’t have a lot of guidance back at home with Jason out in L.A.”

“What’s the damn point of it?”

“You hadn’t heard?” Quinn said, lifting the cigar to his lips.

“No, sir.”

“E. J. Royce told those women I’d been shooting at the Taylor boy before they found him dead,” Quinn said. “Royce said my Uncle Hamp covered it up when the kid went missing. Like he covered up a lot of things. Those women just happened to find about dozen or so times I was arrested but never prosecuted. One time I’d crossed over on the Hawkins land. I didn’t even know it. My uncle did his best to keep me clean, on track.”

“And that gives some kind of credibility to a man like Royce?” Reggie said. “Please. That man is plain-out wicked. You won’t even believe what he told me the first time he saw me in uniform.”

“I bet I would,” Quinn said.

“Yes, sir,” Reggie said. “Just like that. Racist old peckerhead. But what you did or didn’t do back then doesn’t mean a damn now. I wouldn’t even speak to those ladies next time they come by the office. If they make any trouble, I’d throw their asses in jail.”

“Can’t do that,” Quinn said. “Protecting their right to question me is kind of the reason we risked our ass in the Army all those years. I saw them last week and answered all their questions. I verified everything they said and denied the rumors and flat-out lies. It’s all part of my job. But what they’re doing to Maggie? That’s a whole other deal.”

Reggie closed the laptop. He reached for his mic and told Cleotha he was headed to Tibbehah General to keep an eye on Bradley Wayne Guthrie while they extracted the bullet. Reggie put down the mic and looked over at Quinn, hand on the door and ready to get back to his own cruiser.

“How’s Maggie doing?” he asked.

“Not too good,” Quinn said. “She’s pretty much a nervous wreck.”

“You told me about what y’all saw at the truck stop up in Olive Branch,” Reggie said. “Anything come of that?”

“I pulled the surveillance at the Flying J and interviewed the waitress,” Quinn said. “I got a still from the video, but it’s tough to see a damn thing. The necklace Maggie found and the photograph didn’t have any prints. Not a one.”

“Some weird shit.”

“Yes, sir.”