“You want to head back to the Rez with me?” Quinn said, taking aim again, this time back on the skillet. “Maybe introduce them to some of that Lillie Virgil charm?”

He fired and another high-pitched ping filled the woods of Burnt Oak, Mississippi. The skillet twirling like a top.

“Nope,” Lillie said. “I figured we might take a run at Curtis Creekmore.”

Quinn reached for his cigar and took a puff, a quiet settling over the range. “Is he out?”

“Curtis got out last year,” Lillie said. “Living over in Yalobusha County, outside Coffeeville. Dealing in the same ole shit he was doing over here in Tibbehah.”

“He have a warrant?” Quinn said, setting down the cigar again.

“Yep.”

“Might make him more willing to talk about his buddies down in Biloxi and Tunica.”

Lillie smiled, placing her right hand in her jeans pocket. Her whole face lighting up with the thrill of going after a real-life shitbird together. Just like the old days. When she smiled, the dimples deepened in her cheeks.

“I don’t think Curtis is in any rush to get back to Parchman,” Lillie said. “He might just be willing to tell us what he knows about Wes Taggart and why his sorry ole ass was so important to the Syndicate boys. Might even have some names.”

Quinn nodded. “Do I have time to take one more shot?”

Lillie smiled again. “Be my guest, Ranger. Need you sharp.”

EIGHTEEN

Sorry I’m late,” Bentley said. “Please tell me we’re winning. We’re winning, right?”

“Winona took the lead right before halftime,” Caddy said. “They picked off a pass and ran it back with ten seconds to go. What kind of coach takes it to the air with a little bit of time left? Come on. These kids aren’t old enough for complicated plays like that. They barely ran that one at practice and then all of a sudden the coach wants to roll the dice.”

“Only three things can happen when you pass,” Bentley said. “And two of them are bad. Just ask Ole Miss. They’re leading the SEC in turnovers. I think I’m skipping going to the Grove on Saturday. I’d just as soon watch us lose at home.”

“Really?” Caddy said, watching the boys take the field for the third quarter. It was a rare Thursday night game, the bright lights shining down on the patchy field. All the kids were splattered in mud, Caddy knowing Jason’s white pants would be hell to clean tomorrow. “I told Jason and Brandon we’d be going. Quinn and Maggie were fine with it. Isn’t that right, Momma?”