Caddy reached out her hand, but Boom turned away from her and jumped into his beat-up old truck. He cranked the engine and sped out, the pipes growling, with only one working headlight. As she watched him go, a trailer chain dragged behind his tailgate, throwing sparks up into the darkness.

*   *   *

Quinn and Lillie found Curtis Creekmore hunched over a workbench, cigarette bobbing out of the corner of his mouth, as he worked on the engine of a Stihl chain saw. A small radio sat beside him playing David Allan Coe singing how Mona Lisa lost her smile. The dingy little shop cluttered with used pressure washers, weed whackers, and dozens of old, dirty chain saws hanging from the ceiling, tagged like meat in a butcher shop. He looked up and grinned with crooked yellow teeth and said, “Well, goddamn, if it ain’t Johnny and Jane Law.”

“Curtis,” Quinn said. “You’re a long way from Jericho.”

“Guess not far enough, Sheriff,” Curtis said. “What can I do you for? Deputy Virgil? My, my, my. Ain’t never seen you in no street clothes before. You don’t look half bad when you’re cleaned up. Almost look like a woman.”

“And you look about the same, Curtis,” Lillie said. “Like you just stepped out of one of those Lord of the Rings movies. One of those fellas with pointy ears, yellow eyes, and fucked-up teeth. Is that a new tattoo?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Curtis said, pushing away from his workbench and examining his skinny bicep. “Ain’t it pretty? That’s my ole cat Mr. Whiskers. God rest his soul.”

“Is he wearing a cowboy hat?” Lillie asked.

“Sure is,” Curtis said. “And smoking a corncob pipe. Just the way I always saw him in my mind’s eye. He was a damn good little pussy. Got this one down in Jericho before y’all kicked my ass over to Parchman this last time. Rerun is a true artiste. Man can ink up anything you bring him. I was all tore up when Mr. Whiskers got kilt. Got run over by the damn UPS truck. Damn near killed the motherfucker driving. I can still see him standing there, in those little brown shorts, telling me I’m the one responsible for not keeping my animals put up. You know better than anyone, Deputy Virgil, how a pussy sure do love to roam.”

“I’m a U.S. Marshal now, dickhead,” Lillie said. “And you got two outstanding warrants out on your sorry ass. You haven’t shown up for your last three court appearances.”

“I haven’t?” Curtis said, cigarette still screwed into the corner of his mouth, eyes squinty from the smoke. “Don’t know nothing about that.”

“Fella that owns this shop knows you’re a felon?” Quinn said.

“He damn well better,” Curtis said. “Used to be my dang brother-in-law.”