“Straight out his ass,” Quinn said. Ansley had stopped down at the old house, nothing but rotten wood and a few panes of busted glass. Maybe a hunt cabin back in the day, or someone’s little home, way out from Jericho and civilization. Quinn used to love discovering these old places as a kid, knowing from an early age how quickly nature could take back what man had tried to claim. No matter the abuse, the woods knew how to grow again and heal itself. That was one of the reasons he found so much solace and comfort walking among the trees, whether hunting or just hiking. A strange comfort coming over him now.

“I never told anybody what they did to Brandon, because I knew only two things could happen: they might put me in jail or they might kill me. And nothing would happen to them,” she said. “At first, what we did was Brandon’s idea. But I got in on it, too. Our families didn’t have a lot of money and that fall we made more money than I could ever have imagined. We almost didn’t know where to put it all.”

“Brandon’s father thought Mr. Phillips had given it to him.”

“Mr. Phillips?” she said. “Brandon’s father was a real asshole. He couldn’t stand Brandon hanging out with adults outside his family. That man didn’t even like his kids leaving the house. When he found Brandon’s shoe box full of hundreds, he whipped the shit out of him. Gave him a black eye.”

Quinn nodded, hands on hips, turning around, looking for a trail or path leading out. He dropped a pin on his GPS, knowing he’d be back here for a long while, taking pictures, documenting everything Ansley Cuthbert had to say.

“Brandon was a hell of a photographer,” Quinn said. “Wasn’t he?”

“I’d tell him where and when and he’d get that lens as long as your arm on his camera,” she said. “He had fun doing it, laughing like hell about how fat and stupid those men were. It’s how we got in with Skylar. She was our age but a dropout. I’m sure that wasn’t her real name. I think she was from somewhere over in Alabama, another runaway who came down to Tibbehah to work at the Booby Trap. The girl was funny as hell. Knew damn-near everything. Kind of organized the young girls for their duties. She’d bring in boxes and boxes of Victoria’s Secret bikinis and all. Skylar would help us with our makeup and hair, making sure we looked just right at those parties.”

“Did you know Vardaman?”