“That’s the craziest horseshit I ever heard,” Vardaman said, still grinding his teeth, his face turning a deep purple. “I don’t know a damn thing about any of that. I’ve tried time after time to be cordial to you, son. At every damn turn, you’ve worked to embarrass me and harass my supporters. You arrested one of my people just two days ago, violating his fucking Second Amendment rights. I don’t know what kind of fantasy you’ve created in your mind about some cold case from twenty years back.”

“Might take a little time to put the pieces together,” Quinn said. “But it’s coming. Figured I’d just give you the option of dropping out of the race before you cause Mississippi further embarrassment.”

“You ain’t got shit, son,” Vardaman said. “Because all this is just a fucking lie. Nothing but an old-fashioned witch hunt. You ain’t got any facts. Just an outright fucking fabrication.”

“Might have a few keepsakes, too,” Quinn said. “Y’all sure none of those pictures are still around?”

Vardaman’s face blossomed with even more color, spit on his lips, as he breathed out his flared nostrils. “Lies,” he said. “Y’all just can’t stand that I’ve already won. You’ll do anything to slander my name.”

“You gonna double down on that, Senator?” Quinn asked. “When this all shakes out?”

Tudhope mopped his brow again with his tie, turning to the press secretary, the woman just shaking her head back and forth, pushing Tudhope out of the booth. The fat man, nearly tumbling to the floor, reached for the headrest of the banquette to gather his feet, and told them to clear the bus.

“It’s your call,” Quinn said, his eyes not leaving Vardaman’s. “But the election won’t stop a damn thing. I just hate having to drive all that way to Jackson to arrest you.”

“It’ll never happen,” Vardaman said.

Quinn nodded, picking up his cap from the table, little indentions in its flat top for poker chips and playing cards. A half-eaten bucket of KFC pushed toward the bus window.

“You’ll be long gone by then, son.”

“No, sir,” Quinn said. “My time rousting your crooked ass has just started.”

“That’s a threat,” Tudhope said, pointing, then reaching for his cell phone. “Y’all hear that? Say it again and you’ll be all over the news. We got every news organization in the state on speed dial.”

“Is that a fact?” Quinn nodded, turning. “So do I.”

*   *   *