“To be honest,” Tashi said, “I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d find. I just spent the morning with the Tibbehah County supervisors. They talked about a dozen or so bridges being closed by the state for repairs. And plans to bring a sixty-foot cross to Highway 45.”

“Just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t support building it?”

“Ma’am,” Quinn said. “I support my country, my county, and my church. But I believe that money could be spent on more worthy projects for people in actual need. I also prefer to be a bit more quiet about my personal beliefs.”

“They say it’ll cut down on the glow from the neon of the strip club,” Tashi said, looking behind Quinn at his pictures of his family and from his time with the 3rd Batt of the 75th Regiment. A framed American flag once flying over Camp Spann in Afghanistan hung on a far wall.

“Might have to make it a hundred feet, then,” Quinn said. “That’s a lot of neon.”

*   *   *

“Don’t be sore, Wes,” Lillie Virgil said, driving with her right hand on the wheel of the Charger and cracking the window with her left. God, the son of a bitch smelled. “You gave it your best shot, shaving your head and all. Someone just needed to give you a road map to get off the Coast. Just think of me and Charlie here as giving you a nice nudge in the right direction.”

Marshal Charlie Hodge sat in the passenger seat as Lillie drove, Wes Taggart in back shackled to a D-ring. He hadn’t said two words since they got him rousted from the shower, out and dressed and processed through the local jail at dawn. She was supposed to take him on to Oxford, but due to some lost paperwork, he’d make his first appearance on the attempted murder of Boom back in Jericho.

“Air too cool for you?” Lillie asked.

Taggart said nothing.

“Charlie here has been a Marshal now for twenty-five years,” Lillie said. “Ain’t that right, Charlie?”

“Coming up on thirty,” Charlie said, staring straight ahead. He was a skinny dude of medium height, and kept a thin little mustache and goatee. His hair was snow white.

“Don’t you worry,” Lillie said. “We plan on stopping off for lunch in Starkville. They feed you a good breakfast at the lockup?”

“Sausage biscuit and some piss-poor coffee,” Taggart said, his eyes meeting Lillie’s in the rearview.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Lillie said. “We can do better in Tibbehah County. Sheriff makes a mean cup of coffee.”

Taggart’s eyes shot back up to the mirror. “Tibbehah County,” he said. “Shit. You’re really fucking me, lady. I was told I’d make my first appearance in Oxford. I’m supposed to meet my fucking attorney. He’s gotta drive all the way down from Memphis.”