Taggart didn’t say anything, just turned his head and spit on the floor. Reggie walked back up, nodding to Quinn, Quinn punching the key in the lock and opening up the cell. Taggart seemed surprised by it, taking a few steps back. His bed was unmade and his lunch sat picked apart and nasty by the seatless toilet. Someone had brought him some free religious comic books and they lay splayed open on his bunk. The tale of Bathsheba and King David. Taggart noticed Quinn staring and said, “Boy, that woman sure got David’s pecker out of joint. Damn near destroyed his kingdom after seeing her nekkid. Men will do things like that. Toss away everything for a piece of tail.”

“Are you saying you’re like David?” Quinn said, grinning.

“Maybe,” he said. “I had lots of things going for me. Nice strip club, truck stop, and a trucking company, before little Miss Twilight gave me a little private show. You know the dumbest damn part of it?”

“Not really,” Quinn said.

“I thought that little girl loved me.”

Quinn looked to Reggie and Reggie just shook his head, having little patience for Wes Taggart. Reggie wanted the man gone as quickly as they could arrange transport.

“Your people aren’t going to help,” Quinn said. “They didn’t send a lawyer. They won’t show you a bit of support. If you got something, now is the time to talk.”

“Maybe I’d rather talk to the Feds than some two-bit Andy Griffith in some hick town,” he said. “Just what in the fuck can you do for me?”

“Besides getting you a double cheeseburger with extra pickles?” Quinn said. “I might be able to talk to the prosecutors about the charges against you. I don’t think you and Hood went after Boom on your own. I think your people down on the Coast cheered you on. How about we talk a little about them? And their relationship with Jimmy Vardaman. They’ve been a pain in my ass since I came home.”

“People on the Coast?” Taggart said, sitting down on his bunk and tossing the biblical comic book to the floor, the pages fluttering like a wounded bird. “Shit. You really don’t understand who they are and what they do. They’d just as soon kill you, Sheriff, as look at you. Why the fuck do you think they sent me and J.B. up to Shithole USA anyway? It sure as shit wasn’t just to watch truckers titty-fuck some truck stop women. Oh, hell no. We got sent to take care of you, Sheriff.”

“And whose idea was that?” Quinn asked.

“When’s that burger getting here?”

“Soon.”

“You get me tater tots and shake, too?”

Quinn looked at Reggie and Reggie nodded. “The works, Wes,” Quinn said. “You know nothing’s too good for an important guest like you. You’re absolute shitbird royalty around here.”