“I shouldn’t even be down here,” she said. “But we can’t have a prisoner killed under my watch. Or your watch. That’s just plain disrespectful. What’d Boom say when he heard about Wes Taggart?”

Quinn shook his head. “I think it rattled him a bit,” he said. “Boom was counting on evening things up with ole Wes somewhere down the road. When I told him, he wouldn’t look me in the eye, just wandered off to the edge of the field and stared out at the cotton. Something’s about to break in Boom. And this shooting didn’t help a bit.”

“Any idea about the shooter?” Lillie asked, both of them moving away from the cell and getting buzzed back through the gates to the sheriff’s office. Walking and talking with Lillie in the hollowness of the concrete jail felt like old times. It was good to have her back, even it if was just now and again.

“Those boys beat the hell out of our camera system,” Quinn said. “We didn’t get much besides Reggie’s description.”

“A big Indian,” Lillie said.

“And a rough-looking kid,” Quinn said. “The one who was supposed to be a prisoner. Reggie didn’t get much of a look at him. The kid had half his head covered in a hoodie and forced Reggie and Cleotha into a cell with a gun. Told them not to turn around or he’d shoot ’em in the back.”

“When you sent me the sketch,” Lillie said, smiling, walking back into the hall toward the offices, “I thought it was Jay Silverheels.”

“Holliday’s pretty sure they were sent up from the Rez.”

“No shit,” Lillie said. “You need a federal agent to draw you a map down to the casinos? Those folks joined up with our boys in Biloxi a long time ago. Ole Wes didn’t stand a goddamn chance. He must’ve had some real nasty shit on those people and Vardaman.”

“We’ll never know.”

“I wonder how many pole dancers will show up at the service?” Lillie said. “Maybe they’ll wear black G-strings while they mourn. Boy, that’d be a hell of a tribute. A little AC/DC and Aerosmith.”

Quinn nodded, walking into his office, turning on the lights and slipping his .45 back onto his belt. He handed Lillie her Sig Sauer. “We both know the one person who could answer that question.”

“Fannie Hathcock?” Lillie said. “Shit. That woman thinks you’re cute. But these are her damn people. She may be the worst of ’em. She’s not gonna ID these boys.”

“Might as well try.”

“How long has that woman been trying to get her claws into your Levi’s?”

“Come on, Lillie.”

“You know it’s true.” Lillie started to laugh. “Tell me I’m lying.”

*   *   *