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  Hand cupped around the back of his neck, kneading, Rome shuffled to the bedroom ready to apologize for anything and everything. Total passivity. Play it slack. Man, his neck was tight.

  Rome stopped in the door of the bedroom. The first thing he noticed was the scent from all those candles. Must’ve been ten or more, a blend of orange and mango and peach. Desiree had done some shopping. Not just the candles. His wife was standing at the foot of the bed in red thigh highs, stiletto boots, wearing an outfit made of little leather straps, barely wide enough for her nipples. A studded collar around her neck. She was slapping a short leather whip lightly on her ass.

  “Baby,” Rome said. It caught in his throat.

  She snarled her lips. “Twenty minutes late means twenty minutes of pain, mister. Now get over here and bend over this bed.”

  It was as if his neck hadn’t been aching at all. “Yes ma’am.”

  FOURTEEN

  Lafitte let Fawn drive, let her choose the station on the ancient radio. She went with rock. It wasn’t good rock, just loud. In the passenger seat, Lafitte couldn’t help but doze off. Fawn smoked another cigarette and kept her window cracked enough for the smoke to roll out. The car was freezing, and Lafitte wasn’t able to hear half of what she was saying. What he did catch was how she was talking about her ex-guys, things they did that she hated. Some memorable nights at parties. “You know I was drunk to do that.” Asking questions of him: “You a one woman man, or you a playa?” “So that jacket, you in a gang? A Hell’s Angel?” “You got condoms? It’s okay if you don’t.”

  He mumbled the answers that got her to laugh, not giving up real answers, though. Keeping her interested while getting her to go where he wanted. Straight west to Watertown was a risk now, thanks to the Kid Cops back there. Another memory of Nate screaming and burning flashed as he drifted again. He caught himself, snorted, sat up straighter.

  Fawn, more of that laugh. “Don’t fade out on me! Take a hit of ice. It’ll help.”

  “I’ll be fine. Enjoying a little downtime, need a couple of winks.” He pointed out her side. “Take that road.”

  “What, the county road?”

  “Yeah. We need to head South.”

  “You got a place?” She said it a little flirty, a little tense. How many times had she been in this sort of situation before, Lafitte wondered.

  He shrugged. “I think I remember a spot.”

  After Fawn turned, Lafitte checked his sideview again. He’d caught a pair of headlights behind them, seemed to show up out of nowhere but then keep a steady distance after that. A little ways down, sure enough, the headlights turned in behind them on the county road. He didn’t think she had signaled anyone. Maybe the parking lot kids were curious. Didn’t matter, as long as his strength came back in time.

  Fawn’s chatter stopped. Lafitte gave her a good stare. Without the posing, she was pretty average, someone you’d pass in the supermarket and not think much about. Maybe you’d notice because she was dressing to grab a man’s attention in clothes tighter than what looked comfortable, but not so outrageous you’d dwell on it past the next aisle. It was her personality that turned the whole package on.

  Lafitte said, “You ever thought of leaving this place? Maybe head to a bigger city, get a job there?”

  She shrugged. “You mean to like to Sioux Falls? Why?”

  “You’re spending your night trying to get teenagers to like you, and you picked up a stranger who most likely stole a bike.”

  “You didn’t steal that.”

  “You want me to have.”

  “Maybe I just like your accent. Southern, isn’t it?”

  “Which one of the boys did you have your eye on tonight? Wesley, I’ll bet.”

  She sped up. Did a Jerry Springer head shake. “Fuck you, man. You don’t know me. Could’ve been my brother, or a friend. What the fuck do you know?”

  “He wasn’t your brother.”

  “Fine, okay.”

  “I’m just saying, do you do it because you like the power you have over them, or because you’re having a hard time finding men your own age around here?”

  She backhanded his shoulder. Didn’t hurt. “Fuck you! I’m not a slut. I told you that. I haven’t made up my mind about you yet, anyway. And if that bothers you so much why did you even come with me?”

  “Why do you think?”

  She shrunk. “I thought you liked me some.”

  “If not?”

  “Then I don’t know. I like to get high. I guess you’re some sort of killer, right? Going to leave me out in the woods.” The words were sarcastic, sure, but she’d also sped up. Getting nervous.

  “That’s the problem with you small town girls. You’re too trusting.”

  “Helped you out.”

  Lafitte smiled. He lifted his injured leg, pounded it on the floorboard. Fawn jumped. He said, “Just testing it. Feeling better.”

  *

  Goof kept bouncing around, telling Perry to close the gap or he would lose them. He hated the music. Old geezer rock. He asked, “Where’s that Three Six Mafia CD I burned for you?”

  Perry said, “Why do you listen to that? What do you get out of it?”

  “They’re badass, man. That’s the way to live, like Scarface.”

  “You don’t want to live like fuckin’ Scarface. It’s all bullshit and you think girls like it. Look, you think I’m not badass?”

  “You’re plenty badass. Just different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Like, you don’t show off. You got money, but you’re driving this. You ain’t pimpin’, son. Bitches want to see the bling.”

  Perry grinned. “How many women have you had?”

  Goof crossed his arms. “Hey, girls like me. I need to add some muscle, but the girls like me.”

  “The truth, okay? You know I’ve got pussy. Anytime I want. You know that.”

  “Not the same quality as Three Six Mafia.”

  “How about your biker? You think he’s hot shit and I’ll bet he doesn’t listen to that shit.”

  “But he went off with Fawn, too, man. No offense, dude, but that’s like lukewarm water full of spitbacks.”

  Perry reached over and grabbed the front of Goof’s shirt, yanked him down so his cheek pressed against the bar where the dash should’ve been. Goof called him a motherfucker and an asshole and all the other shit kids say when they’re scared. Held him there about a minute before saying, “When you get a ride from her, then you can talk. Until then, stop playing baby gangsta, boyo.”

  “I don’t know why I called you. I could’ve taken him down. Me and the guys.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He let go of Goof and reached for the volume knob. Upped it. Zakk Wylde on guitar wailing while Ozzy did his thing. “Badass Goof to the rescue.”

  Goof rubbed the deep line across his cheek. “Don’t call me that.”

  *

  If the fucks behind them kept pace, Lafitte wouldn’t have any time at all to make the switch. Maybe thirty seconds. Not enough. Fawn’s leadfoot put them ahead but only by so much. Lafitte knew they were close, though. Been at it about the right number of miles. Now he just needed a way out.

  Some hills were coming up. At the top of the first one, Lafitte said, “Shut off the lights.”

  “What?”

  “Shut your lights off. It’s okay.”

  She pushed in the headlights lever so that all they had was the dashboard glow. Really pitch black outside, Fawn leaning over the wheel, foot easing off the gas.

  “No, keep up the speed.”

  “I can’t see a damned thing.”

  “Do it. I can see.”

  He’d forced himself to see better at night. He had lived with thugs who thought it was the middle ages, ready to take out the leader or his enforcer and rise to the top. The road ahead was clear. Started to twist left.

  “Start to the left, just a bit.”

  “I can’t see—”

  “Left, okay? You’re no
t that fucking blind, are you?”

  On the verge of tears. “I don’t wear my glasses at the lot. I look terrible in them.”

  They would be in the ditch in five more seconds if she couldn’t do this. Lafitte said, “Ease it to ten o’clock. You got that? Ten o’clock.”

  She pulled the wheel, did fine, drifting over the center line some but no one was coming. He talked her out of the curve, then told her to floor it when they were straight. He started looking for the best place to finish this.

  He said, “Don’t you have contacts?”

  “No, just glasses.”

  “Why not contacts?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought about it. Easier to get up, pull my hair back into a rubber band, and wear the glasses to work.”

  “Where do you work?”

  She hemmed and hawed. “There’s a dollar store downtown. I’m a cashier. Not like it’s my whole life, you know? Just money. I’ll do better one day.”

  “Turn right here.” Lafitte pointed to a narrow road separating two fields. Fawn turned.

  “Awful deserted,” she said. “If you want, I know a hotel about ten more minutes from here.”

  “This is fine.”

  “I mean, I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?”

  “No, Fawn. Not at all. I just need to take a piss.”

  He had her run past a few more fields then steer back towards the main road. They’d definitely lost the car trailing them, at least for a few extra minutes. Fawn parked at the corner of a field, left it running. “You go do what you need to.”

  Lafitte held out his hand. “Keys first.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Keys first or I take them. That’s your choice.”

  Fawn sulked a moment, finally putting the car in park and turning it off. She gave Lafitte the keys.

  “Thanks. I feel a little better now.” He got out, stepped about twenty feet away, and took a leak. He hoped Fawn would try to run away, make this a lot easier on him. He only wanted the car. Just needed the fucking car. Should’ve took it plain as day back in town, but thought this might get him further down the road. Was she trying to run? No. Fuck no. She wasn’t leaving until she got her drugs. Risking death, even, and Lafitte had played that up big time, but there she was, waiting in the car.

  He zipped up and walked back over to the driver’s side. Tapped on the window. She pushed the lever to slide it down. Nothing happened.

  “I need the keys,” she said.

  “Just get out.”

  “Why? Get back in. I’ll pay for the room. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “Get out of the car.” Lafitte reached for the handle.

  Fawn flicked the locks. He took a step back, jiggled the keys in his hand.

  She was crying then, a few quiet tears. Hands white-knuckling the wheel. “Please, no.”

  Had to be done. Lafitte stuck the key in the lock, turned, pulled the handle. She fought some, held the door closed, but with a big squeal the door swung open and Fawn followed, losing grip on the door and rolling onto the ground. Lafitte grabbed the back of her hair and she started shouting, shrill like a bird.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Lafitte said.

  “You’re hurting me now! Oh god oh god please please.”

  Fawn was on her knees, head in Lafitte’s grip. He squatted beside her, watching the main road.

  “I don’t have any drugs. I’m not going to rape you. But I am leaving you here right now. Wait until I’m out of sight and then go find a phone, tell someone to come get you.”

  She could barely talk, wheezing too much. “Why…why…did you do this…to me?”

  Lafitte let go of her hair and stood. “I didn’t have a choice. Look on the bright side, though. I could’ve taken your truck. Instead, everybody wins, okay? Think about it like that for a while.”

  He hopped into the wagon, cranked up, and spun his tires on the gravel getting out of there. Pinged Fawn with some of it, he was sure. He hoped she got back home okay. Maybe he’d drive by the parking lot again one night next time he was up that way, see if she was still there.

  Yeah, who was he kidding? He would never see that town again.

  *

  Perry knew as soon as the wagon’s taillights went dark that the biker had spotted them and was going to turn off the main road into the dusty straightaways surrounding the corn fields. He just needed to figure out which one. Probably only a few minutes behind. He flicked the brights on over the hills and told Goof to keep a careful eye out for dust plumes.

  “There! I got it!” Goof was poking his window like a madman. “Right there.”

  Just enough to point them in the right direction. Perry turned off. Too bad this guy knew someone was on his scent. Would’ve been funny to pull him off Fawn, their pants down round their ankles, probably start squirting piss when he saw the gun at his head. They must have been closing fast, the clouds a little more concentrated as he turned again, the headlights blinded some by the dust.

  Perry got lucky when he saw out of the corner of his eye some lights pop on suddenly in the dark, two squares up. He launched the car, shifted hard, made up ground. Took the turn a little hot but kept control. The lights caught someone standing at the edge of the field, waving her hands at him. Fawn. Face all afright and mascara runny from tears. And then she dropped her hands, the fear melting to resignation. She knew the car. Perry hit the brakes and skidded to a stop. Fawn limped over to Perry’s window, leaned down and rested her elbows on the lip after he rolled the glass down.

  She looked across Perry. “Goof, if I didn’t hate you so much, I’d hug you right now.”

  “Ew.”

  Fawn flipped him off.

  Perry said, “What happened?”

  “This dude got rough. I thought he was going to try something, so I was like, ‘No way!’ and jumped the hell out of there.”

  “You look beat up.”

  She huffed. “You would know.”

  “Hey, only when you started on me first.” Perry revved the motor. “But you deserve better than this. Let’s go catch the fucker.”

  “Can’t we just go home? He’s dangerous.”

  “Is he packing?”

  “I didn’t see anything, but I didn’t see much anyway.”

  Goof said, “Uncle Perry heard about him on the scanner. He’s wanted—”

  “Would you shut up?”

  “—and we can make some money off his ass.”

  Perry held up his hand like he was going to bitchslap Goof. The kid flinched, then bowed up. “Do it! Come on, do it!”

  Fawn said, “Guess I can’t stop you, huh?”

  Perry shook his head. “Get in.”

  Fawn walked around to Goof’s side, shooed him into the backseat.

  “No way, bitch, I’ve got shotgun.”

  Perry shoved Goof hard. “Get the fuck back there!”

  Goof fussed and cursed and climbed in the back, shoving old beer cans, spray paint cans, and hot rod mags onto the floorboard. Fawn dropped into the passenger seat.

  “Still heading South?” Perry said.

  “I think he’s making a run to the interstate. He just didn’t want to do it in Watertown.”

  “Got it. He won’t outrun the ’Stang. Perry put his hand on Fawn’s knee. “Are you alright?”

  She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment, like she was about to cry again. Then she sucked in a deep breath and said, “Promise me that when we catch him, I get a little payback before you take him in.”

  Perry shifted into gear. “Done.”

  FIFTEEN

  Lucky Colleen. Three stitches beneath her right eyebrow, hardly noticeable. Some bruising all over, scrapes here and there. Bandages, salve. A couple of shots to calm her down and take the burn away. When the doctor came to tell her there was nothing he could do for Nate, she said, “I already fucking know that. Didn’t they tell you I watched him burn up?”

  The State Troopers went through the
rigmarole of questions. What happened? Did he assault you? How did two off-duty deputies, both having a history with the subject, happen to end up on the same place at the same time? Oh yeah, she was fucked trying to explain it away, so she changed her answers each time. Pretended to have a concussion. They left her alone after awhile and she sat very still on her bed in the ER.

  One nurse stopped by to ask if she would mind giving up the bed. “We’ve got an old lady with the flu coming in.”

  Colleen ended up in the waiting room picking at the bandage on her middle finger. The flu lady’s old husband sat across the room, snoring while sitting up. A couple with a small baby, the husband holding a Ziploc full of ice to his busted nose. A really fat guy in a wheelchair, all alone, who kept making noises like he was going to vomit. A couple of Troopers lounged around near the door, probably to keep Colleen from leaving, but she wasn’t willing to try them yet. Sheriff Tordsen found her there. He looked older than he ever had before, the face starting to slide. He wore his hat but not his uniform. Just jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt, like he didn’t even stop to think before hopping into the car. After seeing him come in, Colleen looked down at her hand, kept picking. He sat beside her, didn’t say anything for awhile.

  Then, “Are you okay?”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t feel as bad as you do right now, but you’ve got to believe I’m pretty damned close.”

  “Okay.”

  “I never expected something like this, though.”

  Colleen struck blood with her fingernail, pressed down hard. “Well, shit, Sheriff. Why not? We sure as hell did.”

  He didn’t seem surprised. Just went Hm and let her stew.

  She went on, “I mean, you could’ve at least been a little suspicious. You can still be buddies if he’s in prison. I can’t be friends with Nate in the grave.”

  Her voice quivered but she kept it together. The sheriff put his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t want it there but she let him. Otherwise he’d just bother her more until she gave in, say nonsense like “It’s okay to grieve.”