“Biscuits and gravy.” Howard’s contribution to the conversation.

“You been home yet?” I didn’t figure I could push Roy too far. He might wonder what Molly was doing with my son in his house. I didn’t want to have to explain that.

“Not yet,” Roy said. “We wanted food first.”

“Do me a favor and go back to Howard’s after breakfast. I need to make sure Molly feels safe before you go home.”

Roy frowned. “It’s my house, Sawyer.”

“Liability, Roy. I need to cover my ass.”

“I don’t take your meaning.”

“I need her to tell me she doesn’t feel threatened. It’s routine.” Sure.

He shrugged. “Fine. I just want some bacon.” He looked at the Peterbilt again. “I can’t believe it. I mean . Jesus Christ.”

“It’ll be okay, Roy.”

And I hoped it would be. It was hard to care about Roy’s rig with everything that had happened. I’d killed and almost been killed. My life was turning upside down in a single night. But Roy’s problems were big to Roy. Everybody’s own problems were the biggest.

I watched Roy and Howard waddle toward Skeeter’s.

I was out of cigarettes.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I walked inside the station. It was dark except for the sad, yellow light of the desk lamp. Karl snored in his cell. “Cowboy,” the hellcat whispered. “Hey, cowboy.” “What is it?” I didn’t whisper back, but I kept my voice low.

“Your cop lady friend was looking for you. I think you pissed her off. Eh?”

“Well she can come back and arrest me if she wants to.” I flopped into the chair behind the desk. “I’ll be right here.”

“You look like shit,” she said. “I mean even worse than before.”

“Thanks. I like you too.”

“What’s holding you together?”

“Cigarettes and energy drinks.”

“Some job, eh? You get beat up, wreck your car. They pay you for this?”

“Not very much.”

She grabbed two of the cell bars, pulled her face right up against them. “Then get me out of here. Okay? Get me out, and I can get us money. Lots of money, cowboy. More than enough. It goes a long way in Mexico.”

“Knock it off.”

“Me and you in Cozumel, cowboy,” insisted the hellcat. “Don’t you know the possibilities? Can’t you taste it?”

“Your sales pitch comes off desperate.”

“Damn you to hell.” She spat at me. It landed way short.

“You wanted to shoot me in the belly an hour ago.”

“I don’t want to go to prison,” she said.

“That’s why it’s prison.”

“Fuck you!” She erupted in a string of Spanish cursing I was glad I didn’t understand.

I waited it out. She trailed off and went quiet again. She slid down into a sitting position, rested her head against the bars.

I sat at the desk. The hellcat pouted. Karl snored. It went on like that a few minutes.

Amanda came into the station house, walked straight for me, leaned in, slapping her hand on the desk. She put her nose an inch from mine. “Did you not understand when I said to stay here, you goddamn retard?”

“Take it easy, Amanda.” I met her gaze. Yesterday, I would have flinched. Not today. I’d been through too much. Or maybe I was just too tired.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy, kid. What did you think you were doing?”

“Somebody had to go look for the chief.”

“And did you find him?”

“No. But somebody burned down his house.”

That made her pause a second. “What the hell for?”

“Maybe to fry me. I was inside at the time.”

“Maybe they thought you were Krueger,” she said. “Where do you think he might be?”

I sighed. “Amanda, I think the chief is dead. He’d of checked in or radioed by now.”

She nibbled her lower lip, thinking about it. “Maybe.”

“And the Jordan brothers are out there right now, looking to do me some bad.”

“In that case we’ll both stay put this time,” she said. “The state police will be here soon, and we’ll mop up this mess from there. Jesus, it’s turning into a long night.”

Tell me about it.

“I’m making some coffee.” She headed for the back room where the Mr. Coffee perched on top of the safe.

I didn’t know if my stomach could stand any coffee. It was still burbling from the energy drinks. And the station house coffee was this bitter black acid that could melt the paint off the side of a barn. Maybe I needed some food. I wondered if Amanda would let me scoot down to Skeeter’s for pancakes and bacon with Roy and Howard. Probably not.

I heard the faucet come on in the back room, water splashing into the coffee pot.

This one time I heard a radio psychologist remark how smells are the strongest triggers for memory, more than the other senses. And I guess that’s maybe so. The smell of charcoal reminds me of my father every time, how we’d camp out in the National Park and do hamburgers or whatever. I could be smack in the middle of New York City and smell charcoal and think of a campfire in the woods with my old man. Cough drops made me think of Mother.

But for Doris it was sounds more than smells, I think. I heard Amanda in the back room splashing in the sink, and the sound sent me right back to the trailer. I’d be sleeping in the bedroom, and I could hear Doris through the thin walls making coffee or doing dishes.

I wondered if she was driving straight through to Houston, or if she’d stop someplace, a little roach-ridden motel on the side of the highway. I didn’t like the thought of her ragging herself out, driving all night, nodding off at the wheel. I hoped she’d call when she got to her sister’s. I did not hope she would come back, but I hoped she would call. And anyway, something would have to be done about the boy if I ended up in jail, or even if I had to go off looking for work. She’d need to fetch TJ maybe take him back to her sister’s.

Man, I hated the thought of going to Houston every time I wanted to see my son.

Amanda returned and took the chair opposite me. “It’s brewing.”

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.”

“You ever been married?” I asked her.

“No.”

“Lucky you.”

“I came close once,” she said. “We lived together first, and it didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

She bit her thumb, shrugged. “We met during this triathlon in Tulsa. You know, run and swim and cycle. We had a lot in common. Sports and outdoor activity. Then when we moved in together things just got all domestic. We hardly did any of that stuff anymore. Just went to work, came home, sat around the apartment waiting to go to work again the next day. I don’t know why, but we both knew it wasn’t going to work.”

“Sounds like you parted amicably.”

“Yeah.”

The silence stretched.

I said, “I’m going to need you on my side, need you to speak up for me, I mean.”

“It’ll all get sorted out,” she said.

“I killed a fellow deputy.” Billy’s dead face flashed through my mind. “And we’ve got another one locked up. I can’t lose my son, Amanda. I’m all he’s got.”

“They’ll investigate it. You tell the truth, and you get what you get,” she said. “That’s all you can do.”

“That don’t make me feel too much better.”

“I didn’t say it to make you feel better. I said it because that’s how it is. But if you told it to me right, you did everything in either self-defense or the line of duty. At least in the big picture. Some of the details might work against you.”

I thought about putting Roy’s rig through the Mona Lisa Motel. No, that wasn’t quite by the book. Some real professional cop with experience probably would’ve had it all handled by now, wrapped up neat and pretty. But I was the dumbass, part-time deputy, fumbling his way from frying pan to fire.

Sizzle.

“Anything like this ever happen to you before?” I asked

her.

She shook her head. “My career hasn’t been so colorful. But I knew a guy who shot a thirteen-year-old kid once. It was dark, and the kid had a toy gun. He was finally cleared, but I don’t think the guy was ever the same. Last I heard he’d gone in with a private security firm.”