With haste and as little thought as possible, she did what was necessary. When she came out from behind the tree, he clasped her wrist and slipped another plastic cuff around it. “Please,” she whispered.

For several seconds, he stared at the ugly red marks the restraint had left on her skin, then looked into her eyes. “Tell me about the boyfriend.”

“Oh, for godsake!”

“He have a name?”

“I’m sure he does, but I don’t know it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Save the cute and sassy for somebody who’ll appreciate them. Doesn’t cut it with me. Now, I’ll ask you again, what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I swear. If he told me, I don’t remember.”

“Why were you meeting him there tonight?”

“I wasn’t!” With defiance, she returned his doubtful stare, but she was the first to relent. She lowered her gaze and addressed one of the pearl snaps on his shirt, saying quietly, “I’ve told you the truth. He was a stranger who came over and offered to buy me a drink. I told him no thank you.”

“You said more than three words to him. What else did you two talk about?”

“Mostly about how I wish he would go away and leave me the hell alone.”

“You didn’t set up a meeting with him?”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

“Till I believe you.”

“I didn’t set up a meeting with him.”

Suddenly, he reached around her, planted his right hand on her bottom, and jerked her forward and up against him. Before she could react to that, he worked his left hand into the right rear pocket of her jeans and removed something from it. As suddenly as he’d hauled her against him, he pushed her away. He looked at the scrap of paper he had fished from her pocket, cursed, then dangled it inches from her nose.

“Mickey asked me if that guy was up to something. I told him no, that he was a drunk who only wanted to get in your pants. But I knew better. I saw him slip you this. Now,” he said softly, but with menace, “rethink telling me that he was a stranger, Jordie. Because lying to me could be hazardous to your health.”

Chapter 6

Joe Wiley asked Deputy Morrow to point out to him the young man who had hit on Jordie Bennett, followed her from the bar, and discovered Mickey Bolden’s body.

The detective nodded past the pool tables toward the far wall. Only a foot of space separated the ceiling from three blacked-out windows. Beneath them was a row of booths, only one of which was occupied. “We put him there all by his lonesome.”

Joe and Hick made their way over. Between two, lumpy red vinyl benches was a table scored with countless names and initials, as well as sentiments of love and hate. Some looked recently carved, others like they’d been there for decades.

The agents slid into the booth opposite a man in his early twenties. He had long, stringy hair. Except for it and his threadbare goatee, he bore a striking resemblance to the gray skull on the front of his faded black t-shirt.

He glowered at Hick with a redneck’s resentment toward a black man so obviously superior in every respect. He snorted contempt. “You the preacher, the groom, or the corpse?”

Hick, who was always smartly dressed, smiled pleasantly at the snide reference to his dark suit, white shirt, and necktie.

Joe asked, “What’s your name?”

He slid his surly gaze toward Joe. “Who wants to know?”

Joe just looked at him for several seconds, then reached for his ID wallet, flipped it open, and extended it across the greasy tabletop.

The young man’s reaction was immediate. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding. You’re feds? I didn’t do anything.”

“Doesn’t look that way from where I and Agent Hickam are sitting. You harassed a woman—”

“I didn’t harass—”

“You followed her out when she left, which amounts to stalking.”

“My friends dared—”

“A guy winds up with his brains on the ground, and you say you found him like that.” Joe let that dire description of his predicament resonate, then said, “If I were you? I’d lose the attitude and stop pissing me off.”

He squirmed, he swallowed, he picked at the red eye socket of the skull on his shirt, and finally he mumbled his name—Royce Sherman.

Hick tapped it into his iPad and started a search to see if Royce Sherman had a police record.

Joe asked, “You live around here, Royce?”

He named a nearby town, not Tobias.

“What brought you over here tonight?”

“Met up with some buddies to shoot pool, have a coupla drinks, hang out.”

“Did you know Jordan Bennett before tonight?”

“Never saw her before she walked in. Still don’t know her.”

“But you recognized her name.”

“No. Didn’t know it till he told me.” He motioned toward Morrow.

“Witnesses told Deputy Morrow that you came on to Ms. Bennett pretty strong. That true?”

“No.” Some of the attitude had edged back in. He sank deeper into his seat. “I went over and asked could I buy her a drink. That’s it,” he declared, stabbing the top of the table with the tip of his index finger.

“Of all the women in the bar, you picked her to hit on. How come?”

He gave a short laugh. “Are you yanking my chain?”

Joe’s expression didn’t change. “Am I yanking his chain, Agent Hickam?”

“I don’t believe you are, sir.”

Their somber tones collapsed the young man’s leer. He shifted on the bench again. “If you saw her, you wouldn’t have to ask how come. She’s hot.”

“I have seen her. In fact, I and Agent Hickam have spent a lot of time with the lady.”

Royce Sherman’s bloodshot eyes sawed back and forth between them. “Seriously?”

“In the line of duty.”

“Wha’d she do?”

“Are you familiar with a fugitive named Billy Panella?”

“A fugitive? Like, from justice?”

“Heard of him?”

“No.”

“Joshua Bennett?”

“Her kin?”

“Her brother.”

“Don’t know him, neither.”

Joe didn’t think he was bright enough to be lying that well. “According to witnesses, Ms. Bennett didn’t welcome your attention and declined your offer of a drink.”

“Said she had a drink, thank you, and asked me to adios.”

“But you didn’t adios. You persisted.”

“No law against making friendly conversation, is there? I…” Stalling, he shot a glance at Hick, who was watching him, waiting for an answer. “I…you know, I—”

“—persisted,” Joe repeated. “You harassed her.”

“I never laid a hand on her!”

“But you didn’t take no for an answer.”

He slumped, sighed, looked at them sourly. “Okay, I offered again, and when she said no again, I told her she looked lonely to me. She said she wasn’t, and, anyway, it was none of my business if she was lonely or not. And then I asked if she was expecting somebody else to join her.”