Hick, who noted that only five remained, said, “Must’ve been quite an exodus.”

Holstrom nodded. “We’ve got dozens of crisscrossed tire tracks, only a few shoe imprints.” He raised his hands at his sides.

“No one saw a car leaving?” Hick asked.

Holstrom shook his head. “No one’s come forward yet. Someone still might, though.”

Joe said, “Yeah, and it might snow anytime now.” He pinched the fabric of his damp shirt and pulled it away from his sweating torso. Addressing Holstrom again, he asked, “Security cameras?”

The younger agent smiled without humor. “The plumbing system is as sophisticated as this place gets. And that ‘system’ is a toilet around back that doesn’t have a lid, but does have a hand-lettered sign warning that it flushes only on occasion.”

“So that’s a no to security cameras,” Joe deadpanned.

“No to security, period. Unless you count the two sawed-off shotguns kept loaded behind the bar.”

“Probably the most effective system,” Hick remarked.

Joe pointed to a nasty-looking puddle a few feet away from the front grille of the car. “Is that vomit?”

“To be specific, a semidigested cheeseburger, chili fries, and lots of whiskey,” the ME reported.

“Who was the precious owner?” Hick asked.

“According to one of the first responders, the young man who found the body puked his guts up,” Holstrom said. “Here, then three times inside. Fortunately they keep a bucket handy for just that purpose.”

“Where’s he now?” Joe asked.

“Still in there. Being made to cool his heels till you arrived.”

“Am I done here?” the ME asked.

Joe thanked him and then, mostly out of spite, reminded him that the autopsy report was an important factor to their investigation. Huffing complaints, the pathologist stamped away.

Joe turned to Holstrom. “Nice guy.” Then, “Under the heading of ‘What the fuck happened?’ do you have anything useful to tell us?”

Holstrom absently scratched a spot on his cheek that looked like a fresh mosquito bite. “Not much, I’m afraid. The car is registered to Jordan Bennett. It was found unlocked, but all the doors were closed when first responders arrived. A deputy is going to dust it for prints, but, honestly, I don’t think she ever got in it after exiting the bar.”

Joe said, “So she left with whoever popped Mickey?” Since neither of the other two agents replied or offered a differing hypothesis, he said, “Okay then, did she leave with this unsub voluntarily or under duress?”

Agent Holstrom looked over at Hick, who shrugged.

“That makes it unanimous,” Joe said, “because I don’t know, either.” He started walking toward the bar’s entrance, saying over his shoulder to Holstrom, “Notify me immediately if you find anything.”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s the name of the detective you talked to?” Joe asked Hick as he pulled open the door into the bar.

“Cliff Morrow.”

Morrow was in his midthirties, with nothing distinguishing about him except for his attire. He had on a baseball cap, team t-shirt, coaching shorts, and dusty sneakers. Joe and Hick removed their latex gloves and shook hands with him. As they did, he explained his appearance. “I coach my daughter’s softball team. We were celebrating our win tonight at a pizza place when the call came in. I didn’t take time to change.”

He seemed competent and more than willing, perhaps even relieved, to share the investigation with them. “People around here harbor a lot of ill will against Josh Bennett,” he said. “Homegrown boy.”

“Gone bad,” Hick said.

“They’d forgive that,” the detective said. “But the way a lot of folks see it, he’s a turncoat.”

“Much worse than a crook,” Joe said.

Morrow gave a sheepish grin. “To some minds it is.”

“What about to your mind?” Hick asked him.

“I’m a peace officer. Josh Bennett broke the law.”

It was a matter-of-fact answer that Joe was glad to hear. “So, despite Bennett’s local ties, we have your full cooperation?”

“Absolutely, sir. You have the support of the entire Terrebonne Parish SO. The sheriff said to tell you so. He’s already chewed that deputy’s ass for letting Ms. Bennett elude him. He’s green. Been a deputy three whole weeks. He didn’t even know why she was being surveilled. In fact, no one’s been told why you requested surveillance on her.”

Joe pretended not to hear the implied question mark. Maybe he should have shared the reason for the surveillance with the sheriff and impressed on him its seriousness. Perhaps if he had, a more seasoned officer would have been assigned that responsibility. But it was too late now, the damage was done, and he didn’t have time to waste on second-guessing himself.

He said, “Bring me up to speed, Detective Morrow.”

“As soon as I and my partner got here, we separated them for questioning.” He referred to a handful of disreputable-looking men and women scattered around the bar.

Assessing their sullen expressions individually and collectively, Joe said, “Let me guess. Nobody knows diddly-squat.”

Morrow grinned. “Basically. But so far there’ve been no red flags to make me think otherwise. My partner is interviewing the bartender in the back room, but initial questioning indicates that he was an innocent bystander like the rest. More observant, maybe. And he’s the only one who interacted with Bolden and his companion.”

“No one has IDed the companion yet?”

“None of the locals claim to have seen him before tonight.”

“Of course not,” Joe said. “We’d never be lucky enough to get the name and address of the prime suspect. Where’s Bolden’s pistol?”

Morrow motioned them over to the bar. The pistol had been bagged and labeled. “The tool of his trade,” Joe remarked as he studied the pistol with the sound suppressor still attached.

“He didn’t fire it tonight,” Morrow said. “Full cartridge except for the bullet in the chamber.”

Joe picked up the evidence bag containing a small red purse. There was nothing special about it except that it looked expensive. He hoped Marsha never got a hankering to have one like it.

Also on the bar, separately bagged, were the key fob to Jordie Bennett’s car, a tube of lip gloss called Gossamer Wings, a credit card, a twenty-dollar bill, and a Louisiana driver’s license.

“The lady was traveling light,” Morrow said, as Joe and Hick studied the items individually.

Conspicuously absent was a cell phone, and Hick remarked on it.

“I picked up on that, too,” Morrow said. “The clasp of her purse was open when it was found. I’m guessing he took her phone from it.”

“But left the twenty and her credit card,” Hick said.

“This wasn’t about stealing,” Joe said around a sigh. “It’s about who she is, who she knows, and what she knows.” He turned to Morrow. “Did you grow up here in Tobias?”

“Since I was eight.”

“How well do you know the Bennetts?”