He huffed out an explosive breath, along with some blasphemy his mama definitely wouldn’t have approved of, started up the car and drove-too fast-down the lane and onto the FM road that would take him back to town and sanity. He hoped.

It wasn’t until he’d calmed down some and his pulse had resumed a more normal rhythm that he thought to check his rearview mirror. That was when he saw the sheriff’s patrol car behind him.

His heart gave a guilty kick, the way it probably did for most people when they looked up and saw a law-enforcement vehicle in their mirror. He swore out loud and tried to think whether he’d disobeyed any traffic laws while in his state of lapsed consciousness, all the while making sure to hold steady just under the speed limit. After a while, though, when the lights on top of the SUV didn’t start flashing, it occurred to him to wonder why a deputy sheriff would be following him at all, because in his-admittedly limited-law-enforcement experience, the sheriff’s department seldom bothered to police traffic-law violators.

And this guy seemed to be sticking to him like glue.

Well, that’s weird, he thought. He tried to see who was behind the wheel of the SUV, but the windshield showed him only a reflection of the sky, a dusky slate splashed with clouds and just beginning to reveal the amber and gold tints of impending sunset. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, his heart rate had kicked into high again.

The SUV followed him when he made the turn onto the main highway. At the first stoplight heading into town, where the highway widened into four lanes, it pulled up beside him on the left, crowding him just a little more than it needed to. The window rolled slowly down, and a fleshy face wearing aviator sunglasses and topped with a brown Stetson swiveled toward him. For a long, long minute, those dark, blank shades stared at him. Just stared.

Then…the light turned green, the window rode up and the SUV pulled away.

After another sharp exhalation and some more blasphemy, Tony drove on, too.

“I hate to admit it, but it spooked me,” he said to Holt a little while later, as they waited for their dinners-they were both having the barbecue tonight, which was on special and which Shirley had assured them was the best in town, if not in all of West Texas. “It sure as hell felt like a threat-or a warning, maybe. The only thing I can’t figure out is why.”

“The fact that you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with a woman suspected of killing one of their own might have something to do with it,” Holt said mildly.

Tony frowned. “I wish I could have gotten a better look at the guy. I think it was the one I ran into at Brooke’s place yesterday-Lonnie Doyle-you know? The dead cop’s partner and supposed best friend. Hard to tell for sure, between the hat and the shades. He’d be my first choice for-”

“Speak of the devil,” Holt said, without moving his lips.

Three deputies, including Lonnie Doyle, had just come into the diner, not really swaggering, not exactly talking, but somehow taking up more than their fair allotment of oxygen and space, it seemed to Tony. He and Holt watched silently and without seeming to as the three took their usual corner booth, and even without looking directly, it was impossible to miss the glances the lawmen aimed their way.

Shirley went over to the deputies, carrying three mugs and a pot of coffee, and Tony and Holt picked up their own coffee mugs and exchanged looks of silent warning. Tony felt a curious crawling sensation on the back of his neck and wondered if it was the same primitive reflex that made a wolf’s hackles rise.

A moment later, Shirley came out of the kitchen, carrying two platters of barbecue, and at the same time, Lonnie Doyle slid out of the corner booth and began to stroll, unhurried, past the row of booths lining the outside wall of the diner, timing it so that he arrived at Tony and Holt’s booth about the same time their dinner did. He stood there, with one hand on the back of the booth near Tony’s shoulder and the other on his belt, heavy with the cops’ usual gear, including weapon, and his barrel chest puffed out. He’d positioned himself so he was blocking Shirley’s path, leaving her standing there with the two heavy platters in her hand, and looking uncertain and maybe a little scared.

Tony didn’t often lose his temper, but he could feel it rising like the mercury on a blistering hot Arizona day.

“Know what, Shirl? I think my friends here have decided they’d like those ribs to go,” Lonnie drawled, staring down at Tony, with his lips curled to one side in a bad imitation of an Elvis Presley sneer.

Tony opened his mouth to give that the reply he thought it deserved, but before he could get a word out, Holt kicked him under the table and said to the waitress, quietly and with a reassuring smile, “Thanks, darlin’. And, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind throwing in a couple pieces of that apple pie?”

Shirley turned without a word and went back to the kitchen.

Lonnie slapped the back of the booth in a business-concluded kind of way. Then, as if it was only an afterthought, he turned back to say in a soft undertone only they would hear, “You might want to watch who you get friendly with, you hear? In this town we don’t take kindly to folks who kill cops. And that goes for critters, too.” Then he tipped his hat in a parody of politeness and went sauntering back to his buddies, calling good-natured greetings and friendly insults to a couple of other diners on the way.

Too mad to say a coherent word, Tony stared narrow-eyed, across the table at Holt, who locked his gaze with his in a silent warning as he picked up his coffee and drank. A moment later, Shirley came hurrying up, with two plastic bags containing to-go boxes and an assortment of napkins and plastic utensils.

“Guys, I’m really sorry,” she muttered under her breath. “I don’t want any trouble with those guys, you know?”

“Neither do we,” Holt said. “Don’t worry about it-not your fault.”

As Tony reached for his wallet, Shirley made a quick, furtive gesture of refusal. “That’s okay. You can pay me tomorrow-next time you’re in. And,” she added as an angry flush rose to her cheeks, “the pie’s on the house.”

Outside, in the cool September evening, Tony clamped his Diamondbacks’ cap on his head and let out a string of cusswords he didn’t use but once in a blue moon, concluding with, “What the hell was that?”

“Looks like we’ve struck somebody’s nerve,” Holt said, sounding almost cheerful.

“Yeah, well, it reminds me of one of those movies-you know, about the poor out-of-towner who wanders into some small town ruled by a corrupt all-powerful sheriff…”

They’d come in Holt’s new rental car. While he unlocked it and put his dinner in the backseat, Tony went around to the passenger side and did the same. When they were both settled in the front seats, Holt sat for a moment without starting the engine. Then he looked over at Tony and said, “Might be time we make another try at getting in touch with Cory or Sam. Maybe they’ve got some connections with the feds…”

Tony nodded grimly. “Sam does, for sure.”

“I think,” said Holt as he turned the ignition key, “we’re going to need some outside help on this one.”

It wasn’t often Tony was awakened by a ringing cell phone. It happened so seldom, in fact, that it took him awhile to figure out what it was. He opened his eyes and discovered it was still dark-relatively, which didn’t mean much in a motel room with the curtains drawn.

In the twin bed next to his, Holt was stirring. “Is that yours or mine?” came the sleep-husky voice.

Tony swore. “Mine, I think.” He groped for the offending instrument on the nightstand, at the same time trying to get a look at the alarm clock, which was turned just enough so he couldn’t see the lighted numbers. He found the phone, thumbed it on and croaked a raspy “H’lo?”

“Tony?”

He sat up, if not wide awake, at least adrenaline-charged. “Daniel?”

“You said I could call you, right?” The voice was a whisper, but hoarse with urgency. “I mean…if I needed you, or something…”

“Yeah, yeah…so what’s-is something wrong? What time is it, anyway?”

“Not that early. Almost time for the school bus. But I’m not going. Tony, um…can you come over? Right now?”

“Now?” He threw the covers back and got his feet on the floor. His heart rate had kicked into high gear, and there was a cold knot forming in his belly. “What’s goin’ on, son? Is your mom-”

“No-she doesn’t know I’m calling. But I didn’t know what else to do. They’re taking Lady. I think they’re gonna kill her.”

“What do you mean, kill her? They can’t, not without a court order. There hasn’t even been a hearing yet.” He glanced at Holt, who was up and heading for the bathroom.

“Yeah, but Lonnie and a bunch of other deputies-some of ’em I don’t even know-they’re here right now, and they have a pickup with a big cage-it’s from animal control, or something-and they said they’re taking Lady and they’re holding her until the hearing. But I think they’re going to do something to her. I know they want to kill her because they think she killed my dad after…you know. My mom-”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, listen. You sit tight, you hear me? I’ll be right there. You think you and your mom can hold ’em off until I get there?”

He heard a sharp exhalation. Sheer relief. “Yeah. But hurry, okay?”

The line went dead before Tony could reply.

He was pulling on his pants when Holt came out of the bathroom. The guy was already fully dressed except for his shoes.

“Sounds like Deputy Doyle is making a move,” Holt said as he sat down on the edge of the bed, took a holstered handgun out of his overnighter and calmly began checking it over.