“In your way, you’re an intelligent man. But you’re also a narcissist. Like most narcissists, you’re probably a self-loathing failure whose mother wished she had thrown her son away and raised the afterbirth. All of your power is dependent on the Thompson you use to overwhelm your victims, some of whom were Thai girls hardly older than children. How’s that feel, Mr. Collins? You think authors such as Garland Roark or B. Traven would break bread with you?”
“I don’t make claims for myself or impose myself on others.”
“How about Noie Barnum? Does he know you’re a mass killer?”
“Who says I know such a person?”
“You were seen with him while robbing food and camping gear from other people. I hate to disillusion you about your criminal abilities, but you have a tendency to leave fecal prints on whatever you touch.”
“Noie is a decent man untainted by the enterprises you serve, Sheriff.”
“That could be, but you’re not a decent man, Mr. Collins. You bring misery and death into the lives of others and quote Scripture while you do it. I’m not a theologian, but if the Prince of Darkness has acolytes, I think you’ve made the cut.”
“You’re a damn liar.”
“No, sir, you’re the dissembler, but the only person you deceive is yourself. This time out, I’m going to burn your kite and expose you for the cheap titty-sucking fraud that you are.”
“You won’t talk to me that way.”
“I just did. Don’t call here again. You’re an embarrassment to talk with.” Hackberry eased the receiver back into the phone cradle. Maydeen appeared at the doorway and studied his face. “Get it?” he asked.
“Nope. He’s using some kind of relay system.”
“I was afraid of that. No matter. We’ll see him directly, one way or another.”
“I have a feeling you made sure of that,” she said.
He leaned back in his swivel chair and put his boots on the cusp of the wastebasket and stretched his arms. “You got to do something for kicks,” he said. “Can I buy you and Pam lunch?”
ANTON LING HAD just pushed her grocery cart around a pyramid of pork and beans when another shopper wheeled his cart straight out of the aisle and crashed into her basket so hard that her hands flew in the air as though they had received an electric shock. A bag of tomatoes she had just sacked spilled over the top of the basket and rolled across the floor.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Cody Daniels said.
“You did that on purpose,” she replied.
“No, ma’am, I certainly did not. I was looking for the Vi-ennas and soda crackers, and there you were.”
“The what?”
“Vi-enna sausages. They don’t have those in China?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I have a diabetic condition. It causes my breath to smell like chemicals.” He grinned at her stupidly, his face dilated and shiny. “It’s colder than a well digger’s ass in here.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Here, I’ll pick up your ‘maters. Want to get a snack over at the Dog ‘n’ Shake? It’s on me.”
“Sir, you can hardly stand.”
“Drunk on the love of the Lord, is what I call it.”
“Don’t touch my tomatoes. Don’t touch anything in my basket. Just get away from me,” she said.
She picked up her tomatoes from the floor and replaced them in her cart and got in line at the cash register. But when she went into the parking lot, Cody Daniels was waiting by her pickup truck. “We’re both clergy, Miss Anton. We’ve got us a mutual problem, and we need to put our heads together and work out a solution.”
“I’m not a cleric, Reverend Daniels. I think you’re very confused and should go home.”