Pete began reading the newspaper story again. ?They were machine-gunned,? he said. He bit a hangnail. ?What?d they say to you??
?They wanted to know my name. They wanted to know where I was from.?
?What?d you tell them??
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?That I had to get back to work. Later, they were asking the bartender about me.?
?What in particular??
?Like how long I?d been working there. Like had I ever been a professional folksinger. Like didn?t I used to live around Langtry or Pumpville? Except these guys had California tags, and why should they know anything about little towns on the border??
Pete turned off the television but continued to stare at the screen.
?They?re contract killers, aren?t they?? she said.
?They didn?t follow you after you got off work. They didn?t come around the motel, either. Maybe you were right?they were just jerks trying to pick you up.?
?There?s something else.?
He looked at her and waited.
?I talked with the bartender before I got off tonight. I showed him the newspaper. He said, ?One of those bikers was talking about calling up some guy named Hugo.??
?You?re just telling me all this now?? Pete said.
?No, you?re not listening. The bartender?? She gave up and sat down on the bed beside him, not touching him. ?I can?t think straight.? She pushed at her forehead with the heel of her hand. ?Maybe they did follow me home and I didn?t see them. What if they found out where we?re living and they called up this guy Hugo and told him??
?I don?t get it, though. Who killed them?? Pete said. ?The story doesn?t say what kind of machine gun the shooter used. There?s a lot of illegal stuff available now?AKs, Uzis, semiautos with hell-triggers.?
?What difference does that make??
?The story says there were shell casings all over the crime scene. If the guy had a Thompson with a drum on it??
?Pete, will you just spit it out? What are you saying? You talk in hieroglyphics.?
?The guy who killed all the women behind the church used a Thompson. They?re hard to come by. They shoot forty-five-caliber ammunition. The ammo drum will hold fifty rounds. Maybe the guy who killed the women behind the church is the same guy who machine-gunned the bikers.?
?That doesn?t make sense. Why would they be killing each other??
?Maybe they?re not working together.? Pete read more, running his thumb down to the last paragraph. He set the paper aside and rubbed his palms on his knees.
?Say it,? she said.
?The shooter had a limp. Maybe he uses a walking cane. A trucker saw him from the highway.?
Vikki got up from the bed. Her face was pale, the skin tight against the bone, as though she were staring into a cold wind. ?He?s the man I shot, isn?t he??
Pete began putting on his trousers.
?Where you going??
?Out.?
?To do what??
?Not to drink, if that?s what you?re asking.?