Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

?You want the beer?? the clerk said.

?I surely do.?

Pete hefted the six-pack under his arm, got his change and an extra three dollars in coins, and walked back out to the booth. The sun was hammering down on the hardpan and the two-lane asphalt state highway, glazing the hills, alkali flats, and the distant railroad track where the freight train had stopped and was baking in the heat.

He ripped open the tab on a sixteen-ouncer and set it on the shelf below the phone and punched in Sheriff Holland?s cell phone number. As the phone rang, he gripped the sweaty coldness of the can in his left palm.

?Sheriff Holland,? a voice said.

?Your cousin Billy Bob??

?He?s already called me. You going to come see us, Pete??

?Yes, sir, that?s what I want to do.?

?What?s holding you up??

?I don?t want to go to Huntsville. I don?t want to see this guy Preacher and his friends come after Vikki.?

?What do you think they?re doing now, son??

I ain?t your son, a voice inside him said. ?You know what I mean.?

?How have people been treating you??

?Sir??

?Since you came back from Iraq, how do people treat you? Just general run-of-the-mill people? They been treating you all right??

?I haven?t complained.?

?Answer the question.?

?They?ve treated me good.?

?But you don?t trust them, do you? You think they might be fixing to slicker you.?

?Maybe unlike others, I don?t have the luxury of making mistakes.?

?I have an idea where you might be, Pete. But I?m not going to call the sheriff there. I want you and Ms. Gaddis to come in on your own. I want y?all to help me put away the guys who killed those poor Asian women. You fought for your country, partner. And now you have to fight for it again.?

?I don?t like folks using the flag to get me to do what they want.?

?You drinking??

?Sir??

?You were drinking when you called in the original nine-one-one by the church house. If I were you, I?d lay off the hooch till I got this stuff behind me.?

?You would, would you??

?I had my share of trouble with it. Billy Bob says you?re a good man. I believe him.?

?What do we do, just walk into your office?? Pete said. He looked at the cloud of vapor on top of the aluminum beer can. He looked at the brassy bead of the beer through the tab. His windpipe turned to rust when he tried to swallow.

?If you want, I?ll send a cruiser.?

Pete picked up the beer can and pressed its coldness against his cheek. He could see the train starting to move on the track, the black gondolas clanging against their couplings as though they were fighting against their own momentum.