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stopped across from Mitch’s truck. Two vehicles pulled off on a country road, pointing opposite directions, one man getting out to talk. Most normal thing in the world.
    Baby-faced Darl Leets got out, walking in his brisk, small-footed shuffle. The man was built like a razorback pig—thick in the trunk; short, powerful, hairy arms and legs; moving with a rooting intensity. Mitch really wondered what Marcy saw in him. Had, in fact, asked her on one occasion. Marcy had just rolled over in the motel bed, arched an eyebrow, and told him he sure knew how to wreck a mood.
    “Hey,” Darl said, leaning his heavy forearms on the open truck window.
    “So, are we on track for tomorrow?” Mitch said.
    “It’s confirmed. He’s working security on the blue side,” Darl said. “And I’ll go in and hang the stuff early in the morning, do the measure like you said.” Darl grimaced and ground his teeth. “After I do all that I don’t s’pose there’s any way I could duck this one, huh?”
    “You getting cold feet?” Mitch asked slowly.
    “Well.” Darl screwed up his lips. “Marcy ain’t real hot for it, know what I mean?”
    “Can’t do it without you, Darl,” Mitch said.
    “Yeah, I guess. Family reunion time, huh Cuz?” Darl managed a weak grin. He held up a slim half-pint glass bottle. “A toast. Vodka, so’s not to tell on your breath.” He took a swig and handed the bottle to Mitch, who took a small sip for ceremony’s sake. “Keep it,” Darl said. “You gotta unwind a little, huh?”
    Mitch placed the bottle on the seat and said, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
    “Okay, we’re all set. Dwayne’s driving in, gonna stop by Mom’s, then come out to the farm. He’s looking forward to seeing you…” Then Darl forced a jerky grin, working out his nervous kinks. “…We’ll have some fun. You know, like when we were kids…”
    Mitch studied the stupid expression on Darl’s face. Fun? “All right, then,” Mitch said. “I better get going to the station.”
    Darl reached in and punched Mitch halfheartedly on the shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he said.
    Mitch watched his cousin get in his truck, start it up, and drive away. Fun? They were going to kill a man. And that was just for starters. For all his reservations, it was amazing how casually Darl talked about it, grinning and cackling, like he was going over a play in a baseball game on TV. Mitch whistled softly into the dark. Man, that’s a criminal mind for you. Some of the human parts were missing.
    Before he pulled back on the highway, he idled on the shoulder, upended the half-pint of vodka out the window, and tossed the empty over the top of his truck into the ditch. Then he got back on the road.
    A few minutes later, he sat bolt upright, electrified when a red flasher pulsed the empty stretch of blacktop. The unmarked cruiser came up fast behind him. No headlights. Musta been tailing him with his lights off. Mitch pulled over, watching in the rearview as the black Crown Vic eased up and stopped at his rear bumper.
    Now that was downright spooky. Mitch knew the car and the man getting out of it. Alcorn County deputy Kenny Beeman had attached himself to Mitch like a shadow since Mitch had resigned from the bank following his drinking indiscretion. Mitch prepared to have his buttons pushed.
    How long’s he been hanging back there? Probably saw him with Darl. Damn. Mitch unclipped his seat belt, pushed open the door, and got out as Beeman walked up wearing dark slacks, charcoal shirt, badge on his belt in a black leather cuff, and a black SIG Sauer .40 on his hip in a black holster. Beeman was still full of himself, since he’d shot Darl’s little brother, Donny, in the knee after pulling another one of his specialties: running Donny’s car off the road into the ditch. True, Donny had gunned down a clerk and a customer in a Texaco during a sloppy robbery just off the Iuka exit. The customer had died, and now Donny was limping around the state