Page 30 of Small Town Hunter

“A pleasure.”

“You must have heard of my program. Precious Blessings TV.”

“I’m Catholic,” I tell him. “So, no.”

He recoils. “Abomination!”

“You’re too old for her anyhow. Best you just let her go.”

“You wouldn’t understand, filth,” he sneers. “I’ve had eyes on Trina Whiteleaf since she was a nymph. A beautiful dark nymph.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean she was younger,” he snaps. His eyes go hazy. “Much younger…”

My trigger finger itches. I can barely make sense of that babble, but it sounds like this freak needs to be in a cell somewhere underground.

“Did you have relations with her? Is she still a virgin?” His voice is damn near desperate. “Is she stillpure?”

“As the driven snow.” I consider the dry, hot, dusty terrain. “Do you know what snow is, Reverend?”

“You better run like the wind, boy. Don’t wait to see what horrors I will deliver unto you both. I’ll leave you both dead in the desert for the buzzards to pick.” He watches Trina coming out with our small luggage and licks his lips. “Her punishment will be slow…”

“How about I just shoot you?” I suggest. He goes the color of spoiled milk and shuts up. And out comes Trina. My accomplice.

She sees me, and hesitates.

“Don’t look at him,” I order her. “Just get in the car and wait for me.”

“Whore! Slut! Babylon!” The Reverend shouts at her back.

Once she’s in the Challenger, I stoop down to Wilson’s level and give him a brief description of what will happen if our paths cross again. His pink puffy face turns some more interesting colors.

In the distance, a siren wails. Enough of this.

I glance at the Crown Victoria in frustration. McCall is stuck here until he fixes those tires or gets some new wheels. Maybe I bought some time. But now he knows my face. There’s the possibility he recognizes me from Florin, or his wife does.

If he’s smart, he’ll get saddled up on something fresh and be out of here fast. He could take the road West to New Mexico. Or go South into Texas. He’ll pick Texas. It’s less desolate, but easier to ghost.

I blew it.

“I know the judge, boy,” threatens the Reverend. “Don’t you dare set one foot in this town.”

“Good for you.”

I leave him cuffed there and get into the Challenger. I take his gun since I don’t have time to wipe off my prints. There’s a home for it somewhere in the desert, I reckon.

The sirens are louder now. I can think more clearly about McCall when there’s some daylight between me and this freak show.

Trina throws her arms around me as I get into the Challenger. “Thank you!”

I pry her off, annoyed at how her scent and the tickle of her hair affects me. “Don’t thank me yet. What’s the fastest road out of here?”

“Take the road past the old milk carton factory,” she suggests, suddenly helpful. “My driver Charles says the police don’t go there because the dirt messes up the paint job on the new-issue electric trucks.”

I stare at her.

“What?”

---