Of course.
Clean enough to look like fate.
Dirty enough for every outlaw with two brain cells to smell hands on the metal.
“Where?” I ask to hear it again.
“Dead Man’s Curve,” Oaks says. “
The wind moves through the silence.
I close my eyes.
I wanted him dead.
That truth stands up immediately.
No hesitation.
No moral fog.
I wanted Jeremy Vale in the ground from the moment August asked how Daddy knew where he was. I wanted to be the one to put him there after the toy. After family services. Afterevery bruise Amelia never fully named because women like her learn to make pain smaller so men like him can look normal.
Now Jeremy is dead.
I ain’t relieved.
That is the ugly part.
I feel robbed.
Then guilty for feeling robbed.
Then worried because outlaw miracles are never miracles. They are invoices written in blood.
“Good thing you and Amelia are both out of state,” Oaks says.
My eyes open. “You saying I got an alibi?”
“I’m saying somebody gift-wrapped you one.”
“Oaks.”
“Yeah?”
“Who?”
“Don’t know.”
Lie.
Not a full lie. But Oaks knows the same shape I do.
Lottie.
Hot Mama.
Queens.