Blanco County 03 - Flat Crazy by Ben Rehder

love to watch that girl walk, don’t you?”
    Duke gave a grunt.
    “Damn, you’re in a pissy mood,” Kyle said. “Need to get laid or what? Maybe Cheri’d be willing to help you out.”
    Kyle, trying to be funny. What Kyle didn’t know was that Duke had already been there and done that. Several times.
    “Naw, man, it’s this damn Raines thing. It’s a package deal, and he ain’t payin’ until he gets his last animal. Tell me again what happened.”
    “Simple. I went to check on his last animal and it was gone.”
    Duke pulled a pack of smokes out of his pocket and lit one up. “Just like that? Gone?”
    “As in not present. No longer there. Adios, muchachos. Sayonara and—”
    “Awright, enough already. I get it.” Duke was in no mood for Kyle’s smart-ass bullshit. “How’d it get out?”
    “Wish I knew. Checked on it two days ago and it was fine. Mean as a damn grizzly, but fine. Yesterday, the cage was wide open and it was gone.”
    Duke grimaced.
    “Man, what’s the big deal?” Kyle said. “Just call one of your buddies and get another one.”
    “My problem is, it never should have gotten loose in the first place. Know what I mean?”
    Kyle set his drink down on the concrete beside the hot tub. “Hey, now, don’t blame it on me. You want to use my ranch, fine. But keepin’ ’em locked up—I don’t remember applying for that particular job. I ain’t no goddamn zookeeper.”
    “But damn, Kyle, how hard is it to make sure the cages are locked?”
    “Man, that’s your deal, not mine.”
    Duke knew Kyle was right. But still, there was something about Kyle that was damn irritating. Always had an answer for everything. Duke rattled the ice in his glass and looked toward the house, wishing Cheri would hurry the hell up with the vodka.
    “Like I said,” Kyle continued, “just get on the phone and round up another one.”
    “Snap my fingers and make it happen?”
    “Isn’t that how things work?”
    “Maybe in your world.”
    Finally, Cheri emerged from the house, carrying a bottle of Stoli. About damn time.
    “Besides,” Kyle said. “How hard can it be for them to find another hyena? Worthless damn animals, if you ask me.”
    “Eww, hyenas. Gross,” Cheri said, handing the bottle to Duke. She stepped into the tub and said, “Hey, baby, look what I found.” She made a voilà gesture with one hand and revealed a small amber vial filled with white powder.
    “A woman after my own heart,” Kyle said.
    While Duke poured some vodka, Kyle unscrewed the vial, poured a generous amount into the small lid, and passed it to Cheri. She sucked it into her left nostril, like a vacuum cleaner sucking up lint. Kyle took some for himself, then said, “You want a bump, Duke? Nothing like a little white stuff to chase your blues away.”
    Normally, Duke wasn’t much of a cokehead. But at the moment, he couldn’t think of a good reason to turn it down.
    Ernie Turpin had brought a dog with him, a skinny, hyperactive coonhound named Jessie that pulled eagerly on its leash, anxious to hit the trail. Marlin watched from beside his truck, along with two other deputies, as Turpin was dragged into the brush.
    He was back in five minutes, grim-faced.
    The deputy pointed to the south. “He’s right over there, under some oaks. Varmints have already been after him.”
    Bill Tatum, the chief deputy, said, “Look like Searcy?”
    “Yeah, it’s him. Looks just like the photos his wife sent.”
    There was a moment of silence, and Marlin knew the deputies were thinking about the wife, and the call one of them would have to make.
    Turpin spoke up again, almost in a whisper. “He was pretty torn up and everything, mostly through the torso, where the varmints got at him. But I think I could see what killed him. He had a puncture wound right here on his neck.” Turpin pointed to a spot below his right ear.
    “Gunshot?” Tatum asked.
    “Hard to tell.”
    For a few seconds, Marlin couldn’t remember where he