Several days earlier, he’d driven over into Louisiana and bought the marijuana himself. He had then intercepted the wetback who tended his mother’s flower beds as he was piling his tools into the bed of his piece-of-shit pickup and threatened to sic immigration on him if he didn’t grant Rusty one small favor.

The marijuana got planted in Ledge’s car. To demonstrate what a nice guy he was, Rusty had given the Mexican a doobie for his trouble.

Tonight, immediately after he and Ledge had parted company, using a burner phone he’d called the sheriff’s office with an anonymous tip that Ledge Burnet was selling weed out of his car on the parking lot of his uncle’s bar.

“There were some people with him in his car. I didn’t see who. Anyhow, he drove out alone, headed toward town.”

That’s all it had taken.

Ledge was in lockup. It was unlikely he would be granted bail. If his case went to trial, conviction would be a slam-dunk. Even if Ledge made a plea bargain to avoid trial, both his immediate and long-range futures included incarceration. He had been removed, if not permanently, then for a good, long time.

Rusty could now proceed to his next chore of the night.

He rotated his wrist a few times to work out some of the soreness and keep it flexible, then reached for his phone and made one of the most important calls he would ever make.

“Foster? It’s Rusty. Are you still awake?”

“Are you kidding? Who could sleep? I was about to—”

“Listen,” he interrupted, almost breathless with urgency. “Whatever you were about to do, forget it.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s Burnet. He’s been hauled in.”

“To jail?”

“Yes to jail! Where’d you think?”

“Oh, God! How did they catch him? Was it his car? Somebody saw his car behind the store?”

Rusty pictured him peeing his pants.

“No. His arrest didn’t have anything to do with the burglary. The dumbass was stopped for a busted taillight, something stupid like that. While the deputies had him pulled over, they searched his car. Guess what they found.”

He told Foster the rest of it. He spoke in a rushed whisper, not only to convey urgency but to keep from waking up his parents in their bedroom down the hall. His daddy was a class-A crook, but it wouldn’t go down well with him that Rusty had stolen roughly half a million dollars.

That was, not unless Mervin got a hefty chunk of it.

Rusty freely acknowledged that he’d been spoiled rotten. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d demanded something that he didn’t ultimately get. His mother was sweet and doting and thought the sun rose and set on her boy. She was also clueless to a laughable extent. He manipulated her unmercifully.

His dad had a loud bark, but he hailed from the school of Boys Will Be Boys. Not so secretly, he got a kick out of Rusty’s misbehavior. The more unsavory the misdeed, the more it tickled his dad. Rusty’s shenanigans, the more outlandish the better, showed a creative streak that his dad took pride in.

However, Rusty had no delusions about the depth of Sheriff Mervin Dyle’s affection and indulgence. It wasn’t bottomless. It wasn’t even skin-deep. If it came down to protecting Rusty or preserving his own position of power, his dad would give him over without hesitation and not waste an instant of regret over it.

Cutting Mervin a large slice of the pie would be Rusty’s only bargaining chip. He wouldn’t use it unless it became absolutely necessary, of course, and, if all went according to plan, it wouldn’t. He would be able to keep the Welch’s take all to himself, and neither parent would be the wiser.

If all went according to plan. There were still hindrances to success that must be eliminated. Which brought him back to Brian Foster. “What concerns me,” Rusty said, “is what Burnet will do or say.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’ll try to cut a deal. I’m afraid he’ll rat us out in exchange for a lighter drug charge.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“In a heartbeat.”

“The four of us made a pact.”

“Pact,” Rusty snickered. “You think a promise matters to that guy? You don’t know him like I do. He’s surly. Resentful. Believe me, he would betray us.”

Foster moaned an appeal to the almighty. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, first, we’re not going to panic. Burnet won’t parley until he’s talked to his lawyer. My guess is that their meeting won’t take place till morning, and maybe not till Monday, ’cause tomorrow’s Easter. But, in case I’m wrong, we need to hide this money. Tonight. Now.”

“Right, right. Hide it.”

“Where should we meet?”

“Meet?” Foster’s voice rose an octave. “You and me?”

“I’m not doing this alone, Foster.”

“But—”

“If something happened to me, nobody would know where the money was stashed.”

“What could happen to you?”

“Anything. Jesus! I could have a car wreck, fall in a fucking sinkhole. Anything. But what really scares me? If Burnet talks, he’ll give me over first, and it won’t matter that my daddy’s the sheriff. They’ll be after me. I can’t be caught with this money.

“If Burnet is granted bail, he’ll come after me. He’ll want to shut me up. Probably all of us.” He built in a strategic pause. A little longer. Then, “Look, never mind. I’ll figure it out for myself.”

“No, wait. Give me a sec to think.”

Rusty smiled but made himself sound put out. “Well, think fast. I’ve got to move on this.”

“I’ll help you.”

“If you’re afraid, if you’re going to be whimpering like a little girl the whole time—”

“No, I’m all right. Just nervous. But I don’t think Burnet will break the pact. I really don’t.”

“Think what you want. I’m counting on him selling us out. Which means…”

“What?”

“Well, I’m thinking that in addition to hiding the money, we need a fall guy.”

“Someone to take the blame?”

“That’s what fall guys do, Foster.”