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“I’ll take you up on that, Emmett.” Lath flashed a sudden grin, a peculiar gleam in his eyes. He shoved his cue stick at Rollie. “Hang onto this, little brother. And don’t be cheatin’ while I’m gone.”
Rollie took the stick and watched as Lath sauntered over to Fedderson and held the door open for him, then followed him outside.
Rollie had a moment’s pity for the old man, but it was quickly gone. He propped Lath’s stick against the table and took aim on a solid-colored ball poised on the edge of a corner pocket.
Outside the restaurant, Lath waved a hand toward an old pickup sporting a new primer coat the color of rust. “Hop in, Emmett. I’ll give you a lift to the station and save those legs of yours a few steps.”
Emmett didn’t trust him, and it showed in the look he gave him. But the day had been a long one, and his tired body was feeling it. He nodded and said gruffly, “Obliged for it.”
It took him a minute to haul his bulk into the cab, then collapsed hard on the seat, wheezing a little from the effort. Even that little bit of exertion had sweat beading on his face. He dragged the soiled kerchief from his pocket and wiped it over his mouth.
A low chuckle came from the driver’s side. Emmett saw Lath watching him. The light from the restaurant windows shone through the windshield, partially illuminating his face, giving Emmett a glimpse of lips curled back in a laughing grin and of eyes that had an animal sheen to them. For a dry-mouthed instant, he had the eerie feeling that he was riding with Lucifer himself.
“You’re getting old, Emmett,” Lath turned the ignition key. The engine coughed a couple times, then caught with a reluctant rumble.
“Tell me somebody who ain’t,” he garumphed, facing the front again, uneasy and determined to conceal it. “You sure ain’t getting any younger yourself.”
“Now that’s a dyed-in-the-wool fact for sure, Emmett.” He reversed the pickup away from the restaurant and aimed it toward the lighted canopy over the gas pumps. “The difference is—I got a long life ahead of me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, if I were you.”
“Emmett,” Lath said and clicked his tongue in mock reproach. “You ain’t so old that you forgot, only the good die young?”
He laughed again, and something in his laughter made Emmett’s skin crawl. It started him thinking about old Mrs. Anderson’s overdue account and Lath’s constant prodding for it to be reopened. He stole a sideways glance at Lath, certain it was a subject he’d bring up again. It was just a matter of how soon. Irritated by the prospect, he shot a look at the gas gauge, illuminated by the dash lights. Its arrow hovered near the full mark.
“It don’t look to me like you need any gas.” He flicked an accusing finger toward the gauge.
“You can’t pay any attention to that. Rollie tells me it was broke when he bought the truck.” The pickup rolled to a stop beside the pump island. Lath shifted the gear stick into Park and switch
ed off the engine, glancing sideways at Emmett as he did so. “I honestly can’t tell you whether I’ll be charging ten or twenty dollars’ worth of gas.”
“You won’t be charging anything. I told you before, you haven’t got an account with me, not till you pay what you owe.” Emmett spoke with force to combat the scared, crawly feeling in his stomach.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Emmett. I’m truly sorry. You don’t leave a fella much choice.”
“What do you mean by that?” Emmett frowned, half turned in his seat, the passenger door pushed partway open.
“Mean?” Lath feigned a look of innocence. “I meant just what I said. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. You understand that, don’t you?”
Emmett searched through that answer word by lazily drawled word, seeking something that would justify this growing uneasiness. But he could find no concrete threat in any of them, not separately or together. He climbed out of the pickup and shut the door. “It’s cash or no gas,” he said through the window.
“You called it, Emmett. No gas.” Lath started up the truck and drove off, the sound of his cackling laughter floating above the engine noise and sending a shiver down Emmett’s back.
He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him, echoing in his mind all while he went about shutting down the gasoline pumps and locking up for the night.
There was no smile on Lath Anderson’s face when he walked back into the restaurant. His glance swept coolly over Logan without lingering. It might have been accidental that he looked in his direction at all, but Logan didn’t think so. Lath Anderson was the kind that always liked to know where the law was.
“More coffee?” Sally paused beside his table, coffeepot in hand.
“Please.” Logan nodded and dragged his attention back to the steak on his plate, slicing off his second bite. “Does Lath Anderson come in here much?”
“He’s been in a few times.” Tilting the pot, Sally poured coffee into his cup. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
Sally smiled at that. “No law officer is ever ‘just curious,’ but that’s okay. I won’t ask you to explain.”
“I’m not sure I could.”
