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"I got to go to the bathroom," said Jimmie Lee Boggs.
"Shut up," the jailer told him.
"That boy innocent, Mr. Dave," she said. "You know what they gonna do. T'connais, you. He goin' to the Red Hat."
"Y'all get out of here. I'll see she's all right," the jailer said.
"Fuck, yes," Lester said.
We went out into the dark, into the rain and the lightning that leapt across the southern sky, and locked Jimmie Lee Boggs and Tee Beau into the back of the car behind the wire-mesh screen. Then I unlocked the trunk and threw the two paper bags containing their belongings inside. At the back of the trunk, fastened to the floor with elastic rope, were a .30-06 scoped rifle in a zippered case and a twelve-gauge pump shotgun with a pistol stock. I got in the passenger's side, and we drove out of town on the back road that led through St. Martinville to Interstate 10, Baton Rouge, and Angola Pen.
The spreading oaks along the two-lane road were black and dripping with water. The rain had slackened, and when I rolled my window partly down I could smell the sugarcane and the wet earth in the fields. The ditches on both sides of the road were high with rainwater.
"I got to use the can," Jimmie Lee Boggs said.
Neither Lester nor I answered.
"I ain't kidding you, I gotta go," he repeated.
"You should have gone back there," I said.
"I asked. He told me to shut up."
"You'll have to hold it," I said.
"What'd you come back to this stuff for?" Lester said.
"I'm into some serious debt," I said.
"How bad?"
"Enough to lose my house and boat business."
"I'm going to get out one of these days. Buy me a place in Key Largo. Then somebody else can haul the freight. Hey, Boggs, didn't the mob have enough work for you in Florida?"
"What?" Boggs said. He was leaning forward on the seat, looking out the side window.
"You didn't like Florida? You had to come all the way over here to kill somebody?" Lester said. When he smiled, the edge of his mouth looked like putty.
"What do you care?" Boggs asked him.
"I was just curious."
Boggs was silent. His face looked strained, and he shifted his buttocks back and forth on the seat.
"How much did they pay you to do that bar owner?" Lester said.
"Nothing," Boggs said.
"Just doing somebody a favor?" Lester continued.
"I said 'nothing' because I didn't kill that guy. Look, I don't want to be rude, we got a long trip together, but I'm feeling a lot of discomfort back here."
"We'll get you some Pepto Bismol or something up on the Interstate," Lester said.
"I'd appreciate that, man," Boggs said.
We went around a curve through open pasture. Tee Beau was sleeping with his head on his chest. I could hear frogs croaking in the ditches.
