Free Spy by Ted Bell Page B

overexcited.”
    “Yessir.”
    “Go on now, git.”
    “Sheriff?” June said on the radio. Homer had opened the door but he still had one hand clenched around the steering wheel.
    “Hold the phone a second, June—Homer, go have a word with that gentleman. Inform him we don’t speed here in Mesa County. Anything over a hundred entitles you to free bed and breakfast. Write him up and we’ll take him on in.”
    Prudhomme climbed out from behind the wheel and disappeared into the dust cloud still rising around the trailer. Had his hand on his right hip. Franklin had to smile. He might not be a lawman yet, but he had the walk, by God, down.
    “Go ahead, June. I’m sorry.”
    “What I was saying was, I think we maybe caught a break here with the North boy, Sheriff. The boyfriend says he saw somebody. There was a man at the candy counter. Hollis thought he was looking at Charlotte funny. Before the show.”
    “Hollis get a good look at him?”
    “The unsub?”
    Franklin looked out his window a second, eyes searching the blue-white mesquite flats, and then said, “Yeah, June, the unsub if that’s what we’re calling ’em on the TV these days. Hollis get a good look at him? This unknown subject.”
    “Says he did.”
    “Caucasian?”
    “No profiling,” June said.
    “June!”
    “No, sir. Latino.”
    “Awright, June-bug. I’ll be there directly. We’ll have an overnight guest most likely, so turn the cot down and leave a light on at the inn.”
    Franklin sat back and pushed both boots hard against the floorboard, stretching his long legs. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat on a horse, he thought, rubbing his eyes. He was at a funny place in his life. Weary all the time, seemed like. Worried when he woke up in the morning. He didn’t used to be like that. Used to wake up with a smile on his face. Well, what were you going to do? Third generation lawman. Maybe law genes could only stand so much law-breaking, is what Daisy had told him one night he couldn’t sleep.
    It was the border. His granddaddy, back when he was sheriff, had said something to him once and it stuck. He was talking about a rancher shot dead for moving a fence six feet. Laws were fences he said. That’s all they were.
    “A border ain’t nothin’ but a law drawn in the sand.”
    A minute later, Homer was back. All by himself and shaking his head in disbelief. He put his hands on the roof and leaned down to speak through the driver’s side window.
    “You won’t believe this one, Sheriff.”
    “Try me.”
    “Nobody home up front.”
    “Say again.”
    “Wasn’t anybody up in the darn cab.”
    “Homer.”
    “Sheriff, I swear I ain’t lying. Nobody there.”
    “He run?”
    “Shoot, I guess. Doors closed, headlights on, transmission in Park. Empty.”
    “Let’s take a look.”
    Dixon shoved his door open with his boot and climbed out. He stretched, pulling his shoulders backward, his eyes on the far hills to the south. Smoke was curling up from the chimney of a ranch house. Ben Nevis’s place.
    He’d allowed a posse to ride south out of there two days ago. A dozen of desperate young fellas from town who wanted to go find their sisters and girlfriends. Idea was, they’d ride down to Nuevo Laredo and see what they could find out about all these missing girls. They were due back yesterday evening and so far nobody had heard word one. Worrisome, to say the least.
    The Peterbilt was hissing and steaming when he climbed up on the passenger side running board and tried to look through the windshield. Black glass, like it had mirror inside it. He pulled out his flashlight and put it right on the glass. Couldn’t see a thing. He stuck his head inside the driver’s window and saw Homer’s frowning face on the other side.
    “Well, well, well,” Dixon said.
    “That’s what I told you, Sheriff.”
    “You look back there in his bunk compartment? Maybe he’s just watching a racy video in there and doesn’t want to be