Bell climbed the rear steps of the courthouse and went down the hall to his office. He swiveled his chair around and sat and looked at the telephone. Go ahead, he said. I'm here.
The phone rang. He reached and picked it up. Sheriff Bell, he said.
He listened. He nodded.
Mrs Downie I believe he'll come down directly. Why dont you call me back here in a little bit. Yes mam.
He took off his hat and put it on the desk and sat with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes mam, he said. Yes mam.
Mrs Downie I havent seen that many dead cats in trees. I think he'll come down directly if you'll just leave him be. You call me back in a little bit, you hear?
He hung the phone up and sat looking at it. It's money, he said. You have enough money you dont have to talk to people about cats in trees.
Well. Maybe you do.
The radio squawked. He picked up the receiver and pushed the button and put his feet up on the desk. Bell, he said.
He sat listening. He lowered his feet to the floor and sat up.
Get the keys and look in the turtle. That's all right. I'm right here.
He drummed his fingers on the desk.
All right. Keep your lights on. I'll be there in fifty minutes. And Torbert? Shut the trunk.
He and Wendell pulled onto the paved shoulder in front of the unit and parked and got out. Torbert got out and was standing by the door of his car. The sheriff nodded. He walked along the edge of the roadway studying the tire tracks. You seen this, I reckon, he said.
Yessir.
Well let's take a look.
Torbert opened the trunk and they stood looking at the body. The front of the man's shirt was covered with blood, partly dried. His whole face was bloody. Bell leaned and reached into the trunk and took something from the man's shirtpocket and unfolded it. It was a bloodstained receipt for gas from a service station in Junction Texas. Well, he said. This was the end of the road for Bill Wyrick.
I didnt look to see if he had a billfold on him.
That's all right. He dont. This here was just dumb luck.
He studied the hole in the man's forehead. Looks like a .45. Clean. Almost like a wadcutter.
What's a wadcutter?
It's a target round. You got the keys?
Yessir.
Bell shut the trunklid. He looked around. Passing trucks on the interstate were downshifting as they approached. I've already talked to Lamar. Told him he can have his unit back in about three days. I called Austin and they're lookin for you first thing in the mornin. I aint loadin him into one of our units and he damn sure dont need a helicopter. You take Lamar's unit back to Sonora when you get done and call and me or Wendell one will come and get you. You got any money?
Yessir.
Fill out the report same as any report.
Yessir.
White male, late thirties, medium build.
How do you spell Wyrick?
You dont spell it. We dont know what his name is.
Yessir.
He might have a family someplace.
Yessir. Sheriff?
Yes.
What do we have on the perpetrator?
We dont. Give Wendell your keys fore you forget it.
They're in the unit.
Well let's not be leavin keys in the units.
Yessir.
I'll see you in two days' time.
Yessir.
I hope that son of a bitch is in California.
Yessir. I know what you mean.
I got a feelin he aint.
Yessir. I do too.
Wendell, you ready?
Wendell leaned and spat. Yessir, he said. I'm ready. He looked at Torbert. You get stopped with that old boy in the turtle just tell em you dont know nothin about it. Tell em somebody must of put him in there while you was havin coffee.
Torbert nodded. You and the sheriff goin to come down and get me off of death row?
If we cant get you out we'll get in there with you.
You all dont be makin light of the dead thataway, Bell said.
Wendell nodded. Yessir, he said. You're right. I might be one myself some day.
Driving out 90 toward the turnoff at Dryden he came across a hawk dead in the road. He saw the feathers move in the wind. He pulled over and got out and walked back and squatted on his bootheels and looked at it. He raised one wing and let it fall again. Cold yellow eye dead to the blue vault above them.
It was a big redtail. He picked it up by one wingtip and carried it to the bar ditch and laid it in the grass. They would hunt the blacktop, sitting on the high powerpoles and watching the highway in both directions for miles. Any small thing that might venture to cross. Closing on their prey against the sun. Shadowless. Lost in the concentration of the hunter. He wouldnt have the trucks running over it.