“Okay, Markus,” I said finally as he calmed down. “Let’s get to business.”
“Business? You got fucking business?”
“Something like that.”
“What do you need?”
“Well, information for start. What happened to this place since I left?”
“Hmmm,” Markus rumbled, pouring us all more drinks. Hartley eyed hers but said nothing. “Long story, that is.”
“Give us the short version.”
“Short version is, the economy went to shit and now everyone is fucking poor.”
“What about the Dixie Mafia?”
Markus scoffed. “Those fuckers? Pieces of shit moved in and took serious control about three years back. They started selling meth, and that shit just exploded as soon as the bottom dropped out the housing market.”
“Makes sense.”
“People like them, they take advantage of people’s desperation. It’s sick, you know. And this meth shit is killing folks all over the place. Crime is at an all-time high, and that’s saying something for Knoxville.”
“Damn,” I said, glancing at Hartley. “What’s the local PD doing about all this?”
“The sheriff don’t give a fuck. They’re all bought by the Dixie assholes,” Markus said. “Lots of honest folks are getting bought out of their homes as the developers start swooping in. You see the construction on the way into town?”
“Yeah. I noticed that.”
“That’s all from Dixie money. They’re evicting locals and building these big-ass cardboard fucking houses for rich folks to get a taste of the country life.”
“Seems like that might be good for the town?”
Markus spit right onto the floor. “Fuck that shit, Travis. Knoxville don’t need no rich ass strangers coming into our town and changing everything for us. Besides, it’s just making the Dixie assholes richer, and that’s not good for anyone.”
I nodded slowly. “Is anyone standing up to them?”
He shrugged, drinking his moonshine. “Sure. Some folks are. I’m sure as hell not cooperating with them. But their biggest problem is the Caldwell family.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Caldwell? I know that name.”
“Yeah, you would.” He frowned. “Ray was seeing that one Caldwell girl. Jane Caldwell.”
I blinked as that memory clicked into place. Jane Caldwell and my brother were like the king and queen of the fucking school back then. She was pretty, thin, and popular, the kind of girl every guy wanted a piece of. My brother locked her down early and they were never apart all through school.
She was in the car the night my brother died. Ray wasn’t wearing a seat belt and was thrown through the window. Fortunately for Jane, she had her belt on and managed to walk away from the accident with cuts and bruises.
I didn’t see her after the accident. I was angry with her for a long time. I never much liked her anyway, since I didn’t go for those stuck-up girls, and so it was easy to pretend like she’d died right alongside my brother.
“What are the Caldwells doing?” I asked.
“You remember all their land up in them hills?”
“Sure do.”
“They’ve been running drugs over the border between here and Sellerton. Apparently they got some big backers up around there. Them and the Dixie assholes have been in a little war ever since the Caldwells started muscling in on their turf.”
I shook my head, surprised. “I thought they just did ATV tours up through those hills.”
“They did and do, but they also sell drugs and guns now, too.”
“Why?”
Markus just shrugged. “Hell if I know. Happened about a year before the Dixie assholes really started making moves. They’ve been in competition ever since.”
I sighed and drank back the moonshine, letting the warm burn enter my stomach. Knoxville sounded the same, but it was totally different, too. The Mafia had more sway in town than I had realized, but the Caldwells fighting against them was a surprise. I didn’t expect any locals to try to push back against them, but apparently I was wrong.
“All right, Markus,” I said. “Thanks for giving me the rundown.”
“Anytime, boy,” he said. “You in town for a while now?”
“Could be,” I said, glancing at Hartley. “I got some business to take care of.”
Markus sighed. “What are you mixed up in these days?”
“I’m a Navy SEAL, Markus. I’m not into this crime shit.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but I know you, Travis. I taught you to hunt and to fish. I know what your mind is like, and you’re a restless one. Take care of yourself.”