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They took him inside and sat him in a steel chair in a small white office. Another man came in and stood leaning against a steel desk. He looked him over.
How much have you had to drink?
I aint had anything to drink.
What happened to you?
What do you mean?
What happened to your clothes.
I dont know.
Do you have any identification?
No.
Nothing.
No.
The man leaned back, his arms crossed at his chest. He said: Who do you think gets to go through this gate into the United States of America?
I dont know. American citizens.
Some American citizens. Who do you think decides that?
You do I reckon.
That's correct. And how do I decide?
I dont know.
I ask questions. If I get sensible answers then they get to go to America. If I dont get sensible answers they dont. Is there anything about that that you dont understand?
No sir.
Then maybe you'd like to start over.
All right.
We need to hear more about why you're out here with no clothes on.
I got a overcoat on.
Are you jackin with me?
No sir.
Dont jack with me. Are you in the service?
No sir. I'm a veteran.
What branch of the service.
United States Army.
Were you in Nam?
Yessir. Two tours.
What outfit.
Twelfth Infantry.
What were your dates of tour duty.
August seventh nineteen and sixty-six to September second nineteen and sixty-eight.
The man watched him for some time. Moss looked at him and looked away. He looked toward the door, the empty hall. Sitting hunched forward in the overcoat with his elbows on his knees.
Are you all right?
Yessir. I'm all right. I got a wife that'll come and get me if you all will let me go on.
Have you got any money? You got change for a phone call?
Yessir.
He heard claws scrabbling on the tiles. A guard was standing there with a German Shepherd on a lead. The man jutted his chin at the guard. Get someone to help this man. He needs to get into town. Is the taxi gone?
Yessir. It was clean.
I know. Get someone to help him.
He looked at Moss. Where are you from?
I'm from San Saba Texas.
Does your wife know where you are?
Yessir. I talked to her here just a while ago.
Did you all have a fight?
Did who have a fight?
You and your wife.
Well. Somewhat of a one I reckon. Yessir.
You need to tell her you're sorry.
Sir?
I said you need to tell her you're sorry.
Yessir. I will.
Even if you think it was her fault.
Yessir.
Go on. Get your ass out of here.
Yessir.
Sometimes you have a little problem and you dont fix it and then all of a sudden it aint a little problem anymore. You understand what I'm tellin you?
Yessir. I do.
Go on.
Yessir.
It was almost daylight and the cab was long gone. He set out up the street. A bloody serum was leaking from his wound and it was ru
They walked side by side down the aisle toward the boot section. Tony Lama, Justin, Nocona. There were some low chairs there and Moss eased himself down and sat with his hands gripping the chair arms. I need boots and some clothes, he said. I got some medical problems and I dont want to walk around no more than what I can help.
The man nodded. Yessir, he said. Of course.
Do you carry the Larry Mahans?
No sir. We dont.
That's all right. I need a pair of Wrangler jeans thirty-two by thirty-four length. A shirt size large. Some socks. And show me some Nocona boots in a ten and a half. And I need a belt.
Yessir. Did you want to look at hats?
Moss looked across the store. I think a hat would be good. You got any of them stockman's hats with the small brim? Seven and three-eights?
Yes we do. We have a three X beaver in the Resistol and a little better grade in the Stetson. A five X, I think it is.
Let me see the Stetson. That silverbelly color.
All right sir. Are white socks all right?
White socks is all I wear.
What about underwear?
Maybe a pair of jockey shorts. Thirty-two. Or medium.
Yessir. You just make yourself comfortable. Are you all right?
I'm all right.
The man nodded and turned to go.
Can I ask you somethin? Moss said.
Yessir.
Do you get a lot of people come in here with no clothes on?
No sir. I wouldnt say a lot.
He carried the pile of new clothing with him to the dressingroom and slid off the coat and hung it from the hook on the back of the door. A pale dried blood was crusted across his sallow sunken paunch. He pushed at the edges of the tape but they wouldnt stick. He eased himself down on the wooden bench and pulled on the socks and he opened the package of shorts and took them out and pulled them over his feet and up to his knees and then stood and pulled them carefully up over the dressing. He sat again and undid the shirt from its cardboard forms and endless pins.
When he came out of the dressing room he had the coat over his arm. He walked up and down the creaking wooden aisle. The clerk stood looking down at the boots. The lizard takes longer to break in, he said.
Yeah. Hot in the summer too. These are all right. Let's try that hat. I aint been duded up like this since I got out of the army.
The sheriff sipped his coffee and set the cup back down in the same ring on the glass desktop that he'd taken it from. They're fixin to close the hotel, he said.
Bell nodded. I aint surprised.
They all quit. That feller hadnt pulled but two shifts. I blame myself. Never occurred to me that the son of a bitch would come back. I just never even imagined such a thing.
He might never of left.
I thought about that too.
The reason nobody knows what he looks like is that they dont none of em live long enough to tell it.
This is a goddamned homicidal lunatic, Ed Tom.
Yeah. I dont think he's a lunatic though.
Well what would you call him?
I dont know. When are they fixin to close it?
It's done closed, as far as that goes.
You got a key?
Yeah. I got a key. It's a crime scene.
Why dont we go over there and look around some more.
All right. We can do that.
The first thing they saw was the transponder unit sitting on a windowsill in the hallway. Bell picked it up and turned it in his hand, looking at the dial and the knobs.
That aint a goddamn bomb is it Sheriff?
No.
That's all we need.
It's a trackin device.
So whatever it was they was trackin they found.
Probably. How long has it been settin there do you reckon?
I dont know. I think I might be able to guess what they were trackin, though.
Maybe, Bell said. There's somethin about this whole deal that dont rattle right.
It aint supposed to.
We got a ex-army colonel here with most of his head gone that you had to ID off of his fingerprints. What fingers wasnt shot off. Regular army. Fourteen years service. Not a piece of paper on him.
He'd been robbed.
Yeah.
What do you know about this that you aint tellin, Sheriff?
You got the same facts I got.
I aint talkin about facts. Do you think this whole mess has moved south?
Bell shook his head. I dont know.
You got a dog in this hunt?
Not really. A couple of kids from my county that might be sort of involved that ought not to be.