Mad River

just about to call you. We’re heading back to the Burger King for a snack. You want to keep looking at those farmhouses?”
    “Yeah. You still got Boykin with you?”
    “He’s out running a roadblock, but he’s available. You want me to call him?”
    “I can’t think of anything else to do right now,” Virgil said. “Let’s get back at it. I’ll meet you at the Burger King.”
    At the Burger King, Shrake and Jenkins told Virgil that they thought they knew who beat him up: two guys named Royce Atkins and Duane McGuire. “We got a tip through one of Davenport’s spies,” Jenkins said. “We found Atkins, but we’re not going anywhere with him. He’s a mean sonofabitch, just the kind of guy you’d go looking for, to do this. We’ve got him nervous, but he won’t talk unless we get something to squeeze him with.”
    “What’s he do?”
    “He’s a roofer, out of work for now. He says when spring gets going, he’ll get his crew back together. Right now, he sits on his ass.”
    “What about McGuire?” Virgil asked.
    “McGuire might talk, but he took off before we got there,” Shrake said. “We talked to his girlfriend. She said he was going on a road trip. We asked her if he helped beat you up, and she didn’t say no. She said, ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that.’ Which means yes.”
    “But you don’t know where he went?”
    “Not yet. But not far. His girlfriend knows where he is, but she’s not scared enough to tell us yet. She will be, though. When we get him, we’ll whip the dilemma on their young asses. One of them’ll crack.”
    The “prisoner’s dilemma” came out of game theory, but cops only used part of it. When they had two or more suspects, they’d make a simultaneous offer to all of them: talk first and you get a reduced charge on a plea bargain. Hold out, and you carry the full load. With your ex-buddy testifying against you, you could kiss your ass good-bye.
    “I need them to do that—I need one of them, or both of them, to testify that Dick Murphy paid them,” Virgil said. “If we can keep Jimmy or Becky alive, it won’t be so critical.”
    “We better plan on it being critical,” Shrake said.
    •   •   •
    THEY DROVE THROUGH Arcadia on the way south; Boykin said that the search was being run out of the filling station there. He’d be parked across the street.
    When Virgil, Shrake, and Jenkins arrived, they found what amounted to a media village—three news helicopters sitting in a hay field just north of town, at least a dozen satellite trucks lining the main street, along with a dozen cop cars from various jurisdictions, and a half dozen Humvees. The Guard had set up a bunch of big olive-drab field tents, which smelled like telephone poles, and one of them was working as a cafeteria, passing out ham and egg-salad sandwiches, and bottles of water. They parked behind Boykin’s patrol car and got out.
    Boykin came over, carrying an egg-salad sandwich, and said, “The Ferris wheel ain’t here yet,” and Jenkins shook his head: “Dumb shits probably got lost somewhere.”
    Shrake: “That egg salad was made for the invasion of Iraq. I hope you got a case of toilet paper in the car.”
    “It’s actually quite tasty,” Boykin said. “I talked to the young woman who made it, who is also quite tasty.” He added, “You’re just in time. Duke is going to make a statement. He is in a bad mood, and when he makes a statement to the TV people, in a bad mood, like he was with that concentration camp thing, it is usually something to see. He does put on a show.”
    “Ah, man,” Virgil said, and, “Excuse me for a minute.” He walked across the street and got a Diet Coke at the gas station, and then with the other three, walked down to a Guard tent that was being lit up by the TV cameramen. He saw Duke a couple of tents down, and went that way.
    “Sorry I couldn’t wait for you to wake up this morning,” Duke said, as Virgil came up. “But I heard it wasn’t that bad. Though, I see you’re limping.”
    “Got my ass kicked, is what happened,” Virgil said. He said, “Lewis, we’ve got to talk. It’s not going to help you to go out there and throw a fit.”
    “I know what I’m doing,” Duke said. “I learned my lesson. I’m going up there, and I’m going to be polite, and tell them what’s going on, and that we’re following all the rules and regulations.”
    “They might start ragging on you.”
    “I’ve had that done