Always casually.
Always after dinner.
Once Leo saw Hank hand him an envelope near the garage.
He had not understood it then.
He understood now.
Hank pointed toward the station.
“Check the back.”
Higgins adjusted his belt.
“You said someone saw him.”
“Diner down the road.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
“You better be right.”
“You’re getting paid.”
Higgins stopped.
“Keep your voice down.”
Leo backed slowly away.
His heart hammered.
He could reach the wash.
Follow it north.
Hide among rocks.
Return after dark.
He took one step.
Then another.
His heel caught old barbed wire hidden beneath the dust.
He fell backward.
Branches snapped.
Hank turned instantly.
“There!”
Leo ran.
Pain shot through his ribs.
Higgins was faster.
The deputy came down the bank and grabbed Leo’s jacket from behind.
Leo twisted.
“Let go!”
“Stop fighting.”
“I’m not going back.”
Higgins dragged him toward the station.
Leo kicked.
Slipped.
Caught himself.
Hank waited near the pumps.
His expression changed the moment he saw Leo.
Satisfaction.
Not relief.
Not concern.
Ownership.
“Well, look what the desert spit back.”
Leo tried to pull free.
Higgins tightened his grip.
Hank stepped closer.
“You have any idea what you did?”
Leo stared.
“You ran.”
Hank tapped the bat against his leg.