There was a mirror opposite me behind the counter. I looked exactly like a guy who'd been on an all-night bus and then spent two days in jail. I figured I needed to get cleaned up before I took Roscoe to lunch. The counter guy saw me figuring.
"Try the barbershop," he said.
"On a Sunday?" I said.
The guy shrugged.
"They're always in there," he said. "Never exactly closed. Never exactly open, either. "
I nodded and pushed out through the door. I saw a small crowd of people coming out of the church and chatting on the lawns and getting into their cars. The rest of the town was sti
ll deserted. But the black pickup was still at the curb, right outside the convenience store. The driver was still staring at me.
I walked north in the sun and the pickup moved slowly alongside, keeping pace
