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Rickey sat in Dr. Lamotte’s waiting room flipping through a two-year-old issue of Louisiana Fishing that featured the Grand Isle Tarpon Rodeo. The pictures of sunburned, grinning people holding up big fish reminded him of his vacation in Shell Beach. That seemed impossibly distant now, though it had only been about a month ago. Had he really spent those crystal-blue days out on Lake Borgne, eaten speckled trout so fresh it just about swam down his throat, slept with a tanned, salty-skinned G-man in Anthony’s uncomfortable little camp bed? He supposed he had, but it was hard to believe somehow.
Last week, low on pills, he had called Dr. Lamotte’s office and asked for a refill. Instead of saying, “I’ll have him call your pharmacy,” as Rickey had hoped, the receptionist said, “Oh, your na
