“I need another hit.”
Crawford passed him the cup. He kept gulping for as long as Crawford allowed before taking it back. “Why were you hiding in fear of Otterman?”
Smitty actually sobbed again. “He asked me about you.”
Crawford kept his expression neutral. “Me?”
“Did I stutter?”
“When did he ask you about me?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
Smitty clammed up and shook his head.
Crawford tabled that question for the time being. “What did you tell him about me?”
“I sorta fudged.”
“You lied.”
Smitty heaved a sigh of confession. “He asked if I knew you. I pretended not to, but then—”
“You spilled your guts, because at heart, you’re a chickenshit. We both know that, so tell me what you told him.”
“Nothing important. I swear. He asked if I had, you know, dealings with you. I told him no. Told him that I hated you. Which is the gospel truth,” he added with a glower.
“What else did he want to know?”
“That was it.”
“Smitty.”
“Crawford, let it go,” he pleaded. “You do not mess with this guy.”
“You don’t mess with me, either. What else did you tell him?”
“Can I have a drink?”
“Depends.”
Smitty hesitated, then said, “He wanted to know what you were doing at the club last night. Who the woman was. Like that.”
“You told him it was Holly Spencer?”
“I was afraid they were going to feed me to the alligators. One piece at a time.”
Crawford thought about that. “Otterman’s supposedly on a fishing weekend. Is he in Louisiana? Is that where your meeting with him took place?”
“Aren’t you listening? If I help you, he’ll kill me!” he screeched. “Five, four, three, two. You can count down from a thousand, I don’t care. I’m not telling you anything else.”
Crawford eased back, shrugged. “Okay. Don’t tell me anything else. I’ll put you away for indecency with a child, compelling prostitution of a child, statutory rape. If it lasted more than thirty days, that’s continual sexual abuse of a child. Let’s see, am I leaving out anything? Oh.” He gestured toward the wall of dirty pictures. “If you took pictures of her, that’s—”
“She was sixteen!”
“A minor. Dancing naked, giving lap dances?” Crawford tsked. “Bad business, Smitty. A new low for you.”
“She lied at her audition. Soon as I found out her real age, I fired her.”
“How many times did you bang her?”
“I didn’t!”
Crawford just looked at him.
Then with sullen defiance, Smitty grumbled, “You don’t even know for sure there was a girl. It was a lucky guess.”
“An educated guess.”
“Where’s your proof?”
“I’ll shut you down while I search for some,” Crawford said. “But I’m busy these days. It might take a good long while to collect evidence, track down the child.”
“Child, my ass.”
“I’ll eventually find her, and, all that time, you’ll be languishing in the Prentiss County jail, shuffling around in house shoes, and trying to stay on the good side of the bubbas. Many of whom have baby sisters.”
Stubbornly Smitty shook his head. “Threaten all you want. I’m not telling you anything more about Otterman, especially not where he’s at.”
Crawford’s phone rang again. This time he answered.
“Where you been?”
It was Harry. “You have something on Otterman?”
“A thing that bothers us.”
“What?”
“He left a lucrative gig in the Panhandle to sign on with the outfit he works for now. Took a big pay cut.”
“When did he make that move?”
“He was back and forth for a few months. Made the transfer permanent about the time Halcon went down. Which makes Sessions and me nervous.”
It made Crawford nervous, too. In fact, it made him queasy. “The outfit is headquartered in Houston, right?”
“Right. Sessions is working a hunch,” Harry said. “What sorta scares us? If this is revenge on you for something relating to Halcon, he’s taken his sweet time. Which tells me, A, he’s a planner. B, he’s patient. And C—”
“He’s ready to end it.”
“In light of this week’s goings-on? Looks like. Have you found out where he is?”
“Putting the squeeze on a weasel. Let me get back to you.”
“Hold on,” Harry said. “There’s more.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, I haven’t even got to the good parts. After you stole the judge’s car, she notified Neal Lester.” He let that settle, and when Crawford didn’t respond, he said, “I know because I called her looking for you. Lester and his sidekick were at her house.”
“Was she all right?”
“Shook up. She only ratted ’cause she’s scared you’ll get hurt, or killed, or do something crazy. And the worst of it, Lester’s still gung-ho to pin all this on you.”
“He can’t be that stupid. That video of Connor and Otterman should have changed his mind.”