Frank was in his Lexus, listening to Christian radio, driving toward Ben Wheeler to talk to Dustin in person.
“For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts,” the radio minster was saying, “murders, adulteries, fornications…”
Dustin had been calling Frank pretty much nightly. But for a few nights now, he hadn’t been making a whole lot of sense.
What Frank knew already was that Billie and Stacey had ended up behind bars, yet again. What Frank did not understand was what their latest arrest had to do with the fact that Nancy had already been down to San Marcos and managed to get herself back in one piece.
“The evil deeds of the wicked ensnare them; the cords of their sins hold them fast…”
Frank turned the radio off in disgust. On the floor under his feet was a bag full of money—big bills, packed tightly and bound with blue elastic bands. Frank tossed the bag in the backseat as he pulled up the driveway. He saw the Firebird with its bashed-in windshield, the lawn full of weeds, the screen door hanging off one of its hinges.
“It’s one way to live,” Frank mumbled to himself under his breath.
“My mom,” Dustin said to him once he came inside. “She’s not doing too well in there, in County.”
“I wouldn’t expect that she would be,” said Frank.
He looked around the room. Dustin was nineteen. Old enough to get by on his own. But he’d been living with Michael Speck for a few weeks now, ever since Billie and Stacey’s arrest. From what Frank could see, this domestic arrangement was not working out for the kid. Speck was nowhere to be seen, and Dustin looked like he was barely there. His face was unnaturally pale, except for the deep, purple bags under his eyes. He was wild-eyed and smelled almost moldy, like an old shower curtain. When Dustin spoke, his words ran into each other.
“You really want to help your momma?” Frank said.
Earnestly, Dustin said, “I would do anything.”
“Iwoodoo anythang” was what it sounded like.
“The best thing to do,” Frank told him, “is the job you all signed up for.”
“Anythang,” Dustin said.
Frank walked back out to the Lexus and returned a moment later, carrying a crumpled-up paper bag.
“Here,” he told Dustin. “Take this and use it to bail your mom out of jail. Then go and buy yourself a baseball bat. Wait for my call. And then drive out to Gaylord. You know where Gaylord is? In Grapevine, less than an hour outside of Dallas. Nancy’s going to a convention there. I’ll give you the name of the hotel she’s at. You’ll sneak in and use your baseball bat on her. Use it real good. And make sure to get pictures.”
“Thank you,” Dustin said. “Mr. John, you can be sure we’ll take care of this for you.”
“And, Dustin? There’s just one more thing. This business in San Marcos didn’t work out for us. So I’ve been thinking, we should have a contingency plan. This convention that Nancy’s going to, it won’t be for a while now. Why don’t you drive up to Carrollton in the meantime. See the lay of the land. I’m sure there’s a good way to do it there too. Maybe a burglary. Maybe a fire.”
Dustin did not know what contingency meant. But everything else Mr. John said made good sense to him.
“Sure,” he said. “Fire sounds like a real good way to go.”