The Falling Away by Hines Page A

and his friend out on an assignment in exchange for free scrip drugs.
    Which had made her assignment much more difficult.
    â€œYou still there?” Andrew asked.
    â€œSorry. So what did you do with Dylan and his buddy?”
    â€œI took them to see a friend named Couture.”
    â€œAnd what’s Couture’s story?”
    â€œHe’s a vet.”
    â€œAs in veteran, or veterinarian?”
    Andrew laughed. “Both, actually. But he’s a good Indian. Knows how to keep quiet. Too quiet, actually.”
    Quinn sighed. Andrew always treated their conversations like a game.
    â€œOkay, so what happened?”
    â€œCouture patched up his buddy and sent them on their way.”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œYeah, that’s pretty much it.”
    â€œNothing out of the ordinary? Nothing . . . strange . . . happened while you were there?”
    â€œOther than a white boy with a gunshot wound getting treated by an Indian veterinarian?”
    â€œOther than that.”
    â€œWell, Couture had . . . kind of a bad reaction to Dylan.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe not a bad reaction, but . . . scared. Yeah, that’s it. Like he was scared.”
    â€œWhy, do you think?”
    â€œWell, he kind of went a bit sixth sense on him. Said he was . . . what did he call it? Marked. Chosen.”
    Quinn’s face began to tingle. “Chosen?”
    â€œTold Dylan bad people were gonna come after him.”
    Quinn took a deep sigh. There were a small number of people who could sense the undercurrent of this world’s physical reality. Many of them, like her, were part of the Falling Away. Those outside the Falling Away invariably succumbed to their neuroses and compulsions, never fully understanding why they felt driven to escape what they sensed. This Couture was obviously one of these anomalies.
    â€œYou’ve never talked about your friend Couture before.”
    â€œBecause he’s not a friend. Just a business contact, you understand. I got more business contacts than friends. Part of my curse.”
    â€œYou said he’s an Indian?”
    Andrew laughed. “Yeah, Couture’s an Assiniboine.”
    Quinn nodded silently. “Dylan say anything about where he was headed?” she asked.
    Another tittering laugh from Andrew. “Nah, but I bet he’s headed back to Billings. Crawl into his hole.”
    â€œHow long ago did he leave?”
    â€œFifteen minutes, tops.”
    Quinn wasn’t so sure Dylan was headed to Billings, but she didn’t have any better information to go on. If he was, Harlem was probably about eighty miles east of the cutoff at Eddie’s Corner. Great Falls, where Quinn was still cleaning up after neutralizing Greg, was about eighty miles west. With any luck, Quinn might catch them there.
    â€œOkay. Thanks, Andrew. What do I owe you?”
    Andrew paused. “I’m thinking of a quid pro quo here. A Quinn pro quo.” A giggle at his own pun.
    â€œJust spit it out, Andrew.”
    â€œLet’s just say, he might be carrying some cash.”
    â€œYou’re thinking you might get some reward money out of this? That what you’re getting at?”
    â€œYeah, yeah. Me being a good citizen and all.”
    â€œI can probably swing a Good Citizenship Award.” Quinn had no intent of doing so, didn’t care how much money was involved. But it was best to let Andrew think he’d been a good dog, that he had a nice juicy treat coming.
    â€œAppreciate it.”
    Quinn hung up the mobile, stared at it for a few moments.
    Dylan Runs Ahead was running.
    And Quinn would be running behind him.

14
    Andrew wasn’t done after hanging up with Quinn. Not at all. Information falls into your lap, you start working all the angles you can. He smiled, picked up the phone, dialed again.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œKrunk, how you doing this fine morning?”
    â€œWhat do you