“Multifarious?” Gabe said.

“A shitload,” said Theo.

“I know what it means, Theo. I just can’t believe it came out of your mouth.”

Val laughed gaily at Gabe’s kinda-sorta humor. Theo glared at her.

Jenny, who was almost as cranky as Theo for having had to close H.P.‘s the night before and then open the restaurant in the morning when the morning girl called in sick, came by to refill their coffees.

“That’s your boss pulling up, isn’t it, Theo?” she asked, nodding toward the front. Out the window Theo could see Sheriff John Burton crawling out of his black Eldorado.

“Back door?” Theo said, urgent pleading in his eyes.

“Sure, through the kitchen and Howard’s office.”

Theo was up in a second and halfway to the kitchen when he noticed that Val and Gabe had missed the entire exchange and were staring into each other’s eyes. He ran back and slapped the table with his open palm. They looked at him as if they’d been dragged out of a dream.

“Attention,” Theo said, trying not to raise his voice. “Sheriff coming in? My boss? Deadly drug dealer? We’re criminals. We’ll be making a break for the back door? Now? Hello?”

“I’m not a criminal,” Gabe said. “I’m a biologist.”

Theo grabbed him by the front of the shirt and made for the kitchen, dragging the biologist behind him. The criminal shrink brought up the rear.

“I’m looking for Betsy Butler,” Burton said, flipping open a badge wallet as if everyone in the county didn’t immediately recognize his white Stetsonover-Armani look.

“What’s she done?” Jenny asked, putting herself between the sheriff and the door to the kitchen.

“That’s not your affair. I just need to talk to her.”

“Well, I’m on the floor alone, so you have to follow me if you want to talk or I’ll get behind.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Fine.” Jenny turned her back on the sheriff and went to the waitress station behind the counter to start a fresh pot of coffee.

Burton followed her, suppressing the urge to put her in a choke hold. “Do you know where she lives?”

“Yes,” Jenny said. “But she’s not home.” Jenny glanced back through the kitchen window to make sure that Theo and his bunch had made it through to Howard’s office.

Burton’s face was going red now. “Please. Could you tell me where she is?”

Jenny thought she could jerk this guy around for another ten minutes or so, but it didn’t look as if it was necessary. Besides, she was pissed at Betsy for calling in anyway. “She called in this morning with a spiritual emergency. Her words, by the way. The flu I can understand, but I’m working a double after closing last night over her spiritual emergency—”

“Where is Betsy Butler?” the sheriff barked.

Jenny jumped back a step. The man looked as if he might go for his gun any second. No wonder Theo had bolted out the back. “She said she was going with a group up to the Beer Bar Ranch. That they were being called by the spirit to make a sacrifice. Pretty weird, huh?”

“Was Joseph Leander going with her?”

“No one’s supposed to know about Betsy and Joseph.”

“I know about them. Was he going with her?”

“She didn’t say. She sounded a little spaced out.”

“Does Theo Crowe come in here?”

“Sometimes.” Jenny wasn’t volunteering anything to this creep. He was rude, he was mean, and he was wearing enough Aramis to choke a skunk.

“Has he been in here today?”

“No, haven’t seen him.”

Without a word, Burton turned and stormed out the door to his Cadillac. Jenny went back to the kitchen, where Gabe, Val, and Theo were standing by the fryers, trying to stay out of the way of the two cooks, who were flipping eggs and thrashing hash browns.

Gabe pointed to the back door. “It’s locked.”

“He’s gone,” Jenny said. “He was looking for Betsy and Joseph, but he asked about you, Theo. I think he’s going up to the Beer Bar to find Betsy.”

“What’s Betsy doing at the ranch?” Theo asked.

“Something about making a sacrifice. That girl needs help.”

Theo turned to Val. “Give me the keys to your car. I’m going after him.”

“I don’t think so,” the psychiatrist said, holding her purse away from him.

“Please, Val. I’ve got to see what he’s up to. This is my life here.”

“And that’s my Mercedes, and you’re not taking it.”

“I have guns, Val.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a Mercedes. It’s mine.”

Gabe looked at her as if she’d squirted a grapefruit in his eyes. “You really won’t let Theo use your car?” His voice was flat with disappointment. “It’s just a car.”

They all stared at her, even the two cooks, burly Hispanic men who had until now refused to acknowledge their existence. Val reached into her purse, brought out the keys, and handed them to Theo as if she were giving up a child for sacrifice.

“How will we get home?” Gabe asked.

“Go to the Head of the Slug and wait. I’ll either pick you up or call you from my cell phone and let you know what’s going on. It shouldn’t take long.” With that, Theo ran out of the kitchen.

A few seconds later Valerie Riordan cringed at the sound of squealing tires as Theo pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.

Skinner liked chasing cars as much as the next dog, and they didn’t get away as easily when you chased them in another car, but despite the excite-ment of the chase, Skinner was anxious. When he had seen the Tall Guy come out to the car, he thought that the Food Guy was coming too. But now they were driving away from the Food Guy and toward the danger. Skinner could feel it. He whined and ran back and forth across the backseat of the Mercedes, leaving nose prints on the window, then jumped into the front seat and stuck his head out the passenger window. There was no joy to the turbo-charged smells or the wind in his ears, only danger. He barked and scratched at the door handle to warn the Tall Guy, but all he got for his efforts was a perfunctory ear scratching, so he crawled into the Tall Guy’s lap, where it felt at least a little safer.

Burton first noticed the Mercedes behind him when he turned onto the access road to the Coast Highway. A week ago he might not have thought twice about it, but now he was seeing an enemy in every tree. DEA wouldn’t use a Mercedes, and neither would FBI, but the Mexican Mafia could. Except for his operation, they ran the meth trade out of the West; perhaps they’d decided that they wanted the whole trade. That would explain the disap-pearance of Leander, Crowe, and the guys at the lab, except that it had been a little too clean. They would have left bodies as a warning, and they would have burned down all of Crowe’s cabin, not just the pot patch.

He pulled his Beretta 9 mm. out of its holster and placed it on the seat next to him. He had a shotgun in the trunk, but it might as well be in Canada for all the good it would do him. if there were two or less in the car, he might take them. If more, they probably had Uzis or Mac 10 machine guns and he would run. The Mexicans liked to have a crowd in on their hits. Burton made a quick right off the highway and stopped a block up a side street.

Why hadn’t he let Skinner out at the cafe? He hadn’t been able to figure out the electric seat adjustment on the Mercedes, so he was driving with his knees up around the wheel anyway, but now he had an eighty-pound dog in his lap and he had to whip his head from side to side to keep Burton’s Caddy in sight.

The Caddy made an abrupt turn off the highway and it was all Theo could do to get the Mercedes around the corner without screeching the tires. By the time he could see around Skinner’s head again, the Caddy was stopped only fifty yards ahead. Theo ducked quickly onto the passenger seat and tried to call on THE FORCE to steer as they passed the Caddy.