Ava Crowder's house was still when Raylan drove up, but Boyd appeared on the front porch as soon as Raylan got out of his car.
This was all part of the dance. On any given day Raylan may show up to ask Boyd about his possible involvement in illegal activity. Boyd was involved in so much illegal activity that he had to sort out exactly what Raylan wanted to talk to him about.
Their relationship was complicated. Raylan had arrested him several times and on one occasion he had shot him. Given these factors it would be easy to overlook the likelihood that Boyd was the best friend that he had had, or probably would have, in his whole life.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Raylan?" Boyd asked as he approached.
"I need to talk to you about some bombs that went off in Lexington."
"You setting off bombs, baby?" Ava asked from inside. She was watching them through the screen door.
"Not lately," he told her without turning around. His eyes never left Raylan.
"I've just got a couple of names to run by him, Ava," Raylan assured her. "I don't plan on arresting anyone."
"In that case, why don't we take a walk?" Boyd offered. "I haven't had a chance to stretch my legs yet today."
Raylan tipped his hat to Ava. She smiled back but there was no warmth in her eyes. Their relationship was complicated too. They had been lovers in the first weeks after Raylan returned from Florida and their romance had ended badly.
"If I had to guess I'd say that you are here about the black businesses," Boyd offered when they got out of earshot of the house.
"You'd guess right," Raylan replied. "I don't suppose you know anything about them."
"I know very little on the subject. There is a fair chance that supremacists are involved."
"That may be the least helpful thing that you have ever told me."
Boyd's face changed, his brow scrunched down, "As you know, I do not keep my ear to that particular ground anymore. I have heard rumblings of activity on Rose, but you know how vague rumblings can be."
He'd given as little as he possibly could. Raylan wasn't surprised. "I guess that's about better than nothing."
"Anything is better than nothing, Raylan," Boyd said. He was smiling like a fool.
Before Raylan had a chance to respond Ava called Boyd's name from the front porch.
"I believe that is mine," Boyd turned to wave at her. His grin was impossibly wider.
"Does the name Clifton Stephson mean anything to you?" Raylan pryed.
"I know he burns people while they are still alive," Boyd turned back, all traces of mirth gone from his face.
"Is he here?"
"That, Raylan, is something I honestly do not know. I suspect that he might be, but I hope that he is not. If he thinks that it will eliminate the black-folk he will burn Kentucky to the ground."
Jimmy Joe was protesting, for the fifth time, that he "don't know no Clifton." Rachel sighed. She and Tim had spent far too long listening to that same mantra. Joe couldn't seem to come up with any supporting evidence of his claim- or even just another way to get his point across.
Tim finally laid several FBI surveillance shots out on the table in front of Joe."That's strange that you don't know him, because we have all of these pictures of you together."
Joe's face fell. "Where'd you get these?" he asked.
"Do you know where Stephson is?" Rachel asked.
"Ain't heard from him in six months," Joe informed them. It had taken quite a push for him to change his tune, but she thought that now he just might sing.
"Where was he six months ago?" Tim leaned forward.
"Mexico," Joe replied. He spoke down to his lap, a lie was inherent in his body language.
"And now?" Tim almost snapped. He had very little patience and he was losing it rapidly. "Is he in the 'Harlan' part of Mexico?"
"There's a Harlan in Mexico?" Joe asked looking back up at them, hope in his eyes. "Yeah, he's in Harlan. The Harlan in Mexico! That's where he went."
Rachel couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was so ridiculous that she wanted to believe that Joe was making it up.
Tim gathered the photos and returned them to the file folder. He smiled and said, "Thank you, Jimmy."
"What?" Joe shouted as they left. "I told you he's in Mexico!"
"I don't think I truly understood Raylan's bit about 'two first names' until now," Rachel said as they walked back the car. "That was an impressive display of ignorance."
"There are drawbacks to inbreeding," Tim told her. She knew he was trying to make her smile but his expression never changed.
She rewarded him with a grin. "We can be pretty sure that Stephson is in Harlan, I guess, but where in Harlan?
"Same place we found Jimmy Joe, I imagine," Tim replied, flipping Joe's file open to check his know addresses. "Yes sir, we're headed to Rose."
Rachel sighed. The full name of the street known locally as 'Rose' was 'Rose of the Blessed Mother, Light of the Holy Father.' It had been the home of a Ku Klux Klan church of the same name until it burned to the ground in 1982. The church hadn't been rebuilt. Instead, a single house stood on the property where the church had been- a fitting location for a den of white supremacists. It was going to be a fun afternoon.