There was a Walmart not far from their motel, and that's where Kathryn directed him. She took a brief call in the car, but all Tim heard her say was "Yes, ma'am" before she hung up. "We'll need to make another stop," she added to him, "But it can wait until after." He watched from the corner of his eye as she took out the money clip she'd been using and counted out several bills, separating them into two stacks before putting them back in her pocket.
"I meant to ask, did you lift that from one of Solkov's men?"
Kathryn smirked, "I figured they owed me a couple bucks for my time, at least."
Tim remembered how much he hated Walmart and other big stores like it the moment they walked in, though it was certainly a convenient place to pick up a new shirt, as well as whatever else they might need. He had to admit, however, he thought Kathryn looked charming wearing the Grizzlies shirt he'd given her. She'd tucked it into her jeans in an attempt to make it look more like an intentional fashion choice than an article of desperation, but that only served to give it the appearance of a deflated balloon draped around her. The way it swallowed her up made her look younger and smaller than she was-at least, he assumed it made her look younger, and if he hadn't watched her half-torture a man earlier in the day, he would have thought she was a naive and innocent college student.
"Can you handle grabbing some food?" she asked, looking at him. "I'll get some clothes and meet you near the checkout."
"Yes ma'am," he said, and she took off in the opposite direction. He wouldn't have let her out of his sight except that he had the car keys in his pocket, so he knew she couldn't leave him behind easily.
As Tim perused the frozen food section, he realized he had no idea what Kathryn would want to eat. So he grabbed a half dozen frozen dinners, and some frozen breakfast burritos to cover his bases. As he was making his way toward the checkout, he noticed a gallon of the same iced tea she'd purchased the day before at the gas station, so he grabbed that as well.
He had assumed Kathryn would take a while finding clothes, so he was surprised to see her already waiting for him when he arrived with his basket of groceries. He looked at what she had in her arms; a package of men's black undershirts, a package of Hanes briefs, disinfectant spray, and a small stack of CDs. He raised an eyebrow as she grabbed a map from the end of the checkout lane to add to her armload, but she wasn't looking at him.
"Interesting outfit you got there," he said.
"I'd prefer something a little more fashionable, but I'm on a tight budget."
"I meant the CDs," he said. "You DJing somewhere?"
Kathryn shrugged, "I'm going to be up late working and I think better with music. When Ibsen ditched my car, he also ditched any I'd brought with me." When it was their turn, Tim tossed the food onto the conveyor belt and grabbed his wallet. Kathryn put her hand on his arm to stop him. "No thanks, Deputy. I've got this," and she paid with the cash still in the money clip, though it looked to him like it took nearly everything left in it.
The old woman behind the register handed him their receipt. "A true gentleman would never let his lady pay," she said and Tim furrowed his brow, wondering how to best defend himself when he heard Kathryn laughing heartily as she grabbed their bags and he smiled instead.
It turned out that Kathryn had two additional stops to make, one at the liquor store and one at a pharmacy with a FedEx Office inside. She emerged from the liquor store with a 16-year-old Scotch and from the pharmacy with an envelope filled with a thick stack of paper. He assumed the latter had to do with her plans to stay up late, and he wondered whether he would be included.
As they unloaded the car, Tim's head swiveled back and forth, scanning the darkening parking lot for threats out of habit and paranoia. After the day's events, he realized part of him was waiting to be taken in for questioning by local PD regarding the suspicious circumstances surrounding Ralph Ibsen's basement predicament. But even his highly trained eye could find nothing amiss.
Tim took the bags out of Kathryn's hands as she struggled to open the door with her key. "Thanks," she said without looking at him.
"You know," he said as the door closed behind him, "I could have spotted you the money you needed for better clothes."
Kathryn turned to face him. "While I appreciate the thought, Deputy, I don't really like being indebted to others."
Tim dropped the bags in his hands . "Neither do I," he said. Kathryn turned and looked up at him, but he wasn't sure she understood his meaning, so he pulled her toward him and kissed her again. He felt her smile against his lips.
"Deputy Gutterson, you don't-"
"Oh, I do, ma'am. It's a matter of... professional pride. You understand."
He kissed her again and when she reached down to undo his belt, he took her hands in his and pulled them down at her sides. "No," he said, "not yet." He guided her back toward his bed and laid her down, kissing her neck and tugging the ridiculously oversized shirt out of the waistband of her jeans. After he'd removed it, he took time to explore her body more thoroughly than he'd been able to previously, working his way from her neck to her chest, and then laying light kisses along the bruises she'd sustained. He could hear her breathing more heavily, which he took as an encouraging sign, so he kissed her stomach, and then her hips. He looked up and saw with some amount of satisfaction that she was biting her lower lip, eyes closed. He also noticed another tattoo peaking out from beneath her bra, tucked under her breasts, and he made a mental note to get a better look at it once he'd completed his current mission.
When she realized where he was going, she lifted her head from the pillow, "You want to?" she asked.
Tim looked up at her as he began unbuttoning her jeans. "If you'll let me," he said with a smirk, and Kathryn laid her head back down, satisfied to let him continue his journey unhindered.
#
She was wearing his shirt again, and nothing else.
Tim watched appreciatively as she bent to pick up her newly appropriated bottle of Scotch. "Can I interest you in a drink, Marshal?" she asked. Tim smiled, then wiggled the cup he'd already half-filled with most of what remained of his bourbon.
"Thank you ma'am, but I'm all set for now."
After Tim had made up for his previously lackluster performance, Kathryn had switched quickly to efficiency mode. She'd used the disinfectant she bought on nearly every surface of the room before they'd warmed up their TV dinners and put the frozen food they'd bought into the mini fridge. Afterward, Kathryn had showered and put on the Grizzlies shirt again. Tim was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, shirtless and wearing a pair of comfortable shorts he used for sleeping. He watched Kathryn setup the motel's DVD player with one of the CDs she'd purchased and he admired the black abstract tattoo that wrapped around her right thigh. It reminded him of the wording he'd seen on her torso.
"What's your tattoo say?" he asked.
"What are you talking about?" She looked down at her thighs. "They don't say anything."
"Not those; the one under..." he gestured to the space between his pecs and his ribs. "Is it Latin or something? I couldn't read it."
"Ahh, Deputy, you're playing a dangerous game here. You keep asking me about my tattoos and I'm liable to start asking about yours."
Tim looked down at the markings on his right forearm and chest, but as she walked back to her bed, she flicked a particularly obvious scar on his left shoulder to indicate she hadn't been referring to his ink. He wondered how personal her tattoos must be for her to liken them to a battle scar. Despite a number of sarcastic responses that bubbled up in his throat, he decided to keep quiet for now. He liked relaxed Kathryn, and he wasn't interested in riling her up just yet.
Kathryn was spreading out the papers she'd picked up from the pharmacy and the map she'd purchased. Tim was curious what she was doing, but decided he would finish his drink before asking about it. After the day they'd shared together, a little buzz was exactly what he needed. And anyway, he decided he liked watching her work. The concentration that spread across her face and the way she held her pointer finger against her cheek as she reviewed the materials in front of her was endearing. Her short hair spilled over her face and he knew it was a dangerous sign that he wanted to reach across the space between their beds in order to tuck it behind her ear.
Instead, he took a long sip of his drink, focused on the sound of Kathryn's music. It wasn't what he expected. Rather than classic rock, she had selected something that sounded supremely angry and overwhelmingly melancholy in turn. He couldn't decide whether he liked it or not, though he was leaning toward the latter.
When he finished his drink, Tim stood up and looked over the papers spread out before Kathryn. "What've you got here?" he asked.
"I've got a map of Daniel Boone and a whole bunch of truck manifests." She looked up at him. "I'm trying to figure out where I can find that shipment when it comes through in two days. Most of these are vehicles we know have been associated with this particular organization before, others are those that have been flagged as suspicious. I'm looking for any info that indicates one of them could be heading here."
"What's in the shipment? Drugs, weapons?"
"Worse," she said, and then quickly, "You wanna help?" He knew it was a distraction, so he wouldn't follow up on her previous comment, but this was a puzzle. And puzzles he was good at. The kind of work that Raylan was constantly passing off on him at the office, while he always made a fuss about it, was the kind of thing he actually enjoyed doing. Reviewing disparate information and putting the pieces together correctly was satisfying in a way few other things were.
Tim grabbed the map from her bed and settled back onto his own with it, studying the topography and the trails thoughtfully as he emptied the remainder of the bourbon from the bottle into his cup. "You sure they'll be in a semi?" he asked.
"Reasonably sure. If that info ends up being wrong, there isn't much either one of us will be able to do and this will all-all 8 years of it-be for naught."
"And you really think if I'd let them kill you, that would have been better?"
Kathryn put down the papers in her hands and looked over at him. "You enlisted when you were 17 years old. Went through Ranger school and sniper training before completing multiple tours, and you really want me to believe you don't know what it feels like to be willing to die for a cause you believe in?"
Tim snorted, took a sip of his drink. "That's not a cause I'm willing to die for anymore," he said.
"I figured as much," she whispered and when he looked at her questioningly, she clarified, "Those crossed scimitars on your chest evoke more disillusionment than acquiescence."
"Throwing all your vocab words at me, now, are you? And anyway, being in a war zone is not the same as dying needlessly in a field in Kentucky," he said, still waiting for her to actually answer his question. "Besides, I left you Ibsen, didn't I?"
"Don't play dumb, you only missed because I shot him first. If you'd left Popesco and Melnik-or at least one of them-alive, I'd be blissfully unaware in whatever afterlife awaits while my superiors tracked them directly to this shipment. Instead, I'm trying to pinpoint a meeting location somewhere over 1100 square miles of forest with a deranged Marshal who keeps asking me about my tattoos."
"You have to admit, though, I'm a lot of fun to hang around. And I am a hell of a shot," he said.
"Listen, Deputy, I already gave you your raspberry star. That is the best, and only, award I have to grant you."
"Recent events indicate that is factually inaccurate." Tim was pleased to see a smile bloom across her face in response.
"Besides," he said, "I don't think we're looking at all 1100 miles," when he saw that this information piqued her interest, he continued, "If they're coming in a truck that big, there's maybe a dozen or so places they could manage that. I don't think we'll be up as late as you thought, unless you have other activities in mind for after."
Kathryn gave a short laugh, then tossed him a pen. "Mark anywhere you think is a good candidate," she said, and she turned back to her manifests, sorting through them methodically.
The music was angry again and Tim figured he'd try his luck, "Can we please put something else on?" he asked.
"Nope," she said without looking up, and he knew there was no use arguing with her.