"Hey, Tate," asked Blue. "Did you and the Quad ever go to Juarez?"
Tate's eyes went wide and he stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. It was cold enough to freeze water, but Tate didn't seem to mind the bite of the winter wind at all. "Betty Mae don't know about that. I only went the one time. For Roger's eighteenth birthday. His daddy took us."
"You keep any of the tokens?" she asked casually.
Tate's florid face turned as red as a beet. "Yeah. I got one. We all did."
"Where's yours?"
He squinted at her. "Why you asking, Blue? This got something to do with Gary?"
"Aw, c'mon, Tate. Everyone's got one. Even me." Colt gave Tate an aw-shucks smile.
"Yeah. Where's yours?"
"I don't have it on me. But it's real special. A gold token." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Club de Oro."
Tate reared back as if Colt had punched him. "The hell you say."
Colt and Blue looked at each other, both flummoxed by Tate's reaction.
"Tate—"
