Come For The Bones

She'd seen plenty shithole towns. Maybe it's not fair; a gas station and tavern off the highway don't make a town. South of ghost town Nothing. 50 miles from Phoenix.

"I don't know what I can tell you," croaked the skin and bones owner of the gas station, "I've already told local police everything."

Faith Calista kept her sunglasses on. Mostly protecting her eyes from dust.
"I didn't come all the way from Vegas to hear that. Was a few months back. Maybe you'll remember something new. No one's buying gas." She nodded toward the tavern. "Buy you a beer?"