The cane was resting between his legs

In the parking lot, an Audi stopped abruptly next to the Subaru, and two men--Aaron Rey and Fred Pryor--crawled out. Quick introductions were made. Aaron and Fred looked closely at Boyette, sizing him up, asking themselves if the guy was real. Robbie would want to know as soon as they got back in the car and called him. Aaron said, "We're about fifteen minutes from the office, and we'll have to detour around downtown. There's a lot going on. Just stick close, okay?" "Let's go," Keith said, anxious to finish this interminable drive. They drove away, the Subaru tailgating the Audi. Boyette seemed calm, even detached. The cane was resting between his legs. He thumped its handle with his fingers, in much the same way he'd been doing for the past ten hours. When they passed the sign indicating the municipal boundaries of Slone, Boyette said, "I never thought I'd see this place again." "Recognize it?" The tic, the pause. "Not really. I've seen a lot of these places, Pastor, small hick towns everywhere. After a while, they tend to blur together." "Anything special about Slone?" "Nicole. I killed her." "And she was the only one you killed?" "I didn't say that, Pastor." "So there are others?" "Didn't say that either. Let's talk about something else." "And what would you like to talk about, Travis?" "How'd you meet your wife?" "I've told you before, Travis, leave her out of it. You're much too concerned with my wife." "She's so cute." On the conference table, Robbie pushed a button for the speakerphone and said, "Talk to me, Fred." "We met them; they're behind us now, and they appear to be a genuine minister and one seriously weird sidekick." "Describe Boyette."