First Frost (Walt Longmire, #20)

by Craig Johnson

the power of words—designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable.” “George Orwell.”

“You know, there was this woman who used to cross the US-Mexico border every day on a motorcycle.” I blipped the throttle. “The border patrol guys knew she was smuggling something but couldn’t figure out what; dogs couldn’t sniff anything, metal detectors were useless, and even taking the motorcycles apart didn’t help. After a few years the head guard was getting ready to retire, saw the old lady one last time, and told her he had to know what she was smuggling, promising not to do anything to her. The old lady asked him if he was serious, and he said yes—what are you smuggling?” I blipped the throttle one last time. “Motorcycles, she said.”