Page 103 of Three-Inch Teeth

This would be a good time, he thought, for the sheriff and his men to show up.

That was when Joe detected movement in his peripheral vision far to his right in the direction of where the pickup had emerged from the trees. The form was big, pear-shaped, and low to the ground. It moved across the grass in an almost liquid flow. He recognized the hump on its shoulders and saw a shimmer of starlight undulate on the grizzly bear’s thick coat.

The bear crossed the road quickly and kept moving until it reentered the woods on the other side without slowing down.

Joe was astonished and confused. Was this the bear Dallas Cates had somehow recruited? It was a preposterous notion, he knew.

Then, like a ghost, another figure emerged from the dark timber where the bear had come out of. It was over six feet tall with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Nate’s .454 Casull revolver was out and gripped in front of him in both hands as he walked silently and deliberately toward the front of the pickup.

*

THROUGH THE SLIDER in the back, Dallas whispered to Bobbi Johnson to kill the engine and get out.

“Make sure the interior lights are off when you get out,” he said. “Knock on the door and say you need to talk to the game warden.”

“Why are their lights off?” she asked over her shoulder. “What if they’re not home?”

“His truck is right over there,” Cates said. “Didn’t you see it on the way in?”

“I guess I did.”

“Bobbi, quit screwing around,” Cates said. “We’re in range and we’re ready.” He tried to keep his voice calm and friendly. This wasn’t the place or the time to have an argument.

“Knock on the door and step to the side just like you did before,” he said. “He’ll have to answer. He’s the damned game warden.”

“You’re sure?” she said. He knew he had her.

“Yes, baby,” Cates said. “Then we can go get your sister.”

Johnson turned and appeared to steel herself to the task. She was convinced, he thought. Her hands were on the steering wheel at ten and two like she was prepared to drive off, although he knew that wasn’t possible with the engine off.

Then she raised her head and stared at something through the front windshield and he saw her mouth drop open.

The bullet punched through the windshield and took off the side of Bobbi Johnson’s head. Blood, brains, and long dirty blond hair stuck to the glass on the inside of the open slider. The concussion of the gunshot rocked the pickup.

*

JOE SAW IT happen before he could call out or stop it.

Nate had approached the front of the pickup and, without any hesitation, raised his weapon and fired into it. The plume of orange from the muzzle of his revolver overwhelmed the lingering red dot in Joe’s vision.

Joe heard a scream from the back of the pickup from under the topper. There are people back there.

He ran from the shed toward his house. Nate didn’t respond when Joe yelled, “Nate, stand down. It’s me.”

Someone hurled themselves out of the open back window of the topper and fell in a heap near the rear bumper. Joe saw the man scramble to his knees and raise his hands over his head.

“I surrender,” the man appealed to Joe. He was gnomish with a broad face and tiny wild eyes that reflected starlight. “I’m Lee Ogburn-Russell and I was forced by Dallas Cates to be here. I surrender, Officer.”

Nate suddenly loomed behind Ogburn-Russell from the other side of the pickup and shot him point-blank in the back of the head. The man’s lifeless body flopped forward into the grass.

Then Nate swung to his left and aimed through the open back window and his revolver barked three times in rapid succession.

Joe reached up and clicked on the headlamp fitted over his hat as he ran to his friend. Nate was now bathed in harsh light and in the midst of dumping his five spent casings at his feet and speed-loading fresh rounds into the cylinder.

When Nate looked up at Joe, he was almost unrecognizable. His face was a blank white mask and his mouth was turned down. His eyes were rimmed with red and his pupils were sharp black pinpricks.

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