Page 19 of Three-Inch Teeth

“Seems like it would stand up to a cannon blast.”

“We hope it will stand up to a grizzly bear bite,” Cress said. “A griz bite is something like eleven hundred pounds per square inch. Compare that to a human with a hundred and sixty-two PSI.”

Joe’s eyes got wide and he recalled the large puncture holes he’d seen on Clay Junior’s face and head.

“We’ve never had a bite on us,” Cress said, “and I hope like hell we never find out if these vests work or not.”

Cress went on to explain that the team would maneuver like a patrol squad in a war zone: tactical gear on, rifles out and ready, lapel mics and earpieces on to communicate.

He said, “I’ll take point and Bill will bring up the rear. Tom and Joe will take the flanks and we’ll move in unison in a diamond formation. Jennie will be our jewel in the center of the diamond.”

At that, Gordon moaned and rolled her eyes.

“We’ve got to protect our expert at all costs,” Cress said. “I’m only partly kidding.”

Joe agreed.

“What kind of rifle are you carrying?”

Joe showed him his bolt-action .338 Winchester Magnum.

“That’s fine for big game,” Cress said as he placed it aside. “But you’ll want more firepower. More rounds, anyway.”

Cress then handed Joe a spare .308 rifle. Like the others Joe had seen with the team, it had a bipod attached to the front stock and a red-dot scope.

“Go ahead and chamber a round,” Cress said. “You might not have the time when you need to.”

Joe did as instructed and caught a glimpse of a bright silver cartridge in the receiver as he armed the weapon.

“If you see movement in the brush, call it out immediately. You can’t believe how fast these bears can charge if they want to. It’s like a freight train coming right at you, and the more people we have shooting, the better.

“Sometimes, they’ll do a bluff charge,” he said. “They’ll come at you like a freight train and then pull up short. Don’t wait to find out if it’s a bluff in these circumstances. Jennie has given the okay to remove this target, and that’s what we’re here to do.”

Cress raised his left hand and patted his underarm with his right. “Aim for just behind the front shoulder if you can. Hit it in the heart or lungs. A headshot can work with these rifles, but sometimes the round can’t penetrate that thick skull. And don’t stop pulling the trigger until the target is down and not moving at all.”

Joe winced. Then he thought of Clay Junior.

*

“TELL ME,” JOE asked Gordon and Cress as they made their way through the open gate for the river and the exhumed cache, “how unusual is it for an attack to happen on the water?”

“It’s rare, but it’s not unheard of,” Cress said. “You can find a video on YouTube of a bear charging a boat on a river in Alaska. And we’ve had reports of grizzlies swimming after drift boats and rafts. In one instance, the fisherman in the boat grabbed an oar and started whacking the bear when it got too close. That happened just last summer.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” Joe said.

“We’ve learned to never say never when it comes to grizzly bears,” Gordon added.

“What is the likelihood that it’s still around?” Joe asked.

“Pretty good,” Cress answered. “Most of the bears we’ve hunted stick close to their kill. They’re very territorial that way.”

*

THEY FOUND THE exhumed cache as well as the bear track that Joe had described. The cache was dismantled when the coroner removed Clay Junior’s body, but the track was undisturbed. Gordon knelt down and measured it with a cell phone app.

“Not as large as a full-grown male,” she said. “So our killer is either a large yearling male or more likely a sow.”

“Can you guess how big it is?” Brodbeck asked her.

---