Page 11 of Three-Inch Teeth

“So have I,” he said.

Johnson swooned and let out a howl and floored it.

“Don’t speed out of here and give ’em a reason to stop us,” he said firmly.

She slowed down and said, “I’m wet and I’m literally shaking.”

“Me too. Hey—did you buy me a couple of those burner phones I asked you to get?”

“There’s three in the glove box,” she said. “You owe me a hundred and fifty bucks.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Saddlestring

THAT NIGHT, JOE Pickett drove down the county road to his home in the dark. He was bone-tired from the events of the day and dull with trauma. He knew he’d never be able to unsee Clay Junior’s face and wounds, or unfeel the jolt he’d experienced when he encountered the fresh grizzly bear track in the mud. His neck ached from looking over his shoulder.

Something primal had infected him—the very real possibility of being mauled and killed by a predator over twice his size and weight. A predator that had taken out a human much younger and fitter than he was.

The cow moose that often blocked the path to his state-owned home on the bank of the Twelve Sleep River didn’t show up tonight, and he was grateful. His headlights splashed against the lodgepole pine trees and aspen as he wound down the lane.

With all that had happened, he’d forgotten that Marybeth had told him that the Romanowskis and Sheridan were coming over for dinner. He wasn’t reminded of it until he saw the white Yarak, Inc. falcon transport van and Sheridan’s midsize GMC Acadia SUV parked in front of their home.

“This is going to be tough,” he said to Daisy.

*

THEY WERE ALL at the dining room table when Joe entered the house through the mudroom. Empty plates sat in front of everyone except for Sheridan, whose lasagna was untouched. Marybeth was at the foot of the table to be closer to the kitchen, and both Liv and Nate sat across from Sheridan. They all turned toward him, and the two house dogs padded over to greet Daisy. Tube, their half-Corgi and half-Lab mix, licked Daisy’s face. Bert’s Dog, the mixed-breed Catahoula creature, stared at Joe with crazy eyes.

“Not a good day,” he said to everyone at the table.

“Did you find the bear?” Nate asked.

Joe removed his hat and shook his head. He sat down in the empty chair at the head of the table and reached out to Sheridan. His oldest daughter had two-year-old Kestrel Romanowski in her lap, and the energetic little toddler seemed content to be cuddled.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he said to Sheridan. In response, she lowered her head and leaned into him. His daughter had red-rimmed eyes and her face was puffy from crying. It broke Joe’s heart. As if on cue, Kestrel wriggled free, slid down between Sheridan’s legs, and ran out of the dining room into the hallway, her arms flapping at her sides.

“I’ll watch her,” Sheridan said, following after her.

“We saved you some dinner,” Marybeth said, getting up and going into the kitchen. She returned with a pan with two large squares of lasagna remaining.

“Thank you,” Joe said. “I think I should be hungry.”

“I thought there weren’t supposed to be any grizzly bears in the Bighorns,” Nate said with a wry smile.

“There weren’t,” Joe responded.

*

NATE WAS JOE and Marybeth’s longtime friend and now Sheridan’s boss. A tall, rangy outlaw falconer with a Special Forces background, he had comfortably glided between both sides of the law throughout his life. He’d married Liv, a striking, smart native of New Orleans, and she now ran Yarak, Inc., a bird abatement business that used falcons to rid facilities of problem pests. Kestrel was their adorable daughter.

“We’ve got the Predator Attack Team coming by helicopter tomorrow,” Joe said. “I’m going to meet them first thing in the morning and take them to the scene.”

“Everybody’s talking about this on Facebook,” Marybeth said.

“It’s big news,” Joe said. “There was even a camera crew from a Casper television station out at the Double D. The Game and Fish director is beside himself and headquarters is panicking. All the higher-ups were calling me this afternoon like I didn’t know this is the fifth grizzly attack this fall.”

“I’m aware of it,” Nate said. “I’ve heard of so many cancellations from out-of-state hunters that it’s not even funny. The outfitters around here are looking at another year where they don’t get paid. First the pandemic, and now this.”

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