Page 57 of Three-Inch Teeth

Joe dug a pair of thin black nitrile disposable gloves out of a box of them and pulled them on. “Lead the way,” he said.

*

WHILE LIV WAS in the family room reading children’s stories to Kestrel, Nate and Joe sat at the kitchen table. Nate had poured them each a quarter tumbler of Wyoming Whiskey on ice and placed the bottle on the surface next to a yellow legal pad.

“As I mentioned, I have some thoughts on the matter at hand,” Nate said as he sat down. He flipped open the first blank page of the pad to reveal scrawled columns of dates, locations, and numbers that at first glance made no sense to Joe.

“Peregrine falcons are the apex predator of the skies,” Nate said without preamble. “Some falconers might argue that it should be a goshawk or a golden eagle, but they’re just wrong. Peregrines are the fastest and most efficient killers in existence. When they’re in a state of yarak, when they are at their peak in conditioning and frame of mind, I’d say they’re the most ruthless species on earth.

“By the same token,” he added, “grizzly bears are the apex predator on the ground in our part of the planet. No other creature can go toe-to-toe with them. Instead of the state of yarak, grizzlies can experience hyperphagia, where they’re more active and gluttonous leading up to hibernation. For a grizzly in hyperphagia, his entire focus is on feeding and much of his natural wariness gets pushed aside.

“Those two conditions might not be exactly the same, but it helps me get a better understanding of our grizzly if I think of them as similar. Two species, kings of their own domains, at the absolute top of their abilities.”

Joe nodded, wondering where this was going. Wondering what was on the pad that Nate was covering with his forearm.

“I once saw a peregrine in full yarak take on an entire lek of sage grouse,” Nate said. “Maybe eighteen to twenty birds. If you’ve never seen them do it, sage grouse protect themselves from falcons by flipping over on their backs and windmilling their big feet into the air. It’s like a buzz saw. Their talons are razor-sharp and they can slice the hell out of much larger predators who try to eat them. I’ve seen them send foxes and coyotes packing with their tails between their legs and their muzzles cut to ribbons.

“But in this instance, as I watched, that lone peregrine took out a dozen of those sage grouse, one by one. The falcon went at them so hard and fast you could barely see what was happening. The scene was a bloody mess, and when it was all over, the peregrine sat on one of the dead sage grouse and ate it all, feathers and bones included. He left the others for posterity.”

“Does this story have a point?” Joe asked.

“It does,” Nate said. “If that peregrine just wanted to eat, it would have stopped attacking after it killed the first grouse. But it didn’t just want to eat. It wanted to kill and to punish that group of sage grouse.

“I know you know this, Joe,” he said, “but people think animals in nature only kill what they can eat, or in self-defense. But in some instances, like this peregrine, they kill for no good reason. Something in them compels them to do it. You said Clay Junior didn’t provoke the bear in any way that you know, right?”

“Right,” Joe said.

“And as far as we know, neither did the prison guard in Rawlins. I read about that and it sounds like an ambush. And I can’t see Dulcie making a mistake that would provoke a grizzly bear. She’s too smart for that and she grew up in the country.”

“Okay …”

“I think our grizzly is operating under a similar condition to that peregrine I saw. Our bear is compelled to kill.”

Joe sighed. “Nate, I get it. But I don’t think this is news, and it really doesn’t help us get any closer to getting that bear.”

Nate glared at Joe. It was the glare he reserved for times when he thought that Joe was being obtuse and not getting it.

But instead of speaking, Nate quickly added a few more lines to the bottom of the pad. When he was through, he turned it around so Joe could finally read it.

Nate tapped his index finger on the first entry. “October 14, Clay Junior gets it in the middle of the Twelve Sleep River, right?”

“Yes.”

He tapped the next line. “October 16, Brodbeck gets hit in roughly the same place. The attack isn’t more than a hundred yards from where the first one occurred. You guys chase it and shoot at it, but you can’t find it. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“So between October 14 and 16, that grizzly bear hung around here.”

“It did.”

“Then on October 23, seven days later, a CO from the prison gets hit outside of Rawlins.”

“Yes.”

“That’s two hundred and fifty miles away from here, Joe. That means our bear bolted out of here and covered an average of thirty-six miles a day on a line. Our grizzly passed through ranches, towns, and across highways and rivers. He probably boogied right past hunters in the field, ranchers moving cattle, and schoolkids playing outside for recess. All to go straight to Rawlins and take out this poor guy.”

Nate jabbed at the last entry. “Then, on October 25, two days after the last attack, he goes after Dulcie on her ranch, right?”

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