Page 69 of Three-Inch Teeth

*

JUDGE HEWITT POWER walked down the golf cart path. It was a straight shot down the fairway to the distant green, and it was light enough now that he could see the limp red flag at the pin.

When his phone vibrated, Hewitt cursed and drew it out while he walked. It was Jimmy Newman, the campaign manager for Governor Rulon. He had to take it.

“Damn it, what?” he said.

“I wanted to go over some scheduling with you—”

“I’ll call you back,” Hewitt said, cutting him off. “I’m on my walk.”

Then he disconnected the call and strode on.

*

CATES HEARD A snatch of the phone conversation and was surprised how close Hewitt was. The man could really move.

LOR heard it, too, and thumbed on his laser pen and pointed it out the back. In the distance, Cates could see a pinprick of red on the trees on the other side of the fairway. He hoped Hewitt wouldn’t notice it, that bastard.

With his other hand, Ogburn-Russell raised the range finder to his eye and aimed it toward the cart path, where he guessed the beam and his distance-reading device would intersect at exactly fifteen feet.

*

“FEARLESS” FRANK CARROLL, the newest deputy in the Twelve Sleep County Sheriff’s Department, eased his just-assigned SUV from the county road toward the main gate of the Eagle Mountain Club. He was excited.

Although just twenty-four years old, Carroll had been a dedicated and passionate trout fisherman since he was eight and growing up near the Encampment River in southern Wyoming. He embraced the rudimentary training he’d received thus far in Saddlestring, finding it less rigorous than he’d received at the Wyoming Law Enforcement Academy in Douglas. What was more challenging, though, was learning about the geography, the locals, and the county itself. He had already met more colorful characters than he thought could actually be concentrated in a single area, and he’d heard stories from other deputies that were wild and hard to believe. After his second week on the job, he had started to wonder if he was in over his head, and that he’d never be up to speed on all the local miscreants and the extended lineage of so many notorious ranch families.

What had snapped him out of his doubts, though, was when he was given the key code to the front gate of the Eagle Mountain Club and when he’d been asked to patrol the hallowed grounds at least once a shift. He’d learned the layout of the place and that was when he saw big fish rising in Lake Joseph. The private, members-only lake was stocked with rainbow, brown, and tiger trout that averaged twenty inches or more. In his life, Carroll had only caught a few fish that big.

And now that the club was closed and virtually empty, he knew he had his chance. Yes, he was well aware that he didn’t have permission to fish there. But fish belonged to whoever caught them, right? Sneaking onto the grounds before anyone was awake and still being present at the county building an hour later for the morning briefing with no one the wiser? What could be better?

His fly rod was assembled and rested on the top of the headrests of the SUV from front to back. His vest and waders were in the backseat.

It was a good plan and he was excited. He took his job seriously, but there had to be perks, right?

There was a reason they called him Fearless Frank, he thought.

*

THE BURNER ON Cates’s lap vibrated, and he glanced down and flipped the screen toward him.

A Sheriff’s Dept. truck just came through the gate! Headed your way.

Cates took a deep breath. He didn’t have time to answer Johnson. He could hear footfalls outside.

*

JUDGE HEWITT SENSED something different in the thick copse of trees and brush to his right as he approached it. It seemed darker than usual, as if there was a large object inside.

He slowed his pace and reached across his body for the grip of his .44 as a red beam of light hit him squarely in the eyes and blinded him, stopping him cold.

*

THE LASER BEAM appeared on the bridge of Hewitt’s nose directly in front of Cates. The judge clamped his eyes shut while he drew his weapon. Cates said, “Asshole,” and jammed the joystick button down. The jaws of Zeus II exploded out the back of the truck but glanced off that underhanging branch, which slightly altered its trajectory. The pickup shuddered from the release and Cates hadn’t seen the exact point of contact because he was distracted by the explosion of falling bark and pine needles from the damaged branch.

“He’s down!” LOR cried. He had a better angle. All Cates could see was that the scissor jib was bent down toward the path due to the weight of the target in its teeth. “He’s fucking down,” LOR shouted. “Grab the bat and finish him off.”

“We don’t have time,” Cates said. Then to Soledad, “Get us the hell out of here—now.”

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