Page 76 of Three-Inch Teeth

“I’m working on that,” Joe said. “All I can tell you is that he didn’t use the main gate to get in or out.”

“I’ll assemble the team and get up there as soon as we can,” she said. “But given the distance between our attacks, that bear could be halfway to Utah by the time we arrive.”

“Which is something I still can’t wrap my head around,” Joe said. “The mileage between the attacks is just incredible. This bear seems to have some kind of supernatural powers.

“I’m pulling into the parking lot of the hospital now,” he said. “I’m going to try and talk with Judge Hewitt before they fly him out of here. I’ll fill you in on everything after I do.”

“I’m completely confused, Joe.”

“We all are,” he said. “But this doesn’t look like our bear.”

“I think you’re trying to make my head explode,” she said.

“You and me both,” Joe said as he disconnected the call.

*

JOE COULD SEE the MedFlight chopper arriving in the clear blue sky from the north, looking like a huge black damselfly, as he pushed through the double doors of the hospital into the lobby. There was an attendant out on the helipad to help guide it in.

“Where can I find Judge Hewitt?” he asked the receptionist behind the counter. As he did so, she held up her hand to caution him against proceeding any further.

She was a dark, severe woman, with readers hanging from her neck on a chain.

“He’s being transported to Billings,” she said.

“I know that. I need to see him before they fly him out of here.”

The receptionist frowned and said, “Judge Hewitt is in no shape to—”

Joe didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead, he turned to the right and shoved the push bar on the door with the heels of his hands and entered the emergency wing of the hospital. He knew that the staff used the ER as a staging area for patients being prepped to depart on the helicopter. The receptionist called to him to come back, but her voice was silenced when the doors closed behind him.

Judge Hewitt lay on his back on a gurney covered by white sheets. Fluids flowed into him through tubes from elevated stands with wheels next to him. A physician’s assistant, a young man whom Joe recognized as being from the same high school class as his daughter April, said, “Hi, Mr. Pickett. I’m not sure you’re supposed to be in here.”

“I’ll be quick. Is the judge conscious?”

“He’s deeply medicated.”

A male attendant who looked to be prepared to wheel Hewitt out to the helipad said nothing.

Joe approached the head of the gurney and sidled up next to it. Hewitt’s face was like a death mask of pure white and his cheeks were hollow. His eyes were half open but unfocused, and a string of saliva hung from his slack lips to the top of his pillow. The side of his neck was heavily bandaged, as well as the top of his right shoulder. A spot of dark blood the size of a quarter had seeped through the binding from the wound on his neck. If it weren’t for his chest slowly heaving under the sheets, Joe would have guessed he was gone.

“Judge, can you hear me?”

Hewitt’s eyes moved across the ceiling but didn’t settle on Joe’s face.

“Judge? I need to know what you saw before you were attacked.”

There was no recognition of the question in Hewitt’s expression. His eyes continued to wander.

“Judge? Help me out here, please.”

The roar of the helicopter outside increased in volume as it settled onto the helipad.

“Mr. Pickett, we’ve got to go,” the PA said.

“Judge,” Joe said sharply. “Look at me.”

“Mr. Pickett …”

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