Hunter's Moon, Chuck Logan [i am reading a book TXT] 📗

the hot end of the trigger pull and Harry’s .45 was pointed at the ground. No way to even it. Jerry was going to shoot him. Shoot him the way he did everything; properly, by the book, three warnings followed by three rounds, center spine. Never find Bud this way. Reluctantly, Harry dropped the gun.

The blunt barrel of the Glock jammed in Harry’s right ear—hard.

“Okay, now lower yourself real slow. Down on your knees. Now lean forward. Put your head against the trailer. Arms behind your back. Lock the elbows. Lace your fingers. Now grab your hands together.”

Harry did as he was told. Awkwardly balanced forward, he heard the jingle of the cuffs coming off Jerry’s belt.

HUNTER’S MOON / 355

“Okay, fucker, I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. You have the right—” Jerry stopped in midsentence.

“Yo, Jer!” A hard young voice. Tilting his head to the side, Harry saw a fluffy snowball splatter playfully on Jerry Hakala’s chest. Mitch Hakala, in his varsity jacket, stepped from behind the end of the trailer.

“Mitch? What the fuck?” Jerry blurted.

Mitch bent, scooped up snow, and packed another snowball.

“Get back,” ordered Jerry. “This is a fuckin’ crime scene.”

“No shit,” said Mitch, advancing, casually slinging the snowball.

Jerry ducked to the side.

“What’re you, nuts?” Jerry shouted.

“Pretty close,” Mitch said with a tight grin. He packed another snowball.

Confusion gobbled Jerry’s face. His eyes turned toward his car.

The radio. The Glock wavered uncertainly away from Harry, toward Mitch, who was now only an arm’s length away.

“What’re you gonna do, Jer? Shoot me for throwing a snowball?

Shit, man. I’m your cousin.”

“You’re interfering in an arrest. Now get back!”

Becky’s voice. “Whatever you guys are gonna do, you better make it quick!” she yelled.

Then the radio in the Blazer squawked: “Jerry, this is Billy. Where the hell are you, over.”

“He hasn’t called it in,” said Harry.

“Yeah,” said Mitch.

“Nobody fuckin’ move,” shouted Jerry. He was losing control of the situation. Mitch tossed the snowball up in front of Jerry’s face.

The instant Jerry’s eyes flinched, Mitch struck the gun out of line and swept Jerry’s legs from under him. Swift martial arts choreo-graphy locked the gun hand. Jerry dropped the weapon. Harry watched, amazed.

“Goddamnit,” Jerry yelled, going facedown. “Don’t fuck around!

You can go to jail, you dumb…”

Mitch wheezed, tightening his grip. “’Member you laugh 356 / CHUCK LOGAN

ing at me about Mr. Talme’s judo class the last three years, cuz…”

Becky raced out of the darkness. She seized the Glock and held it to Jerry’s head just as he was lifting Mitch bodily off the ground.

She didn’t have her finger on the trigger, but Jerry didn’t know that.

“Get his handcuffs,” yelled Mitch. Jerry pounded at the ground with his left hand, trying to get leverage. Mitch and the pistol held him pinned. Harry lurched on his knees, grabbed the cuffs from Becky, and slapped one bracelet on Jerry’s left hand.

“You’ll be sorry,” shouted Jerry.

Harry put his knee in Jerry’s back and wrenched the cuffed hand over toward the hand Mitch had in a wrist lock. Jerry was cuffed.

Mitch let him go. The infuriated deputy rolled over and sat up.

“Fuckin’ felony you’re looking at, Mitch!” he roared.

“Way I see it, Jer, there’s the law, there’s family, and there’s Becky.

Becky comes first.”

Harry glanced at Mitch. “This is some deep shit you’re getting into,” he cautioned.

“You got no idea,” said Mitch. His stony eyes did not waver. “Now help me get him to his car.”

With Jerry’s keys, Mitch opened the hatchback, shoved Jerry inside, and bound his feet with a rubber bungee. “You’re all headed right down the tubes,” Jerry yelled. Mitch slammed the rear hatch. Becky and Mitch embraced.

“You sure you’re not mad at me?” she said.

“Shush. Call when it’s safe. You know where,” Mitch instructed.

She nodded. Mitch turned to Harry. “Me and Jerry’s gonna take a ride in the woods. Way back. I suspect we’ll get stuck for big ass.

Might not find our way out till tomorrow. You get her as far as you can and lay low. You have money?”

Harry felt the wad of hundreds in his pocket, the shape of his wallet. Visa card. He nodded. Looked toward the trailer. Dropped his eyes to Becky. “Bud is a fucker,” he said.

Becky bit her lip to stop the tears.

HUNTER’S MOON / 357

“Chris didn’t attack Bud,” said Harry. He swallowed. Couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.

Becky helped him. Bitterly. “You all had it backwards. He was defending himself when you…”

Hell wasn’t even other people. It fit neatly inside his own skin.

Harry took a deep breath of sulfur. He put his hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Did you see what happened here?”

Mitch shook his head. “We got here after. Then Jerry pulled in, I hid my truck behind the trailer…Look, there’s no time. If she don’t get far away, Maston will kill her. When Jer gets over being pissed, he’ll listen to me.” Mitch climbed into the Blazer, ripped the radio handset away from the dash, and tossed it out the window. “Run for it,” he said.

They watched Mitch drive away. Becky began to tremble. “He’s smarter than everybody.”

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. “Listen. We have to function, you understand?”

She shuddered against him, “He’s got everything figured out. He plans things years in advance.”

“Nobody has everything figured out.”

“Take me somewhere it’s safe. It’s gotta be real safe or I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“Find it,” said Becky. “Find it fast. It’s everything I can do to keep from screaming and if I start, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Randall.

They couldn’t travel the way they were. They had to clean up.

Harry had to physically carry her over the threshold into the bathroom and stand by the door until she took a shower. He handed her a wind suit and low soft leather boots Jesse had laid out for the trip. When she finished, he ducked under the water, soaped, sham-pooed.

Becky waited outside, insisting he keep the trailer door open so she could see