calling Detective Slater on my cell. “I found what I think may have been one of the victim’s shoes.”
“Where? Under your car seat?” Slater asked.
“It’s where you should have found it if you’d searched the crime scene the right way.” I fired back, regretting my comment the instant I said it. “Look, Detective Slater, she wasn’t wearing shoes when I found her. This shoe is another two hundred yards north of the river, near Highway 44. Maybe she lost it running from the perp. Maybe she’d been in his car. Or she could have been some poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time hitching a ride. The shoe’s here. I’m leaving it and any other evidence right where I found it. Come get it.”
I could almost hear his mind crunching through the phone. “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t touch anything. And don’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t think of it, Detective. Did you get an ID on the girl?”
“No, but we have the autopsy report.”
“You took a DNA sample from me. I know there was no match. But I don’t know exact cause of death or who she was. I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“Stay put until I get there.”
“I’ll make this easy. I’ll tie a white handkerchief on a tree limb next to Highway 44. You pull off the road and walk about seventy-five feet straight north from the tree and you’ll find the shoe. But you won’t find me. Do your own police work, Detective.”
I hung up. Max had vanished. “Max!”
Silence.
There was the noise of something moving in the brush. “Max, where are you?” Nothing. Then there was a sound you never forget—the sound of a rattlesnake.
“Max!”
I stepped around a large pine tree and stopped. The snake was as thick as my arm. Body coiled, ready to strike. The eyes trained on Max like heat-seeking weapons. They were dark, polished stones. The snake’s tongue tested the air in flickers of black.
“Max! Stop!” I blurted. She paid no attention to my command. Here was an animal she’d never seen, and it was shaking a new toy. Playtime with death.
The next few seconds switched to a film gate of macabre slow motion. Max’s nostrils quivered. She froze, mesmerized by the unblinking dark pearls. The snake coiled tighter. Head poised to strike.
“Max move!” My scream sounded distant. The strike was a blur.
The snake was dying before it could bury its fangs into Max’s face. An arrow had gone right through the rattlesnake’s head, impaling it in the ground. Its body wrapped around the shaft in a death grip, the rattle growing quiet, softly caressing the yellow quill feathers as constricting muscles and nerves died. The black pearls seemed to stare somewhere beyond Max.
I turned around as Joe Billie stepped from between two tall pine trees.
FOURTEEN
“Where’d you come from?” I asked.
Joe Billie looked at Max, who seemed as bewildered as I was, and said, “Ever think about getting a Lab? Don’t think you’d see a lab playing with a rattlesnake.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Passing by. Thought you could use the help.”
He held the long bow to his side, and a hunting knife was strapped to his belt. There were no other arrows. No quiver.
“Where are the rest of your arrows?”
“Usually carry one. You aim better when there’s no second chance.”
I glanced at the dead snake. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Had good teachers.”
He approached the snake, placed a boot on its head and slowly pulled out the shaft and arrowhead.
“Why’d you leave that arrow at my house?”
“You said you had a bow, thought you might appreciate it one day.”
“I do appreciate your gift, but I was surprised to find it on my porch.”
Billie said nothing.
“I’d hate to use something that ancient in my bow. Seems it
“Where? Under your car seat?” Slater asked.
“It’s where you should have found it if you’d searched the crime scene the right way.” I fired back, regretting my comment the instant I said it. “Look, Detective Slater, she wasn’t wearing shoes when I found her. This shoe is another two hundred yards north of the river, near Highway 44. Maybe she lost it running from the perp. Maybe she’d been in his car. Or she could have been some poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time hitching a ride. The shoe’s here. I’m leaving it and any other evidence right where I found it. Come get it.”
I could almost hear his mind crunching through the phone. “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t touch anything. And don’t leave.”
“I wouldn’t think of it, Detective. Did you get an ID on the girl?”
“No, but we have the autopsy report.”
“You took a DNA sample from me. I know there was no match. But I don’t know exact cause of death or who she was. I was hoping you could tell me that.”
“Stay put until I get there.”
“I’ll make this easy. I’ll tie a white handkerchief on a tree limb next to Highway 44. You pull off the road and walk about seventy-five feet straight north from the tree and you’ll find the shoe. But you won’t find me. Do your own police work, Detective.”
I hung up. Max had vanished. “Max!”
Silence.
There was the noise of something moving in the brush. “Max, where are you?” Nothing. Then there was a sound you never forget—the sound of a rattlesnake.
“Max!”
I stepped around a large pine tree and stopped. The snake was as thick as my arm. Body coiled, ready to strike. The eyes trained on Max like heat-seeking weapons. They were dark, polished stones. The snake’s tongue tested the air in flickers of black.
“Max! Stop!” I blurted. She paid no attention to my command. Here was an animal she’d never seen, and it was shaking a new toy. Playtime with death.
The next few seconds switched to a film gate of macabre slow motion. Max’s nostrils quivered. She froze, mesmerized by the unblinking dark pearls. The snake coiled tighter. Head poised to strike.
“Max move!” My scream sounded distant. The strike was a blur.
The snake was dying before it could bury its fangs into Max’s face. An arrow had gone right through the rattlesnake’s head, impaling it in the ground. Its body wrapped around the shaft in a death grip, the rattle growing quiet, softly caressing the yellow quill feathers as constricting muscles and nerves died. The black pearls seemed to stare somewhere beyond Max.
I turned around as Joe Billie stepped from between two tall pine trees.
FOURTEEN
“Where’d you come from?” I asked.
Joe Billie looked at Max, who seemed as bewildered as I was, and said, “Ever think about getting a Lab? Don’t think you’d see a lab playing with a rattlesnake.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Passing by. Thought you could use the help.”
He held the long bow to his side, and a hunting knife was strapped to his belt. There were no other arrows. No quiver.
“Where are the rest of your arrows?”
“Usually carry one. You aim better when there’s no second chance.”
I glanced at the dead snake. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Had good teachers.”
He approached the snake, placed a boot on its head and slowly pulled out the shaft and arrowhead.
“Why’d you leave that arrow at my house?”
“You said you had a bow, thought you might appreciate it one day.”
“I do appreciate your gift, but I was surprised to find it on my porch.”
Billie said nothing.
“I’d hate to use something that ancient in my bow. Seems it
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