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But my thoughts on the subject are cheap in design and substance. It’s easy to be facile about law enforcement. The truth is the good guys are understaffed, overworked, underfunded, and out-gu
Law enforcement agencies don’t prevent crimes. With good luck, they solve a few of them. In the meantime, if violent and dangerous people intend to do you injury, your own thoughts become your worst enemies. The morning might start with sunshine and birdsong, but by noon it’s usually filled with gargoyles.
I walked around the house aimlessly, trying to chase down each of my thoughts and hold it in a bright place in the center of my mind, face it down fair and square. But it was to no avail. Thunder ripped across the sky and rain pounded on the roof and swept in sheets across the hillside. Through the kitchen window I thought I saw L. Q. Navarro standing among the fir trees, wearing his pin-striped suit and ash-colored Stetson, his face lit briefly by a flicker of lightning.
Take this guy Mabus off at the neck. Smoke him and put a throw-down on the body and buy your wife a trip to Hawaii, he said.
I wish I could, L.Q.
Don’t think about it, just do it. Everybody dies. You want this guy to kill your wife or unborn child or Lucas? Take care of your own and screw the rest of it.
That easy, huh?
There’s nothing wrong with this guy Mabus a two-hundred-and-thirty-grain brass-jacketed hollow-point wouldn’t cure.
But I did not listen to L.Q.’s words. Instead, I found Karsten Mabus’s business card, the one he had given me with his home telephone number written on the back. I hesitated only a moment, then punched the number into the phone, thereby begi
“Hello?” he said.
“It’s Billy Bob Holland, Mr. Mabus.”
“How you doin’?”
“I don’t want my wife or boy or unborn child hurt.”
“I don’t, either. But why are you telling me this?”
“Call your guys off. I don’t have the goods from the Global Research boost.”
“Mr. Holland, I couldn’t care less about that stuff. Look, can you and your wife come out to di
“Joh
My own words sounded strange and apart from me, separate from my life and the person I thought I was.
“Can you please tell me who in the Sam Hill Wyatt Dixon is?” Mabus asked.
“Leave Wyatt alone and he’ll probably blow out his own doors. But whatever you do, just stay away from us,” I said.
“At this point, gladly, sir. I guess I have a great personal flaw, Mr. Holland. I’m obviously a terrible judge of character,” he said, and hung up.
Chapter 22
IT WAS STILL raining when Joh
“You’ll be back in your room before lunchtime. If you want, I can get you an extra dessert from the cafeteria,” Tim said.
Joh
“Did you hear me?” Tim said.
“Sorry, I got a toothache,” Joh
“If I don’t cut down on my sugar, that’s what I’m go
“We need to take some pictures now. There’s a waiting room to your left, just past the double doors,” the X-ray technician said.
“Take good care of my man here,” Tim said. He walked down the corridor and through the double doors, nodding to the painters as he passed.
“You have any pain in your left arm?” the technician said.
“None,” Joh
“Did you feel a break in it?”
“No.”
“I guess the government just likes to be careful. How’s the wound progressing?” the technician said.
“Fine. You guys did a good job.” Joh
“Well, let’s get you done here,” the technician said.
“I hate to tell you this, but I got to use the toilet real bad,” Joh
“I wish you’d told the marshal that.”
“Just wheel me over to the restroom. I’m not going anywhere,” Joh
The technician took Joh
When Joh
The last man in line was an Indian who was struggling with a rolled tarp that sagged heavily across his shoulder. Joh
But what Joh
And more important than all these things, he saw his wife, Amber American Horse, wearing the white buckskin dress of the Indian woman who had guided him through the Bob Marshall Wilderness, the purple glass beads that were shaped like teardrops on the fringe of her dress tinkling in the wind, her hand beckoning, as though both she and Joh