Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
“Yeah, well.” Colson reached down, scratched Lucy’s head, and the dog, damn her, had the gall to wag her tail and look happy about it. “You’re almost out of here yourself, man. You gotta be smarter than this.”
He had a point. But what stuck with Mason as Alvarado and Trammel slunk away wasn’t so much how close he’d come to ruining his life again, or how funny it was that Bridges Colson had been the stabilizing influence, but rather the look in Lucy’s eyes when Alvarado had stepped to him, the menace in her growl as soon as Mason was threatened.
She has your back, buddy, he thought as he fed Lucy a Milk-Bone and threw a tennis ball for fetch. That dog cares about you, and that isn’t some small thing.
Ten
Ten
The twelve gauge was a piss-poor companion.
Jess had set the shotgun down on the table in the living room after Mason Burke left, and sat down on the couch next to it and stared at it most of the night.
She didn’t sleep. If she slept, she’d dream of Afia, and if she dreamed of Afia one more time, she might well blow her head off with that shotgun the moment she woke from the nightmare. So Jess didn’t sleep. She didn’t blow her head off either.
She’d bought the shotgun from Chase Ogilvy with that eventuality in mind; she could admit that, now that she wasn’t going to do it. Sure, she would use the weapon to defend herself in the interim, but once she’d scared Kirby Harwood and his buddies away, once she’d found herself left alone in Ty’s house again?
That shotgun was meant for one purpose, and that purpose was to rid her head of the nightmares, of Afia and the valley, forever. Jess figured she could live with the side effects.
But she didn’t blow her head off, alone as she was with her thoughts. And the reason she didn’t do it was that every time she looked across the living room at that shotgun on that table, her eyes would skim past the gun and scan the room a split second, and she’d catch a glimpse of Lucy’s worn leather lead hanging on a hook by the door.
She hadn’t been able to throw the lead out, not yet. Same for Lucy’s water bowl in the kitchen, and the bag of pepperoni treats stashed in the fridge. The dog was as good as dead, but to trash her stuff would make it final, and Jess wasn’t ready to take that step yet.