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
“The man did hard time for murder. You thought waving your little gun in his face was going to teach him anything?”
Sweeney said nothing. Touched his fingers to his lips, examined them.
“Anyway, it don’t matter now,” Harwood said, turning away. “Doesn’t even matter that they came for that dog, though I have to say, Bryce, I’m a little disappointed in the security measures around here.”
Bryce didn’t reply, just glowered back at Harwood like he was itching to use that Python. That was a good sign as far as Harwood was concerned; the Whitmer boys were far more effective when they were pissed the hell off.
Harwood was worried, but he wasn’t shitting his pants yet. He hadn’t counted on Mason Burke’s tenacity, hadn’t imagined Jess Winslow had any juice left in her batteries after three tours of duty overseas. Taking the dog had been a tactical error; they should have shot the thing immediately and leaned on Jess instead. But hell, even Harwood hadn’t much liked the idea of kidnapping a decorated marine, let alone trying to squeeze information out of her. He’d hoped the widow would roll over quick. She hadn’t.
According to Bryce Whitmer, Jess and Burke had taken the highway west, and that was about the only positive development of the evening.
“We have them trapped,” Harwood told his deputies. “They can’t stay up west forever, and they can’t get out without coming through here. Dale and I will head up to Neah Bay, see if we can’t flush ’em out. Bryce, you watch this road here, and you let me know right quick if you see that green Chevy.”
Sweeney was on his feet again. “What about me?”
Harwood looked him over. “You, Cole? Whyn’t you head back into town, run the detachment while we’re gone. We’ll need someone on duty in case Mrs. MacAdam’s cat gets stuck in that tree again.”
Sweeney went red again. “Yeah, all right. Sure, Kirby.”
“All right,” Harwood said. He turned back to his pickup. “Mount up, boys. And don’t be afraid to use those firearms of yours if the widow needs a little convincing.”
Twenty-One
Twenty-One
According to the sign on the way into town, Neah Bay and the adjacent Makah reservation had a population of just over two thousand people. Bigger than Deception Cove, it looked slightly more prosperous; there were a couple of motels, two or three gas stations, a longer main drag, and a billboard advertising fishing charters and the tribal museum, with its replica longhouses and dugout canoes. Down at the bay more boats at the docks, a few ragged old trollers and some newer sport boats, a Coast Guard cutter and a big, oceangoing tug.