In the Chevy, Megan turned to Nimec.

"Uh-oh," she said. "Looks like trouble."

He nodded and reached for his door handle.

"Sit tight," he said.

"Pete, you sure it's wise to--"

"No," he said. "I'm not."

And then shouldered open the door, exited the car, and walked toward the pickup over the narrow country road.

That was when Sheriff's Deputy Phipps seemed to take notice of him--belatedly and for the first time. He cast a quick glance at Nimec, then past him at the parked Chevy, keeping the pistol trained on Ricci ... who had also partially turned in Nimec's direction.

"You blind, mister?" Phipps said. One eye on him, the other on Ricci. "Or did you just happen to miss what's going on here?"

Nimec shrugged.

"Tourist," he said. "We've been waiting awhile."

The deputy said nothing. He looked at the Chevy again, this time suspiciously checking out its front tag.

"It's a rental," Nimec said. Stalling, trying to cook up some kind of plan that would extricate Ricci, not to mention himself, from the situation.

Whatever the hell the situation was.

"Wife and I are headed for Stonington," he said. "Figured I'd ask when we might be able to pass."

Phipps stared at him, vexed and confused.

"You see," Nimec said, "we've got reservations at an inn that they'll only hold for another half hour. And being that we just drove all the way up from Portland on Route 1--"

"Which is what you're gonna have to swing back around onto," Phipps interrupted. "Right this minute."

Nimec shook his head.

"Sorry," he said. "Can't do that."

Phipps looked incredulous. "What did you say?"

"Can't do that," Nimec repeated, knowing he'd really stepped into it now. "There aren't any other inns open. Being that this is the off-season."

Phipps flushed. Though he was still pointing his gun at Ricci, his attention had turned fully to Nimec.

"Another fuckin' flatlander, why the fuck we let them people into the fuckin' state of Maine?" Cobb screamed from inside the truck, his voice only slightly muffled. "You better arrest the whole queer bunch of them, Phipps, 'cause my back's gonna snap like a twig I stay stooped over like this!"

Phipps eyed Nimec with a kind of hostile exasperation, unconsciously wagging his head, looking uncertain about what to do next.

An instant later Ricci made the decision for him. Taking advantage of Phipps's distraction, he suddenly stepped away from the door of the pickup, caught hold of his outstretched gun hand at the wrist, and bent it sharply backward, simultaneously turning sideways and snatching the pistol with his free hand.

Phipps released a cry of pain and surprise as the pistol was torn from his grasp. He was still gaping in disbelief when Ricci's leg snapped forward and up in a powerful front kick, the ball of his foot striking him in the broad, chunky stretch of his stomach. The air whoofing out of him, he stumbled backward and landed hard on his bottom, his legs wishboned in front of him.