“Like I said,” came Tommy’s voice, “just somebody hunting out of season. Jane Harper had nothing better to do this morning than call and say she saw somebody with a rifle up here. Tell P.J. to keep an eye out and to call if she sees anything.”

Patton leaned a few inches to her left so she could see Art peering through her kitchen window. “I don’t think she’s home,” he said.

“Well, we’ll stop in and chat with Jasper,” said Tommy’s voice.

Art turned away from the house and for an instant Patton thought he had seen her. And then his cap flew across the yard and the side of his head blew off and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

It wasn’t the first time Patton had seen a man die, but she had never seen someone murdered in cold blood on a peaceful sunny morning, and the sight knocked her backward and took her breath away. She struggled to stay standing, fully expecting to feel the weight of a flashback crashing onto her. But instead, she felt Nemo pulling on her arm, pulling her back to the present. Tommy shouted in a panicked voice but Patton’s brain did not even register his words. Nemo pulled her farther from the chaos, and at last she turned to him and they plunged deeper into the woods.

Ten minutes later, at the bottom of a steep ravine, they stopped, neither speaking until their heavy breathing had slowed.

“Jesus,” said Patton. “They killed Art Handy. Sweet, gentle, half-literate Art Handy. Why the hell would they kill him?”

“These guys mean business,” said Nemo.

“Yeah, but what business?” said Patton.

“So, they call you P.J., do they?”

“What the fuck!” said Patton. “A guy just got killed in front of us and your reaction is they call me P.J.?”

“You know,” said Nemo, “you didn’t seem too surprised to come under fire back there. And that wasn’t the first time you’ve seen somebody shot.”

“Nobody who wants to kill me would take out somebody in uniform,” said Patton.

“Nobody that you know of,” said Nemo.

“God, poor Renée.”

“Who’s Renée?”

“Art’s wife . . . his widow. Jesus, if they would do that to Art, you don’t think that . . . Jasper.”

“Yeah, speaking of Jasper, if you want to stay ahead of those guys we still need to find out if Jasper had any other property besides his house.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” said Patton.

“Listen, I appreciate that you just saw a friend get killed and that you don’t trust me or know anything about me. But hopefully that shit show just now proved to you that I’m not the bad guy here. Now, take a breath and tell me if there is any way to find out if Jasper Fleming—”