He still said nothing. I had no real idea who had told him to make me the target of this attack. But I wasn’t the one who’d regret it. The last thing I wanted to do was stab anyone. Well, second to last. The last thing I wanted to do was die. That meant I had to take serious action.

He swung at me once, with his blade landing on the back of my left hand and cutting me. The next backhand swipe missed me. When he stepped forward again, I knew what he was going to do. As he started his strike again, I raised my bloody left hand and blocked him, and at the same time, I drove my knife straight up into his solar plexus. I heard the sickening sound of the blade piercing the flesh and then driving up.

The man froze mid-strike and just stared at me. Then he took a few staggering steps away as he tried to form a word. Then he collapsed onto the path, holding his wound.

I leaned down and could already feel his pulse had stopped. I must have nicked his heart.

A quick search found no identification on the man. Not that I really needed any. I knew why he had attacked me: I was looking for Bailey Mae and whoever killed the Wilkses—and maybe even poor Mabel.

And I didn’t have any real regret for killing this guy unless it kept me from finding Bailey Mae.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I sat on the frozen ground, leaning against a tree, trying to catch my breath. I’d used the snow to clean my knife and pack the cut on my left hand. I can’t say why. I seemed to be operating on instinct now. It didn’t particularly bother me that a few feet away there was a body that I had killed. It had clearly been in self-defense.

A noise to my right made me jump. Then I realized it was Albany Al coming back.

He said, “When this asshole didn’t follow me, I figured you’d cleaned his clock.” The older man inspected the body more closely. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you? Nice job.” Now he looked at me and stepped closer, then ran his index finger across my forehead. “Jeez, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. The bullet must have nicked your scalp good.” He showed me the blood on his finger. “You are one lucky son of a gun.”

All I could do was shrug my shoulders and say, “Yeah, lucky.” I didn’t feel so lucky. The older man shivered, so I gave him the coat back. I struggled to my feet. My vision was a little blurry.

Al said, “What about him?” He pointed at the body a few feet away.

“I’ll worry about explaining him later.”

Al held up both hands and said, “I didn’t see a thing.”