Nelson DeMille - Spencerville

"She won't do that. She just wants to be rid of him."

"Well, first things first. The police here want to wait until morning, and that's all right. I'll call you tomorrow with good news."

"All right... can I reach you tonight?"

"I'll get a motel and call you only if I have new information."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I will. And now a message to the people recording this conversation: 'Hello, Charlie — I got here without your help, but thanks again. Billy helped me, and if I'm inconvenienced later, you take care of him. Okay? Meantime, one more dragon. See you around.' " Keith said, "Terry, sit tight. Regards to Larry."

"Okay."

Keith hung up. He, Billy, and Neil went back to the pickup truck, and Keith said, "See you next week on the way back."

"Good luck."

Keith and Billy got in the truck and pulled out onto the road. Billy said, "Hey, you hear that? Baxter's at Grey Lake."

"Indeed he is." Keith felt much better.

"We got him!" He looked at Keith. "You knew he was there, didn't you?"

Keith didn't reply.

Billy thought awhile, then asked, "You think he knows you're lookin' for him?"

"I'm sure he knows I'm looking for him."

"Yeah... but you think he knows you knew where to find him?"

"That is the question."

Billy examined the crossbow. He raised it and sighted out the front window through the small telescopic sight. "Aims like a rifle. But I don't know about that drop."

Billy examined the tip of the arrow, a razor-sharp, open-bladed broadhead made of high-quality steel. "Jesus, this tip is over an inch across. That'll put a big slice in the meat." He asked Keith, "You sure we got to kill the dogs?"

"You tell me when we get there."

"Okay... hey, maybe we can get Baxter with this thing."

"Maybe." Whether he killed the man with his M-16 at a hundred yards or a crossbow at forty yards, the man was just as dead as if Keith had severed his femoral artery with his knife. There was a difference, however, in the after-action report, so to speak. He mulled this over awhile, taking into account the fact that Annie was going to be right there when it happened. Keith also considered not killing Baxter at all. Much of what was going to happen before dawn was not in his power to control, but he felt he should at least think about life after death — that is, his life after the other guy's death. He always did this, though rarely did it work out the way he wanted it to. Mostly you just tried to avoid shooting a guy in the back or the balls. Beyond those minor concessions to chivalry, anything was permitted. Yet Baxter was a special case, and Keith really wanted to be close enough to smell the man, to make eye contact, to say, "Hi, Cliff, remember me?"

Billy asked, "You tuned out?"

"I guess. Did I miss a turn?"

"No, but you turn here. Take the left fork."

"Okay." Keith veered off to the left, and they headed north from Atlanta into a vast tract of unspoiled wilderness, hills, lakes, streams, and marsh. Billy commented, "I remember that the roads on the map don't always match the roads on the ground."

"Okay." Keith turned on the overhead light and glanced at the map. The region they were entering was mostly state land, about two or three hundred square miles of forest, most of it accessible only by logging roads, game trails, and canoe. Keith couldn't see a single village or settlement. He shut off the light and handed Billy the map. "You navigate."

Billy took a flashlight out of the glove compartment and studied the map.

Keith said, "Baxter's lodge is on the north side of Grey Lake."

Billy glanced at him but didn't ask how he knew that. Billy said, "Okay... I see a road goin' around the east side of the lake, but it don't turn around to the far north side."

"We'll find it."

"Yeah, people got these wood signs like that one over there, pointin' up these dirt roads with their names on it — see that? 'John and Joan's Hideaway.' " Billy asked, "You know what his place is called?"

"No... yes, I think it's 'Big Chief Cliff's Lodge.' " Keith added, "But I have a feeling he took down his welcome sign."

"Yeah... we might have to ask around."

"I don't see another human being around to ask, Billy."

"There's usually somebody. They'll know."

"Right, and they might call on ahead to Baxter."

"Yeah, maybe. Hey, you think about all these things, don't you? Maybe I should start thinkin' ahead once in a while."

"Can't hurt. Start now."

They continued on through the pitch-dark night, through the narrow, winding road, bordered by towering pines. Keith asked, "You ever hunt through here?"

"Now and then. You got deer, bobcat, and even bear. You get the odd timberwolf, too. But you got to know the area or you could get fucked-up in here. I mean, this ain't the end of the world, but I think you can see it from here."

After a few minutes, Billy said, "You take this here small road to the left, and it wraps around almost to the north end of Grey Lake. After that, we got to wing it."

"Okay." Keith turned onto the road, which was barely wide enough for the truck, and the pine boughs brushed both sides of the cab. Off to the left, through the pines, Keith caught a glimpse of the lake itself. A bright, nearly full moon had risen, and the lake indeed looked gray, like polished pewter. It was maybe a mile across, totally surrounded by pine with a few bare birch at the water's edge. He saw no lights from boats or from houses in the pines.

Truly, he thought, this was a spectacular piece of the world, but it was very far removed from Michigan's other recreational areas, and Keith wondered what Annie thought of her husband buying a place in this wilderness. It occurred to him that, for people used to the endless horizons and big blue sky of farm country, this place must feel claustrophobic and nearly spooky, and it was probably hell in the winter. Baxter, however, would feel at home here, Keith realized, a timberwolf in his element.

Keith spotted a cabin through the trees that looked uninhabited, and he suspected that most of these places were probably weekend homes, and, for all he knew, there wasn't a single human being around the lake other than he and Billy, and Cliff and Annie Baxter, which was fine with him, he thought. Before dawn, the population of Grey Lake would be zero.

The road curved around the lake, and, again, Keith caught a glimpse of it to his left, then the road turned north again, away from the lake, and Keith pulled over.

Billy said, "There's got to be a road wide enough for a truck to get through someplace back there."

"Right." Unable to make a U-turn, Keith backed up, looking for an opening in the pine trees and brush. There were utility poles along the narrow road, and Keith tried to spot an electric line or telephone wire that ran from a pole toward the lake.

Finally, Keith nudged the pickup off the road onto a narrow drainage shoulder, leaving room for another vehicle to pass. He got out of the truck, and Billy followed. It was cold, Keith noticed, and he could see his breath. It was also quiet, a typical autumn evening in the northern woods, with no sounds of insects, birds, or animals, and it was dark and would stay that way until the first snows brightened the land and the trees.

Keith and Billy walked along the road for a hundred yards, searching for an opening in the pine trees that was wide enough for a vehicle to pass through. Billy said softly, "Maybe we should just take a compass heading through the woods and get down to the lake and look around."

"That might be the thing to do. Let's get our gear."

They walked back toward the truck, and Keith kept looking up at the utility poles. He stopped, tapped Billy on the shoulder, and pointed.

Billy stared up at the dark sky. A squirrel was making its way along an electric wire that was nearly invisible among the dark shadows of the pine trees. The wire ran toward the lake. Under the wire was another one, probably the telephone line, Keith thought.