Peter Leonard - Quiver

Luke said, “What’re you doing?”

Kate said, “Giving us a chance. You were right, they’re not going to leave any witnesses.”

She closed the bow case and handed it to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

He said, “I can’t.”

Kate said, “Do you understand what’s going on here? This might be the only way.”

He seemed to consider what she was saying and reached out and took the case and slung it over his shoulder.

Kate glanced up at the window. “You’ve got to get out of here and go to Autry’s, tell Elvin to call the sheriff ’s department.” The Autrys were their closest neighbors-about a mile and a half away.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Luke said.

“You’re not going to have to-I’ll be right behind you. But you’ve got to go first and not worry about me.”

She watched him climb up the shelves to the top. He stood up and swung his leg over the center beam-a log that had to be two feet in diameter-and balanced himself on it, the log between his legs like he was riding it, the strap of the bow case slung over his shoulder across his chest. He shimmied to the other side of the narrow room and climbed up into the rafters and made his way to the window.

Kate said, “Be careful.”

He said, “I’m not leaving till you come up here.”

Jack looked out the window and watched DeJuan and Teddy lift the deputy, put him in the backseat of the patrol car. DeJuan drove off in it and Celeste followed him in the Camaro. He watched Teddy go around behind the lodge, standing on the lawn, smoking a cigarette, staring out at the lake.

This was the opportunity he was waiting for. Jack got up and moved into the kitchen, looking for a carving knife. He remembered being in the yard one day talking to a biker named Lunchbox who lived in C Block. Box had a gut and looked like an extra in Hell’s Angels Forever.

He’d said, “With the right tool, you can open a pair of handcuffs in a matter of seconds. The locking system in every handcuff made in the last hundred years is the same pawl-and-ratchet mechanism. You want to defeat it, you got two ways to go: you can jimmy-jar it or you can pick it. Me, I’d pick it. Get myself a paper clip, bend it in the shape of an L. Then move it in a circular motion to disengage the pawl from the ratchet. Or even easier-get yourself a knife with a slim blade, drive it into the keyhole and move it aggressively in a circular motion till you hear the pawl and ratchet break.”

That’s what Jack did.

He started working on the left cuff with his right hand. Put the tip of the blade in the keyhole, pushing and turning the knife till the pawl and ratchet broke and the cuff popped open.

God bless Lunchbox.

He freed his other hand and unhooked the belly chain.

Before DeJuan left, Jack saw him lock the money in a heavy oak armoire with a skeleton key and put it in his pocket.

Teddy said, “What’re you doing?”

DeJuan said, “Protecting my capital.”

Teddy said, “Huh?”

Celeste said, “Why don’t you let me hang on to the key?”

DeJuan said, “What’s the matter, girlfriend-don’t trust me?”

“Would you?”

DeJuan grinned at her, took the key out his pocket and tossed it to her.

For Jack, it came down to money or freedom, and freedom looked pretty good right now. He’d made his decision. There was nothing he could do for Kate and Luke. He had a slim chance of getting away himself and he’d take it and be grateful. The good Lord showing him the way, giving him another opportunity, as Chaplain Uli might’ve said.

He opened the door to the garage and saw the Corvette in the first space, Kate’s Land Rover parked next to it, and the Lexus next to that. He found the keys to the Land Rover in Kate’s purse in the kitchen, got in the SUV, and started it up. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror. Couldn’t believe this turn of events. Considered it an omen, a sign. He pressed the remote on the sun visor, and the garage door went up. He put it in gear and accelerated, pulling out across the gravel drive.

The deal was: DeJuan and Celeste would get rid of the deputy and his car; Teddy’d stay back, do the mom and kid. He’d never shot anyone before, but knew it had to be done and knew he could do it. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder. And with the money he had, it looked like it was going to be a pretty goddamn good life.

Teddy decided to practice in his mind what he was going to do, kept going over it again and again: picturing himself unlocking the door-not saying a word-and just shooting them, two bullets each, in the chest or head, unless he missed or they were still twitching. He had to have a cigarette first. Stood out back, staring out at that beautiful water. When he finished his butt, he’d go in there, get it done.

Luke turned the handle on the window, pulled and it swung open into the room. He stuck his head out and looked down and saw Camo right below him, smoking a cigarette. He could see a gun in the waist of his Levi’s. Luke ducked his head back in and sat there, trying not to make noise. His mom looked up and he signaled to her with his index finger over his mouth, telling her not to say anything. He motioned that somebody was out there. From an angle inside the rafters, he watched Camo walk about ten feet, take a final drag on his cigarette, and throw it toward the tree line and move toward the back door of the lodge.

Luke said, “He’s gone.”

He waved to his mom and went through the window and stood on the sill and reached up for the roof.

Kate was about to climb up and follow Luke when she noticed the trap. It was in the corner leaning against the wall, a Sleepy Creek number 6 coil-spring bear trap. Owen bought it but never used it, thinking after the fact that it was cheating. You hunt a bear, you don’t trap it. Where’s the sport in that?

She went over and picked it up, surprised how heavy it was. The trap was three feet long and must’ve weighed fifty pounds. She positioned it on the floor near the door, used her feet and the weight of her body to push down on the springs, and the cast-iron jaws opened, exposing jagged metal teeth. She remembered Owen saying a trap was risky ’cause you could forget where you put it and step on it yourself and God help you if you did. The force would break your leg and probably send you into shock. It might even kill you.

Johnny Crow saw it from a ridgetop some distance away. He didn’t have binoculars with him, so it was impossible to judge it precisely. He would have guessed five hundred yards. Maybe even six hundred. It was on the other side of a long stretch of pastureland partially concealed in a wooded area that was on national parkland. It was the afternoon sun, the reflection, glinting off it that caught his attention.

He was still a little tense from the standoff between tribal police and this armed group who’d barricaded themselves in the Tribal Center. The FBI and the Bureau of Indian Affairs even showed up, turning a difference of opinion into a circus.

The protesters claimed the tribal chairman was trying to control the reservation by limiting the number of eligible votes. Johnny said, let them have their say and move on. His idea: bring both sides together, sit across a table and try to reconcile the issues.

He’d come out here to get away from the insanity and clear his head, unwind a little. He could feel the stress and pressure of the day begin to disappear as he walked down the ridge and crossed the pasture, amazed as always by the restorative power of nature. Two cows looked up at him as he passed by and said, “Evening, ladies.”

When he got closer he could see the reflection was a light-colored automobile-white or silver-the sun hitting it like a mirror.