Lester
The shots had echoed through the forest from somewhere in front of him, deflecting off rocks and trees, the noise carrying down the side of the mountain. From the sounds of the pops, they appeared to be about a mile away. Lester had counted five shots, and he had a pretty good ear for the sound of different rifles. If he wasn’t mistaken, they were discharged from three separate guns.
Strange.
The last day of hunting season was yesterday, but that didn’t always mean that folks around here weren’t out shooting at something. He usually turned the other cheek when he knew that a local was hunting off-season, especially only a day or two after regular season. That really didn’t fall under his watch anyway. That fell to the game commission. Those fellas could be a bunch of tight-asses who liked nothing better than to give a hunter a hard time. Near as he could tell, most from Wyalusing respected the land and the game in the woods. You ate what you shot. Plain and simple. There were a few knuckleheads and some gun-happy teenage boys shooting at something they weren’t supposed to, but it wasn’t worth getting your panties in a bunch about.
Maybe he had heard wrong and it was only two rifles. Maybe his deputy and Carl had finally caught up with Danny and decided to do what he was afraid of. Sokowski had a history with the girl, which probably would make him act and react with even more emotion than he usually did.
Hell. Shouldn’t have let him go out on his own.
But Sokowski had convinced him and Taggart that two search parties were better than one. He was right. They were, in theory.
Lester moved in the direction of the gunfire. He knew that the source of the shots could have been the Knolls boys, too. He knew that they were probably out here somewhere and that they wouldn’t hesitate in taking Danny down either. As good as those boys were—hardworking, honest, upstanding folks—you put a murdered younger sister in the mix and all bets were off. And maybe they didn’t care for and respect their father all that much, but Johnny was their old man and happened to be dead as a direct result of this whole mess. Blood would always be thicker than water. Especially around here.
He walked at a pretty good clip, and his heart was letting him know that fact. It thudded fast in his chest, and he was having a hard time catching his breath. He knew it was nonsense to even let the thought seep into his head, but he was getting too damn old for this bullshit. He’d be turning seventy in a few years and hoped to see that milestone. He should be enjoying Social Security and his pension from the county, doing some fishing, and tinkering around the house instead of traipsing through the woods on some damned wild-goose chase with his heart banging like a drum. The missus knew better than to ask him to hang it up, but he could tell by the look on her face when he was slipping on his boots in the morning that that was what she was thinking. Bonnie was a good woman and didn’t deserve to have him dropping dead somewhere in the middle of the woods. She coped with the loneliness of not having little ones running around, but he didn’t think she’d fare so well without having him in the mix. He was a pain in her backside at times, but their marriage worked nonetheless.
Lester slowed in his tracks when he heard the baying of dogs coming from the east of him. The low, bassie yelp of two coonhounds was pretty faint but growing a little louder. The boys must have heard the gunshots as well. They would be heading toward the source, but with the added advantage of having the dogs to lead the way.
Get a move on, old man.
He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest and sped up his pace. If Danny wasn’t dead already, he soon would be. Lester knew that to be a fact.
