Spencerville

Keith took the crossbow, slung the quiver, and walked back to the door, while Neil Johnson set up a bull's-eye target against a bale of straw and stepped away. Keith cocked the bow against his chest, fitted the arrow, aimed through the telescopic sight, and pulled the trigger. The arrow hit low, and he adjusted the sight and fired again. On the third shot, he put the arrow through the inner circle. "Okay. How accurate is this at, say, forty yards?"

Neil replied, "About twice as accurate as a longbow, which is to say you ought to be able to put all your arrows inside a nine-inch circle at forty yards."

Keith nodded. "How about eighty yards?"

"Eighty yards? You ain't gonna even see a rat at eighty yards... well, maybe with that scope it's gonna look like twenty yards, but you're gettin' that four-foot drop at forty yards, and maybe a ten-foot drop at eighty yards. These things is made for forty-yard target shooting. You can send an arrow maybe seven hundred yards with that thing, but you ain't hittin' nothin', 'cept maybe Farmer Brown's cow, by accident."

"Yeah... can I hit, let's say, a wild dog, stationary, at eighty yards, no wind, with this scope?"

Neil rubbed his chin. "Well... you're gonna get a straight, true flight regardin' left and right, but you got to figure your drop. What's the point of this?"

"Dogs bothering my sheep back in Ohio. When I fire a rifle at one, the others scatter. I figure with a crossbow, I won't spook them."

"Why don't you just poison the damned things?"

"That's not real Christian."

Neil laughed and said, "Have it your way." He took a pencil and scratched some numbers on the wooden counter. "Let's see... crossbow, twenty-four arrows including the one I shot... you want that back?"

"No."

"Okay, quiver, carrying case, and scope... let's say six hundred dollars, and that includes the tax."

"Sounds fair." Keith counted out the money, which was almost all the cash he had, and he recalled Charlie Adair's thousand dollars, then thought about Adair and wondered when and how he'd see him again.

As Billy packed everything in the canvas carrying case, Keith inquired, "Do you get many folks from Ohio up this way?"

Neil counted the money and replied, "Get a lot in the summer, then during the hunting season. After that, you don't see many. Where you headed?"

"Presque Isle."

"Yeah? Ain't easy getting through them hills at night unless you know the way."

"We'll take it slow. I see you sell dog chow."

"Yup. Do a lot of my out-of-town business in ammo, dog chow, some fish bait, and like that. People's got their own rifles and all." Neil went on, then remembered the subject and asked, "You need some dog chow?"

"No, but a friend of mine comes up here with two, three dogs, and they eat like wolves. I think this is where he comes for his chow."

"Yeah, you run 'em, you got to feed 'em. Fact, a guy from Ohio was in here a few days back and bought enough chow to last a few months."

"That could have been my friend. He's up here."

"Coulda been."

The conversation seemed to be stalled, so Keith, against his better judgment, prompted, "I was thinking about maybe buying a place up here, but I'd like to talk to some Ohio guys who already got a place."

"Yeah, you can do that. Fact, that guy who near cleaned me out of dog chow, he's up at Grey Lake. Take a ride up there and look for his signpost. Name's Baxter. That your friend?"

"No."

Billy's eyes opened wide, Keith noticed, but Billy's mouth stayed shut.

Keith said to Neil, "Yeah, maybe I'll look him up on my way back, but I don't want to just pop in if he's got the missus with him."

"Didn't see no lady in his car."

Keith didn't reply.

Neil added, "But I didn't see no dogs neither, so he must've gone up to his place, then come back here." He said, "You can call ahead. He's in the book. Tell him I sent you. We do business now and then."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll call on the way back. Meantime, I got to make a call home. Mind if I use your phone?"

"No, go right ahead. Over there by the cash register."

Keith walked over to the cash register, found the phone, and dialed. Billy was making conversation with Neil, talking guns and hunting.

Terry answered, "Hello?"

"Terry, it's me."

"Keith! Where are you?"

"I'm here. Listen, your phone is tapped."

"My phone?"

"Yes, but not by the Spencerville P.D. By the federal government."

"What? Why?.."

"It doesn't matter. Call your lawyer in the morning and get the tap taken off. More important, I know he's up here, so we have to assume she's here, too." He added, to make her feel better, "I'm sure she's alive."

"Oh, thank God... what are you going to do?"

"I've spoken to the local police, and they're very cooperative. I just want to remind you and Larry again not to do anything that might jeopardize the situation. Don't say anything to your parents over the phone, either. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Terry, trust me."

"I do."

"I'll have her back tomorrow."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes."

"And him? Will they arrest him?"

"I can't say. I suppose, if she swears out a complaint, they will."