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  On entering the beautifully kept house, nothing aside from books and newspapers out of place, Lucas was struck by the number of photos lining the walls and each mantel and table, pictures of children and grandchildren.

  Meredyth noticed, too, asking Bryce how many grandchildren he had. He laughed, his face beaming. “I stopped counting at sixteen!”

  'Then you must have had quite a few children of your own,” she continued with the small talk.

  “Seven, two daughters and five sons, but who's counting?

  Can I get you two coffee, a drink, anything?”

  “We wouldn't want to impose on Mrs. Bryce,” replied Meredyth.

  “Who said anything 'bout Mrs. Bryce? No, no, she's off to her sister's place for a week, and as you see, all my children have grown and have families of their own now. I gave them each a parcel of land here, kinda as a bribe, to keep them all nearby, you see. Now, what about that drink?”

  “I could use a whiskey, scotch if you have it,” confessed Lucas, looking about, seeing several mounted hunting trophies on the wall, an enormous elk, a Rocky Mountain longhorn goat, and even a buffalo, which Lucas's eyes lingered over.

  “Purchased that one,” confessed Bryce, a bit sheepishly. “Against the law to actually kill a buffalo nowadays, you know. Found it at a place that sold all sorts of Indian artifacts and antiques in Carson City, Wyoming. The wife and me, we both thought it would set off the place, give it the kind of rustic look we were looking for.”

  There were hawks and stuffed eagles in the corners as well, their long-dead eyes as piercing and sharp in death as in life.

  “White wine,” Meredyth suggested for herself.

  “Coming right up. Make yourselves at home.”

  “Beautiful surroundings,” Meredyth said, taking a seat, but feeling a bit uneasy under the gaze of so many deadeyes.

  Lucas nodded and pointed at a Remington painting of several trail-weary soldiers circa 1870 on horseback, just returning from what appeared a failed Indian campaign, one of their number slung across a saddle. He then stepped over to admire Bryce's impressive gun case and collection of rifles. “Invested well, wouldn't you say?”

  In a moment, Bryce was back with the drinks, asking them to please use the coasters. “Otherwise, I'll catch hell from Delia about it when she gets back. Woman can spot a water ring from a hundred yards,” he joked, making Lucas flash on the coasters he himself had spotted at Judge Mootry's the night he had gotten past the yellow tape at the old man's mansion. It occurred to Lucas that Bryce may well have traveled in the same circles as Mootry, and most certainly would have known of him and his charitable work.

  “How well did you know Judge Mootry?” Lucas found himself asking as he took the drink from his chief.

  “Well, of course, our paths crossed many times over the years, both of us being in law enforcement, but we seldom saw each other outside of city business. We weren't on any commissions or committees together, and we didn't share common interests, if that's what you're wondering. I was stunned, of course, to learn he had died in so brutal a manner.” He turned to Meredyth, handing her wine to her.

  “All right, so let's get down to this sorry business you've come to discuss with me. Just what have you got on Lawrence, Dr. Sanger? Lucas?”

  Lucas, satisfied with Bryce's response and coolness, nodded to Meredyth, who dug out the papers given them by Randy Oglesby, the ones he'd traced to Phil Lawrence's computer. Lucas explained to Bryce exactly what he was staring at as the older man's eyes traveled over the documents.

  “This... this is alarming,” he said, putting his gin and tonic aside. “My God. I must admit, when you first called, Stonecoat, I thought it just a bit strange, and wondered if you were perhaps lashing out at your captain for slights you may have felt when no promotion had come through for you, but this... if it can be believed...”

  “Believe it, sir.”

  Meredyth backed Lucas. “We do.”

  “Well, Meredyth, given the history of bad blood between you and Phil, again, I didn't count on you two having actually dug up anything of this nature, you see. I really need time to digest all this. Damn, damn that Lawrence. I can't say that I've always admired the man, but I never dreamed of anything so sinister as... as his controlling a hit squad within the department.”

  Lucas and Meredyth explained, as best they could, about the computer murder game being played out, Helsinger's Pit, and about the Vampire List. About how Lucas, Meredyth and Randy had all been threatened, of Covey's sudden prison murder, of how they were ambushed outside Rapid City. When they were done, Bryce sat in stunned silence.

  Finally, he made a lightweight joke again, obviously his way of dealing with tragic news. “And the public is concerned about my not living within the city limits... Few people, Lucas, Meredyth, understand my passion for open spaces and horses. My stable is my temple, and my horses... well, let's say, aside from my children and family, they're my best friends. Thing about a horse, Lucas, as I'm sure you know, is that a horse will never intentionally harm you, not like humans so often do.”

  It was wonderful sentiment, Meredyth thought, and a sad one.

  What's our next step, Commander?” asked Lucas.

  He stared at Lucas, set aside the papers they'd brought and shook his head. “I'll need to make a phone call from my den. Don't keep a phone in any other room in the house, except the one beside my bed. Need to call on Richard Bishop, the D.A. We need to bring him in on this. We need to set the wheels of justice in motion, get a grand jury to act and act fast, for indictments to be handed down.”

  Meredyth smiled and Lucas grinned at her as Bryce, looking ten years older now than when they'd arrived, ambled off toward his study and the phone. Meredyth got to her feet, paced the room, her nervous energy sending sparks about her, Lucas thought. He went to her, placed his one free hand over her shoulder, and she turned, their eyes meeting.

  “You did it,” she said to him.

  “No, we did it together.”

  “You know, I've learned there's much to admire about you, Lucas Stonecoat.” He smiled. “And I you... And, if it's not too bold of me to say, if I can't be your lover, Meredyth Sanger, then at least allow me to be your best friend.”

  She blushed, a tear coming to her eye. “I was hoping you'd say something like that.”

  “How very touching,” came a female voice behind Lucas. He turned to see Dr. Sterling Washburn, a gun raised and pointing at them.

  “Dr. Washburn,” said Lucas.

  At a second entryway stood Pierce Dalton, also with a gun, saying, “You two couldn't leave it alone, could you? Damn you both.”

  Commander Andrew Bryce had long since abandoned the telephone, and now he stood just behind the deadly Dr. Washburn and her gun. Sterling Washburn asked, without taking her eyes off Lucas, “Have they located the other one?”

  “They have,” replied Bryce. 'They're at the gate with him. May as well wait until they're all here, and we'll do them all together.”

  “Bryce, you bastard,” roared Lucas, “it was you all along.”

  “Save your breath, Redskin. You and the doctor brought this entirely on yourselves.”

  “And Phil Lawrence?” asked Meredyth. “You planted evidence against him, just in case? Or is he part of your bloody mob?”

  “Shut up!” shouted Dalton, his hand nervous on the gun.

  “You don't think we came here without a plan, do you, Bryce? We have copies of everything in a safe deposit box,” bluffed Lucas, “with instructions should anything happen to us.”

  “He's bluffing,” shouted Sterling Washburn, her evil grimace telling Lucas she wanted nothing more than to destroy him.

  “You all had a hand in Mootry's murder, didn't you?” asked Meredyth. “Mootry and Palmer and Whitaker before that...”

  “Gather any weapons these two have on them,” ordered Bryce, “and let's be done with this night's work before any of my children should show up.”

  “Bury them
in the usual place, beneath the horse manure pile?” asked Washburn, a sneer on her face as she plucked Lucas's Browning automatic from him and Meredyth's .38 from her. Just as she did so, there was a commotion at the door as Randy Oglesby was pushed through it by the two goons known to Lucas only as Tim Bullock and Stu Price. He'd been wrong about Lawrence, Amelford, and Pardee, but he didn't have time to think about it. With the distraction at the door, Lucas suddenly cast off his sling and threw it into Washburn's face. He then dove out the nearest window, but Price had him in his sights just outside, asking, “You anxious to die, red man?”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Lucas was led back inside where Randy Oglesby and Meredyth stood shivering together, but he didn't come in quietly, shouting rather that they were all too cowardly and too poor at hunting to give him a fighting chance. He was bolstered only by the fact that Price's quick pat down of him hadn't revealed the Bowie knife couched in the small of his back. “Some great white hunters you are!” Lucas repeatedly said. “Just what kind of sport is it to gun down three unarmed people? One of them a woman, another a boy? Where's the sport in that, Bryce?”

  It was a challenge, a tossing down of the gauntlet, and Lucas prayed the white-haired mass murderer would take it as such. But Bryce said nothing; rather, his eyes moved about the room, taking in his cohorts in crime, assessing the timber of each man and woman on his team.

  Lucas kept it up, saying, “Give us a five-minute head start.”

  Meredyth piped in. “At least make it interesting. Give us something to defend ourselves with.”

  Bryce's grim eyes lit up with a new fire. The old man of the bunch, Helsinger 1, looked from one to the other of his remaining converts. Finally, Sterling Washburn said, “Let's do it... It will be a privilege to hunt this Indian down and put an arrow through his red devil's heart.” She looked smugly in Lucas's direction.

  Bullock and Price each agreed with gestures of acceptance, while Pierce Dalton suggested they simply kill the intruders here and now and be done with it.

  “Four to one against you, Pierce,” said Bryce. “I'm not too old for a bit of sport.”

  “We don't need the others, Bryce,” suggested Sterling, her teeth bared. “I want just the two of us to hunt them down, like old times... like we did with the last person who got in our way.”

  And that would be a guy named Gunther, thought Lucas, but all he said was a repeat of his request. “Just give us five minutes lead time, to make it sporting.”

  “Unarmed?” said Meredyth. “How sporting is that?”

  Lucas realized he was in a room full of trophy hunters. “No guns, though,” Lucas suggested. “Only your crossbows, like Dr. Washburn says.”

  Grimly, a smile spread across Bryce's lips. “Be like old times, huh, fellas? All right, Sterling.”

  “Don't be a fool, Andrew,” Dalton said through his teeth.

  “You hunted together as kids, during your college years, didn't you?” asked Lucas. “Do you think you have what it takes to go against the most dangerous animal in the woods, an Indian?”

  It was a challenge the people in the room could not walk away from. Even Bullock and Price, the obviously younger, newer members of the kill squad, now wanted this opportunity to even the score after their failed attempt in Rapid City.

  “Well?” pushed Lucas.

  “We'll do it, five minutes. You'll never get beyond the property line,” replied Bryce, a hearty laugh for his colleagues in crime. 'Turn the three rabbits loose.

  “Wait... wait,” said Randy, his voice quivering. “How did you make it look like Lawrence? How did you snake your communications through his computer?”

  “Sorry, kid, but it would take all night to explain it to you, and we're too anxious for the hunt, aren't we, folks?” asked Bryce of his people.

  They were ushered out into the night by Bullock and Price, Sterling shouting out, “Run, run, run. Five minutes, red man, and we send you back to the filthy, pagan god from which you came, but not before we cut you into little pieces!” Her banshee like laughter trailed after them.

  Inside the house, the old man, leader of the group, began passing out crossbows and arrows.

  Lucas ushered Meredyth and Randy along, Randy stumbling. “Make for the trees along that riverbank!” he told them, pointing.

  “What trees? What river?” Meredyth marveled at his quick ability to adjust his sight from the light of the house to the darkness of night.

  “Straight ahead.”

  “You bought us time, but we're helpless without any way to defend ourselves,” she complained.

  “There are ways, if we can put some distance between us and them. Hurry! Trust me,” he pleaded, and they ran on.

  Now they were the object of a crazed manhunt; they were the sweated, chased prey. “There are weapons all around us,” Lucas informed them. “You just have to know how to see. There, that branch lying over there, Randy! Pick it up and hold on to it. You get within a few feet of one of those goons, you see how he likes wood and bark in his teeth.”

  Randy grabbed on to the heavy limb as if it were a Remington rifle. He tried it out with a few swings. It felt good, comforting in its heavy solidity. Randy clung to it.

  “Collect stones, Meredyth, as many as you can carry.”

  She did so. Lucas knew it was good putting them to work, although it slowed their progress, and the primitive weapons were little to no match for Bryce's high-tech arsenal. And Lucas knew what Bryce had said was true. The size of the ranch made it unlikely that they would get anywhere near its boundaries.

  “You think they'll come on horseback?” asked Randy on hearing the whinny of a horse.

  “It's quite possible, yes.”

  “With those sighted crossbows with laser beams on them, and them on horseback... damn, we don't stand a chance. They'll shoot us down like rabid dogs. What does it matter if it's with guns or arrows? Damn it, goddamn it to hell, they're going to murder us and there's not a bloody blasted thing we can do about it!”

  “Shut up and search for a place to hide!” Lucas angrily shouted.

  They ran on into the night, now hearing the pounding of hooves behind them.

  Randy ranted further. “Damn it, they're right on us, heading straight for us. How do they know?”

  The howling of dogs gave them the answer.

  “Some sporting chance,” muttered Meredyth.

  'Take off your clothes,” cried Lucas.

  “What?”

  “Some of your clothes! Take them off! Both of you!”

  Randy started to protest but thought better of it, stripping away his shirt.

  Meredyth hesitated. “What about you?” she asked Lucas.

  “Strip down, Meredyth! Now, no questions!”

  She joined Randy, stripping down to her bra and panties Randy down to his boxer shorts. Lucas collected the clothes and said, “I'm going to take the killers off your scent. Keep following the river south. Eventually, it should take you out to the road. Try to flag down help and get to a phone.”

  “But what about you, Lucas?” Meredyth didn't like this plan. “They'll follow you and kill you.”

  “Follow me, right... that's the idea. Kill me? Not without some doing. Now go! Randy, take her and go!”

  Lucas raced off northward along the riverbank, carrying their clothes with him. They watched him disappear into the thick brush and trees until Randy was able to pull her away, saying, “We've got to trust he knows what he's doing, and there's no better game in town, and they're coming, Dr. Sanger. Come on. Come away...”

  At the river's edge, Meredyth spotted an uprooted tree that might provide them with some cover. Behind them, the thundering hooves and the howling dogs had come nearer and nearer. Randy agreed to the hiding place, slamming down behind the tree with her.

  The dogs—three in all—slowed at the spot where they'd split from Lucas, circling the spot for a moment, separating momentarily until the leader yelped and hauled himself off in the direction Luca
s had taken. The other two followed, but then one of them circled back and slowly, easily sniffed its way toward the overturned tree.

  Riders on horseback came over the rise and tore down toward the river, hearing the yelping dogs that now pursued Lucas. The riders reined in and turned their horses in the new direction, not seeing the lone dog making its way toward the downed tree behind which Randy and Meredyth had stopped breathing. She realized as if for the first time she was holding fast to two heavy stones, but they were useless against a snarling dog, she told herself. Even as she thought this, she was glad to have something firm and solid to hold fast to, and if the dog should get within range, begin tearing at her and Randy, she could, if called on to do so, bring the stones to bear on the animal's skull. Lucas was wise. The stones in her grasp gave her courage, hope.

  The horses thundered away, momentarily confusing the hound that made its inexorable approach toward Randy, who was closest to the animal.

  “What're we going to do?” Randy whispered.

  “Shhhh. Use your weapon.”

  The dog leaped, its teeth bared, straight for Randy, who stuck the pointed and jagged edge of the tree limb straight up and out. The dog's chest and shoulder area came down on the limb, ripping its skin and sending it sideways, snatching the limb free from Randy's hand. The dog was stunned, slowed, but not incapacitated. It had yelped in pain and now growled as it worked its way up, fell, and stumbled to its feet, trying to get to all fours again.

  Meredyth dropped one of the stones she had held on to and pushed past Randy, crouched over the snarling beast, and brought the stone down on it, striking the bared teeth and snout, sending it reeling back in shock.

  Meredyth dreaded striking a second blow, feeling the animal's pain, but she hadn't a choice. As Randy looked on, she brought the stone down a second time, striking the dog in silence with a blow to the side of the head. Meredyth's hands and the stone came away bloodied.

  Randy felt his stomach give a dry heave, the pain excruciating. He had been bitten by the dog somehow in the moments between hitting it with the stick and Meredyth's attack on the little monster. He now doubled over and this time vomited his evening's meal.