Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
As he made his way back inside, he immediately checked his hunting trap cameras.
Sure enough, a man dressed in camouflage showed up on his land. He had no idea where the guy had emerged from initially, but there he was on his estate, face covered, dark hat on his head and gun in hand. The intruder first went to the front, trying to gain entry. When that didn’t work, he went around back and was met with a hefty, full-blooded furry surprise.
Diesel had given chase without a moment’s hesitation. The guy must’ve been a lousy marksman because he’d shot at the big bad wolf but missed him by miles. Perhaps in his panic, the man had fallen behind those trees, and that had given Diesel time to sink his teeth into him and rip his arm or leg to shreds. The bastard hollered and screamed bloody mercy, trying to shoot a gun that apparently had jammed.
Jack stared at Diesel in wonder.
He’d never put him outside for messing with the trash before, but he’d threatened to do so several times in the past. He’d had it up to here with his destructive garbage-fancying ways.
“Did someone tell you to get put outside tonight, boy? Maybe you didn’t mess with the trash at all. Maybe someone else threw that trash around tonight. You did seem awfully surprised when I yelled at you. Usually, you just look guilty and lower your head. Tonight, you looked at me like you didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.”
A chill went up his spine.
In retrospect, the whole thing was mighty off. That was a stupid punishment on my part because you actually like to sit on the back porch. He turned back to the cameras, but couldn’t figure out anything else. The man was no longer in sight.
He picked up his phone and calmly dialed Walt.
“Hello, Jack. It’s three in the morning. Please assure me you haven’t done anything you regret?”
“Some fucker came over to my house, tryna break in. My wolf took a chunk out of him. I have no regrets, but I’m certain he does.”
“Wait, what? You have a wolf?! Why in the hell would you have—”
“Pieces of his clothes, flesh, and blood are in the woods behind my house. Your men are more than welcome to take a look, but Diesel has his scent now, and that’s good enough for me. Everyone knows a wolf’s nose is better than a hound dog’s any day of the week. I have all that I need. No DNA testing required. I’m going after him first thing when the sun rises. Enjoy your day.”
“Jack, no! We are on it! I am sending a team over right now to—”
“That’s fine. Send ’em, Walt. Send over whoever you want. Help yourselves to the beers in my garage, too, but I won’t be here. Nobody will be able to convince me that it’s not the same person who killed my boy, and now, he’s run off into hiding like the coward he is. Funny how this happened after that girl told me her story. There are no such things as coincidences.”
“Jack! Jack, you have to—”
Jack hung up the phone. Just before sunrise, he loaded Diesel and a couple rifles into the truck, preparing for his day. He figured he may as well drive around for a bit and brainstorm. He wanted to get his mind right. It was time to go big game huntin’…
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kim’s phone rang and rang, bringing her out of a dreamy fog. She fumbled about in the dark, almost knocking her cellphone to the floor. Clutching it, she answered without even looking at who it was, and closed her eyes once again, still groggy.
“Hello?”
“Kim, I hate to bother you at this late hour, but I need you to call Jack, and have him call me right away.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Is this Walt?”
“Yes.”
“What’s going on? Is Jack not answering your calls?”
Walt gave her the full run down.
In a flash, she was wide awake and on her feet. She called Jack. It went to voicemail. She called again. Same thing. Rinse and repeat. After the fourth call, he answered.
“Jack! Where are you?”
She could hear the music of ‘Dark Red,’ by Steve Lacey.
“I’m driving.” He began to sing the song lyrics, then whistled the tune.
“Why are you up this late? Or this early? Whatever! Where are you driving to? Before you answer, Walt called and told me everything!” Her voice shook like a rattlesnake’s tail as she haphazardly put on her underwear, barely able to tell which way was up as she pulled jeans from her drawer, and a shirt from the closet. She had no idea why she was getting dressed, for she didn’t even know where she was going from here.
“If you know everything, then why ask, Daffodil?” There was an uneasy edge to his voice, a certain lack of emotion that chilled her. Death wrapped around the syllables. Care and concern snuffed out like a candle.