the damn wound got infected bad enough to kill him.
“You mean like he helped us?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Of course he needs help. He’s a boy.” I start out the door. “You coming?”
We race up the ridge and I get to him well ahead of Amy. He collapses in my arms. I stiffen at the sight of his bloody leg.
“He’s been shot,” I murmur to Amy as she comes up behind me.
She doesn’t hesitate taking charge, easing him out of my grasp, and cradling him in her own arms. “He’s burning up with fever,” she says calmly, looking up at me as she strokes his hair. Her eyes take on his pain. His body relaxes.
When we get him into the hut, we lay him on the pine-needle mattress in the corner, and Amy starts barking orders. “Quick, I need bandage stuff. And boil some water.”
I’m already under her spell, the one she casts over everybody when her healing powers take over. “Clean rags,” I mutter as I scan the room.
“Hurry,” Amy scolds, rushing to the wash basin to scrub her hands.
I wander over to a corner of the hut and dig through a box. I pull out several towels swiped from the man’s cabin at the lake. “Here.” I toss them at Amy.
Amy scowls. “Boiling water?”
“Right. I’m on it. It’ll take a few minutes.” I stoke the fire in the little cast iron stove, grab the water pail, and head down to a spring I discovered not far from the hut. A horrible thought burrows into my brain like a worm. I saved her, now she’s going to steal my only friend.
Amy
I rip open RJ’s pant leg and start picking out buckshot with my fingernails. When Mercedes comes back with the water, I keep my head down and ask her for a knife. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her set the water pail on top of the stove. She opens the stove door and sticks a knife inside, into the flames. When she’s done sterilizing it, she brings it to me.
I stay focused on RJ's wound. “Thanks. How’s that water?”
“It’ll take a few more minutes to boil.”
I poke deeper into his leg with the knife. RJ flinches. A towel soaks up blood oozing from his wound. Mercedes watches.
After I’ve fished out what I hope is the last of the pellets, Mercedes kneels next to me with a jar of honey. She says, “Ever used it on anything this bad?”
“Yeah, Bryce.”
“Of course, Bryce.”
Deputy Sheriff Baker
Outside the interview room where Carl Samuels is waiting, I study the ME report on the victim from last night’s fire. After that, I check the list of weapons we collected at Chandler’s place early this morning. A handgun and shotgun are registered to Carl Samuels. A shotgun recovered from the fire looks to have enough damage that ballistics won’t be conclusive.
I step into the room and greet Samuels. “Can I get you coffee?”
“No thanks. I filled up this morning before I left the city.”
“I appreciate you offering to come in and help shed some light on your friend. By the way, have you spoken to him lately?”
“Spoke with him by phone yesterday after lunch. Why?”
“Nothing in particular. Just wondered how close you two are.”
“We’ve known each other for almost forty years. As his career advanced, I’ve enjoyed similar success.”
“I’ve known my ex-wife for a few years, but that doesn’t make us close.”
He grins.
I haven’t gotten to the tough questions. Wonder if he’s ever given a straight answer in his life.
“Help me understand your relationship with Mr. Chandler. That way I’ll know how you can help us.”
“I run what we refer to as a family office. He’s our largest client.”
“So, you have a business relationship.”
“We like to think it’s a good bit more than business, but money is a big part of it. All of our clients have networths over a billion dollars.”
“That must mean Mr. Chandler is worth—”
Samuels grins. “That’s confidential.”
“I see. So I’d have to have a subpoena.”
He shifts in his chair. “Are you driving a something,
“You mean like he helped us?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Of course he needs help. He’s a boy.” I start out the door. “You coming?”
We race up the ridge and I get to him well ahead of Amy. He collapses in my arms. I stiffen at the sight of his bloody leg.
“He’s been shot,” I murmur to Amy as she comes up behind me.
She doesn’t hesitate taking charge, easing him out of my grasp, and cradling him in her own arms. “He’s burning up with fever,” she says calmly, looking up at me as she strokes his hair. Her eyes take on his pain. His body relaxes.
When we get him into the hut, we lay him on the pine-needle mattress in the corner, and Amy starts barking orders. “Quick, I need bandage stuff. And boil some water.”
I’m already under her spell, the one she casts over everybody when her healing powers take over. “Clean rags,” I mutter as I scan the room.
“Hurry,” Amy scolds, rushing to the wash basin to scrub her hands.
I wander over to a corner of the hut and dig through a box. I pull out several towels swiped from the man’s cabin at the lake. “Here.” I toss them at Amy.
Amy scowls. “Boiling water?”
“Right. I’m on it. It’ll take a few minutes.” I stoke the fire in the little cast iron stove, grab the water pail, and head down to a spring I discovered not far from the hut. A horrible thought burrows into my brain like a worm. I saved her, now she’s going to steal my only friend.
Amy
I rip open RJ’s pant leg and start picking out buckshot with my fingernails. When Mercedes comes back with the water, I keep my head down and ask her for a knife. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her set the water pail on top of the stove. She opens the stove door and sticks a knife inside, into the flames. When she’s done sterilizing it, she brings it to me.
I stay focused on RJ's wound. “Thanks. How’s that water?”
“It’ll take a few more minutes to boil.”
I poke deeper into his leg with the knife. RJ flinches. A towel soaks up blood oozing from his wound. Mercedes watches.
After I’ve fished out what I hope is the last of the pellets, Mercedes kneels next to me with a jar of honey. She says, “Ever used it on anything this bad?”
“Yeah, Bryce.”
“Of course, Bryce.”
Deputy Sheriff Baker
Outside the interview room where Carl Samuels is waiting, I study the ME report on the victim from last night’s fire. After that, I check the list of weapons we collected at Chandler’s place early this morning. A handgun and shotgun are registered to Carl Samuels. A shotgun recovered from the fire looks to have enough damage that ballistics won’t be conclusive.
I step into the room and greet Samuels. “Can I get you coffee?”
“No thanks. I filled up this morning before I left the city.”
“I appreciate you offering to come in and help shed some light on your friend. By the way, have you spoken to him lately?”
“Spoke with him by phone yesterday after lunch. Why?”
“Nothing in particular. Just wondered how close you two are.”
“We’ve known each other for almost forty years. As his career advanced, I’ve enjoyed similar success.”
“I’ve known my ex-wife for a few years, but that doesn’t make us close.”
He grins.
I haven’t gotten to the tough questions. Wonder if he’s ever given a straight answer in his life.
“Help me understand your relationship with Mr. Chandler. That way I’ll know how you can help us.”
“I run what we refer to as a family office. He’s our largest client.”
“So, you have a business relationship.”
“We like to think it’s a good bit more than business, but money is a big part of it. All of our clients have networths over a billion dollars.”
“That must mean Mr. Chandler is worth—”
Samuels grins. “That’s confidential.”
“I see. So I’d have to have a subpoena.”
He shifts in his chair. “Are you driving a something,
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