WITH TUESDAY MORNING came Grant’s next bout of travel. Although Fort Belknap was not even a half-day’s drive, he packed an overnight bag anyway, just in case, and left his house at nine-thirty a.m. to allow himself plenty of time.
His perpetual road-trip companion was well ahead of him; the killer had toured Fort Belknap on Monday afternoon, and before Grant even left home his unseen nemesis was holed up in a tiny motel in Newcastle questioning his plans to dispatch Timothy Overton.
And with good reason, he told himself. Since being shot at in Abilene, his sense of self-preservation was on high alert.
It would have to be, given that his next target was also known throughout the county as Deputy Overton.
Too risky. It’s just too risky, the logical side of his brain chanted over and over
