Secret Prey

said. ‘‘We’re looking for a man named Harold Hanks.’’
    ‘‘The canteen . . . that way, left around the corner.’’
    They went left around the corner and Lucas said, ‘‘That was really cute.’’
    ‘‘Shut up,’’ she said.
    HAROLD HANKS WAS A GANGLY, RAWBONED MAN who wore a billed hat over plaid shirt, jeans, and boots, and though he’d spread out on a couch, he looked as though he’d be even more comfortable standing in a ditch somewhere. He was drinking a Welch’s grape soda from the can while he paged through a copy of Guns & Ammo .
    ‘‘Anything good?’’ Sherrill asked, tipping her head to look at the magazine cover.
    ‘‘Some. But it’s mostly pistol bullshit . . . You’re Miz Sherrill.’’
    ‘‘Yes. And this is Chief Davenport. Sheriff Krause says you saw somebody up by the Kresge place.’’
    ‘‘Yeah, I guess—but I didn’t tell anybody about it in no bar.’’
    ‘‘Did you tell anybody about it at all?’’ Lucas asked.
    ‘‘No, I never did,’’ Hanks said. ‘‘No reason to. Just somebody in the woods during deer season. Only saw him for a minute. And see, I was up on the south side of Kresge’s place, way around from the driveway. I didn’t even think of it being up that far . . . I never put it together.’’
    ‘‘So what’d he look like? The guy you saw?’’
    ‘‘ ’Bout what you’d expect at that time of day, that day of the year. Blaze-orange hat and coat. Carrying a rifle.’’
    ‘‘Couldn’t see his face?’’ Sherrill asked.
    ‘‘Nope. He was wearing a scarf.’’
    ‘‘A scarf?’’
    ‘‘Yeah. Covered the whole bottom part of his face. His hood covered the top part of his face, down to his forehead, and the scarf came right up to his eyes.’’
    ‘‘Wasn’t that a little weird?’’ Sherrill asked.
    ‘‘Nope. It gets damn cold out there, sitting in a tree.’’
    ‘‘Big guy?’’ Lucas asked.
    Hanks thought for a minute, then shook his head: ‘‘Mmm, hard to tell. I only saw him from about the waist up, walking along back in the trees. Not real big. Maybe average. Maybe even smaller than average.’’
    Lucas looked at Sherrill: ‘‘Have you seen McDonald?’’
    She shook her head. ‘‘Not yet.’’
    ‘‘Six-three, six-four, maybe two-sixty.’’
    ‘‘Wasn’t anybody that big,’’ Hanks said, shaking his head. ‘‘With them coveralls and the blaze-orange coat, a guy that big would look like a giant.’’
    ‘‘Did you hear a shot before you saw him?’’
    ‘‘Heck, it was a shooting gallery out there. I was wearing blaze orange myself, just to stand in a ditch. I was happy to get out of there alive. But there was a shot, sort of close by, and in the right direction. About five, ten minutes before I saw him.’’
    ‘‘That’d be right,’’ Lucas said to Sherrill.
    Sherrill nodded and went back to Hanks. ‘‘But that’s all. Just a guy in orange. Nothing distinctive?’’
    Hanks shrugged. ‘‘Sorry. I told the sheriff I couldn’t help much.’’
    ‘‘Didn’t see any cars coming or going?’’
    ‘‘There were a couple of trucks and maybe a car or two. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying any attention.’’
    ‘‘What were you doing out there, anyway?’’ Lucas asked. ‘‘Six-thirty, on a Saturday morning?’’
    ‘‘Aw, there’s this place called Pilot Lake, full of city people. They got maybe fifty phones around the lake, and some idiot put their exchange right on top of a spring. About once a month, the whole damn place goes down and then they all raise hell until somebody fixes it. It’s a priority for us, until we can redo the exchange.’’
    ‘‘When did they go down?’’
    ‘‘About ten o’clock Friday night.’’
    ‘‘Including Kresge’s place?’’
    ‘‘Nope. He’d be the next exchange up the road. Like I said, I was on the south side . . .’’
    ‘‘Okay.’’ Lucas thought for a moment, then asked, ‘‘What’d the scarf look like? Black? Red?’’
    ‘‘Red,’’ Hanks said. He scratched his jaw, thinking about it. ‘‘Or pink.’’
    ‘‘What else? Was it wrapped on the outside, or inside . . . ?’’ ‘‘Inside—like he covered his face, then pulled the hood up over.’’
    ‘‘Okay . . .’’
    They dug for another five minutes, running him through it again, but came up with nothing more, until they both stood up. Then Lucas asked, ‘‘Where would this guy have been walking to? Assuming he had a car?’’
    ‘‘I