“I was gonna tell you, don’t drink too much—I once had a few beers and ran my old man’s car into a ditch and missed a big old cottonwood by about six inches. I was very lucky I didn’t kill myself,” Virgil said. “Scratched the hell out of the passenger-side door.”
“Semper fi,” Thor said. “Jeez, you know, Jeanne’s got an ass like . . .” He stopped, his voice trailing away, then he whispered, “Jesus God: Who’s the chick with the snake on her neck?”
LATE IN THE EVENING, Ahlquist hooked Virgil’s arm and dragged him into a room behind the bar, saying, “You gotta take a minute.”
When they got back there, they found Chapman and Pye, Barlow and Peck and O’Hara, and Pye said, “It’s an ugly thing to have to do, but I’m a man of my word and I’m willing to pay up.”
At that point, Virgil took part in an unusual ceremony, wildly applauded by the spectators. Pye muttered, “Now I really need a drink,” and O’Hara said to Virgil, “You gotta nice ass there, surfer boy.”
Chapman wrote it all down.
THE PARTY WENT ON for a while, but at some point after midnight, Virgil found himself sitting on his motel bed, talking to Davenport, a night owl, who’d seen cuts from the press conference on the late news.
“Get that cleaned up as fast as you can—we’ve got some trouble down in Wabasha,” Davenport said.
“Somebody’s dead?”
“Well, since they only found the feet, they’re not sure. But, that’s what they suspect,” Davenport said.
“Ah, man, how old?”
“Six, eight weeks. The newest two, anyway,” Davenport said.
“The newest two?”
“Yeah, they found three feet. People down there are talking cannibals.”
“Ah, boy . . .”
“All right . . . tomorrow, I’ll let you know.”
VIRGIL SAT ON HIS BED, naked, a bottle of Leinie’s on the nightstand, a white towel over his thighs. Listened to the shower, and thought, So damn many good women in the world. Chapman and Gretchen the snake woman, Good Thunder and even O’Hara. Lee Coakley, for sure.
He sighed, and stood up, headed for the bathroom. The fact was, Davenport had called just as he was adjusting the temperature control. There was nobody else in the shower.
Nobody but Virgil, a little drunk, looking up at a showerhead at the Holiday Inn, on a starry night in beautiful downtown Butternut Falls, Minnesota.
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ALSO BY JOHN SANDFORD
Rules of Prey
Shadow Prey
Eyes of Prey
Silent Prey
Winter Prey
Night Prey
Mind Prey
Sudden Prey
Secret Prey
Certain Prey
Easy Prey
Chosen Prey
Mortal Prey
Naked Prey
Hidden Prey
Broken Prey
Dead Watch
Invisible Prey
Phantom Prey
Wicked Prey
Storm Prey
Buried Prey
The Fool’s Run
The Empress File
The Devil’s Code
The Hanged Man’s Song
VIRGIL FLOWERS NOVELS
Dark of the Moon
Heat Lightning
Rough Country
Bad Blood