Blanco County 03 - Flat Crazy Read Free

beautiful animals so that wealthy hunters like Searcy could shoot them. Duke thought of himself as a broker, a man who paired hunters with the animals of their wettest dreams. He had set people up with all kinds of trophies, but white-tailed deer were the biggest market by far. And yeah, sometimes Duke had to skirt a few laws to get what the hunter wanted. Other times, if he really wanted to make good money in this business, he had to think outside the box. Which is what he’d done two years ago, when he’d first pulled off one of the most brilliant and profitable swindles ever concocted.
    It was so slick, nobody had ever figured it out. Until now. Frankly, Duke couldn’t blame Searcy for being a tad peeved.
    “Take it easy,” Duke said, his palms toward Searcy. “No reason to get all crazy on me.”
    “I just want my money.”
    Duke spoke softly. “I can understand that. You got ripped off, and now you wanna set things straight. Who can blame you? Just don’t take it out on the wrong guy.”
    Duke was thinking there still might be a peaceful way out of this. Just return the guy’s money, smooth-talk him a little, maybe even offer to take him on a free hunt—just to show there were no hard feelings. Duke could afford to give up the cash. What he couldn’t afford was a guy like Searcy bad-mouthing him around the county.
    But Searcy pushed him even further into a corner.
    “I’m walking out of here with my money,” Searcy said. “I paid cash, I want cash back. Then I’m gonna talk to the game warden and let him know what kind of operation you’re running.”
    Duke could feel his heart pounding. If Searcy made good on his threat, Duke would be facing a lynch mob. Once word got out, every hunter Duke had ever guided would double-check their mounts for authenticity, and several of them would find reason to be seriously pissed off. Once the authorities got involved, Duke’d be looking at a return to the joint.
    Duke held one hand up in the Boy Scout’s gesture. “Mr. Searcy, one last time, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this mess.” With his other hand, Duke was reaching back behind him, feeling for the screwdriver on the desk.
    Searcy waved his gun in Duke’s direction. “Go on, now. Get my money. I’m sure you’ve got it stashed around here somewhere.”
    Duke found something with his hand—but it turned out to be the stapler. “See, now, I don’t have any problem paying you back. No sir. You deserve it.” He was buying time, still fumbling with his hand. Where was that damn screwdriver! “But see, I don’t exactly have it on me,” Duke said.
    “Bullshit,” Searcy said, coming around with the revolver now. “You’re lying to—”
    That’s when Duke’s hand found what it was looking for.
    * * *
    It was the final day of deer season, and Blanco County game warden John Marlin was thrilled. Yes, the season was the most exciting part of the year, but it was also the most tiring. It was an around-the-clock job, checking hunting camps during the day, chasing spotlighters at night. The weekends were especially hectic, and he was lucky to get a couple hours’ sleep each night.
    Then there were idiots who shouldn’t be let loose in the woods with firearms, like the two Marlin had just pulled over on the side of Highway 281, north of Johnson City. He had spotted blood on the rear door, saw that the driver was wearing camo, and decided to do a license check.
    “Looks like y’all had some luck this morning,” Marlin said as the driver lowered the window.
    “Yes, sir,” the middle-aged driver said, nodding, clearly excited. “Shot my first buck. I got him tagged and everything, no problem.”
    Marlin peered through the side window, seeing a medium-size six-point lying on a tarp in the rear of the SUV. “If you’ll cut your engine for me, sir, I’d like to take a quick look.”
    The man complied, and Marlin opened the rear of the vehicle. It was eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning in