“No, nothing. Agent Kincaid said the pistol dropped over the cliff. I was the first person to go down there and look, and didn’t find it. The FBI and my deputies searched for five days at the bottom of the canyon and didn’t come up with a single piece of metal.”

“She described the so-called pistol, is that right?”

“Yes, she was insistent about it, said it was a .45 automatic, a Colt Government model with yellowed ivory handles etched with the engraving of a wolf.”

“Is it possible you missed such a weapon in your search?”

“Anything’s possible, but in this case, not likely. We not only hand searched, but used metal detectors out to five feet in the river. We also dropped twenty-five mock pistols off the cliff to see where they hit and searched that pattern. Nothing came up.”

“And the third incident you mentioned?”

“It happened less than two weeks ago. Agent Kincaid found three dead illegals and we came out to secure the crime scene. While I was ordering my men, Agent Kincaid disrupted our search and I almost had her arrested for obstructing state peace officers in the performance of their duties.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. Mr. Fortis, your witness.”

Truman looked at the yellow pad Hunter shoved in front of him. It read: First--shot the tire because he was headed for the kids. Tire blew out and made him swerve back into the street.

Two--I DID SEE THE PISTOL!

Three--he was going to have his men open their legs, and I got mad. Bad judgment on my part.

Truman stood and straightened his coat, then walked to Rockman.

“Sheriff, in the first incident you described, what do you think would have happened if Agent Kincaid hadn’t shot the tire on that pickup?”

“Who knows?” said Wayne, “I think he would have driven on by and we could have caught him in a less dangerous setting.”

“When she shot, wasn’t he already off the road and on the school grounds?”

“I think he’d accidentally veered over, yeah, but he was trying to get back on the road.”

“Are you sure? You just said, ‘Who knows?”

“That’s my opinion.”

“Sheriff, isn’t it true that you were the person who got Agent Kincaid interested in competitive shooting?”

“Yes.”

Do you know how many matches she won in the last three years?”

“No.”

“Thirty-one. Thirty-one out of the thirty-one she entered. Do you know how many times she missed the target in those matches?”

“No.”

None, zero, zip. And in the last three matches, she set new state records. Do you know how many perfect scores she shot in the last three matches?”

“Let me guess. Three.”

Truman thrust up his arms, signaling a field goal. “Right through the uprights! That’s right, Sheriff!”

Judge Pelham tapped his gavel and said, “Less theatrics, Mr. Fortis.”

“Yes, your Honor. Sheriff, in the second incident, do you think Agent Kincaid, who has seen and handled hundreds of weapons, was imagining a pistol of such an exact description?”

“Yes, I do. I think Garcia was pulling his wallet and she saw that and mistook it for a pistol.”

Last visited: Page 69 of Outlaw Road (A Hunter Kincaid Novel)

Outlaw Road (A Hunter Kincaid Novel) - Page 69