Chapter 13

"Hey Maxie. What's happening?" Sheriff Warner answered his phone, disdain in his voice. He really hated talking to Max, but it afforded him the lifestyle he loved. The pay was too good to pass up. Besides, any chance to screw with the man who wanted nothing more than to break his neck always improved his mood.

"Tom, listen up, you fat prick. We got a little situation we need your help with. That is, if you can figure out a way to get your ass off the stool at the donut shop."

"Are you sure you can't get your own tampons? I'm kind of in the middle of something here Maxie. Just dropped me a fine specimen of a mountain goat. I gotta get it all cleaned up and sent off to the taxidermist."

"Aren't mountain goats out of season?" Max asked suspiciously.

"Well, this poor little guy fell to its death all by itself," Tom chuckled. "Shame to waste all that. Little fellow has some real nice horns too. Bet all the lady mountain goats loved him. Hell, he kinda looks like your type Maxie. I should have saved him for you. Besides, it's only illegal if you're not the Sheriff. So what is it today? If it's your mom, tell her I'll be by later to take care of all her problems, if you know what I mean."

"Look, I don't have time for this bullshit. We got a case of illegal road racing out here by site five. Unfortunately, our racer can't take the hint and fall into a canyon."

"Ah, one of them. What happened this time? You let a woman get a good look at your face again? I told you not to let that happen," Tom chuckled at his own wit. "Well, what kind of car we talking about? I can have the deputies set up a roadblock near town." When Max relayed the description of the car, Sheriff Warner let out a low whistle. "That sounds like the Driscol girl, if I was guessing. Boy, you guys must have done something wrong to get on her bad side! Hey, you know what? There's a side of her I'd like to get on if you know what I mean."

"Cut the crap, dipshit. I don't care what side you want to get on. The question is, can you fix this?"

"Don't know. Killing off a local ain't exactly Kosher. People start talking," Tom spat on the ground, admiring the horns on the mountain goat's carcass. The fall had barely scratched them. They would make a fine addition to the trophy wall.

"Look asshole, I don't really care what it costs. Make sure it gets done. Got it?"

"Can do. You know the bank account number. Always a pleasure Maxie. You just call me any old time you need to talk. I know it's hard being so ugly."

"Greedy little bastard," Max said with disgust after hanging up the phone. He walked over to one of the remaining work trucks, found the keys in the ignition, started it up and headed to town.

If the girl who saw him shoot The Mole managed to escape his men, it would be much harder to get rid of her. The locals would hardly question an accident in the mountains. They knew all too well the dangers of the beautiful wilderness. But if she were seen alive, talking about murder in the mountains, it would make eliminating her complicated. They would probably have to close the site until the heat was off. Max would need to lay low for a while. At least he still had a few aces up his sleeve if she somehow eluded the men hunting her down.