Read Online Justification for Murder by Elin Barnes - Free Book Online
Authors: Elin Barnes
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able to afford the hunting license.
He knew the wannabe hunters’ routine. They started together, early, walking through the forest as if they knew what they were doing. A few hours into it, they started feeling cranky, their fancy coffees were gone, and their clothes started clinging to their bodies with sweat due to the increasing heat. He remembered being surprised when he took his first hunting party out as a guide. They had no stamina, no patience. After a few more tours, he wasn’t surprised anymore. He knew exactly what to expect.
Lasky followed him, only increasing the distance between them by a few feet when she thought she could catch something. She stopped, smelled the air, pricked her ears and pounced. Then did it all over again. She was used to hunting for food, as it was rare that Harper got any for her. He always thought that she had some Bluetick in her. He had almost called her Blue back when he got her but then decided that naming her after a color was stupid.
He listened for voices. That was the other thing the city hunters were not so good at. The moment they got bored, they started yapping away. He thought he heard something. He stopped and patted his thigh for Lasky to come and sit by him. In complete stillness he listened. After a few moments he discerned voices coming from the east. The sounds were moving away, so he walked toward them to see if he could spot his target. Two men strolled between the trees as if they were in a park. Maybe that was all they could do, Harper thought, shaking his head. Unless Jameson had put on over a hundred pounds, he was looking at the wrong party.
He continued to wait. He was good at waiting. He sat, leaned against a tree trunk and cleaned his nails with the tip of his knife. The sun was still bright, but it had started its slow descent. Harper folded the knife and checked his watch. He decided to follow a few well-known trails heading toward the entrance of the hunting ground, expecting Jameson would have to come that way eventually, if he was still there.
After almost another hour of searching, he sensed movement. He watched until he could see the men well. There were three of them, getting closer to him but not heading directly toward his location on the trail.
Harper looked around and found a large tree about ten feet to his right. He reached it and rested his rifle against the gnarled oak. He checked to make sure it was loaded. He knew he had loaded it in the truck before leaving but wanted to double-check. He was not sure David Jameson was among the three men who were coming, but he wanted to be ready if he was.
He pulled the printout Tyler Warren had given him and studied the photo. He didn’t want to kill the wrong guy. Harper concentrated on the sounds around him. The forest noises were increasingly displaced by the sounds of the approaching men, who started to come into view.
One was large, almost as tall as him, but probably beat him by fifty pounds. The one in the middle was David Jameson. He was the shortest of the three. His hair was gelled, just as Warren’s always was. He shook his head. It always amazed him that these city slickers didn’t know deer could smell that shit from miles away.
All of his hunting clothes were new. Harper was sure Jameson had just got them from the Cabela’s catalog and removed the price tags that morning before he put them on. The last man was the eldest. Harper recognized him. His name was Sam Baker, and he was the guide. They had shared some beers in better times and laughed at the ineptitude of the city hunters.
He knew he would have to separate them. He looked around and found a nice wooden stick. He grabbed it and showed it to Lasky. He seized his rifle. When he was ready, he looked at his dog, tempted her with the stick, glanced at the men walking about sixty yards in front of him and then threw the branch as far as he could toward his ten o’clock.
Lasky sprinted away, rustling the vegetation as she
He knew the wannabe hunters’ routine. They started together, early, walking through the forest as if they knew what they were doing. A few hours into it, they started feeling cranky, their fancy coffees were gone, and their clothes started clinging to their bodies with sweat due to the increasing heat. He remembered being surprised when he took his first hunting party out as a guide. They had no stamina, no patience. After a few more tours, he wasn’t surprised anymore. He knew exactly what to expect.
Lasky followed him, only increasing the distance between them by a few feet when she thought she could catch something. She stopped, smelled the air, pricked her ears and pounced. Then did it all over again. She was used to hunting for food, as it was rare that Harper got any for her. He always thought that she had some Bluetick in her. He had almost called her Blue back when he got her but then decided that naming her after a color was stupid.
He listened for voices. That was the other thing the city hunters were not so good at. The moment they got bored, they started yapping away. He thought he heard something. He stopped and patted his thigh for Lasky to come and sit by him. In complete stillness he listened. After a few moments he discerned voices coming from the east. The sounds were moving away, so he walked toward them to see if he could spot his target. Two men strolled between the trees as if they were in a park. Maybe that was all they could do, Harper thought, shaking his head. Unless Jameson had put on over a hundred pounds, he was looking at the wrong party.
He continued to wait. He was good at waiting. He sat, leaned against a tree trunk and cleaned his nails with the tip of his knife. The sun was still bright, but it had started its slow descent. Harper folded the knife and checked his watch. He decided to follow a few well-known trails heading toward the entrance of the hunting ground, expecting Jameson would have to come that way eventually, if he was still there.
After almost another hour of searching, he sensed movement. He watched until he could see the men well. There were three of them, getting closer to him but not heading directly toward his location on the trail.
Harper looked around and found a large tree about ten feet to his right. He reached it and rested his rifle against the gnarled oak. He checked to make sure it was loaded. He knew he had loaded it in the truck before leaving but wanted to double-check. He was not sure David Jameson was among the three men who were coming, but he wanted to be ready if he was.
He pulled the printout Tyler Warren had given him and studied the photo. He didn’t want to kill the wrong guy. Harper concentrated on the sounds around him. The forest noises were increasingly displaced by the sounds of the approaching men, who started to come into view.
One was large, almost as tall as him, but probably beat him by fifty pounds. The one in the middle was David Jameson. He was the shortest of the three. His hair was gelled, just as Warren’s always was. He shook his head. It always amazed him that these city slickers didn’t know deer could smell that shit from miles away.
All of his hunting clothes were new. Harper was sure Jameson had just got them from the Cabela’s catalog and removed the price tags that morning before he put them on. The last man was the eldest. Harper recognized him. His name was Sam Baker, and he was the guide. They had shared some beers in better times and laughed at the ineptitude of the city hunters.
He knew he would have to separate them. He looked around and found a nice wooden stick. He grabbed it and showed it to Lasky. He seized his rifle. When he was ready, he looked at his dog, tempted her with the stick, glanced at the men walking about sixty yards in front of him and then threw the branch as far as he could toward his ten o’clock.
Lasky sprinted away, rustling the vegetation as she
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