to the man. I turned my attention back to Austin. “And thanks for the advice, but I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t think you can.”
I straightened my back and counted silently to ten before answering. “I think the real problem is that you don’t like Regulus.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I could candy coat it and lie to you. He doesn’t care about anything but himself. It’s all about the IIA, Mia. It’s not about you.”
“You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend. We’re friends. That’s all.” I looked away, not meeting his eyes.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he rose and approached to the man tied to the tree. Squatting down to eye level with him, Austin said, “Why did you break into Mia’s house? We might let you go if you tell us the truth.”
“Hey, you can’t tell him that,” I said.
“Sure I can.”
The man nodded his head like a fishing bobber trembling above the water’s surface.
Clearly encouraged, Austin continued, “You know about Mia, and I think you can’t be bad if you’re warning her to get out of this mess she’s in. Why did you break into her room?”
The man stared at Austin in silence.
“OK, the clock is ticking on this one. Tick. Tock. Tick. Too bad. I’m in a really bad mood so—”
“I was supposed to get her,” the man said and looked at me.
“Get her? Kill her?” Rising, Austin shook his head from side to side. “Man, you shouldn’t have said that.”
“No,” the man sputtered. “Not kill her. Take her to the transport. I’d be done, and she’d be someone else’s problem.”
“Transport? Where to?” I wiped my hands nervously on my jeans.
“How would I know?” our prisoner said.
The man seemed a little too happy to say that he was ignorant of the details. I noticed that Austin had taken his pocketknife from his front pocket.
“You’re going to let him go because he told you that?” My exasperation was clear.
“No. I’m going to tell you about a class I’m taking this semester.” Austin grinned in a lopsided fashion.
“Now?” I couldn’t understand Austin’s sense of humor sometimes and this was one of those times.
“My class, The Struggle of the American Indian, had a very interesting discussion on the method for scalping a person.” Austin took his pocketknife and waved in front of the man’s eyes.
My stomach twisted as I held my breath. I could smell the sour fear that exploded from our prisoner, like rank trash that I sometimes forgot to take outside at home.
Austin turned to me again. He lifted the small knife and held it poised above the man’s head. “See? The scalping doesn’t require a large knife. Just a sharp one to cut in a circle around the perimeter of this dude’s head. Then I get a good grip on the scalp and yank. Voilà! Scalped.”
I could see the whites of the man’s eyes in the moonlit night. His heavy breathing filled the air.
I found my voice. “Gross, Austin. Stop it.”
Staring into the man’s eyes, Austin placed the tip of the pocketknife on the man’s forehead. “Regulus and Arizona will probably kill him when they get back anyway.”
I had watched Austin field dress a deer once after shooting it and knew that he wasn’t squeamish. He’d cut the man to scare him if nothing else.
“I said, stop .” My voice sounded high-pitched. “You don’t have to do this.”
The man had taken his eyes off Austin and watched me. I’m sure my anxiety came through loud and clear.
“Somewhere in Goliath,” the man whispered. “That’s all I know. I swear.”
“Goliath?” Austin and I said in unison.
“Goliath. Down in south Arkansas. You know, the place where the Goliath Lights are.”
Austin pulled the knife away from the man’s head and snapped the blade into the handle.
“You going to let me to go now?” the man asked.
“Nah. You still broke into Mia’s house. But thanks for the info.” Austin smiled. Then he turned his head toward me and swept his heavy bang out
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