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I’m told you dated him. Ancient history. before he got married, before he got worse. She studied Harry’s face. You planning some kind of intervention? Because I already tried that once. Nearly got my teeth knocked out for the effort. No intervention, Harry said. I’m planning something else entirely. June was quiet for a long moment, sizing him up.
Finally, she poured two shots of whiskey and slid one across the bar. What kind of something else? The kind that ends with Trent Huxley not being a problem anymore. That’s interesting. Jun down her shot without flinching. Because I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I heard what he did to Cassidy.
You willing to help? Depends. What do you need? Information? Where he hides his money? Who he trusts? What scares him? June laughed, but there was no humor in it. Trent doesn’t trust anybody. And the only thing that scares him is losing his money. He’s got about 50,000 in cash stashed in a safe deposit box at First National.
Thinks nobody knows about it, but he bragged about it one night when he was trying to impress me. What else? He’s paranoid about his gambling operation. Thinks everyone’s trying to rip him off, which they probably are. He’s also convinced that his bookie and Billings is skimming from him, but he can’t prove it. Harry filed the information away.
Paranoia was a useful tool if he knew how to feed it. There’s something else. June continued. Trent’s got a mean streak a mile wide, but he’s also a coward. First sign of real trouble. He runs. That’s what happened after he hit Cassidy. Soon as he realized what he’d done, he took off instead of facing the consequences. Where does he go when he runs? Lake cabin mostly.
But if things get really bad, he’s got a bolt hole. Old hunting lodge about 60 mi north belongs to his cousin. Place is falling down, but it’s off the grid. No phone, no electricity, just a place to hide until the heat dies down. Harry made a mental map of the locations. Escape routes were important. You had to know where someone was likely to run before you could trap them.
Why are you helping me? Harry asked. June’s eyes went hard. Because Trent Huxley is a cancer on this town, and somebody needs to cut him out. I tried leaving him alone. Tried minding my own business. But what he did to your daughter, that’s a line you don’t cross. This won’t be legal, Harry warned. If things go wrong, you could end up in serious trouble.
Honey, June smiled grimly. I’ve been in trouble since I was 16. A little more won’t kill me. Harry’s third stop was the Riverside Trailer Park, a collection of rusted mobile homes and broken dreams on the wrong side of the railroad tracks. Marshall Irwin’s trailer was at the back of the lot, distinguished from his neighbors by a small vegetable garden and an American flag that flew from a makeshift pole.
Marshall answered the door wearing combat fatigues and a thousand-y stare. He was 42, built like a scarecrow with prematurely gray hair and hands that shook slightly when he thought nobody was looking, but his eyes were clear, and when he recognized Harry, his posture straightened. Mr. Kain, what brings you to my corner of paradise? Need to talk to you about a job.
I’m listening. Harry stepped inside the trailer, which was sparse but clean. Military precision in the way everything was arranged, from the folded blankets to the books lined up on a makeshift shelf. A purple heart sat in a place of honor on the small dining table. My daughter was beaten by her husband last night. She’s in a hospital.
Baby was born premature. The man who did it is walking free because he’s got friends in the sheriff’s department. Marshall’s jaw tightened. Trent Huxley. You know him. Know his type. Bullies who think they’re untouchable because they’ve got money and connections. Marshall sat down heavily at the table.
What do you want me to do about it? Help me take him down. Not legally. That system’s broken. Our way. Our way usually involves violence. Sometimes violence is the answer. Harry said quietly. Some people only understand pain. Marshall was quiet for a long time, staring at his purple heart. When he looked up, his eyes held the same cold determination Harry had seen in soldiers who’d made peace with what needed to be done.
You pulled me out of the gutter when everyone else had given up, Marshall said. Gave me work when I couldn’t hold a job. Helped me get clean when I was drowning in a bottle. I owe you. This isn’t about debt. No, but it’s about right and wrong. and what Trent did to your daughter. That’s wrong in ways that legal remedies can’t fix.
Marshall stood up. What do you need from me? Your medical training. If things go sideways, I want someone who can patch people up. Also need someone who can gather intelligence. Maybe pose as someone else to get close to Trent’s operation. I can do that. Spent 18 months undercover in Kandahar pretending to be a drunk to gather intel on Taliban supply routes.
fooled everyone, including my own command. Good. We’ll be in touch. Harry was halfway to the door when Marshall called after him. Mr. Kain, when this is over, what happens to Trent? Harry turned back. Nothing good. Marshall nodded slowly. Roger that. Harry spent the evening at the hospital with Cassidy and Lydia, then drove out to Trent’s Lake Cabin undercover darkness.
The place sat on 20 acres of private land, accessible only by a winding dirt road that snaked through thick Montana pine forest. Perfect for privacy, perfect for hiding criminal activity, and perfect for an ambush if things came to that. Harry Park is struck a quarter mile away and approached on foot, moving through the trees with the careful silence of a man who’d spent time in places where noise could get you killed.
The cabin was larger than he’d expected, two stories with a wraparound deck and several outbuildings scattered around the property. Lights spilled from the main house, and Harry could hear voices carrying across the still night air. He crept closer, using the tree line for cover until he could see into the main room through the windows.
Trent Huxley sat at the head of a poker table, dealing cards to four other men. He was 31, soft around the middle from too much beer, and easy living with dark hair that was already thinning and eyes that never quite met anyone else’s gaze directly. He wore an expensive watch and designer clothes that looked out of place in rural Montana.
All right, gentlemen. Trent was saying, “Let’s discuss this week’s business before we play.” Harry recognized two of the other men at the table. Rafe gunner sat to Trent right 6’4 probably 250 with the thick neck and dead eyes of a professional enforcer. Dave Garrett the city councilman Delmare had mentioned looked nervous and out of place among the criminals.
The fourth man was a stranger but his expensive suit and careful posture suggested he was from out of town. Probably Trent connection to the larger gambling network. Peterson account is 3 weeks overdue. Rafe reported in a voice like gravel. Owes 18 grand with interest. Want me to break something? Not yet, Trent said, shuffling cards with practiced ease.
His wife just had surgery. Give him another week, then start with fingers. Harry’s hands clenched into fists. These men discussed breaking bones with the casual tone most people use to talk about the weather. What about the Freeman situation? Garrett asked nervously. Handle. Trent smiled coldly. Amazing how cooperative people become when they realize their family’s safety depends on their silence.
You can’t keep beating people into submission forever. The stranger said eventually someone’s going to fight back or go to the authorities. Trent’s laugh was harsh. The authorities work for me, friend. Deputy Timonss, Judge Moss, half the city council. This town runs on my money and everyone knows it.
What about the new sheriff? Lau, what about him? He’s one man. By the time he figures out how things work around here, he’ll either be on the payroll or looking for a new job. Harry memorized every word, every name, every detail. Intelligence gathering was half the battle. You couldn’t fight an enemy you didn’t understand. Speaking of business, Rafe continued, “Your wife’s situation is causing problems.
People are asking questions, talking about pressing charges.” Trent’s expression darkened. My wife isn’t your concern. It is when it brings heat on the operation. Maybe you should have thought about that before you kicked her in the stomach. She had it coming. Tren snapped. Mouthy was telling me how to run my business, threatening to leave and take Lydia with her.
I don’t respond well to threats. Harry’s vision went red around the edges. It took every ounce of his self-control not to charge through the door and beat Trent to death with his bare hands. But that would be stupid, emotional, the kind of mistake that got people killed or imprisoned. Harry had waited this long for justice.
He could wait a little longer to do it right. Besides, Trent continued, “Dealing cards with steady hands. Cassidy won’t press charges. She knows what happens to people who cross me. And even if she did, Timmons will make sure it disappears.” in a paperwork hell. What about her father? Garrett asked. Harry Kane’s got a reputation.
Word is he’s not the kind of man who forgives and forgets. Harry Kane is a broken down oil worker with a drinking problem. Trent said dismissively. He makes noise. I’ll have Rafe pay him a visit. Problem solved. Rafe cracked his knuckles. Love to have a conversation with the old man here. He thinks he’s tough.
Focus on the current problems. The stranger interrupted. I’ve got money coming in from three states and I need to know this operation is stable. Can you guarantee that? Absolutely. Trent said this town belongs to me. Has for years. One pregnant woman and her daddy aren’t going to change that. Harry had heard enough.
He melted back into the forest and made his way to his truck. Mind already working on the next phase of his plan. Trent was arrogant, overconfident, and convinced of his own invincibility. Those were weaknesses Harry could exploit. But first, he needed to plant some seeds of doubt. The next morning, Harry met Delmare at the garage just after sunrise.
The mechanic was already three cups of coffee deep and working on a transmission that looked like it had been through a war. Find anything useful at the cabin? Delmare asked without looking up from his work. Plenty. Trent’s running scared, but he’s trying not to show it. Rafe gunner is his main muscle.
Dave Gar is taking money to look the other way. And they’re expecting the new sheriff to either join the program or get run out of town. What’s the move? First, we isolate him, make him paranoid, turn his own people against him. Harry pulled out a scrap of paper with notes he’d made during the night. You still got that tow truck, old Bertha? She runs like a dream.
Why? I want you to disable trench truck, but make it look like mechanical failure. Nothing obvious, nothing that screams sabotage. Can you do that? Delmare wiped his hands on a rag, grinning. Harry, I can make a truck break down in ways that would take a team of engineers to figure out when and where.
He drives to the casino in Billings every Tuesday night. Takes Highway 89 through Miller Canyon. That’s 20 m of empty road with no cell service. Consider it done. What else? I need you to spread a rumor.
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