Page 108 of Trigger Happy

“So,” she suddenly says, rummaging through her backpack. “Are we going to keep talking about salmon sperm, or are you ready to ask me why there’s a picture of me and Walker in Bea’s shop?”

And then she pulls out a gun and points it straight at my heart.

50Lawton

What do you think our wives are up to?” Arch asks, casting his fishing rod into the river.

After Sabrina left, he dragged me out on his rowboat again, and I figured why not? The clock’s ticking and someone’s got to figure out if he’s a murdering wig hoarder.

My wife is out doing who-knows-what and she’s not answering my calls. Not the first. Not the eleventh. All of my texts are still sitting there too, unread. I’m having a hard time breathing. I keep telling myself she’s fine. She can handle herself, but she always reads my texts.

“Probably bonding over how they both love birdseed,” I say. “Shit. Did I say birdseed? I meant granola bars.”

And hopefully getting something out of Bobbi, because the only thing Arch wants to talk about are the trout, which aren’t biting. But we’ve got Wild West IPAs (non-alcoholic for me) and Arch hasn’t pulled a knife or asked to make a wig out of my hair, so I guess it’s a good day.

Not Saturday good, but Wednesday good.

If only Sabrina would answer my texts…

I take a swig of my NA beer, dying for a real one. I can’t loosen up on this boat. What if Sabrina’s shoulder pops back out? Did she pack extra ibuprofen like I said? What am I thinking? It’s Sabrina.

Of course she did.

Arch side-eyes me while tossing his line back in the stream. “You okay? You’re gripping the neck of that beer pretty tight.”

No, I’m not okay.

I should be relaxed. We’re floating in the middle of a valley that looks like one of those YouTube Daily Calm videos. Pines galore. Water so clear you could piss off the side of the boat and spot yellow, and all I can think about is Sabrina. I don’t even know why I’m so worried, but there’s a pit in my stomach that won’t go away.

I can’t admit that, so I mutter, “I almost said something stupid to my wife this morning.”

“What was it?” he asks.

Just a rawdog I love you after a blow job.

“Something I would’ve had to take back,” I say, casting my line in the water. Or at least say over a six-course Michelin-star meal—because it’s Sabrina.

Arch leans against the edge of the boat, flannel drifting in the breeze. “You say stupid shit all the time. Remember when you thought that bird was a plane?”

Like an asshole, I tap the top of his beer, so it fizzes over. “It was bright outside and I forgot my sunglasses.”

“It was a hummingbird,” he snorts, trying to drink the IPA fizz.

I laugh along with him, wanting Arch to feel comfortable with me since I have a feeling I’ll be slicing his throat sooner or later. Win some, lose some, I guess. It’s been nice having a guy to talk to now that Walker’s gone. I just wish Arch weren’t out there shaving dead women’s heads or whatever he’s hiding.

I decide to try Sabrina again, so I fish out my phone from the waterproof baggie she always makes me pack and send her a text.

ME

Everything ok?

There’s no read receipt. That means no service.

“Shit,” I mutter. My pulse kicks into overdrive.

I try calling her but it goes to voicemail, so I try again. Nothing. Sabrina never listens to her voicemails, so I text her again, but it doesn’t go through. I don’t jump to worst-case scenarios often, but my brain chooses this moment to conjure up a visual of Sabrina getting mauled by a bear. If something happens to her, I’ll…

Damn. I’ll probably have to kill the grizzly, and they’re an endangered species, so I really don’t want to go there. She better be okay.