When was that, early autumn of '77. Arnold County was a year old, and he was its rather proud sheriff. He had walked into the rude summer kitchen, cru...ely put up by a non-carpenter, probably Lem Clagett himself, and there was the sprawled body, the dead woman. She looked like a girl. Slim, narrow hipped, her dark blonde hair fanned out above her face. He reached down and closed the eye he could see, and then he had looked at the bloody stump of her left arm. There wasn't much left, a very clean. Once, she thought, they would have been comforting—but now ... She didn’t have time to think on it right then. The diner was packed. It would have to share space in her thoughts with Cal’s mysterious adversary when it was daydreaming time.She glanced over and saw that Cal and Mr. X were finishing up. It was her last chance to hear them say something important. She ran to the waitress’ station and toted up their bills.“We’re in the right,” she heard Cal say.That was good old Cal. He was fighting. More

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