The Reach by B. Michael Radburn

Author:B. Michael Radburn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781925700572
Publisher: Pantera Press

15

Back in town, aching and bruised, Taylor stood outside the Royal on the corner. The sound of the wind and the surging river was the only life force that stirred within the blackout. He stood on the gutter’s edge, sandwiched between the Royal’s soft light at his back and the night’s obscurity at his face. There was an imagined warmth at the nape of his neck, like a candle defying the darkness that now cloaked the town before him. The gutter was his borderland, as if taking another step would allow the night to swallow him whole.

Somewhere out there is our killer. A sense of vulnerability pulled at him at the thought and, for a moment, he conjured a faceless figure rushing at him, stealing him from the light. He stared towards the east. The sun couldn’t come quickly enough, but come it would. The night is just the pay-off for daylight, he thought. After all, we need that time in the shadows to know what it is to stand in the sun.

The wind rattled the saloon doors behind him, reminding Taylor of the sanctuary that lay inside. He shook off the melancholy that was creeping in; he needed to focus. Not on the blackout, but on who among them could do such things. He glanced skyward, hoping for a glimpse of the moon between the clouds, then recalled a quote from Mark Twain: Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.

Enough, he decided, turned and went inside. He saw Everett behind the bar where the arrow had embedded itself in the wall, using the torchlight on his phone to study it. Taylor stepped in beside him, doing his best not to interrupt.

Everett was in the zone, oblivious to Taylor and to Georgie Emery’s tinkering on the peripherals. The ranger knew the man well enough now to know that this was where he liked to be: in the moment, drawing out the residue of truth, opening his mind to the evidence and considering the facts.

The projectile appeared to be top quality, not from your average weekend target shooter. The feathering was tight; fixed in a rigid stem. Taylor suspected that the smooth surface was perfect for capturing prints, but in the dim light it appeared spotless.

‘Clean,’ Everett said, breathing out the word. Then he spoke louder, aiming his words at Georgie. ‘Are you sure no one tampered with this while I was gone?’ Taylor too glanced over his shoulder to where Georgie was sweeping broken glass below the exposed window, squinting against the funnel of wind through the ruptured pane.

She paused and leaned on the handle, annoyed at the distraction. ‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘Sent the punters home when you took off after that car.’ With an indifferent shake of her head, she continued sweeping.

‘Try around the nock,’ Taylor offered. He leaned in closer, pointing to the V in the synthetic tail. ‘That’s where the arrow would be gripped on the draw.’

‘You an

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