I slid the gun back under the seat. The Smith and Wesson lay as it had, accessible.

I adjusted my jacket and sat back on the passenger side, hands loose in my lap.  Slash pines, their bark bleeding sap, and saw palmetto crowded the edge of the clearing.  To the right of the car, the pond lay still and green, algae drawn tight across the surface like a shroud.  Miles from town.  Danny’s private land. The last place someone would look.

Danny approached the car, hesitated before getting in.  That was a good sign.  He did that when he hadn’t yet made up his mind. He looked at the pond, and around the clearing, then jerked the door open and slid in behind the wheel. The keys jingled sliding into the ignition. He didn’t turn them. He let them hang there, swinging like a pendulum.

He was in charge even when he was sitting still.  Danny made the air around him feel owned.

“Interesting spot,” I said quietly and evenly.  “I’ve never been out here.”

“Nobody comes out here.”  Danny said, looking out the windshield at the pond.

He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. The heavy gold ring thumped against the leather cover.  Dump-dump-dump… Dump-dump-dump…  A countdown clock he alone controlled the pace of.

“Why are we here, Dan?”  I asked.

For a moment, he said nothing. The condensation creeped around the edges of the windows. High up in the moss draped branches, a barred owl hooted.  The keys jingled.  Dany stilled them with a pinch of his fingers.

“I’ve got a feeling,” he said with a tone of finality.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Something I can’t prove,” he went on. “But maybe I ain’t gotta wait for proof.”  He looked at me for the first time, dark eyes locking on mine.  “When you know, you know… you know?”

“Know what?”

His jaw tightened. Then he laughed, sudden and sharp.  It fell away just as fast. “That’s you,” he said. “Always cautious.  So careful.  That’s why I wasn’t sure—at first.”

“Sure?  About what, Danny?”  But, I knew.

His eyes fixed on me, searching, like a dog scenting blood it couldn’t yet see. “The problem is, careful is slow—things get noticed.  Little things that ain’t proof by themselves…but, you get a feeling.”

I kept my voice even. “Maybe it’s nothing, after all.”

Danny leaned back in the seat, exhaled through his nose. “See, an organization like this, for it to work, there’s gotta be a leader of the pack.  A top wolf.”

“An alpha,” I supplied.

Danny’s eyes narrowed.  “Yeah.  But sometimes, the little wolves want to challenge the… alpha.  Thinking they’re smarter.”  Danny gripped the steering wheel tightly.  “But they forget something.  The alpha can be careful, too.”

“You got a feeling someone’s trying to make a move,” I said.

He smiled again, softer this time. Almost fond. “A little wolf wants to run the pack.”

“Nobody can replace you, Danny,” I said. “You don’t need to prove anything.”

His fingers drummed the wheel, slower now. “Smart wolves are… valuable,” he said, as if weighing the word. “That’s why this pisses me off. But the alpha’s gotta keep order. You know that.”

I nodded. I’d always known the risk. “I’ve never challenged you.”

“No.  Not straight out.  But that’s why you can’t be an alpha.  Alphas can’t be too cautious… or too smart.  You shoulda acted.”

His eyes flicked toward the pond, then back to me. “Nobody comes out here,” he repeated.  “Somebody’d have to look real hard to find anything out here.  Maybe look forever.”

He watched my face closely for a reaction. I gave him none.

The drumming stopped. The keys went still.

Danny’s voice dropped. “Last words?”

“Don’t,” I said.

For a fraction of a second, he hesitated. Then the decision snapped into place. His hand dropped, fast and sure, and came back up with the Smith and Wesson, pulled from under the seat.

Two shots exploded in the confined space, a brutal concussion punched my chest flat and hammered the inside of my ears. A hot blast of pain flared across my chest. 

White smoke immediately blotted out everything.

I sat, lungs burning on acrid smoke. The silence in my ears gave way to a thin, high ringing.

Like a receding fog, the smoke began to thin.

Danny slumped against the driver’s door, his head canted awkwardly, his chest blooming with dark stains. The gun hung loose in his hand, useless now. His eyes were open but already glazing, his dominance bleeding out onto the seat.

I drew my hand tenderly out of my jacket pocket, still holding the hammerless .38.  My skin was burned from the gap flash of the revolver. There was a ragged, blackened hole torn through the pocket and my shirt beneath was scorched.

I stayed long enough to be sure. The final step in quiet, cautious moves.

When I stepped out of the car, the pond lay waiting.  I knew that whatever went into that pond, something as big as a car, would sink deep, hidden under a blanket of green algae and lily pads.

Nobody came out here.  It was the last place anyone would look.

As I moved to finish, the six bullets from the Smith and Wesson clinked together in my undamaged jacket pocket.