Server Down Read Online Free Page B

men’s reaction to the “f” word. He flopped a limp wrist in the counterman’s direction and asked, “You probably don’t have the unrated version of the
Brokeback Mountain
video, either?”
    They didn’t, and Mad Dog decided to stop amusing himself at their expense. “Just the body paints, then.” He paid cash and the counterman took it gingerly.
    Mad Dog carried his bag of goods to the front door, where he found he couldn’t resist one last barb. “Thank you so much,” he said in his best imitation of Truman Capote. “I’ll be sure to recommend your wonderful establishment to all my friends.”
    He minced out onto a deserted sidewalk and closed the door on a pair of horrified expressions. Mad Dog would have laughed, but a sudden flash of headlights reached around the building from the lot where he’d left his Mini. A police cruiser stuck its nose out of the lot and onto the sidewalk and an officer climbed from behind the wheel, cold eyes fixed on Mad Dog as the man reached for his side arm. The officer drew it, but he never managed to point it in Mad Dog’s direction. Hailey flew around the corner and took it out of his hand. She passed Mad Dog in an explosion of claws and fur and disappeared around the opposite corner of the building, still carrying the weapon in her teeth.
    Mad Dog followed her, as fast as his legs could carry him. It wouldn’t take long for the cop to call in back-up. Besides, there was probably a shotgun clamped to the cruiser’s dash.
    ***
    What’s a grenade launcher doing in Benteen County?” the fire chief muttered, but he couldn’t be any more surprised than the sheriff.
    His brother, Mad Dog, liked being the county’s oddball, the guy who took a contrary stance on every issue. But, here, the worst that usually got him was a sharp retort or a nasty rumor spread behind his back.
    â€œAnd who’d want to blow up Mad Dog’s house?” the chief asked.
    Who indeed, the sheriff wondered. Mad Dog had been especially annoying lately. Some out-of-state investors were partnering with the Benteen County Board of Supervisors to push for construction of an ethanol plant in Buffalo Springs. That could result in the biggest job hike in the county since the Gas–Food Mart decided to put on a night shift. And it wasn’t just that an ethanol plant would offer new jobs. It could make farming in the county profitable again.
    Mad Dog, of course, was against it. He’d been to every local meeting to argue that ethanol production wasn’t really environmentally friendly. Sure, it replaced some petroleum in the marketplace, and with a renewable source, but it meant food wasn’t being produced. And it took a lot of petroleum products to grow corn. Corn was the most profitable crop to turn into ethanol, so every acre involved in its production would have to be irrigated. Benteen County didn’t get enough rainfall to grow it without help. The section of the Ogallala Aquifer under the county had receded from twenty to fifty feet in the last half century. Nobody knew how much farther it might drop. Or whether it might even run out all together. Except Mad Dog, of course, who was certain the ethanol plant would assure the aquifer dried up, after being further polluted by the fertilizers and pesticides that would be used on every acre.
    As a result, some folks had been saying pretty nasty things about Mad Dog. Calling him the usual stuff, like pagan, and half-breed. Nutcase had been making the rounds, too. Sheriff English knew a couple of tough old farmers who’d like to duke it out with his brother. But he hadn’t heard so much as a whisper about someone throwing a hissyfit and threatening his brother with serious bodily harm. And yet an old grenade launcher had been used on Mad Dog’s house, most likely, with the expectation Mad Dog would be home at the time.
    Sheriff English tried Mad