Mark lies in the dark, remembering the killer cutting away a piece of his pajamas. He believed he would be killed. Now he is sure he is alone and manages to stand up. He searches for an escape but cannot find one. He trips and falls, screaming beneath his gag.

Wilson sits in The Last Precinct, a cop bar filled with drunken men. He understands why so many police officers drink to excess but only drinks milk himself, wishing to maintain control. One of the officers at his table grows angry when he learns that Wilson is writing about the Indian Killer and talking to Indians about the murders, fearing that he is interfering in the investigation. He declares that he hates Indians because “[t]hey’re fucking drunks and welfare cheats. They ain’t got no jobs. They’re lazy as shit” (240). In his anger, he also lets slip that the Indian Killer leaves owl feathers at the scene of the crime, something Wilson did not know. He wants to fight Wilson, but the writer leaves the bar.

In his truck, Wilson thinks about how people don’t care about Indians being murdered but are outraged at the idea of an Indian killing white people.