“Worst part of it,” Coop agreed. “I’ve heard different versions. Do you have the cause of death?”

“Coroner has to give us that. He’d been in the water awhile-you know what happens. But it wasn’t a fall, and it wasn’t the damn fish that slit his throat. It wasn’t either that weighed the body down. Flooding hadn’t stirred it up, and Gull didn’t have eyes like a damn hawk, God knows when we’d’ve found him.”

“What did he use?”

“Nylon rope, rocks. Thing is, the way it was situated, it looked to me like the bastard had to get in the water to do it. Sick son of a bitch. Took his wallet, watch, pack, jacket, shirt. Left him with his pants and his boots.”

“Must’ve been the wrong size. He’d have taken them otherwise. No point in wasting anything.”

Gull had a little place on the other side of town, over a bar and grill. The narrow apartment smelled like him-horses and leather-and was furnished like a college dorm. With castoffs from his parents, his brother, and anyone else who wanted to upgrade a chair or table.

Jesse, despite his bitching about having to earn a living, answered the door. He hadn’t been ten feet from his brother since he’d come out of Spearfish Creek.

“He’s still a little shaky. I was thinking I’d haul him over to our ma, have her pat his head awhile.”

“That might be just the thing,” Willy said. “I’m going to get his statement now. I got yours, but could be you’ll think of more.”

“We got coffee on. He’s been sucking on that Mountain Dew of his. Christ knows how he chokes that down, but that’s what we’ve got.”

“Wouldn’t say no to coffee.” Willy crossed over to where Gull sat on a saggy plaid couch, his head in his hands.

“I still see it in my head. Can’t get it out.”

“You did a hard thing today, Gull. You did the right thing.”

“Can’t help wishing somebody else’d seen that damn boot poking out of the water.” He lifted his head, looked at Coop. “Hey, boss. I was going to come by, but…”

“Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you tell Willy everything. Just say it straight through. You’ll feel steadier after.”

“I told you,” he said to Willy. “And the rangers, too.” He blew out a breath, rubbed his face. “Okay. We were following the creek,” he began.

Coop kept quiet, letting Willy ask the questions when they needed to be asked. He drank cowboy coffee while Gull purged himself of the details.

“You know how clear that water is. Even after the storm, it’s good and clear. I went under, because I couldn’t get a good look with the way the falls were beating down, foaming up. I got a good look then. His one leg had come up, you know. I guess the rain, the churning, worked it up. He didn’t have a shirt on, just his pants and his boots. And the fish had been at him. His face…”

Gull’s eyes watered up as he looked back at Coop. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not like the movies. It’s not like anything else. I couldn’t even say, for certain, it was him-the one we were looking for. Not from the picture we had. Because of the fish. I came up, but I swallowed a bunch of water. I guess I screamed like a girl under there and took a bunch in. I couldn’t get my legs to move. Jesse and Cy had to pull me in with the rope.”

He gave his brother a weak smile. “I got sick as two dogs-maybe not as sick as you did on a chaw, boss, but pretty damn sick. I guess I was pitiful enough Jesse didn’t even rag me about it.”

“I wanted to turn around,” Jesse said. “Bitching and complaining. I said how that guy, the one Gull found dead, was an asshole. I’m sorry for it.”

Outside, Willy puffed out his cheeks. “There’s some distance between the trail and where Tyler ended up. A lot of area where he could’ve run into his killer.”

“Do you think he got that far off the trail?”

“No, I don’t. Not on his own if that’s your meaning. Some, sure, but he had a map, he had his phone. I think he was driven that far, that’s what I think.”

“I’d agree with you. He didn’t want the body found too soon, and he didn’t want it found near his own territory. Drive the quarry away from your… habitat,” he said, thinking of Lil. “Do the kill, the disposal, then go back to your own area.”

“It would’ve taken time. Hours probably. The bastard got lucky with the rain.”

“He can’t stay lucky.”

“Right now, we’re looking for an unidentified subject. We can’t tie Tyler’s murder to what’s happened at Lil’s, or with the other murders you dug up. What I’m going to do is get Ethan Howe’s picture out, as a Person of Interest. My boy Cy kept that scene preserved as best he could. He’s green as a leaf of iceberg, but he’s not stupid. We got pictures, and I don’t think you’ll squawk if I happen to slip you copies.”

“I won’t.”

“Criminal Investigation Division’s combing that scene now. They’re not stupid either. If that bastard dropped so much as a toothpick, they’ll find it. When we get a ballpark on the time of death, that’ll help. We can do a couple of reconstruct scenarios. I’ll listen to any thoughts you’ve got on it. I’m damned if somebody’s going to get away with terrorizing one of my friends, and killing tourists.”

“Then I’ll give you a couple now. He’s holed up. He’s got a place, probably more than one, but one where he keeps the bulk of his supplies. He won’t have much. He needs to travel light and often. When he needs something, or wants something, he steals it. Campers, vacation homes, empty houses. We know he’s got at least one gun, so he needs ammo. He hunts for food, or pilfers campsites. And I think he keeps his ear to the ground. He’s going to find out you found the body. The sensible thing to do would be to pull up stakes, head over into Wyoming, get lost for a while. But I don’t think he’s going to do that. He’s got an agenda, and he isn’t finished.”

“We’ll be searching, ground and air. If he shows the tip of his dick, we’ll pull him in.”

“Have you had any reports of anything stolen from campers, hikers, houses, stores?”

“There’s always some. I’ll look over everything for the last six months. Maybe you’d let me deputize you, for the short term.”

“No. I don’t want a badge again.”

“One of these days, Coop, you and I are going to have to sit down over a beer so you can tell me why that is.”

“Maybe. I need to get to Lil’s.”

“You swing by, pick up those pictures. Badge or not, I’m going to use you.”

This time when Coop arrived at Lil’s he wore his 9mm under his jacket. He carted his laptop, the files Willy had given him, and three spare clips into her cabin. After some debate, he shoved one of the clips into his pocket and stowed the other two in one of her dresser drawers.

And with an eyebrow cocked, drew out a short, silky black gown with very sheer lace in interesting places.

He wondered why she always seemed to wear flannel.

He poked at something red and virtually transparent, shook his head, and dropped the black number back into the drawer.

In the kitchen he set up his laptop on her table, dug a couple of bottles of water out of her supply, then went out to take a look at the progress on her security system.

He spent a little time with the head installer out of Rapid City, and made his escape after the man figured out he knew something about security-and before he could get roped into helping with the wiring.

The good weather brought people out, he noted. He counted three groups making the rounds of the habitat. And the big yellow school bus indicated there were more on the property. Education center, he surmised.

She was keeping busy, and that was good. It was also too bad, or so she might think. But there were only a few hours of daylight left-and they had an appointment.

He hooked her horse trailer to his truck, loaded the horse he’d sold her onto it. He chose the younger and larger of the horses left in the stable, then secured that one in the trailer.