A smug look seeped across his face as he stared at me. “I think you might prefer we did it in private.”

“I’ll do my own thinking. How can I help you, Mr. Trost?”

He glanced around and then, satisfied that he’d given enough of a dramatic pause, continued. “I don’t think you’re taking our case very seriously.”

I waited the exact same amount of time before replying. “Our case.”

He gestured around the room at the copious boxes and files. “Jen.”

I wanted to laugh but figured that wasn’t likely to make the situation any better. “Acting Deputy Attorney, I have made my time, staff, and facility available to you. What else exactly is it you need?”

“Your complete attention.”

“Oh, you’ve got it right now.”

“I mean for the tenure of the investigation.”

“Well, you see, I do have other responsibilities, one of which concerns, as you have noted, a potential homicide, and I think that takes precedence over your sixty-five-million-year-old cold case.” He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what the problem here is, and then we can both get on with our jobs.”

“I was not impressed with your performance this morning.”

“At the press conference.”

“Yes.”

“Performance.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Trost, in case you aren’t aware, my job is to enforce the laws and protect the lives and property of the people of Absaroka County; anything beyond that is my prerogative. I have conveyed to you and your department the utmost in professional courtesy and will continue to do so as long as it doesn’t interfere with the performance of my sworn duties.”

His smile faded. “I’ve got another press conference with a few national outlets this afternoon, and I’d like you to be there.”

“I have other responsibilities.”

This time he paused even longer before speaking. “I suggest you reorganize your schedule.”

“I have an appointment that can’t be broken.” And with that, I turned and walked out of the room.

 • • •

On the drive to Sheridan, the Bear, having decided to keep me company, gave me his take on the brief exchange. “I think it is safe to assume that you’ve been removed from his Christmas card list.”

“That’s all right, I’m not real fond of him, either.”

“I also think you should anticipate a call from the attorney general of the state of Wyoming.”

“That’s okay, him I like.”

He glanced out the window at Lake DeSmet, the rain having let up a bit, with glimmers of the afternoon sun reflecting off the surface of the water in a brassy gold. “Thank you for caring about Danny Lone Elk.” He reached back and scratched under Dog’s chin. “I know you are under a lot of pressure right now, so if no one else has said it—thank you.”

I brushed off the kindness, slightly embarrassed. “Well, it might all be a part of the same case.”

“Maybe, and then again, maybe not.”

Anxious to change the subject, I asked about the cursory observations he’d made of Danny’s body while I’d collected Vic and her paraphernalia. “So, did the turtles do it?”

“The turtles did it.”

I thought about it. “I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel better.”

“I am not so sure why, either.” He turned in the seat to look at me. “And I am not sure why you do.”

“Oh.”

“Now, on to important matters.” He glanced out the windshield at the fresh, newly washed landscape. “Is Vic coming to terms with her little brother marrying and having a child with your daughter?”

I hadn’t told anyone about the damage done to my undersheriff or the fact that she had lost a child and now could have none, but it seemed like the Bear was intuiting, something he was pretty good at. “She doesn’t have a lot of say in it, and Michael just goes with the flow . . . It’s one of his many good qualities.”

“The whole family is coming?”

“Just Cady and the baby. Michael was scheduled for some time off, but from what I understand, he’s got a new sergeant who’s trying to make things hard on him, so he’s having to pull second watch for the next week.”

“Life in the Philadelphia Police Department.”

“Especially if you are the son of the Chief of Detectives North.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Your granddaughter is five months old. She needs a name.”

I made a face the way I always did whenever I was reminded that my granddaughter was named for a ’59 Thunderbird convertible. “She’s got a name. In case you’ve forgotten, she’s named after your damn car.”

“I mean a real name.”

Henry Standing Bear, Heads Man of the Dog Soldier Society, Dog Soldier Clan, was offering my granddaughter a Cheyenne name. “Don’t you think she’s a little young?”

He shrugged. “We’re all here, and if you make a run up to Hardin, we could stop in Lame Deer and arrange something with Lonnie and the tribe.” He turned his head and looked out the window. “Are you heading up tomorrow?”

I smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“I will come and make arrangements.”

“I’ll buy you breakfast at the Blue Cow Café.”

“Deal.”

Cady’s Cheyenne name was Sweet Grass Woman, and I wondered if it would have an effect on the choice for Lola. “Have you been thinking about a name?”

“Yes.”

“Care to share it with me?”

“No.”

“Okay.” We drove on, and, thinking I was making small talk, I asked, “So, what do you think of my granddaughter?”

“She is a great deal like you.”

I felt a sharp wave of fleeting self-satisfaction. “You think?”

“Yes, and it will lead to problems with her mother.”

I glanced at him. “Huh?”

“Your granddaughter and you are too much alike, and you will be something of a burden to her for the majority of your lives.”

I laughed and drove on. “She’s only five months old, and you haven’t seen her since she was a newborn—you don’t think you might be jumping the gun here a little bit?”

“I have seen the two of you together.”

“I thought we got along pretty well.”

“Yes, and she will come to see you as the sun, the moon, the stars, and all that is.” He still didn’t look at me. “And this will be very hard for you to live up to; eventually you will fail and she will have to reassess, which will be difficult for her.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence on both our parts.” I glanced at him again. “So when is this cataclysmic event supposed to happen, when she’s nine months old?”

He shot me a look from the corner of one eye.

“You know, between you, Danny Lone Elk, and Virgil White Buffalo, I could use a good word every now and then from the great beyond, okay?”

 • • •

To everyone’s surprise, including the airline’s, the flight from Denver arrived on time.

Henry and I were both standing there watching the turboprop unload. Not unexpectedly, my daughter and granddaughter were the last ones off the plane, a gentleman I knew helping Cady carry the paraphernalia down the steps. Lola was screeching, but I was able to say hello to Dennis Kervin, an attorney from Durant.

He handed Henry a diaper bag and other assorted essentials, Cady following. “That granddaughter of yours has the lungs of a Metropolitan Opera star.”

“Sorry about that.”

I wasn’t able to add more as a tall redhead with cool, gray eyes unceremoniously handed me the screaming bundle along with her cell phone. “Here, take her. I need a minute.” She turned and marched off toward the bathrooms.

“Why do I have your cell phone?”

“Because there are three messages from the Philadelphia Police Department, and if I answer it and it’s my husband, in the mood I’m in, I’m going to give him an earful.” She called back over her shoulder, “Answer it if you want to, and while you’re at it, tell him I want a divorce and he can have custody of Ethel Merman there.”

I deposited the phone in my jacket pocket and considered my granddaughter. The little bundle’s cries became so shrill that I was sure she was going to rupture something. I turned to look at the Bear and began to bounce up and down ever so slightly. “She does have a set of lungs on her.”