“To hurt Cady and therefore you, and Vic.”

“Why hurt Vic?”

“She is the one who shot him.”

“Two birds, one stone, without ever being in Wyoming.” I thought about it, looking at the floor as if expecting it to swallow me up. “A plague on both your houses.”

“Yes.”

“Continuing with our theme for argument’s sake—do you think he’s done?”

“No.”

“What do I do?”

He carefully stood and crossed around my desk to lower Lola into my arms against my chest where she didn’t even stir. He turned his back to us and stepped toward the windows. “You have two choices: you can either stay here and present yourself and your loved ones as targets, waiting for him to show again—”

“Or?”

He turned to look at me with one very dark eye. “Kill him.”

I stared at him for a long while and then gently laughed, so as not to disturb the baby. “Don’t you think I’m a little long in the tooth to be playing international hit man?”

He didn’t blink. “I can take care of this for you.”

The full realization of what he was prepared to do settled on our friendship. “I would never ask you to do something like that.”

“That is why I would do it.”

There was nothing I wanted more than Tomás Bidarte, the man who had done more damage to me and mine than anybody on the face of the earth, dead, but not like this. “No.”

He stepped back to the edge of my desk and sat, crossing his arms and looking down at me. “You do not have the luxury of doing nothing.”

“I’ll wait and see if our suspicions about Michael’s death are correct, and if they are . . .” I sighed. “Then I’ll do something.”

“What will you do?”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.” Lola stirred, and I hugged her a little closer. “I am sworn to uphold the law, Henry—I’m not a hired killer.”

“No, but you are up against one, and I am offering to stop him.”

“You know, you’re not as young as you used to be, either.” I shook my head. “You’re not my ethical default, Henry, you’re my friend—one of the loved ones you were talking about. I’ll do this, but I’ll do it my way or else my whole life has been a joke.” I looked down at the tiny, sleeping body on my chest. “If I find out he’s behind this, I will bring the concentrated effort of everything I am and have against him, but not until I’m sure.”

“Of what? That he is a killer?”

“That he’s responsible.” Studying the swirls of brown hair that were, at the age of five months, just now creeping over her ears, I kept my eyes on the top of my granddaughter’s head.

He reached out one of his powerful hands, the fingertips gently touching the child. “If something happens to this one . . .” He nodded his head toward the front office. “. . . your philosophy will no longer hold sway.”

I looked up at him, making sure he understood. “No, it won’t.”

 • • •

Watching the Thunderbird pull away in the drizzle, I felt my heart beat against my rib cage like an animal fighting for its freedom. The Cheyenne Nation was going to pick up Vic and, while helping her with her crutches and baggage, talk to her about our suppositions. I had a suspicion that she had already figured out that Bidarte was involved, but better to make sure she was forewarned and forearmed.

A lot of people might underestimate my undersheriff because she was wounded; a lot of people are morons.

Dog whined, and I patted his head. “Just you and me, pal.” I became aware of someone standing behind me and turned to find McGroder adjusting his umbrella. “And the FBI.”

“I hear you had a death in the family.”

I nodded and turned to face him. “My son-in-law, Vic’s brother.”

“I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

We both stood there for a while, neither of us sure of what to say next. “Well, do you have any connections in Mexico City?”

“Me personally? No.” He took his sunglasses off and shoved them in the case, all the while petting Dog, who wagged like a windshield wiper. “I’m a domestic guy, but I’ve got friends in high places over at the CIA, NSA, and State.” He continued to study me. “You got trouble?”

“Yep.”

“Cop trouble?”

I brought my eyes up and looked toward the horizon like some third lead in a B Western. “No.”

“Oh, real trouble.” He pulled Dog’s ear. “Seeing as how you kept me from bleeding to death up on the mountain, I don’t think I could deny you much. Why don’t you tell me the entire story and I’ll see what I can do.”

I nodded and began the saga of Tomás Bidarte as the three of us walked back up the steps.

“Walt? Walt!” Mike and I both turned as a highly agitated Dave Baumann hurried to the base of the steps and put a hand on the railing. “Jen’s missing.”

Dog barked, and McGroder and I looked at each other and then looked back at him. “What?”

“Jen, she’s missing.”

“You mean the body?”

He looked confused. “What?”

“We’ve got the head.” I turned to look at the FBI man. “Don’t we?”

Baumann flapped his hands. “Not the T. rex, my assistant, the paleontologist, Jennifer.”

I stepped back down and got a read on just how upset he was. “What do you mean missing. Since when?”

“Last night at the museum was the last time I saw her. She didn’t show today, so I tried calling her cell and her home phones, but nobody answered at either one. Then I texted her, and she always answers.” He glanced down Main Street. “I was going to go out to her place, but then I got worried that maybe I should have somebody with me.”

“Does she live out at her father’s at Lake DeSmet?”

“Yes, the old rock shop.”

I turned to McGroder and gestured toward Dog. “You want to go with me? I’m fresh out of sidekicks with opposable thumbs.”

“But I’m having such a good time cataloging all this guy’s crap back in the holding cells.” He paused in mock quandary. “You bet your ass.” He pulled a cell phone from his jacket as all four of us jumped in my truck, pulling out as the rain picked up again, and headed north of town. “Jarod? Yeah, it’s me.” There was a pause. “What? No. Look, I’m headed out of town a few miles and just wanted to check in . . . Yes. Maybe an hour.” There was another, longer pause. “Well, tell him it has to do with the case. No, don’t put him on.” Then the third, and longest pause. “Because the acting deputy douchebag is a pain in my ass.” A short pause. “No, don’t tell him that.” He ended the call and looked at me. “Kids these days.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Baumann, looking a little uncomfortable with Dog sitting beside him. “Did you talk to her after she left the museum yesterday?”

“No, but she sent me a text message that she was looking through her computer files trying to find the one with Danny on it where we agreed to the arrangements about the dinosaur.”

I nodded and took the ramp onto the highway. “Does she live out there alone?”

“Yes.”

“Try her on the phone again, before I burn up the gas to find out she was taking a shower.”

He began calling under protest. “She would never just leave.” He shot a look at McGroder. “Not with them here.” He waited a while and then left a message: “Jen, this is the third time I’ve called you, but I just wanted to make sure you were all right? Hello? Hello?” Shaking his head, he looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Nothing.”

“Was she all right when she left last night?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly, but she’s rarely all right so it’s hard to tell.”

“Was she upset about anything in particular, other than the obvious?”

He glanced at McGroder. “You mean other than these guys taking Jen?”

“Yep.” The agent in charge glanced at me with a funny look on his face, so I asked, “What?”

He glanced back at Baumann. “Um, the deputy attorney might’ve dropped a subpoena on her last night.”

“What?”

He ran a hand through his crew cut. “Well, she was the first one to see the damn thing; I mean she found it, right? He’s probably going to want her to testify.”