C. Box: Back of Beyond

“I don’t know where he is,” Bodean said, shooting a cuff to look at his watch. He gestured toward the credenza in back of the sheriff’s chair. “His hat is here.”

“Goddamn it,” Cody said, standing with difficulty and walking around the desk to turn the hat crown-down, “the man doesn’t listen. ”

Cody sat back down in the chair and moaned. It seemed like every inch of his body still hurt. The gash on his face across his nose was stitched closed and there was a fresh bandage on his ear. His body was a mass of bruises. His knees still hurt from riding the horses.

“Frankly,” Bodean said, “I’m surprised he’s taking you back.”

Cody snorted in response.

“The coroner is likely to use it as a campaign issue against him,” Bodean said, shaking his head. “You’re coming out pretty damned good on this. I don’t know how you do it. Larry used to joke about you having illicit photos of him. Is that the case?”

Cody looked up and grimaced. “I’ll never tell.”

Bodean looked at his watch again. Then: “I hear there have never been as many Feds in Yellowstone for an investigation before. They’re practically tripping over each other. They’ve got FBI, DEA, Park Service, Homeland Security, not to mention detectives from Minnesota, Utah, California, Wyoming, and our state guys. You must have given a lot of statements.”

Cody grunted.

Bodean said, “I read your initial one. I noticed you didn’t say anything about being suspended while you were there.”

“It wasn’t relevant.”

Bodean raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”

Cody said, “I could have told them, I guess. But then I’d have to tell them the reason I was there was because I was freelancing on a murder investigation prohibited by my superiors. How do you think that would play in the press?”

Bodean didn’t respond.

Cody said, “I’ve got requests from USA Today, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, AP, and five cable news shows. I haven’t called any of them back. Would you like me to amend my statement before I call them so they know why I was in the park on my own?”

“You can be such an asshole,” Bodean said.

Cody shrugged.

“Following up on your statement,” Bodean said, “are the other survivors back home?”

“Far as I know. Bull Mitchell is back with his daughter and his wife in Bozeman. I guess he’s quite the local celebrity. I owe him a lot of money but he’s graciously set up a long-term payment plan. Knox is doing a lot of interviews for the New York press. I’ve seen a couple of them. As you can imagine, it’s quite a story there. Donna Glode isn’t talking. Walt went home with his tail between his legs.”

“What about the Sullivan family?”

Cody nodded. “They’re okay. My son Justin is constantly texting the older daughter. They’re scheming something but I don’t know what. I plan to keep in touch with the younger one, Gracie. She’s a smart little lady.” When he said her name he smiled. He couldn’t help it.

Cody said, “They found Gannon where we hung him up. He’s singing like a bird, from what I understand. Telling the Feds everything he knows. Pieces are falling into place.”

“Speaking of,” Bodean said, “I understand he’s accusing you of torturing him. Of shooting him in the ear and the knee to get him to talk.”

Cody shook his head. “That guy. I shot in self-defense. You can check it out with Bull Mitchell. He’ll corroborate my story.”

Bodean smiled bitterly. “I don’t know how you keep getting away with it.”

“I chalk it up to clean living,” Cody said. “Mind if I smoke?”

Bodean looked at the ceiling tile and took a deep breath.

Cody withdrew a packet of cigarettes from his jacket and tapped one out and lit it. He tossed the spent match on the little placard on Tubman’s desk that said NO SMOKING.

Bodean said, “So you say the Feds are putting it all together, connecting the dots. I assume you mean they’re getting evidence linking up Mina, Gannon, Jed, and maybe an outside accomplice working with Mina.”

Cody studied Bodean’s face, letting him go on, but saying nothing.

“That Rachel Mina or Chavez, or whatever,” Bodean whistled, “she must have been something. I read all of Larry’s files, the stuff he got from the San Diego PD and DEA. He traced her all over the country, to every one of those murders. She operated completely under the radar. I saw photos of her. She was a looker, but not a knockout. She must have been something,” he repeated. “A stone-cold killer who looks like the cute girl next door.”

“She knew she had to get to Yellowstone,” Cody said. “When she met that poor schmuck Ted Sullivan she planted the seed. Of course, he accommodated her. She knew a single woman on a trip like that would draw suspicion, so Ted was her cover.”

Bodean nodded. “So as far as you’re concerned, she was working with Wilson-I mean Gannon-and no one else?”

He seemed to be prying, Cody thought. He refused to play.

“When’s the funeral?” Cody asked.

“Larry?”

“Who the hell else?”

“Tomorrow. I’m surprised you didn’t get the e-mail. Wear your Class A’s.” That was department-speak for dress blues.

“I didn’t get the e-mail because I was giving statement after statement in the park,” Cody said, annoyed, “and I was still officially suspended, remember? I didn’t have fucking access to my e-mails.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Cody felt like standing up and decking him, but he fought back his rage.

“As soon as we’ve buried Larry,” Bodean said, “we’re ramping up our effort on going after his killer. Everything gets shoved aside. Finding the bastard who did it is Job One.”

“It’s about time,” Cody said, gripping the arm of the chair so hard he was surprised he didn’t leave dents in the wood.

“Jesus,” Bodean said, looking at his watch again. “Where the hell is the sheriff?”

Cody shrugged. Then he changed the subject. “Larry always used to lay things out for me in the most methodical way. It used to drive me crazy, but he wouldn’t let me rush him. He told me things his way, which was deliberate as all hell and very linear. I used to beg him to get to the bottom line but he’d never get there until he was good and ready after he had the storyline laid out.”

Bodean looked puzzled. “So?”

“So pretend I’m Larry,” Cody said, “and listen. You might want to sit down until the sheriff gets here. This won’t be as good as if Larry were telling it, but I’ll do my best.”

Bodean started to object, but bit his lip. His eyes showed concern. But he moved around the desk and sat in Tubman’s chair and leaned forward holding his hands together, fingers loosely laced.

“The assumption here with the Feds,” Cody said, “is it’s all connected, as you said. Mina, Gannon, Jed, maybe even Dakota Hill. And given that assumption, there’s the assumption Mina’s net spread farther out, that she had an accomplice on the outside. Whoever it was tried to burn me alive at Gallatin Gateway and was more successful with Larry. And that suspect is still out there.”

Bodean broke in: “I’m confident the Feds will find him with all the cooperation they’ve got. They can do a nationwide investigation. We’re limited to the county-”

“I know all that, Bodean,” Cody said impatiently. “Now please shut up and listen. We’re doing this Larry’s way.”

Bodean took a deep breath and held it, then leaned forward. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Okay. Things started to go bad for me in Townsend when I left here. I got pulled over by the local cop and spent the night there, putting me a day behind I’ll never get back. Who knows how many lives might have been saved if I’d been able to get into Yellowstone and break up the pack trip before they left? I will always be haunted by that.