Gracie nodded, looking over at her father on the downed trees. “He does, in his way,” she said. “I feel bad that Danielle and I thought he’d run. Rachel pretty much convinced us. You see, he told us why he showed up late at the airport to get us. It turns out he was late because he was booking a weekend at a spa for us in Billings when we were done with this trip. He’d arrived the day before to meet Rachel and he wanted us to feel all girly again when we went back home. And the reason he wasn’t in the camp was because he was feeling sick and resting in his tent. He had no idea Rachel told us that story.”

Cody had nothing to say.

“Rachel had me completely fooled,” Gracie said.

“She fooled a lot of people.”

“Even though she’s dead and I wanted her to be, I feel kind of bad. Jed, too.”

Cody squeezed her on the shoulder. “You should feel that way,” he said. “It’s the difference between you and them.”

She nodded, not sure.

“I hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” he said, digging the last of D’Amato’s cigarettes out of his breast pocket.

She looked up, said, “Justin said you’d quit.”

“Nope,” he said, lighting and inhaling as deeply as he could without falling back into the crevice.

Epilogue

Montana

Three days later, Cody Hoyt slumped in the uncomfortable chair across from Sheriff Tub Tubman’s desk, but Tubman wasn’t there yet. Undersheriff Cliff Bodean perched as he usually did on the corner of Tubman’s desk, looking down at him. Cody had brought a small briefcase with him filled with statements and his files and another object and had placed it near his feet.

“He said be here at eleven to discuss my situation,” Cody said. “So I’m here.”

“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.”