To the Bone (David Wolf Book 7)

by Jeff Carson

  “I’m going to hit the head.”

  Rachette eyed her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Get started without me.”

  Seven minutes later Patterson left the bathroom and returned to the office behind the counter. Rachette sat in front of the computer and the clerk hovered over his shoulder, helping him navigate the footage.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  Rachette shook his head as he stared at the black and white video screen. “Nothing.”

  “How much more do you have?” She asked.

  “I don’t know.” Rachette turned in the chair and looked at her. “You gonna live?”

  She nodded, ignoring the blushing look from the clerk. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Remind me to never eat shrimp again.”

  Patterson tapped his shoulder. “I’ll take the rest.”

  Rachette stood up. “You got it.” The squeak of his shoes disappeared behind her.

  “You need help?” The clerk asked.

  She shook her head.

  The guy looked relieved. “All right. I’m going out to have a smoke. Let me know if you need anything.”

  She sat down at the dial and knob system she’d gotten accustomed to over the years.

  For the next ten minutes black and white images of cars, trucks, and motorcycles flitted in and out of view on the screen from the camera footage from underneath the one fish-eye security camera outside. She was ignoring the interior footage for now, just trying to catch a glimpse of what they were looking for outside—the moving truck. They could scour the recordings more carefully later.

  The clock on the footage said she was looking at the 3 am hour of Monday morning now—almost 7 hours after Frost’s neighbor had heard the three shots. She stared at nothing happening on the screen for minutes at a time. This was a 24 hour operation, but she doubted they made any money at it at this time of night.

  “Anything?” Rachette said, returning with a tinge of whine in his voice.

  And like that, she was through to the present moment on the tape. “Nope.”

  “Shit.”

  She grabbed the footage tape for the interior and left the office.

  The clerk twisted around. “You find what you’re looking for?”

  Patterson held up the USB stick. “We’re going to take this video, all right?”

  The clerk shrugged.

  “Hey.” Rachette was on the other side of the counter knocking his knuckles on the glass of the slow-rotating cooker. “Are these from yesterday?”

  The clerk blinked. “What?”

  Rachette leaned forward and stared into the clerk’s eyes. “The hot dogs. The taquitos. When did you make these?”

  The clerk opened his mouth to speak.

  “Tell me the truth now.” Rachette narrowed his eyes to slits.

  “Two days ago.” The clerk hung his head in shame.

  Rachette nodded, and then he reached in and grabbed two taquitos off the revolving rack. He bared his teeth and hot-potatoed them back and forth in his hands and put them in a wad of napkins.

  “How much?” He pulled out his wallet.

  “Uh … don’t worry about it.”

  “Nonsense. Are you sure?” Rachette gave him a single second to answer. “Well thanks. You want one, Patterson?”

  “No,” she said.

  Rachette shoved half of one in his mouth. “Ah, hot. Thanks man.” He left out the automatic doors.

  Patterson walked through the bullet-proof door and out around to the front of the counter.

  Rachette came inside and she pretended to be perusing the items for sale on the counter. She placed her hand on a disposable cigarette lighter, and then a box of mints.

  “I need another napkin,” Rachette said walking behind her. “You coming or what?”

  She twisted and looked at the rear of the store toward the coolers. “I’ll be right there. Gonna get a drink.”

  “Get me a water?” He left.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  She walked to the cooler and grabbed two waters and then went back to the counter. Slapping down a twenty-dollar bill, she pulled out the home pregnancy test box from her pocket and put it on the counter. “I need to pay for this.”

  The clerk picked up the box and studied it. It had been ripped open and one of the tests had been taken out, used when she had gone in for her bathroom break.

  It had mercifully said negative after peeing on it and waiting three minutes.

  “Come on.” She pushed it forward and the guy swiped it with his scanner gun. “Actually. You keep it and throw it away for me, okay? And keep the change.”

  She dropped a twenty and walked out the door, the euphoria of utter relief making her steps light.

  “Don’t you want the other one just in case?” The clerk called.

  For an instant she ignored the man, and then she stopped dead and came back inside, the tension already back in her entire body and gut. “What? Why?”

  He shrugged. “That’s how my kid came. My girlfriend got a false-negative on one of these things. Talk about a psych-out.” He laughed. “I think that’s why they have two of em’.”

  She stared at him.

  The clerk scratched his beard.

  “Damn it. Here.” She grabbed the box, pocketed it, and left.

  Chapter 13

  The Windfield Moving Company was a dust encrusted stand-alone two car garage surrounded by chain link fence. There was a lone moving truck parked on a dirt parking lot inside the fence, and a beat up sedan parked next to it.

  Wolf parked behind Shumway in front of the building and they stepped out. Jet spilled out of the back door, trotted to the fence, and lifted a leg.

  Shumway eyed Jet and hooked a thumb toward the building. “This woman’s a little kooky if I remember correctly. Let’s go.”

  “Jet. Stay here,” Wolf said.

  Jet ignored Wolf and put his nose to the cracked sidewalk.

  The door chimed as Wolf and Shumway entered, and a heavyset woman with greasy gray hair, a dirty blouse, and brown bug eyes looked up from a counter.

  “Hello gentlemen. Can I help you?” She leaned back.

  Shumway hitched his belt and leaned on the counter. “This here is Detective Wolf from Rocky Points.”

  “Oh, yes. Hi, I’m Pamela. Pamela Trunzo. I’ve been talking to … is it Deputy Patterson?”

  Wolf nodded.

  “Nice woman she is.”

  “She called about one of your trucks, rented by one Jeffrey Green?”

  “Oh yes, I remember. My heck, I’ve only been thinking about it non-stop for every waking minute since. Have you found the truck yet?”

  “I’m sorry, no. We haven’t.”

  She shook her head. “Muh. Ain’t got no insurance on it.”

  Wolf was unsure how to respond to that, so he moved on. “Was Professor Green with anyone when he rented the truck?”

  She squinted and looked to the ceiling, putting a stubby finger on her chin. “I assume he was. He drove off in the truck. And he didn’t leave another vehicle here. I remember noticing that when I was helping him back out. Nobody was out there with him. Had no vehicle with him either.”

  “So he was dropped off by someone?” Shumway asked.

  “I suppose.”

  “Don’t you folks have GPS devices on all these trucks to track them?” Shumway asked.

  “Not ours. My stupid husband didn’t comply in time with that. That’s why they pulled our insurance. Good for nothin’ that man. You know what I really hope?”

  She waited for an answer.

  Wolf raised his eyebrows.

  “I hope the truck never gets found. Or if it is, it was dumped off a cliff and it’s destroyed to kingdom come. I hope we have to shut this place down so I can move out of this heck-hole. That’s what I hope.” She slapped the counter.

  Shumway gave Wolf a told-you-so look.

  “You said you watched him drive away,” Wolf asked
. “Which way did he go?”

  She waddled around the counter and past them, then pushed open the glass door.

  Shumway watched with an amused smile.

  She poked her arm out the door. “Went that way.”

  Shumway frowned and walked to the door. “Which way?”

  “That way.” She pointed to the rising sun.

  Shumway pushed past her. “Come out here, would ya?”

  She followed, and the door slammed shut with a clank.

  Wolf grabbed the paperwork off the counter and followed them outside.

  “You mean that way, right?” Shumway pointed to the north, toward the plateaus and the dinosaur quarry contained within.

  “No. I watched him roll down 11 to the east. Right there. I told you, I helped him back out of the spot here, and he drove away. I remember plain as day. Heck, I’ve had one customer all month, and it was him. And that’s why I’ve gotta get the heck out of here.” She turned to Wolf. “I’m bored.”

  Wolf raised the paperwork. “Is this the time Professor Green rented the truck? Right here?”

  The woman walked over. Her lungs wheezing, she mashed her breasts into Wolf’s forearm and looked at the paperwork. “Yeah. Right there. 12:42 pm. Customers get twenty four hours with the truck. Anything over that, and I gotta charge em’ another day, so gotta be precise with the time.”

  “Of course,” Wolf said, handing the papers back to her. “Thanks for your help. And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else with him?”

  She widened her already bulging eyes and stared at him.

  They stood in silence for a beat.

  “Okay,” Wolf said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She waved a hand and disappeared through the jingling door.

  Shumway gave a half-smile. “Told ya.”

  “What was all that directional pointing about?”

  “She was saying Green drove off east. There’s nothin’ east. No access to the quarry up there.”

  Wolf frowned. “Then where was he going?”

  “If she’s telling the truth.”

  “She seemed pretty sure.”

  “Pretty crazy,” Shumway said. “That’s what she seemed like. Let’s get up to the quarry.”

  Wolf followed Shumway back to their vehicles.

  Chapter 14

  Wolf followed Shumway out of town to the north and into the red and white cliff plateaus that overlooked Windfield. He’d entered the dinosaur quarry into the GPS, and on the screen of his center mounted computer was a red line on top of the green digital map display that shifted every few seconds.

  It seemed unnecessary, because he passed the third brown painted sign that said Windfield Dinosaur Quarry with an arrow pointing ahead. Apparently every tourist dollar counted.

  It was well past 9 a.m. now so he pressed the phone number for Dr. Talbot at the University of Utah and put the phone to his ear.

  “Dr. Talbot’s office,” a female voice answered.

  “Could I speak to Dr. Talbot please?”

  “He’s not in. May I take a message?”

  “This is Detective Wolf from the Sluice-Byron County Sheriff’s Department in Colorado, I’d like to speak to him as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, yes. I just heard your messages. What’s going on that’s so important?”

  Wolf changed the phone to his other hand. “I can’t really discuss it at the moment. Do you know when he’ll be into the office?”

  “Well he … ready …”

  Wolf looked at his phone. There was a single dot filled for reception, along with a combination of letters he’d never seen.

  He took his foot off the gas. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  Wolf pulled to the side of the road and slowed to a stop. “What was that you were saying?”

  Shumway continued ahead of him and disappeared around a bend.

  “I said he’s usually here. I come in at 8:30 and he’s always here before me. I’m not sure what’s going on this morning.”

  Wolf nodded. “Okay.”

  “So what’s Professor Green done this time?” She asked in a conspiratorial tone.

  Wolf hesitated. “What do you mean by this time?”

  She laughed hard. “Professor Green? Oh, never mind.”

  “No, really,” Wolf said.

  “Well … He just likes to think of himself as some kind of paleontology swashbuckler. Has all these stories about things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh … like getting bones out of Mongolia before the corrupt President catches him, or paying off the corrupt customs officials to get a skeleton out of Argentina, or—”

  “Argentina?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess he’s spent a lot of time there. Like I said, he likes to spin tales.”

  Maybe there was some truth to the stories she’d heard, at least about bribing customs officials.

  “Well, I’ll tell Dr. Talbot to give you a ring as soon as he gets in. Should be any minute now.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wolf pushed the button and dropped the phone in his center console.

  Re-checking the GPS, he hit the gas to catch up.

  Wolf drove on, taking a right at a fork in the road where the pavement ended and a graded dirt road began. He continued on for fifteen minutes, past two-track offshoots that disappeared up dry washes into the juniper hills.

  As he climbed higher, the road turned rockier, and he passed over a stripe of mustard dirt that changed to bright purple for a few yards, and then red, and to Wolf it was easy to imagine they were pulling dinosaur bones out of the ground here, because Wolf felt like he was stepping into the past with so much geology on display.

  He turned a final sharp corner around a hill and a building abruptly came into sight, along with a majestic view.

  The Windfield Dinosaur Quarry tourist center was set on a high plateau and tucked against the base of a rounded mountain that towered behind it. It was built from concrete and steel, jutting from the ground to look like a wind sail. Or a dinosaur spine, Wolf realized.

  Pulling around the dirt circular drive in front, he passed four American made full-sized pickup trucks parked next to one another. Three had the upside-down triangle logos of the Department of the Interior on their door, and the fourth was Sheriff Shumway’s.

  He pulled in next to Shumway’s, edging his bumper up to a jagged black boulder that had been laid out to mark the boundary of the parking lot. Beyond the boulders were twisted junipers, which covered the landscape on the high plateau.

  Climbing out of his SUV, he stood in the parking lot, once again stretching his arms overhead, ignoring the ache in his leg and back.

  It was still, completely silent, and oven-hot, noticeably devoid of buzzing insects, which had burrowed themselves in the cool depths. The only signs of life were the children climbing on the rocks near a picnic table by the building, and the people who stood in a cluster inside the window.

  The people were Sheriff Shumway, a woman, and a man, who looked to be waiting for him.

  Wolf nodded and waved, and opened the rear door for Jet.

  Jet lifted his head and squinted as the hot air hit his eyeballs, and then he groaned.

  “Yeah. I know. I think they have air conditioning inside.”

  Jet spilled out the door and Wolf thumped it shut.

  Wolf followed the dirt walkway to a concrete pad and the building’s steel and glass front door. A sign said, “Windfield Dinosaur Quarry,” and there was a cartoonish dinosaur skull impression stamped in the concrete wall next to it.

  In the distance to the right there were three army green yurts. Beyond them it was wide open, rocky landscape. Mounds of white rock jutted and lunged, striped horizontally or off-kilter from the horizontal, with red and white sedimentary layers, and all of it was dotted with pinyon pines and juniper trees. The land waves darkened to a deep blue in the distance. It was a good vantage point from way up here, and witho
ut a single cloud in the sky the visibility was as far as it got.

  Somewhere below out there the Yampa River was cutting its way through the rock. How far out there, Wolf didn’t know. He’d have to take a look at the GPS.

  Pulling himself back to the space around him, he ignored the staring faces in the window and opened the door next to it.

  A man with a khaki button up shirt with a BLM patch on it pushed the door open for Wolf and Jet.

  He had a bushy, round silver goatee that was groomed to display his friendly smile. His gray hair was curled upward at the edges of his yellow ball cap.

  Looking down at Jet the man said, “Hey, who are you?”

  Jet ignored him and bee-lined it to the cool interior.

  The man splayed his hand in an “oh well” gesture and shook his head.

  “That’s Jet,” Wolf said holding out his hand. “I’m Detective Wolf. Sluice-Byron County Sheriff’s Department.”

  “I’m Bradley. Bradley Boydell.”

  The man, who Wolf had pegged for early sixties, took Wolf’s hand in a tight grip and pumped. “Nice to meet you. Please, come into the cool air. It’s already hotter than heck out there.”

  Boydell pushed the door back for Wolf to enter. Just when he was about to close it the two children shot through with delighted squeals, and Boydell smiled wide, shaking his head as they disappeared into the visitors center.

  The children passed under a huge skeleton that looked like a Tyrannosaurs Rex but smaller, and just as one would expect, its mouth was wide open in a silent roar. An Allosaurus Fragilis, Wolf recognized. The twenty foot high fossil specimen fit comfortably in the light interior of the building, as if the building was built around it.

  “Allosaurus,” Boydell said watching Wolf.

  Wolf nodded and turned to Shumway and the woman, who turned out to be younger than Wolf had thought at first glance through the window. She had bright blue eyes and a wide smile with deeply bronzed skin. Her blonde hair was naturally bleached from the sun and pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  She thrust out a skinny arm. “Hi, I’m Megan.”

  Wolf nodded and shook her thin hand, and her sinuous arm flexed and bounced with enthusiasm. She wore a tight tank top and short shorts. Tanned head to toe and wearing flip-flops, she gave off a coconut oil scent mixed with perfume.