Black Hills

eyes like a damn hawk, God knows when we’d’ve found him.”
    “What did he use?”
    “Nylon rope, rocks. Thing is, the way it was situated, it looked to me like the bastard had to get in the water to do it. Sick son of a bitch. Took his wallet, watch, pack, jacket, shirt. Left him with his pants and his boots.”
    “Must’ve been the wrong size. He’d have taken them otherwise. No point in wasting anything.”
    Gull had a little place on the other side of town, over a bar and grill. The narrow apartment smelled like him—horses and leather—and was furnished like a college dorm. With castoffs from his parents, his brother, and anyone else who wanted to upgrade a chair or table.
    Jesse, despite his bitching about having to earn a living, answered the door. He hadn’t been ten feet from his brother since he’d come out of Spearfish Creek.
    “He’s still a little shaky. I was thinking I’d haul him over to our ma, have her pat his head awhile.”
    “That might be just the thing,” Willy said. “I’m going to get his statement now. I got yours, but could be you’ll think of more.”
    “We got coffee on. He’s been sucking on that Mountain Dew of his. Christ knows how he chokes that down, but that’s what we’ve got.”
    “Wouldn’t say no to coffee.” Willy crossed over to where Gull sat on a saggy plaid couch, his head in his hands.
    “I still see it in my head. Can’t get it out.”
    “You did a hard thing today, Gull. You did the right thing.”
    “Can’t help wishing somebody else’d seen that damn boot poking out of the water.” He lifted his head, looked at Coop. “Hey, boss. I was going to come by, but . . .”
    “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you tell Willy everything. Just say it straight through. You’ll feel steadier after.”
    “I told you,” he said to Willy. “And the rangers, too.” He blew out a breath, rubbed his face. “Okay. We were following the creek,” he began.
    Coop kept quiet, letting Willy ask the questions when they needed to be asked. He drank cowboy coffee while Gull purged himself of the details.
    “You know how clear that water is. Even after the storm, it’s good and clear. I went under, because I couldn’t get a good look with the way the falls were beating down, foaming up. I got a good look then. His one leg had come up, you know. I guess the rain, the churning, worked it up. He didn’t have a shirt on, just his pants and his boots. And the fish had been at him. His face . . .”
    Gull’s eyes watered up as he looked back at Coop. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not like the movies. It’s not like anything else. I couldn’t even say, for certain, it was him—the one we were looking for. Not from the picture we had. Because of the fish. I came up, but I swallowed a bunch of water. I guess I screamed like a girl under there and took a bunch in. I couldn’t get my legs to move. Jesse and Cy had to pull me in with the rope.”
    He gave his brother a weak smile. “I got sick as two dogs—maybe not as sick as you did on a chaw, boss, but pretty damn sick. I guess I was pitiful enough Jesse didn’t even rag me about it.”
    “I wanted to turn around,” Jesse said. “Bitching and complaining. I said how that guy, the one Gull found dead, was an asshole. I’m sorry for it.”
    Outside, Willy puffed out his cheeks. “There’s some distance between the trail and where Tyler ended up. A lot of area where he could’ve run into his killer.”
    “Do you think he got that far off the trail?”
    “No, I don’t. Not on his own if that’s your meaning. Some, sure, but he had a map, he had his phone. I think he was driven that far, that’s what I think.”
    “I’d agree with you. He didn’t want the body found too soon, and he didn’t want it found near his own territory. Drive the quarry away from your . . . habitat,” he said, thinking of Lil. “Do the kill, the disposal, then go back to your own area.”
    “It would’ve taken time. Hours probably. The bastard got lucky with the rain.”
    “He can’t stay lucky.”
    “Right now, we’re looking for an unidentified subject. We can’t tie Tyler’s murder to what’s happened at Lil’s, or with the other murders you dug up. What I’m going to do is get Ethan Howe’s picture out, as a Person of Interest. My boy Cy kept that scene preserved as best he could. He’s green as a leaf of iceberg, but he’s not stupid. We got pictures, and I don’t think