The Dinosaur Hunter(71)

But now this very dangerous man was dead, murdered in Fillmore County. Somehow, I didn’t think that was a good thing. Russian mobs don’t like outsiders killing their members. They prefer to do that themselves.

We were about to wrap Toby back in his sheet when Tanya walked up to the table. When she saw him, she didn’t look much surprised. “He was a man born to die,” she said.

“We are all born to die,” I said. “But not like this.”

Her eyes were swollen and I could tell she’d been crying. “Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like you know.”

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Do you think I would tell you if I did?”

I rolled Toby on his side and pointed at the letters below the wolf. “What does that say?”

She read the script, then said, “It says kill or be killed.”

“Nice. I thought it was the name of his organization.”

Tanya studied the myriad of tattoos and said, “He was a member of the Volk. The Wolves. I know this group. They are all brutes. They have to kill to be accepted.”

“Are they the ones who brought you here?”

“No. In fact, that mob was destroyed by this one. It is how I was able to escape when everything was in disarray. They specialize in prostitution, pornography, extortion, kidnapping, and especially murder. They are also loan sharks, as I think you say.”

A light bulb, somewhat dim, went on in my head. Cade Morgan was probably somebody who’d get mixed up with a loan shark. “What a delightful bunch to attract to Fillmore County,” I said.

“This is not my fault, Mike. I have nothing to do with this man.”

“How about Morgan Cade, sometimes known as Cade Morgan? Have anything to do with him?”

“No. Nothing.” She took her big blue eyes off Toby and rested them on me. They felt good. It made me hate Ted all the more. “What do you do now?” she asked.

It was a good question. In fact, for the umpteenth time, I reminded myself this was really none of my business. I was not a cop. I was a cowboy, a simple hired hand of Jeanette Coulter on the Square C Ranch, temporarily assigned dinosaur bone-digging duties. I gave it some more thought. So far, I was free and clear. There was no reason for the Russian Wolves to come after me. I could just walk away from Toby, let somebody else sort it out. Yep, that’s what I could and should do. Or not.

Earl’s boys wrapped Toby up and I instructed them to move him to a picnic table shaded by an old cottonwood. Then I took Tanya by her arm and walked her down toward the marina. We stopped when I saw Ted come out of cabin number thirteen and head for his truck. He didn’t look around, just climbed in and drove away.

“Nothing happened between us,” Tanya said. “But when I saw you believed Ted, I wanted to hurt you.”

I wasn’t buying this. “You spent the night with him and nothing happened? Then why do it?”

“Oh, Mike,” she said. “There are not explanations to everything, you know.”

“There has to be one for this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Will you give me a ride back to town?”

I could tell by the set of her pretty mouth that she was done talking. “OK,” I said. “But I want to wait until they come for Toby.”

“Why? This has nothing to do with you.”

In that I agreed but I knew I couldn’t just drive away, no matter how much I wanted to. Tanya shrugged, then went into the marina store. She brought out one of those cardboard carriers with two cups of joe and two peanut butter cookies. I took one of each and thanked her for breakfast. She shrugged, then walked to a far picnic table and sat down on it. I didn’t join her. I needed to think.

When the ambulance arrived, it was crewed by the same paramedics who’d taken care of Pick. I led them to the body and they unwrapped him, whistling at the bashed-in skull, the cut throat, and the tattoos. Paramedic number one, whose name was Charlie according to his nametag, said, “Man, this is one bad-looking dude.”

Paramedic number two—Henry according to his nametag—wondered, “Who woulda taken this monster on?”

“He was hit in the back of his head with what I bet was a hammer,” I said. “That was enough to kill him or at least put him down for a good, long while. I’d also be willing to bet his throat was cut after he was struck. An ambush, maybe.”

“Still, it would take some guts to hit this guy,” Charlie said.

I couldn’t argue with that. After they loaded him up, I asked, “Where’s he going?”

“We figured the Jericho mortuary,” Henry said. “Mr. Torgerson’s eyes are gonna pop out when he sees the tats on this guy.”