David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

  “Of course,” he 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 back inside 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 the local sheriff 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 a red line appeared over the green digital map display on his dash computer, indicating his route.

  It seemed unnecessary, because he passed the third brown-painted sign that said Windfield Dinosaur Quarry with an arrow pointing ahead.

  It was past 9 a.m. now so he pressed the number for 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?”

  “Just a few questions I have for him. Do you know when he’ll be in the office?”

  “Well he … ready …”

  He eyed his cell phone screen and saw a single dot filled for reception, along with a combination of letters he’d never seen.

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

  “Yes.”

  He pulled to the side of the road and slowed to a stop. “Sorry, I didn’t catch the last thing you said.”

  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.”

  He 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. “Professor Green? Oh, never mind.”

  “No, really,” Wolf said. “What do you mean?”

  “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 some other bull-puck story.”

  “Argentina?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess he’s spent a lot of time there.”

  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.”

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

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

  The paved road wound and climbed. Without a human escort, the GPS readout did fine enough, telling him to take a right at a fork in the road where the pavement ended and a graded dirt road began. He continued for fifteen minutes, all the while tilting back in his seat as the road climbed higher, past two-track offshoots that disappeared up dry washes into the juniper hills.

  As he ascended, the road turned rockier, and he passed over a stripe of mustard dirt that changed to bright purple for a few yards, then red, and he mused it was easy to imagine they were pulling dinosaur bones out of the ground here, because he 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.

  He rolled into a circular drive looping in front of the building, passing four American-made full-sized pickup trucks parked next to one another. Three had 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 rocks stood 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 still oven-hot, noticeably devoid of buzzing insects, which had apparently burrowed themselves into the cool depths of the earth to escape spontaneous combustion. The only signs of life were two children climbing on rocks near a picnic table, and some people standing inside the windows of the building looking out. They were looking at him.

  Wolf nodded and waved, recognizing Shumway standing next to a man and woman on the other side of the glass.

  When he opened the rear door, Jet lifted his head and squinted as hot air hit his eyeballs.

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

  The dog stood with a groan and spilled out.

  They followed a dirt walkway indicated with more black rocks to a concrete pad and the building’s steel-and-glass entrance. 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 stood three army-green yurts, constructed of heavy fabric and lashed to the rocky soil with thick straps. Beyond them, wide-open landscape filled the horizon. Mounds of white rock jutted and lunged, striped with red and white sedimentary layers tilting every which way, all of it dotted with pinyon pines and juniper trees. Underneath the high vantage, the land waves darkened to a deep blue before melting into the horizon God knew how many miles away.

  Somewhere below, Wolf knew the Yampa River was cutting its way through the rock. How far down, he couldn’t tell. He made a mental note to study the GPS later.

  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 in a khaki button-up shirt with a BLM patch pushed the door open for Wolf and Jet, letting out a wintry blast of air.

  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. Judging by the wrinkles on his face, Wolf pegged him in his early sixties.

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

  Jet ignored him and beelined it to the cool interior.

  The man splayed his hand in an oh-well gesture.

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

  “I’m Bradley. Bradley Boydell.”

  Boydell took his hand in a tight grip. “Nice to meet you. Please, come in. It’s already hotter than heck out there.”

  The door yawned wide for Wolf to enter. Just when he was about to close, the
two children Wolf had seen earlier shot through with delighted squeals.

  “Whoa! Watch it!” Boydell called after them as they disappeared into the visitors’ center.

  The children bobbed into the distance, passing under a huge skeleton that looked like a Tyrannosaurs rex but smaller, with, just as one would expect, a mouth wide open in a silent roar. An Allosaurus fragilis, Wolf recognized from his internet searches the night before. The twenty-foot-high fossil specimen fit comfortably in the light interior of the building, as if the center had been built around it.

  “Allosaurus,” Boydell said, watching Wolf.

  Wolf nodded and looked 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. Her skin was tanned from head to toe and her blonde hair was naturally bleached from the sun and pulled back in a tight ponytail. She wore a tight tank top, short shorts, and flip-flops. Her scent was a mixture of coconut-oil and perfume.

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

  Wolf nodded and shook her dainty hand.

  She held his grip a second too long and eyed him up and down.

  He pulled his hand away, feeling heat rise in his face at the forwardness of the greeting.

  She walked to Jet and bent over with straight legs, as if she were trying to display her firm backside. Gripping the dog’s face, she cooed while she scratched. “Look at you. You’re so cute.”

  Jet licked his lips and wagged his tail.

  Wolf noticed Shumway’s eyes ping-ponged between her butt and the men’s eyes in the room, as if he were keeping mental tabs of who was looking.

  Wolf turned to Boydell, whose eyes had already wandered to the ceiling.

  “You’re going to escort us out to the dig site?” Wolf asked Boydell.

  “Yes, sir. Like I told the deputies last night, it’s best that I do. There’re some tricky parts.”

  A late-teens, early twenties, man stood behind a round reception desk as if waiting introduction.

  “That’s Phil,” Boydell said. “He and Megan are both interns from the University of Utah.”

  Phil had a flop of brown hair that covered most of a pimple-plastered forehead. “Hi,” he said, smiling awkwardly.

  Wolf shook his hand, too.

  “You guys rent out those yurts outside to tourists?” Wolf asked.

  Boydell chuckled. “No, that’s where we live. I’m in the far one, year-round, and Megan and Phil live in the other two for the summer.”

  “I see. And what’s that in the distance?” Wolf pointed out the window at a line of blue and red dots tucked among the bushes and trees.

  “Good eyes,” Boydell said. “That’s Dig 1.”

  “That’s where Professor Green and his students are digging?”

  “No, they’re further on, down the valley beyond. We call Professor Green’s site Dig 2. I know, we’re creative.”

  “How many digs are there?” Wolf asked.

  “Two,” Boydell said.

  Wolf nodded and gestured out the rear windows toward a steel building that looked like an oversized shed. “I looked at your website last night. That’s where they’re digging the predator trap?”

  Shumway looked at his watch.

  Megan had turned away from Jet now and was staring at him with a half-smile on her lips.

  Boydell nodded. “You’re right, that’s the predator trap—a big bunch of disarticulated bones from a range of species from the Cretaceous period. Mostly predators. No one knows exactly why there’s such a collection of bones, and broken into so many pieces.” Boydell smiled sheepishly. “At least, that’s what they tell me. I’m just a BLM employee, not a dino expert like these two kids.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Boydell,” Megan chimed.

  Wolf nodded at the big skeleton. “And where was this specimen found?”

  “That’s a replica of one found back in 1982, down in the same valley Dig 2’s at right now. But on the park side of the gulch.”

  “Park side of the gulch?” Wolf asked. “Rather than the private-land side, you mean?”

  Megan and Shumway exchanged a glance, but Wolf failed to read anything into it.

  “I’m not comfortable with bringing you to the Dig 2 site,” Wolf said to Boydell.

  “Why not?” Boydell pulled his eyebrows together. “I escorted those deputies last night.”

  Megan put her hands on her hips. “Are you two going to tell us what’s going on, or what?”

  “No, we’re not,” Shumway said. “It’s official business and we need you two to stay up here. In fact, Bradley, if you can just give us directions, you don’t even need to come out with us.”

  Boydell looked skeptical. “I wouldn’t know where to begin giving you directions. There’s a maze of two-track roads out there, and you have to avoid some problem spots. I’ll get you to Dig 1 and then let you guys go on by yourselves. It’s easy from there.”

  Shumway and Wolf exchanged glances and nodded.

  “All right. You’ll lead us, I’ll follow, and Detective Wolf can take the rear.”

  “Sounds good,” Boydell said.

  Wolf nodded and clapped a hand on his leg. “Let’s go, Jet.”

  Shumway was out the door first, not bothering to wait for them.

  Boydell shuffled forward and held the door for Wolf and Jet.

  “Bye.” Megan sang the word looking straight at Wolf. “Bye cutie.”

  Jet left reluctantly and Wolf followed him out into the blazing heat.

  Boydell stepped alongside him. “Try and keep close. It’ll make things easier on your vehicles.”

  Shumway gave a thumbs-up as he climbed in his truck. He put his seatbelt on and fired up the engine.

  Boydell jogged to his truck and climbed in, then started backing out.

  “Let’s go, Jet.” Wolf opened his rear door and slapped his leg.

  Jet paced back and forth with a look that Wolf had come to recognize as his bathroom face.

  “Not a good time. Come on.”

  Jet dropped his head and walked to him.

  That seemed to be the go-ahead for Boydell and Shumway, because they shot off in a cloud of dust around the corner.

  Jet whined and turned around, then made his way toward the junipers and crouched in a pooping position.

  Wolf sighed. “Make it quick.”

  “Uh-oh, they ditched you.” Megan was outside and flip-flopping her way to his SUV. “You’re going to need my help.”

  “No thanks. They’re right there.” Though the two vehicles were out of sight and around the bend, Wolf had heard the squeak of brakes and running engines. “They’re waiting. Thanks, though.”

  She walked to the passenger side, got in, and shut the door.

  Jet came over with a bounce in his step and Wolf let him in the back. Tail wagging, he stood on the rear bench seat and stuck his head in front over Megan’s shoulder.

  “Sit down,” Wolf said.

  Jet complied.

  Before Wolf could climb inside, Megan had her butt in the air again, bending over the seat to pet Jet.

  “Sit down,” he said again.

  Megan took her time, but eventually sat down and faced forward.

  “And now get out,” he said, firing up the engine.

  She frowned and looked at him. “That’s not very nice.”

  “Get out, please.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not going to be able to find the turn-off.”

  “They’re right around the corner waiting for me.”

  “And if you lose them on the way there?”

  “I don’t think your father would appreciate it if I brought you in my car. This isn’t a joyride.”

  She turned to face him. Her eyes were cold and her mouth downturned. “My father can suck eggs. I work here. He doesn’t.”

  Wolf leaned back in his seat. “So that is your father.”

  “Huh?”

  “Y
our father is the sheriff.”

  She looked at him then smiled. “You didn’t know before?”

  “No. Please, hop out.”

  “You just figured that out?” With lips parted, she looked him up and down again. “You’re a good cop. I can tell.”

  “Get out.” He backed up, turned and then scraped to a stop at the walkway. “Now.”

  “Nope.” She took off a flip-flop and put a foot out the window. Her toes bounced in front of the side-view mirror. She leaned back and closed her eyes, like she was enjoying a nice country drive.

  Wolf took a deep, cleansing breath and pushed the accelerator.

  Chapter 15

  Patterson stood in the county-building bathroom in front of the mirror. She was panting, her chest heaving. Her fingers cramped from pinching the freshly peed-on device in her fingers.

  With a deep breath, she steeled herself and looked at it.

  Negative.

  What were the chances of a double false-negative? Probably small. And the chances of her birth control failing? Very slim according to the doctor who’d placed the device inside her.

  She stared at herself in the mirror. Her normally tanned, vibrant face—if she did say so herself—looked pale and sunken.

  Geez, was it that big of a deal to be impregnated by the man she loved? And she did love Scott. She had already addressed that issue after she’d failed to answer Scott’s third proposal, which led to a fourth and final one, to which she’d said yes.

  That she had made Scott do all that just to win her hand was already borderline psycho. Okay, it was over the psycho line. And now? She was a fifth-degree black belt in karate. The mental and physical fortitude to get to that level was beyond the capability of a normal person—again, if she did say so herself.

  So what was her problem?

  She’d had bad shrimp and she was ill. That’s why she looked like this, and why she felt sick, and why her hand shook, and why she couldn’t keep away from the toilet.

  A vision of her pregnant fat ass waddling into the squad room flashed in her mind. Check that—it was her pregnant fat ass waddling out of the squad room. Out of the entire building. For good.