was eaten within a short time frame before dying from the gunshot wound—close to being in shock or unconscious.”
“Do you know the time of death?”
“Just a window. He died between one and eight p.m. on Friday, but”—he held up his finger— “from the remaining skin, the enlarged pores, the frostbite on his fingers, and the state of dehydration in the liver, it looks like the victim was exposed for a long time before he was even shot. His level of dehydration and the abrasion marks on his ASIS and under his armpits from the tape suggest he was chafing against those for a number of hours.”
“Can you say how many?”
“I’d say he was out there for at least eighteen to twenty-four.”
“So he was out there Thursday night too?”
“That’s right.”
“How long would you say passed between the bullet entering the victim and the bear attacking?”
“About sixty to ninety minutes.”
“So the bullet could have been fired as early as eleven thirty and as late as six thirty on Friday?”
Wilson nodded. “Give or take. Yes.”
• • •
On our way out of the building, Ford excused himself and went into the men’s room. I had to use the restroom myself, but decided I would give him his privacy. I had no desire to hear someone retching in a stall next to me.
He returned with a damp look around the edges of his thinning hairline, as though he’d splashed water over his face, and I figured he had, indeed, lost his breakfast. I found myself vacillating between having contempt for the old man for having worked for the Park Service for over thirty years and still unable to keep his cookies down to having a strange sympathy when I considered my own troubled breathing back in the lab. His face looked deathly and deeply etched with thousands of small lines. I considered that in a few years he’d be replaced by some experienced ranger who would run circles around him.
He recovered from his pallor by the time we made it back to the car and said he would give me a ride to the helicopter. While he drove, he reminded me that he planned on staying in Missoula for the night, said his wife was coming to meet him for the evening, and they’d both drive back to the Flathead the next day. He even offered the fact that the wife put Missy, a two-year-old golden retriever, in the kennel for the night to join him. He didn’t tell me his wife’s name. I don’t know why he gave me any details at all, but I sensed he needed the small talk to try to shuffle the images he now forever held in his psyche to some other place not so present.
After he pulled up to the aviation office, killed the engine, suddenly everything seemed to get too quiet, and I thought I smelled expensive cologne. I was certain he wasn’t wearing it when I stood next to him during Wilson’s presentation, so I figured he had a bottle in his briefcase and had put it on in the bathroom to get the smell of formaldehyde out of his nostrils. Again, I felt an odd sympathy I wasn’t expecting. “Look, Systead.” He turned to me. “The park’s just seen its best attendance in years, even with it being the rainiest summer in a long time.”
I didn’t say anything.
“So there’re a few obvious things here that I don’t feel like I need to spell out to you but will anyway, just for the sake of being direct.”
“Fair enough,” I offered. “Shoot.”
“The most obvious is that this should be very much downplayed with the press, which I would think works to your investigative advantage as well.”
I nodded. “It does.”
“Okay then. We’re on the same page.”
“Sounds like we are.” I opened the car door, ready to get out and be on my way. The cologne was making me slightly nauseous. Plus I had a lot of interviews to conduct upon my return, and whatever modicum of sympathy I was feeling was quickly vanishing with the haughty tone of Ford’s voice. “Thank you for the ride.” I placed one foot out the door.
“Additionally—”
“Do you know the time of death?”
“Just a window. He died between one and eight p.m. on Friday, but”—he held up his finger— “from the remaining skin, the enlarged pores, the frostbite on his fingers, and the state of dehydration in the liver, it looks like the victim was exposed for a long time before he was even shot. His level of dehydration and the abrasion marks on his ASIS and under his armpits from the tape suggest he was chafing against those for a number of hours.”
“Can you say how many?”
“I’d say he was out there for at least eighteen to twenty-four.”
“So he was out there Thursday night too?”
“That’s right.”
“How long would you say passed between the bullet entering the victim and the bear attacking?”
“About sixty to ninety minutes.”
“So the bullet could have been fired as early as eleven thirty and as late as six thirty on Friday?”
Wilson nodded. “Give or take. Yes.”
• • •
On our way out of the building, Ford excused himself and went into the men’s room. I had to use the restroom myself, but decided I would give him his privacy. I had no desire to hear someone retching in a stall next to me.
He returned with a damp look around the edges of his thinning hairline, as though he’d splashed water over his face, and I figured he had, indeed, lost his breakfast. I found myself vacillating between having contempt for the old man for having worked for the Park Service for over thirty years and still unable to keep his cookies down to having a strange sympathy when I considered my own troubled breathing back in the lab. His face looked deathly and deeply etched with thousands of small lines. I considered that in a few years he’d be replaced by some experienced ranger who would run circles around him.
He recovered from his pallor by the time we made it back to the car and said he would give me a ride to the helicopter. While he drove, he reminded me that he planned on staying in Missoula for the night, said his wife was coming to meet him for the evening, and they’d both drive back to the Flathead the next day. He even offered the fact that the wife put Missy, a two-year-old golden retriever, in the kennel for the night to join him. He didn’t tell me his wife’s name. I don’t know why he gave me any details at all, but I sensed he needed the small talk to try to shuffle the images he now forever held in his psyche to some other place not so present.
After he pulled up to the aviation office, killed the engine, suddenly everything seemed to get too quiet, and I thought I smelled expensive cologne. I was certain he wasn’t wearing it when I stood next to him during Wilson’s presentation, so I figured he had a bottle in his briefcase and had put it on in the bathroom to get the smell of formaldehyde out of his nostrils. Again, I felt an odd sympathy I wasn’t expecting. “Look, Systead.” He turned to me. “The park’s just seen its best attendance in years, even with it being the rainiest summer in a long time.”
I didn’t say anything.
“So there’re a few obvious things here that I don’t feel like I need to spell out to you but will anyway, just for the sake of being direct.”
“Fair enough,” I offered. “Shoot.”
“The most obvious is that this should be very much downplayed with the press, which I would think works to your investigative advantage as well.”
I nodded. “It does.”
“Okay then. We’re on the same page.”
“Sounds like we are.” I opened the car door, ready to get out and be on my way. The cologne was making me slightly nauseous. Plus I had a lot of interviews to conduct upon my return, and whatever modicum of sympathy I was feeling was quickly vanishing with the haughty tone of Ford’s voice. “Thank you for the ride.” I placed one foot out the door.
“Additionally—”
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