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“For how long?” I asked.

Billy shrugged. “No time was mentioned. As long as it fuckin takes, I guess.”

“When do you have to check in?”

“Tomorrow morning,” said Billy. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my dad to drive me down there. It’ll take half the fuckin day.”

“Huh. Didn’t expect you to say that, but your doctor must think you need to go.”

“In a way he might be right,” said Billy. “I’m not getting any better sitting on my ass and waiting around for the leg to get better on its own. Nothing good is happening just sitting and depending on Mother Nature.”

“Okay then, think of this as a positive step,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll have to. I’ll call dad when I get back to the ranch and tell him to come and pick me up. I’ll have to pack a bag and take enough stuff for a couple of weeks.”

County Morgue. Cut Bank.

Doctor Olson was finishing up the last of Tory Masters’ autopsy when we arrived at the morgue. The county morgue occupied a small space dedicated to the purpose at the back of the buildingwhere Doctor Olson had his office and his general practice. A small-town doctor doing double-duty.

He pushed Tory’s corpse into a drawer and washed his hands. “Difficult, Travis. A lot of decomp and difficult to discern the cause of death.”

“An educated guess?” I asked.

“No obvious marks on the body, so I have to go with poison. The tox screen showed nothing unusual, so what I’m left with is poison.”

“But not a regular poison like arsenic or cyanide, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. A substance that shut down the system—stopped the heart—dissipated almost immediately and didn’t leave a trace. Something that gave the impression that Tory Masters—a thirty-eight-year-old healthy male—died of natural causes.”

“But you’re sure it wasn’t natural?”

“I am. There were other markers that indicated poison and yet I was unable to find or determine the substance that was used. Extremely puzzling.”

“Certainly is interesting.”

“Not interesting at all. It’s frustrating,” snapped Olson.

“Sorry, I used the wrong word.”

“Don’t mind me, Travis. A disappointing day for me and it will be even worse for you attempting to find the murderer with no tangible weapon or evidence.”

“Huh,” said Billy. “Isn’t poison usually a woman’s weapon of choice?”

“Usually, yes,” said Olson. “The percentages support the theory, Billy. But you can’t take for granted the killer was a woman in every case.”

“No, of course not,” I said. “It could be a man trying to throw suspicion away from himself.”

“Easily,” said Doctor Olson.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

On the way to the station, we cruised by the ranch to drop Billy off. He had to get in touch with his father and pack his belongings for a stay at rehab. Even though he didn’t want to go, he realized it was a necessary step if he was ever going to work again.

We helped Billy into the house and left him to pack and get ready on his own. “Take it easy, Billy, and call me later.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll be okay. A couple of beers might lighten my pissed off mood and help me pack.”

“Lots of Miller in the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”