“Better than me,” Dallas said. “I got busted ribs and a dislocated shoulder. That ain’t no fun, either.”

Liv didn’t reply.

“Luckily, I’m gettin’ better by the hour,” Dallas said. “By the end of the week, I’ll be wrestling grizzly bears again. By the way, do you know who I am?”

“You’re a rodeo star,” Liv said.

“Damn, she knows,” Dallas said, sounding impressed.

“She heard it from me,” Brenda said. “She’s from down south somewhere. She doesn’t know rodeo.”

“We got cowboys from down there,” Dallas said. “I bet she knows some of ’em. Honey, do you know Piney Porter? Or Benny LeBeau? I’ve rodeoed with both of them.”

“I don’t know them,” Liv confessed. Then, for some reason, she started to cry. She didn’t know why.

“Are you hungry?” Brenda asked.

“Yes,” she sniffed.

“Then I guess I better feed you. Sorry about breakfast and lunch. We had to go visit our oldest son down in Rawlins. I told Cora Lee to make you something, but I guess she forgot. Once she gets a mad on, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I think the next time she decides she’s gonna walk away, I’ll let her.”

Liv welcomed the bucket as it lowered. She snatched it down quickly so Brenda wouldn’t see her damaged hands.

“We got chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. Sorry there isn’t that much gravy. Dallas ate like a horse, on account he’s feeling better.”

“Thank you,” Liv said. She was starving, and she sat down on her mattress and removed the Tupperware containers one by one. Liv dug into the chicken-fried steak and spooned out the mashed potatoes and gravy. Her eyes closed as she ate, and she moaned. The food was delicious.

As she spooned gravy over the rest of the steak and potatoes, dirt sifted down from the opening and sprinkled her dinner.

“Sorry,” Brenda said. “Did I knock some dirt down?”

Liv didn’t respond. She ate despite the sandy grit. She was that hungry.

“Ma,” Dallas said, “it just seems plumb weird to keep a woman who don’t know anything about rodeo in a hole on the property.”

He said it, Liv thought, like she wasn’t even down there.

“I remember when you put Timber down there for a week that time after he wrecked the truck,” Dallas said with a chuckle. “Me ’n’ Bull used to come out here at night and piss on his head. Man, that made him mad.”

“You were naughty boys,” Brenda said.

“So why is she down there?” he asked.

“She wasn’t supposed to be with him,” Brenda said. “It was a surprise when the two of them showed up together.”

Liv looked up, beam and all, and spoke directly to Dallas.

“If you let me out of here, I’ll go on my way and never say a word about this. I swear on my mother’s grave. I know how to keep a secret.”

Silence. She assumed Brenda and Dallas were looking at each other.

After a beat, Dallas said, “You aren’t the first woman to ever lie to me right to my face.”

“I’m not lying,” Liv said. But she had to look away. The beam of light was making her eyes burn.

“Sure you are, honey,” Dallas said. She wondered how he had gotten that Texas accent if he’d grown up on the compound.

“I told you she was wily,” Brenda said.

“Maybe I ought to get Bull to come out here tonight,” Dallas said. “We’ll pretend you’re Timber down there.”

“No, you won’t,” Brenda said to Dallas, admonishing him. “You’ll get your sleep and heal up the rest of the way.”

“You’re right,” Dallas said, standing up and stretching. “She kind of bores me, if you want to know the truth.”

As he started to walk away, Brenda said, “You want to stay and watch her eat?”

“Naw.”

After a few minutes, Liv looked up to see that Brenda was still there.

After a long pause, Brenda said, “Men don’t talk.”

“Pardon me?”

“Men don’t talk. They grunt at each other or they grunt at me. But they don’t talk. I spend all my time out here on this place surrounded by men. I keep them in line, but they don’t talk.”

So that’s why she stayed, Liv concluded. Maybe she could keep Brenda talking. Maybe she could convince her to come down into the cellar. Maybe she could get Brenda to lower the ladder . . .

“What about Cora Lee?” Liv asked.

“She talks, but she’s dumber than a box of hair.”

Liv faked a mild laugh.

“Did I tell you she walked away again? I know she did it just waiting for Bull to come get her. But this time I told him to let her go. She isn’t worth the trouble. Not two times in one day. She’ll probably end up with her ex-husband down in Oklahoma, and he’ll probably put a bullet in her head. At least then there’ll be something in there.

“I keep hopin’ one of these boys brings a girl home I can talk to,” Brenda continued. “You know, someone who can talk about something other than the Kardashians. Instead, I got Cora Lee.”

Liv said, “I’m sorry I caused you trouble,” even though she wasn’t.

“You’re trouble with a capital T. Bull never has had any sense, but luckily he lets me steer him around, just like his dad. But did you notice how Dallas took one look at you and sized up the situation and moved on? That’s because he’s the only one who can think ahead more than one step at a time.”

Liv ignored the insult. The insult gave her strength. If she could get Brenda to come down into the cellar, she thought she might have enough incentive to pull that stone out of the wall.

Liv asked, “What are you going to do with me? You can’t keep me down here forever.”

“No, I guess we both know that.”

“So why are you doing this to me?”

“I don’t look at it that way,” Brenda said. “It isn’t aimed at you. I always cover my bases. Somebody around here has to. I figured if things really went screwy, we might need something to negotiate with, you know?”

The realization hit Liv hard. “You mean you’re keeping me alive in case you need a hostage?”

“Yep. Although that doesn’t look like it’ll be necessary.”

Which could mean only one thing.

Brenda didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally: “I came up with a solution. I told Eldon, and he can get it done tomorrow or the next day.”

“Get what done?”

“Hey, it was nice talking with you,” Brenda said before she closed the doors. “It’s kind of nice talking with somebody who has a brain in her head.”

Then: “Honey, don’t cry. Don’t take none of this personal.”

22

Kelsea, this gentleman has been waiting for you since we opened up the doors at nine,” the receptionist said the next morning.

Joe stood up, removed his hat, and thrust his hand out toward Kelsea Raymer, the chief forensics analyst of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Forensics Center, which was located in the National Wildlife Property Repository on the grounds of the old Rocky Mountain Arsenal facility near Denver. Raymer was a tall, trim, and comely brunette in her mid-thirties, with a wide, open face and curious blue eyes. She shook Joe’s hand and looked to the receptionist for an explanation.

“He says he’s a game warden from Wyoming,” the receptionist said with a shrug.

“We don’t get many actual visitors here,” Raymer said as she looked him over. “I’m surprised you found it.”

“Me too,” Joe said. It had taken him nearly thirty minutes of driving around to find Building Six within a compound of similar nondescript three-story brick structures that housed federal agencies and outposts.