“It has now,” Raylan said.

“You can’t live without kidneys,” Tim said.

“Be hard,” Raylan said. “Less you get on dialysis pretty quick. What I don’t see, what these pot growers are doing yanking out people’s kidneys. They aren’t making it sellin weed? I’ve heard a whole cadaver, selling parts of it at a time? Will go for a hundred grand. But you make more you sell enough weed, and it isn’t near as messy as dealin kidneys. What I’m wondering…” He paused, thinking about it.

Tim said, “Yeah…?”

“Who did the surgery?”

A bout noon Art Mull faoon Arten, marshal in charge of the Harlan field office, came by the motel to find Raylan still poking around the room.

Art said, “You know what you’re looking for?”

“Techs dusted the place,” Raylan said, “picked up Angel’s clothes, bloody dressings, surgical staples, an empty sack of Mail Pouch, but no kidneys. How’s Angel doing?”

“They got him in intensive care, maintaining.”

“He’s gonna make it?”

“I think what keeps him alive,” Art said, “he’s half out but mad as hell these weed dealers ripped him off. Took what he paid for the reefer-if you believe him-and left him to die.”

“Didn’t mention,” Raylan said, “they took his kidneys?”

“I kept makin the point,” Art said. “ ‘Tell me who these boys are, we’ll get your kidneys back for you.’ He commenced to breathe hard and the nurse shooed me out. No, but his kidneys,” Art said, “were taken out by someone knew what he was doing.”

Raylan said, “They were taken out the front.”

“They’re always taken out the front. Only this was the latest procedure. Smaller incision and they don’t cut through any muscle.”

“I’d like to see Angel,” Raylan said, “less you don’t want me to. I’ve known him since that time he was brought up for sellin khat. When I was on court duty in Miami. Angel and I got along pretty good,” Raylan said. “I think he believes I saved his life.”