Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries (55 page)

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Authors: Kathleen O'Neal Gear,W. Michael Gear

BOOK: Bone Walker: Book III of the Anasazi Mysteries
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“Not unless you want to spend the next couple of nights in a cozy little cell learning the intricacies of body-cavity searches, good cop/bad cop interrogations, and the ins and outs of the lawyer-client relationship.”
The helicopter cleared the rimrock and settled over the parking lot. Dust whirled as the bird spooled down. Moments later the doors opened and Sid Malroun and four men in blue FBI coats ducked out. In a knot they hurried across the parking lot toward the trail that led up past Casa Rinconada.
“Dusty?” Maureen asked, and gave him a frightened look. “If this site has been disturbed, do you think—?”
It took a second before her meaning dawned and his gaze went to the great kiva where Dale had been killed.
“Oh, my God.”
“Nichols just said we weren’t supposed to go back to the trucks,” she reminded. “And I ought to say hello to Sid. It would look perfectly natural if we walked down to meet him, then you could—”
“I hear trouble in your voices,” Yvette said, and leaned closer to join their conversation. “Are we off somewhere?”
Maureen said, “We’re just going to take a walk down the hill.”
Yvette followed them, tagging along.
They reached the great kiva at the same time Sid Malroun and the FBI men came walking up the interpretive trail. The FBI call must have pulled Sid out of bed. Brown stubble covered his face, and the sparse
hair on his mostly bald head stood straight up. His glasses had frosted when he’d stepped out into the cold air so Maureen couldn’t see his eyes.
“Good morning, Sid.” Maureen walked forward to shake his hand while Dusty stared over the side and into the depths of the kiva.
“Maureen, good Lord, are you still mixed up in this?” Sid asked as he shook.
“Apparently.”
“Okay. Tell me what I’m looking at today?”
“I don’t know.” Maureen frowned up the hill at the displaced straw bales. Everyone, as she’d expected, turned to follow her gaze. “The FBI won’t let me near the body. I’ve been trying to tell them that—”
Dusty turned, cupping hands around his mouth to shout: “Nichols? I think you should see this! The blood down here is already frozen, but it’s a safe bet that it matches the corpse on the hill!”
Nichols spun around where he stood on top of the ridge and squinted across the distance to where Dusty pointed into the dawn-shadowed great kiva. He left the ridge at a run. Maureen had to hand it to him. He vaulted the sage and rabbitbrush with grace that belied his age. When he stopped at Dusty’s side and stared down at the dark stain on the kiva floor, his face reddened. “Bill? Rick? Get over here and photograph this!”
Maureen and Sid went to stand on the other side of Dusty. Maureen stared down at the large bloodstain on the frosty kiva floor.
“See that sand pattern that’s just barely visible through the frost?” Dusty pointed to the left of the blood. “It probably matches the samples you took out of here a few days ago.”
“Meaning?” Sid asked.
Dusty said, “I wager he gets it from the same place, Dr. Malroun, probably a sacred place.”
Maureen studied the footprints that led from the
stain, across the kiva, and up the stairway. Small prints, like those of a woman, or a diminutive man. The murderer hadn’t been so careful this time. Or maybe she couldn’t be. Perhaps she hadn’t anticipated the frost, or it had happened in the middle of the murder.
“Well, Sid,” Maureen said through a long exhalation. “You have your hands full.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “As of today, our man is a serial killer.”
“Brilliant,” Yvette said unhappily, “and I was pissed out of my gourd. He could have driven right up, opened the door, and lifted me out with no one the wiser.”
She shoved her hands in her coat pockets and stalked up the trail toward the excavation.
Maureen quietly said to Sid, “You really think it’s a man?”
Sid rubbed his stubbly jaw and studied the footprints. “Not necessarily, but I think it’s prudent to keep saying so in public.”
He turned slightly to watch Yvette climb the hill. Then his eyes drifted to Sylvia where she knelt looking down into the excavation. His brows lowered.
In a low voice, he added, “I’m not even sure it’s one person we’re looking for.”
 
 
AS THE DAY ground on, Dusty’s patience wore thin. Maureen sat on a rock and watched him pace the yellow tape like a caged tiger, watching the FBI team secure the scene, record the evidence, and carefully dig the corpse from the loose sand and the straw bales that
the killer had used to prop his victim’s body.
Preliminary inspection revealed that the soles of the feet had been skinned, but hastily, as though the killer feared discovery. The toes had been hacked off to make the skinning faster—which is why the feet had looked so small. A yucca hoop encircled the man’s body. Then, as the knees were uncovered, Maureen could see the yucca leaves that pierced them. The man’s genitals had been sliced from the pubis with a sharp blade.
When the technicians finally lifted the body from the soil, Yvette let out a soft cry and put a hand to her lips. Tears glistened in her wide eyes.
It took Maureen a moment longer. Blood and filth matted the face, and gore ran from the hole that had been sawed in the rear of the skull—but she saw his silver ponytail.
Yvette whispered, “Oh, no. God.”
“Who is it?” Dusty asked.
Yvette took an involuntary step backward. She was shaking. “It’s … I think it’s … my father. Carter.” Her voice broke.
Dusty turned back to scrutinize the body as they carried it across the kiva and said, “Are you sure?”
Yvette nodded. “Yes.”
Maureen put a hand on Yvette’s shoulder. He may not have been a good father, or even her biological father, but for most of her life she’d thought he was. Softly, Maureen said, “I need to go tell the medical examiner. It will cut the time it takes to verify the ID. Will you be all right?”
In a breathless voice, Yvette said, “Where’s my mother? Does anyone know?”
As Maureen walked toward Sid Malroun, she heard Dusty answer, “I suspect Agent Nichols will have her picked up within the hour.”
 
 
OWL HOUSE CONSISTED of five single-story rooms with a contiguous kiva on the south side. The long axis of the edifice ran northeast-southwest along the ridgetop. To take it, Browser had split his forces, sending Badger Dancer around to the north and west with Split Beam and Clay Frog. Meanwhile, he, Catkin, Yucca Whip, and Fire Lark charged in from the south and east. White Cone and Stone Ghost stood just out of range, guarding Pigeontail and Horned Ram, with orders to kill the Trader should anything go amiss, and make their escape as best they could. Rain Crow, practically wavering on his feet, gripped his war club and staggered forward, his cloudy eyes fixed on Owl House.
Browser zigzagged as he ran. From the corner of his eye he could see Catkin sprinting up the slope, her long legs pumping. Sunlight flashed off the polished wood of her bow. She had never been so beautiful. Gods curse him, why had he wasted so much time mourning the dead when he should have been sharing her blankets?
Heart pounding, he charged up to the wall, more than a little surprised that no arrows darted from above. Catkin flattened herself against the wall beside him, followed a half breath later by Fire Lark.
“Up!” Browser said, raising his right foot.
Catkin and Fire Lark cupped their hands, lifting as Browser straightened. They almost threw him, despite his weight, onto the roof. He caught the lip, nearly falling as the plaster crumbled under his fingers, and flipped himself onto the Hat earthen roof. In a split heartbeat he was on his feet, surprised to see … nothing. No enemy waited to club his brains out. The only
movement was Red Dog being boosted in a similar fashion to the opposite side of the roof. Eyes wide, panting, the warrior scrambled to his feet, his war club up to deflect a blow.
Browser stepped warily to look down at Catkin. “Hold your position, but be on guard. Red Dog and I will check the rooms.”
Browser tiptoed lightly to the dark roof opening. The ladder’s two weathered gray upright poles stuck up against the sky. He tested the roof near the entryway and quickly pulled his war shirt over his head. Red Dog was watching with a sudden frown, baffled as Browser took a quick wrap of his shirt over the head of his war club. Then he ducked low and shoved the cloth bundle over the lip of the entryway before jerking it back in the manner of a peeking head. Nothing. Again he feinted with the bundled cloth.
Red Dog had finally caught on and pulled off his own blue war shirt, mimicking Browser as he feinted at the next room opening. Generally, if a warrior were waiting in ambush within, their nerves would be pulled as taut as damp rawhide in a hot sun. At the first movement they’d loose an arrow.
Browser circled, grasped the ladder in both hands, and pulled it out of the room. He lowered it over the side of the building and Catkin swiftly climbed up.
“It’s too dark to see into any of the rooms,” Browser told her as he slipped his war shirt on. “Let’s pull up all the ladders. Anyone inside will stay that way until we decide to let them out.”
“Or until they knock a hole in the wall,” Catkin said. “What about the kiva?”
“That’s our next stop.”
Catkin whispered, “He’s here, Browser. I can feel him, like a cold wind whispering around my souls.”
Catkin led the way to the south roof. From there they could look down on the kiva—a round disk raised to knee height above the ridgetop. A faint twist of blue
smoke rose from the hole in the kiva roof.
Browser met Catkin’s knowing eyes and took a moment to touch her shoulder. That one light touch, the feel of her body, sent warmth through him. Her reassuring smile was just for him. And with that, he squatted, swung his legs over the side of the wall, and dropped lightly to his feet on the kiva roof. Two heartbeats later, Catkin thumped down beside him. Stepping to the side, he motioned to his warriors who waited beside the walls. In single file they trotted along, forming up on either side of the kiva entry.
Browser turned, gesturing to Red Dog to stay on the high rooftop. With his index and middle fingers he pointed to his eyes and made the “keep watch” sign.
Attacking a kiva was a relatively straightforward problem. All an attacker need do was pull out the ladder and drop burning brush down the entry hole. The next move was to throw hides or damp cloth over the hole. The smoke, flames, and heat finished the job without exposing the attacker. If you wanted the occupants out, however, the ladder was left in place as the flaming brush was dropped in. Provided the ladder didn’t catch fire too quickly, the defenders would eventually be driven out, crying, coughing, and blinded. It was an easy matter to simply wait at the top of the ladder with war clubs and beat their heads in as they emerged. The problem Browser now faced was how to retrieve Obsidian from the kiva before he set fire to it.
“Browser?” a woman’s gentle voice came from the kiva.
He glanced at Catkin and answered, “Obsidian? Is that you?”
“It is.” Something about the sensual tones warned him.
“Come out, Obsidian. We’re here to take you away.” To Catkin, Browser silently mouthed: “Shadow Woman?” and shrugged his shoulders.
Catkin tightened her grip on her war club.
“I’m tied up. Please come and get me!”
A muffled voice rose, like a woman trying to scream with a hand over her mouth. Then a child let out a high-pitched roar of sheer terror, which was abruptly halted by the sound of a fist striking flesh.
“Bone Walker?”
Stone Ghost cried, his eyes suddenly huge.
“Bone Walker, is that you?”
He rushed forward, but Rain Crow gripped his arm and held him back. They spoke to each in quiet harsh tones for several moments; then Stone Ghost reluctantly stepped back. But he stood as though poised to run the instant he could.
Browser considered, then said, “Shadow? Do you remember the turquoise wolf? The one Two Hearts lost when he attacked Hophorn outside of Talon Town. The turquoise wolf that belonged to the Blessed Night Sun? I’m setting it here on the kiva roof, and then I’m coming down. If I don’t call back to Catkin, she’ll take her war club and smash it into dust.”
Silence, and then Browser recognized Two Hearts’s weak voice. “Don’t, Browser.” A faint cough and a groan. “We can work this out.”
“Yes,” Browser agreed. “You send Obsidian up, and I’ll send the wolf down. Do we have an agreement?”
He could hear whispering from below.
“Browser!” Red Dog shouted. “War parties! Several of them, White Moccasins, they’re boiling out of Straight Path Wash and from War Club village to the east!”
“How many warriors?”
Red Dog straightened. “Five there. Ten, no … ten and two there.” He turned slightly. “From the west, there are more. Five … seven in that band.”
Twenty-two at least. Not to mention any that might be down in the kiva with Two Hearts.
“Find the best positions to shoot from—then take cover!” Browser ordered, pointing toward Owl House’s roof with his war club. “Make sure that Stone Ghost
and White Cone are lying down on the roof, safe. Pull up the ladders. We can hold them here!”
White Cone glanced down from above. “With your permission, War Chief. I will handle the defense from up here.”
“I appreciate that, Bow Elder. Now sit down and rest. We have some time before they arrive. Reserve your strength and mind for the challenge to come.”
“Browser?” Shadow’s sensual voice drifted from the kiva. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Let us talk.”
They had maneuvered him into coming here, then left the place unguarded. If he did only one thing today, he could kill them. Surely they knew that. Which meant they had risked everything to get him here. Why?
“I’m listening, Shadow,” he said as he strode to the edge of the roof. The seven warriors from War Club village ran full tilt to cut off the stairway that led out of the canyon.
“You have us, we have you,” she called. “I think we can bargain.”
“Red Dog,” Browser called, “any activity in the rooms?”
“No, War Chief.” The young warrior stood looking worriedly at the closing warriors.
“Good. If this turns against us, kill Pigeontail. In the meantime, find anything that will burn. Pull the roof apart if you have to, and get the kindling to me.”
“Yes, War Chief.” Red Dog bounded away and Browser could hear the scraping of a ladder.
“Browser?” Shadow called. “If you harm us, neither you nor your Made People friends will leave here alive. You know that, don’t you?”
“We came here to die, Shadow. You and Two Hearts have destroyed everything we hold dear. You killed and butchered our friends, killed our Matron. You burned innocent children to death in the Longtail village kiva. The only thing we value now is your deaths!”
“We had our reasons! You are one of us, you should know!”
“Reasons?” he shouted. “You are witches! You—”
“Browser?”
Red Dog called from above. “The White Moccasins will be in range soon, should we shoot at them? Slow them down?”
Browser shook his head. “Wait, Red Dog. There’s no sense in wasting arrows.”
Browser took the ladder that Red Dog had lowered and raced to the roof. From the vantage point he could see the closing ring of warriors, taking their time, moving into position.
Cupping his hands to his mouth, he called, “Stop where you are! I am War Chief Browser, of the Katsinas’ People. The witches, Two Hearts and Shadow Woman, are in the kiva. If you attack us, we will set fire to the place and burn them with it. If you would see your leaders alive again, you will withdraw.”
One of the warriors stepped out, the breeze fluttering his white tunic. “I am Thorn Fox, of the Red Lacewing Clan, War Chief of the Starburst warriors. You are surrounded. Your only hope for survival is to surrender.”
“Piece of filth,” Rain Crow growled.
Browser called, “War Chief, we will not surrender, and you will not attack.”
“Why won’t I?”
“Because, I told you, if you do, your elders will be burned to death.”
“If you kill them,” Thorn Fox warned, “we will kill you—then we will hunt down and kill your families! Your clans will be cursed!”
“Hold your position!” Browser called.
Turning he strode to the kiva opening. “Shadow? Thorn Fox is out here. Tell him to stay back, or I will set fire to your kiva this instant!”
 
 
MAGGIE PULLED UP and shifted her green pickup into park. She stepped out as Dusty opened the camp trailer’s door. The rimrock on either side of the canyon had turned brown and foreboding beneath the gray clouds that obscured the late afternoon sky.
“Hello, Maggie,” he called. His blond hair was mussed, and his blue eyes were red-rimmed.
Nichols had run everyone through the mill that morning, and Dusty looked it. Worse, when she’d called Rupert in Washington that morning, he’d told her that under no circumstances was she to interfere with Nichols’s investigation. The FBI agent had had her jumping through bureaucratic hoops all morning.

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