She Who Watches (7 page)

“This is Patrick,” the civilian supervisor answered.

The detectives could hear the hustle and bustle of the communications center, the dozens of police frequencies going at once as dispatchers spoke with troopers in the state's thirty-six counties. “Hi, Patrick, this is Detective Bennett out of Portland.”

“Hey there, Detective, how's that plain-clothes gig going?”

“So far so good. I hear you have some work for us. Sergeant Bledsoe said to give you a call on a twelve-forty-nine on the east side of Mount Hood.”

“Got the info right here, Dana; you ready to copy?”

“Yeah, go for it,” Dana poised the pen above her pad.

“We received the call around nineteen hundred hours from Warm Springs P.D. The caller was camping along the White River, just south of Highway 216. He found a body and called it into Wasco County. The initial directions put the body on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation, but we're being told now it may be just outside.”

“Hey, Patrick. This is McAllister. Has that information been confirmed yet?”

“Hi, Mac. We've got a tribal officer on scene. I'm hearing conflicting stories. They're talking ancient burial grounds, but I also heard the body dump was fairly recent, so I don't know what's going on.”

“They've activated the FBI, per their tribal protocol, and the State Department of Indian Affairs to proceed with the excavation. The agents responding, Miller and Lauden, requested you two be notified; they said you would know why.”

Mac looked at Dana, who was giving him a questioning look. “Patrick, tell Warm Springs we are coming up from Portland. Even in this summer light, we'll be pushing dark before we make it up there. Where does 216 come in off of Highway 26?”

“Once you get over Mount Hood at Government Camp, you're looking at another twenty or thirty to the Wamic/White River junction on Highway 216.”

“Thanks.We're on our way.” Mac pressed his foot into the accelerator.

“There's only one reason Miller and Lauden would bring us in.” Dana put away the phone. “They must think the victim is Sara Watson.”

“That would be my guess.”

“Then what's with the ancient burial grounds bit?”

Mac shrugged. “Guess we'll find out soon enough.”

SEVEN

D
ana shot Mac an odd look.

“What?” He glanced at her and then focused back on the road.

“I hope it isn't Sara.”

“Me too.” Even though they hadn't been able to work the case in more than a support role, it was hard not to be affected emotionally.

“Better not to speculate. Like Patrick said, one report said the remains could be from an old burial ground.”

“Well, one way or the other, they have my attention.” Dana made a couple of notes on her pad. “Shouldn't we get the lab techs on the way?”

“Probably not if they think we're dealing with ancient remains.” The reservation was located about an hour and a half from Portland, between the state's most populated metro area and the central Oregon town of Bend. Neither CSI lab would be called until their services were needed. And they didn't respond to ancient remains, which was fairly common with the tribes and Oregon Trail graves.

Mac forced himself to think about their destination rather than the body waiting for them at the end of the line.

Warm Springs was the largest Native American reservation in the state, a sovereign nation located in central Oregon about ninety miles southeast of Portland. The high desert location was home to thousands of members of the Warm Springs Confederated Tribes. They employed their own police force, and due to their status as a sovereign nation, Mac and Dana had no police authority on the reservation. The only Oregon State Police presence allowed was on the state highways that ran through or around the reservation. The real estate off the highways was treated the same as a foreign country for the troopers. The only non-tribal enforcement that was permitted on the reservation was that of the FBI, who nationally have police and investigative authority on Native American lands.

Mac's cell phone rang while en route. He answered, surprised to hear Kevin's voice. After speaking for a few minutes, he snapped the phone shut.

“That the boss?” Dana asked.

“Yep, more complications. Did you see the news report about a forest fire on the reservation?”

Dana nodded.

“Well, it's moving toward our destination. Kevin wanted to let us know the fire is only about twenty miles away from the body dump and is still burning out of control.”

“Oh, great. That fire has already eaten up about ten thousand acres.”

“Close to fifteen now. It merged with another fire, and they don't have any sides contained yet.”

Dana let out a low whistle. “Let's hope the wind blows it in the other direction. Or at least that we get the evidence we need before the body is destroyed.”

“You ready to make some time?” Mac asked as they hit Highway 26 south of Gresham.

“Let her rip.” Dana flipped on the red-and-blue strobes and the wigwag headlights.

Mac crushed the gas pedal and pointed the car toward Mount Hood. Nothing was more beautiful than the mountain at sunset with the year-round snow reflecting the glimmering red, gold, and purple of the sky. And tonight the sky and the mountain were glorious.

Mac and Dana crested the summit of the Government Camp pass on Mount Hood at sunset. The pink reflection of the sun was fading on the snowy peak, while the crest of clouds to the east reflected something dark and sinister. The Simnasho wildfire was burning hot and fast, painting a wide brush of red, gold, and black across the high desert landscape.

Centuries ago, an ancient eruption from the then-active volcano had left the eastern half of the landscape a barren wasteland. Even today, you could see the demarcation leaving the west side lush with dense forests of Douglas firs.

Dana looked over at the digital clock on the dash, then back to her own watch to compare the time. “Looks like we'll be working this gig in the dark. I was hoping for a little light.”

Mac took a left onto Highway 216, starting toward the town of Maupin and the milky-looking White River. “We might have cell coverage now. Why don't you hit dispatch, and we'll see if there are any updates. The fire looks closer than I thought.”

Dana phoned their dispatch in Salem, again speaking with the floor supervisor. “Hi, Mac, Dana. Not too much more I can tell you except that it's definitely a recent body dump.”

“You're sure?”

“We got the verification from Officer Webb with the Warm Springs P.D. A deputy medical examiner from Wasco County is just arriving at the scene.”

“What about our CSI people?”

“They've been requested, but it'll be at least another two hours before someone from Portland could get out there, and the fire is blocking the folks from Bend.”

“Do we have anyone from the Bureau of Indian Affairs?” Dana asked.

“Negative. They have their hands full dealing with the fire. Word is they're going to wait for the medical examiner's report.”

Mac tipped his head down to get a better look at the sky. “We may not be able to wait for the crime lab. We'll have to grid the site ourselves if the fire pushes any closer.”

“Have you done that before?” Dana asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

“Once, but I've seen it done several times. I have plenty of twine and stakes in the trunk.” Mac turned right into the White River campground.

“This must be the place.” Dana motioned to a green Chevy pickup with the yellow Warm Springs Police Department logo printed across the door.

Mac checked out on the radio, requesting the ODOT crews out of the Bear Springs station to bring some light standards to the scene in preparation for having to work in the dark. He would rather hold the scene processing until morning, but with the fire bearing down on them, he couldn't chance it.

They parked next to the green truck, noting the medical examiner's white van on the other side of the wooded campsite, and prepared to process the scene.

Special Agents Miller and Lauden pulled in less than ten minutes later, just as Mac and Dana had finished taping rubber covers over their shoes to prevent scene contamination.

“Hey, Jimmy.” Dana smiled as the lead agent exited his car. The agent nodded back, mumbling something to his partner as they approached the detectives.

Jimmy?
When had Dana gotten to a nickname basis with the guy? He pushed the thought from his mind. He had to stop obsessing over Dana and her relationship or nonrelationship with other guys.

“Is it Sara?” Miller cut to the chase. Agent Lauden looked a little uncomfortable with his partner's abruptness.

Mac motioned to the yellow crime-scene tape and the vehicles in the campsite. “No idea. We just pulled in and were readying our gear so we can approach the scene.”

“If you haven't seen the body, why would you think it was Sara?” Dana asked.

Miller folded his arms. “We can talk about that later.”

“We were just about to log in,” Dana told them. “I just hope the fire stays on that side of the river.”

“No kidding.” Agent Lauden looked up at the crimson sky. “Looks threatening. How far out is it?”

“According to dispatch, flareups are as close as seven miles away and moving fast.” Mac ducked into the trunk, pulling a hammer from his tool kit. “Since we don't have time to wait for the crime lab, we'll have to process the scene ourselves. Our Portland lab techs are hooked up on another assignment.”

“You don't have anyone closer?”

“We have a CSI unit in Bend, but they're not available either. Statewide budget cuts and too many crimes have made for a backlog. Besides, they're cut off by the fire.”

“That for the stakes?” Dana pointed at his tool kit.

“Yep. Hope you brought your muscles,” Mac said. “This ground looks pretty rocky.”

“Oh, please.”

Mac approached the crime-scene tape, making eye contact with the uniformed tribal officer. The slender, muscular man of medium build lowered his clipboard to his side as he approached the yellow tape from the opposite side.

“Howdy.” The officer held his hand out over the crime-scene tape. “Nathan Webb from Warm Springs P.D.”

Mac shook his proffered hand and introduced Dana and the two agents.

“I know these two turkeys,” Nathan teased as he shook hands with the federal agents.

“Hey, Nate.” Agent Lauden nodded. The FBI agents, stationed in Portland and Bend, were regulars on the reservation and were often called to assist with complex investigations.

“Are we on the reservation?” Mac directed his question to Officer Webb.

“Nope.” He pointed to the river, meandering about forty yards away. “Once we cross over that river from the reservation, we're back in the Oregon Territory.”

Good, a sense of humor.
Mac grinned.

“Huh?” Dana frowned, obviously not getting the innuendo.

Nate laughed. “An inside joke. The reservation is inside Oregon, but being that it is a sovereign nation, it is not Oregon. We're kind of like a doughnut hole in the state.”

Mac pointed toward the body dump. “What do we have, Nathan? Can you give us a rundown?”

“Please, call me Nate.” His smile was warm and genuine. “From what I understand, the body was discovered by a camper, Mitch Foster. He and his family have been camping out here for the last few days. Their little boy,Nick, was walking his dog along the river trail.”

Dana winced. “Don't tell me the kid found the body.”

“Fortunately not. Like I said before, the reservation ends at the river, and this area is still part of the state park.”Nate pointed toward the improved campsites. “Anyway, this little guy was walking his dog, and the pooch leaves the trail and starts off on his own.”

“I take it this trail we're standing on is the one you're talking about,” Mac interjected, wanting to get his bearings.

“Yes, it wraps around down by the river and has access to nearly all the campsites at one spot or another.At any rate, the dog took off and started digging. The kid called his dog, but it wouldn't come. He started to pull the collar and saw that the dog was chewing on something. The boy pulled it out of his mouth. Turns out, it's a piece of beaded leather.” Nate produced a plastic bag from his pocket with a torn-off piece of brown leather, decorated with intricate beadwork.

“What is it?” Agent Miller asked.

“Hard to tell. It may be from a bag of some sort or a necklace. A talisman, maybe. I think we only have a small part of it, though. I can't tell right now what the significance is. I'd have to ask one of the tribal elders. I don't know if it is an artifact or not. My wife and several other members of the tribe do beadwork like this and sell it at powwows and such.”

Dana admired the piece. “It's beautiful. That beadwork is something else.”When they'd each gotten a look,Nate started to slip the piece back into his shirt pocket.

“I'll need to take that to the lab, Nate,” Mac said. “We can get photos for you, though.”

“OK. Sounds good.”

“How did we get from the dog finding that piece of leather to the body?” Mac asked.

The officer nodded. “The kid took the leather piece to his dad, who returned to the spot where the dog had been digging. Mitch thought the dog might have inadvertently uncovered an ancient Indian burial ground. Instead of finding more artifacts, he found a body buried in a shallow grave. He immediately drove into Maupin to notify the cops.”

“We heard there were some conflicting stories,” Mac said. “Are we looking at an ancient burial ground or a recent body dump?”

“I've been called out to dozens of so-called ancient burial grounds only to find ‘Made in China' labels or deer bones that some hunter tossed out of his truck after butchering his kill. I'm pretty sure this one is human, and it is definitely not ancient. I didn't dig around—wanted to preserve the scene as much as possible, but I can see some matted hair and the side of what appears to be a female's face and left arm sticking out of the dirt.