Shadow Wolf
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The discomfort made Kino turn away.
Clay was on the satellite phone, the only sure means of communication in many of the more isolated areas out here. He lowered the phone and turned to Kino.
“Mangan is coming himself with another member of the tribe. They want us to meet them, as well.”
“We’ve gone from trackers to an escort service.”
Clay’s smile was fleeting. He motioned with his head. “She’s crying.”
Kino met his brother’s look of discomfort with one of his own.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Your witness. You said so.” He might as well have shouted, “Not it!”
“Great,” said Kino, hoping his captain got here before border patrol so they could get going.
Kino headed to the battered pickup and found Lea wiping her eyes. But she didn’t fall into his arms or shatter like the windshield. Instead she met his cautious gaze with one of her own.
“What now?”
“Gotta get you to Cardon Station. They’re coming to pick you up.”
Lea sighed and followed him to the SUV, where they drove to the highway.
An hour later the rattlesnake rattle had been removed from the one man’s wound and all four bodies had been bagged. The Bureau of Indian Affairs—BIA—and the US Border Patrol, the field operations director from ICE, Shadow Wolves captain Rick Rubio and two members of the Tohono O’odham tribal council were all on site. Lea had been transported to border patrol headquarters while Kino and Clay continued to cook out here in the desert heat.
Kino stared up at the sky, counting the minutes the Viper had to escape. But now Kino had something he’d never had before: a witness.
The last to arrive was a representative from Oasis. Their regional director was a guy named Anthony DeClay: a white guy, tall, with a muscular frame evident beneath the pale blue, long-sleeved, button-up shirt he wore. Stitched to the left breast pocket was the Oasis insignia: two crossed flagpoles topped with triangular royal blue flags. The flags were a shorter interpretation of the ten-foot poles and flags that alerted travelers from a distance to the presence of water. Kino glanced from the symbol to the worn circular ring on the opposite pocket.
Was it tobacco or a tin of rattlesnake rattles?
Kino’s eyes narrowed as he studied the man now engaged in conversation with one of the tribal council, comparing his body type to the Viper and finding a possible match. The gist of the conversation was the time frame for removal of the water stations from tribal lands. Kino knew that the Oasis organization had many stations set up illegally on federal land and the Bureau of Land Management seemed to mostly look the other way. Kino thought that Oasis made a habit of going where it was not welcome. Oasis claimed it had not erected the stations, but did seem to be maintaining them.
DeClay appeared to be in his midforties with an affable smile and mirrored sunglasses. He was covered with dust even though he’d been in an air-conditioned Ford Explorer complete with water tanks, pump and coiled hose. He dangled his keys off his index finger. Kino noticed the key ring immediately because it included a one-inch rattlesnake rattle encased in clear acrylic. The man fingered the fob as he spoke to the tribal councilman.
Kino glanced at Clay, who gave the slightest nod. He’d seen the fob, as well.
Border patrol captain Gus Barrow joined the conversation. DeClay said that he had not met Lea Altaha yet, as she had been out in the field both times he had been through to check in with their area supervisor, a woman named Margaret Crocker. DeClay explained that he supervised the Oasis program in Texas, New Mexico and now Arizona. He said they had strict regulations about traveling in pairs, a rule that Altaha had apparently ignored. According to the manager, Crocker, Lea’s usual partner had recently left the organization. Altaha had been assigned a temporary partner who had called in sick. At that point, Lea had taken her own initiative and picked up the wrong map, the one denoting the stations designated to be removed, and come out here all alone, which was against every protocol they had. She had received no authorization from anyone to be on Indian land and DeClay was not willing to guess if her mistake was accidental or intentional.
The one tribal councilman Kino knew, Sam Mangan, had words with DeClay, telling him to get this station off Indian land today. DeClay promised to remove the barrels immediately and excused himself to make some calls.
Kino glanced again at the two blue barrels resting on their sides on a wooden frame. The two-by-fours and nails had that just-built glow. Strange, he thought. They were not scratched from blowing sand or worn. In fact, the station looked brand-new.
“That station hasn’t been there very long,” said Kino to his brother.
“Nails are still shiny.”
Kino watched DeClay and one of his fellows get the blue barrels loaded. The fact that they could lift them without emptying the water led Kino to surmise that the barrels were empty. But the way the two men carried them seemed wrong.
Kino went to speak to his captain. “I think there might be something in those barrels.”
Captain Rubio glanced at the two men hoisting the containers with renewed interest. “Maybe so. Worth a look.”
Clay asked permission to cut for sign but their conversation was interrupted by Captain Barrow.
“Why wasn’t I alerted to your men’s location?” asked Barrow.
“We alerted you,” said Rubio.
“After they found the bodies.”
Rubio said nothing.
“We’re supposed to be coordinating operations,” Barrow reminded Rubio. “If your men don’t report in and they go missing, we won’t have the first idea where to begin our search.”
Rubio smiled. “I would.”
Barrow snorted. “What if they were shot?”
“That’s easier.” Rubio pointed skyward. “Just follow the buzzards.” Sure enough, the black birds already circled, having smelled the carrion from miles away.
“Yeah, well, I don’t like sending my guys home in body bags.”
Kino wanted to tell them they weren’t his guys but wisely kept his mouth shut.
Rubio spoke again. “That rattle in the wound might link this to the Cosen murder.”
“Oh, this again?” Barrow threw up his hands. “Listen, that was ten years ago. And their father wasn’t crossing the border—he was found in his home. I know because I looked it up.”
“He had a bullet wound in his chest and a rattlesnake rattle plugging the hole,” said Kino. “Just like that guy.” Kino pointed at the body being stowed in the refrigerated truck.
“Right. So it has to be the same guy. Where’s he been for ten years?”
“I don’t know. Prison? Or maybe no one noticed the rattles. You don’t do autopsies on all the bodies.”
“We do on all the ones with bullet holes,” said Barrow.
Kino glanced at Clay, who shrugged. For reasons he did not understand, Clay seemed fine with letting their father’s killer go free. At least, he wasn’t driven to find him. None of his brothers seemed to share his coal-hot need to bring this guy down. Restless spirits haunted the living. That was what his grandmother believed. Kino believed it, too, because his father’s murder had haunted him every day for all ten years since Kino had witnessed his death.
Barrow turned to Rubio. “I request a copy of their report.”
“Report?” said Clay. Thus far they had been blissfully free from paperwork. That alone almost made up for the heat.
His captain rubbed his neck and glanced at Barrow.
“I’ll get you something.”
“What about my witness?” asked Kino.
“Your witness?” Barrow snorted. “You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue your ass. Don’t think she’ll want to see you again.”
“She’s the only one who’s seen his face,” said Kino.
Captain Barrow stopped, turned and glared. “You think I missed that part?”
“No, sir. She can identify him.”
“Yeah?”
Kino nodded. “So she needs protection.” Unless she was one of them. He pushed that unwelcome thought aside, not wanting to consider Lea as a criminal. But she had broken a lot of rules.
“I’ve already arranged for tribal to keep an eye on her overnight. She’ll be at the station for a while yet. I want to speak to her.”
Rubio turned to Kino. “So this guy took the drugs. He’s either robbing the smugglers or he was their contact. That makes him local. This is his territory.” Rubio looked to Barrow. “Roadblocks?”
“In place. And an APB on the vehicle.”
“Sir.” Kino spoke to his captain. “I’d like to volunteer to keep watch over the witness tonight.”
Rubio’s brow arched. “You’re a Shadow Wolf, son. Not local tribal police or border patrol. That’s not our job and this is not your murder investigation.” He pointed at the tire tracks leaving the area. “That’s your job.”
Kino opened his mouth to argue but his captain gave a slow shake of his head.
“He might come after her,” Kino said.
“He might. Tribal or border patrol will handle it. Either way, you’re out.”
Like hell, he thought.
Chapter Five
Kino should have let it go. But he couldn’t. Lea Altaha was the key to the entire thing. He could no more leave her be than he could drop the search for his father’s murderer.
“I’d like to help in the investigation. I’m a police officer.”
Rubio sighed and looked at Barrow. The border patrol captain’s face reddened.
“Not here you’re not,” said Barrow, looking to Kino’s captain for backup.
Rubio’s usually impassive face remained unchanged, but his eyes took on a hawkish quality. “BP inspects, detains, deports. ICE enforces and we look for signs.”
Barrow’s expression turned smug. “Exactly.”
Captain Rubio directed his comments to Barrow. “But as a Shadow Wolf? That means he sees things others can’t. And to use your own words, we’re supposed to be coordinating operations. So I expect to be kept in the loop regarding Altaha.”
“Hmm,” said Barrow. “Well, I’ve got to check those barrels and get those Tohono O’odham Indians off the warpa—” He glanced at Rubio, Kino and Clay. “Uh, all right, then.”
Barrow walked away.
Clay watched the BP captain retreat. “Was he about to say ‘warpath’?”
“Sounded like it,” said Rubio. “Americans. Still think they run everything, including this border.”
Rubio left them to go talk to the guys from ICE.
Kino met the cold look his brother cast him, a look that said Kino had, unfortunately, acted exactly as Clay had expected. His brother’s words replayed in his mind. They say go left and you go right.
Barrow had said that Lea was now their witness. Well, Kino needed that description. And that meant he would see her again.
Barrow was already having the barrels pulled down from the Oasis truck.
Kino nudged Clay. “What do you know about their captain?”
“He took early retirement up in Tucson. Police detective, I think.” Clay watched Barrow. “Been in charge here a few years. Guys say he’s a pain in the butt about procedure and, man, you better be where he tells you or else.”
So he had way more law enforcement experience than Kino did. He knew things, had seen things, but he wasn’t Apache. He couldn’t read sign.
Their captain returned, studying the ground as he approached. “You two think you can find that truck—the one with the missing back window?”
Kino and Clay nodded simultaneously.
“Check in if you find anything.”
Dismissed, the brothers climbed back into their SUV. From the twin-tread access road, they could see that the last vehicle leaving this way had turned south. So they turned south. Then they stopped at every turnoff on either side of the road, looking for matching treads.
One small road, that had been leveled once or so within the past six months, had a set of tracks coming from the highway and back into the desert. There had been another vehicle coming from the correct direction and the tread matched, so they followed the matching tread marks and ended up at a small ranch just inside the rez. The truck had pulled in here. A few hundred yards up, they found a squat little house, sheep pens, sheep and a pickup truck with the back window blown out. Clay covered Kino as he stepped out into the heat and examined the bullet holes. They’d found the truck. Now where was the driver?
“I’m calling Rubio.” Clay lifted his radio and spoke to their captain.
Then they headed for the modest one-story home that had the appearance of BIA housing written all over it. The bureau’s Housing and Urban Development oversaw most tribal housing and Kino recognized the look from Black Mountain. The structure was one floor set on a concrete slab, built from cinder blocks and painted the same drab brown as the sand. Someone had added a porch, which lilted and sagged. The plywood roof had been left unpainted as it darkened and curled. The windows were dirty and the paint was peeling. The yellowing stain on the door had all but worn off, exposing the lower portion of wood to the harsh sun. That was what happened when you had to wait for HUD to do the maintenance. Still, if it was anything like Black Mountain, even crumby housing was scarce.
Clay and Kino hadn’t reached the lopsided step when a man appeared in the half-open door. He was middle-aged, tall, slim, with a distended belly that said he liked beer more than food. He was white but the desert sun had burned him to a brownish pink, and the deep wrinkles on his work-worn face showed he didn’t spend all his time drinking. Although the red spider veins that covered his cheeks and nose indicated he had an earnest commitment to that pursuit. Kino wondered if he owned a sweat-stained straw cowboy hat.
“Yeah?” asked the man by way of a greeting. He smelled like a brewery.
“We’re with ICE,” said Kino. “Shadow Wolves Unit.”
The man nodded, his smile humorless. “Yeah. I figured. You working break-ins now?”
“Break-ins?” asked Clay.
He nodded again. “Yeah. Two days ago. You guys just getting here now? They’re long gone. Why don’t you just sit over there by the sheep pen? Bound to be another group along anytime.”
A woman appeared behind him, short, round and a Tohono O’odham from the look of her. She wore a bright pink T-shirt that was large and tight, gray sweatpants and a frown.
“What now?” she asked.
“Damned if I know,” said the man.
“Your names?” asked Clay.
“I’m Bill Moody and this here is my wife, Arnette.”
“This your place?”
“We rent it,” he said.
“Did you call about the break-in?” asked Kino.
“Don’t have no phone out here.” Or electricity, since there was no power line to the house, just the constant roar of a generator somewhere round the back and the propane tank for heat. The yard was a mess, with trash littering the porch and a rusted-out pickup tucked under the carport. But beyond the residence and past the sheep pens sat a solid, clean outbuilding made of concrete with an aluminum roof. The contrast between the two buildings struck Kino as odd, as did the solid padlock on the large garage door.
“Is that your truck?” Kino pointed to the pickup with the shattered back window and numerous bullet holes. It was sitting to the side of the outbuilding with just the front visible from where they stood.
Arnette gave a shriek and Bill swore then headed out toward the truck.
“What happened?” he asked, his arms out and his face a mask of shock.
“Did you lend it to someone?” asked Clay.
Arnette reached the tailgate and fingered a hole. “Somebody shot it up.” She turned to them, her jaw open as she panted from her exertions. “I didn’t hear no shooting.”
“Where do you keep the keys?” asked Kino, fearing the answer.
“Right up there on the dash,” said Bill.
Arnette shuffled along on swollen feet. “Right there.”
Clay was already searching the ground for sign. Kino noticed the key ring had a red metal fob inlaid with the image of a coiled silver rattlesnake. His eyes narrowed on the key ring and then on Moody.
Kino asked a few more questions and learned that Bill worked in Pima at the auto-repair shop but had the day off. Kino also discovered that illegals were frequent visitors to this place, filling their water containers at the hose and stealing clothing from the line.
“Them illegals even broke in here while she was at church and cooked a meal right there in our kitchen.”
“And left a mess,” said Arnette.
Clay returned. “Looks like a truck, newer tires. Footprint shows one single male, construction boots, weighs about two-twenty.”
Arnette stared at Clay in wonder. “You boys are them? Part of the unit. All Indian? Right? The Shadow Wolves?”
Clay nodded then checked the tread left by Bill Moody. Kino waited for Clay to lift his head and give a shake. But he didn’t. He merely shrugged. That meant he couldn’t eliminate Moody. Clearly he was wearing different shoes. But his size matched the prints.
“Did you see anyone today?” asked Kino.
“Been inside all day. Threw out my back chasing one of them rams. He got out somehow.” He pointed vaguely toward the pens.
Kino looked at Arnette, who dropped her gaze and shook her head.
“Will you call us if you see a guy? Big, white, wearing a cowboy hat.” Kino handed over a card.
Moody rejected the card. “I don’t got a phone.”
“Then find someone who does,” Kino said and then held Moody’s gaze until the man looked away.
“He dangerous?” asked Moody.
Kino nodded.
Arnette made a sound of discontent in her throat. “Guess I’ll start carrying my shotgun again.”
Unlike Lea, Mrs. Moody seemed to have no qualms about arming herself against danger.
“That your barn?”
“Garage,” corrected Moody. “Sheep don’t need no barn.”
“You always keep your garage locked like that?” said Kino, pointing at the padlock.
“Told you that migrants come through here. They steal everything that ain’t locked down. Sleep in there if they could,” said Moody.
“Can we have a look inside?”
Moody’s jaw bulged and he narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about?”
“Shooting in the desert.”
“I don’t know nothing about it. And as you can see, the garage is locked. No other way in.”
Kino’s antenna for lies vibrated. He wanted a look in that garage. But he didn’t have cause, so he handed over a card.
“Still, I’d like to have a look inside,” said Kino.
Moody’s face reddened. “Well, you can’t. Now get off my property.”
“Thought you said it was rented,” said Clay.
“I had enough talking to the both of you. Coming in here with a lot of questions. Why don’t you catch the damned migrants instead of bothering us? They’re like damned locusts.” He hoisted up his pants. “We done here?” asked Moody.
Kino touched his brow in salute. “All done. Thank you for your help.”
Moody growled and folded his arms, waiting for them to leave.
“You buy his story?” Kino asked Clay.
“Tracks didn’t match. But he is wearing sneakers now and the size and his weight are about right. Whoever it was, he changed vehicles. Had another behind this building, judging from the tracks.”
“Like to get a look inside there,” said Kino, thumbing over his shoulder at the building that was too new and too well kept to be on this property.
“Think you need a warrant,” said Clay.
“She didn’t look at us when I asked if she’d seen anyone,” Kino said. “Might want to speak to her when he’s not around. Maybe she’ll let us have a look inside.”
“Come back in an hour,” said Clay. “The way he’s going, he’ll be passed out by then.”
“Couldn’t she hear someone starting a truck?”
“Not with a generator and television on,” said Clay.
“I suppose.”
“I saw those other tracks on the turnoff. They’re headed south. Same way we’re going.”
“Could that car be a Ford Explorer?” Kino was thinking of Anthony DeClay, Lea’s boss. The one with the new truck and the key ring with the rattlesnake rattle.
“Sure or a Ram or a Toyota, Chevy or Subaru. Can’t tell from the tire tread. Only shows the width and tire brand. Not the make. You know that.”
They reached their vehicle and Kino settled into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go talk to Altaha. See if she can give us that description.”
“Don’t you think she would have mentioned if the guy who pointed a gun at her was her boss?”
“She’s never seen him. He said so at the scene. She’s been out in the field both times he visited. Love to have her take a look at Moody, too.”
“Yeah,” Clay said and buckled in. “But that sounds a lot like an investigation and you quit your job on Tribal.”
“Leave of absence.”
“Yeah, well, Gabe told you there were plenty of dead cases on the rez. If you want to investigate crimes, we could have stayed put.”
Kino didn’t take the bait. He needed to find out all he could about Lea Altaha. “Call Rubio. Tell them we found the truck and ask what they have on Altaha.”
Clay lifted the radio and Kino turned them toward Cardon Station, where his witness would be waiting. Because no matter what Barrow said, Lea was his witness and he had a lot more questions.
Chapter Six
Lea was tired, drained, dusty and hungry. All she wanted to do was go home, or what passed for home while she was in Pima finishing her college internship before starting as an anthropologist for the Salt River reservation’s historical society.
The border patrol officer paused, looking over what he had typed on the computer monitor. A sheen of sweat made his brown skin gleam despite the churning air conditioner. The stitched name on his forest green shirt read D. Mulhay, though he had not bothered to introduce himself. Where she came from that was considered very impolite.
“Are we done?” she asked him.
“Almost.” He scanned the form. “I just need your partner’s name.”
“I was alone today.”
Mulhay typed in the information and then glanced up, studying her in silence for a moment. “I don’t mean to tell you your business, Miss Altaha, but you shouldn’t be out there alone.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the window. “Guess you know that already.”
“Yeah.”
Mulhay glanced at the glowing screen. “I think that’s everything. I got your number if I need anything else. Oh, Captain Barrow said he wants to speak to you, but he’s still at the scene.”
“Fine. When?”
“We’ll give you a call.”
Lea rubbed her forehead, vainly trying to push away the image of the murdered men. The memory made her flesh crawl.
She rose, hesitated and then returned to her seat. “Um, they impounded my truck, so...”
“Oh, I can get you a lift.” Mulhay made the call then replaced the handset on the cradle. “They’ll let me know when the unit is out front.”
“Is it okay if I make a call?” she asked.
“Of course.” He motioned to his phone. She lifted her cellular and gave it a little wave. “Oh, fine,” he said, turning back to his computer and the report.
Lea called Margie, hoping she’d still be in the office.
Margie told her that Anthony DeClay, the regional director she had yet to meet, wanted to see her first thing in the morning.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“He’s plenty mad,” said Margie. “Especially when he heard you went out there alone. I think he might fire you.”
“I’m a volunteer,” she reminded Margie.
“Fail you, then. Send you home. The tribal guys are really peeved.” She paused. “Lea, you shouldn’t have done that. It’s against guidelines. And the map you took. It’s of the water stations we are removing, not filling.”
“We need more water stations. Not less.”
“Not up to us. The tribal council wants them out.” Margie hesitated once more then said, “Come in with Ernesta tomorrow and stick with her. She knows the rules.”