Black Sun Descending (7 page)

“I'M GOING TO FLAGSTAFF FOR
a few days.” Silas was standing in his gear room, surveying the shelves of outdoor equipment there and talking with Katie Rain on the phone.

“I don't want to sound like an
FBI
agent, Silas, but have you cleared this with Taylor?”

“You do sound a
little
like an
FBI
agent when you talk that way.”

“Seriously, Silas.”

“I haven't talked with him, but I will. He'll be my next call. I'm not a suspect in Jane Vaughn's death, am I?”

The line was silent a long time. When Rain spoke, she was very quiet. “Not a suspect but certainly material to the investigation.”

“How did she die, Katie?”

“Oh Silas, I don't think I can tell you that. It would compromise the investigation.”

“But she wasn't buried alive, was she?”

“No. She didn't die
in situ
. She was killed elsewhere and transported to the Atlas Mill site.”

“Do you know when?”

“We're still trying to construct a timeline. Normal decomposition rates don't apply here. We suspect it wasn't too long after she was reported missing last November.”

“If you know that, can't you ask around at the mill site and find out who might have had access to the reclamation pits at that time?”

“Taylor is already on it. We're interviewing past and present security staff. So far, nothing is popping.”

Silas pulled a few more bits of gear off his shelves and stuffed them into an aptly named Black Hole Bag. He wanted to have a conversation with a few of the security personnel, but doubted he'd ever get the chance.

“So, you still haven't told me what you're going to do in Flagstaff.”

“I don't know if I should. Is this Katie Rain,
FBI
agent, or Katie Rain, friend on the phone?” He said it whimsically, but as soon as he did he knew he'd hurt her. He stopped with the gear a moment and said, “I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean—”

“It's okay, Silas. I know this is strange. I really shouldn't be talking with you. It's just that I want to help.”

“I'm going to try to find out what Jane Vaughn was working on before she was killed. Maybe try to suss out a motive. This may be connected to Penelope somehow.”

“Special Agent Eugene Nielsen is in Flagstaff right now doing the same thing.”

“I'll keep an eye open for him.”

“I'll bet after you talk with Taylor that Nielsen will be keeping an eye open for you.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Katie.”

“Silas, when was the last time you were in Flag?”

He closed his eyes as if to count. “Almost four years.”

“Not since you sold the house and loaded up your books?”

“That's right.”

“Be careful.”

“Thanks, but I don't think there's anything to be worried about.” He realized as he said it how stupid it sounded. He was poking his nose into a murder investigation.

“I'm thinking more about your heart, Silas. Be careful.”

THE DRIVE FROM
Moab to Flagstaff was one he'd done dozens of times and it gave him ample opportunity to consider what he was getting himself into.

What did he hope to learn about Jane Vaughn's work that might lead him to Penelope? If Penelope and Jane had been working together to advocate for “capital-W” wilderness in the Grand Canyon, and if that designation had been objected to—maybe violently—by Chas Hinkley, then maybe Hinkley might have some answers for him about what happened to both women. Silas had used the computer in his bookstore before leaving Moab to learn that Hinkley
was
still superintendent of Glen Canyon National Recreation Area.

What else had the two friends collaborated on?

Silas passed the turn-off to the Hopi Reservation; he had friends there now, the family of the young woman whose body he had found the previous year, but he didn't stray from his course. He was fueling up at the Shell station in Tuba City when it suddenly dawned on him. He almost sprayed gas all over his car and the tarmac as he jerked his hand back. Jane Vaughn wasn't the only person Penelope had worked with who had died a violent death. Vaughn had also worked with another friend of Penelope's, a woman named Darcy McFarland.

Last August Silas had led the
FBI
to Darcy's body, unceremoniously dumped in another industrial location along the banks of the Colorado River. Darcy had been knocked unconscious with a sharp blow to the head and then drowned. Her murder remained unsolved, and the discovery plagued Silas. What was the connection between these three Flagstaff women? How might the murders relate to Penelope's disappearance?

Silas paid for his gas, bought a six-pack of cheap beer, and continued toward Flagstaff. A knot developed in his stomach. During the last four years he had been living with the desperate hope that he might find Penelope one day, alive. But now her two closest allies in the environmental community were dead and he still hadn't learned the truth about her disappearance. His hope of discovering his wife still among the living seemed to fade with each mile he put behind him.

THE SUMMIT OF HUMPHREY'S PEAK
was still encrusted with snow and ice as Silas neared the city of Flagstaff. From the highway into town he could see the stalwart San Francisco Peaks rising above the pine and aspen forests that ringed the mountains and stretched north toward the Grand Canyon. He traced the foothills of the mountains to the place among the trees where he and Penelope had lived for nearly a decade.

As Silas drew nearer he saw that Flagstaff was just like every other town in the American West. The quaint historic downtown was surrounded by miles of hideous urban sprawl with big-box stores and industrial parks. He piloted his Outback downtown and made his way to the Hotel Monte Vista. This historic landmark had been a fixture in Flagstaff since 1927, and staying at it was Silas's way of thumbing his nose at the cardboard hotels that lined the interstate. Parking, he stretched, feeling his back crack as he looked around at the familiar streetscape.

Across the street was Babbitt's, an all-purpose merchant that he used to frequent. A block away was Café Express. He opened the back of the car, took out his clothing bag, and, locking the Outback, checked into the hotel.

“THIS IS SILAS
Pearson calling.” He sat on the bed in his ornate room.

“I'm sorry, but the family has suffered a terrible loss.” The woman on the phone sounded as if she might be Jane's mother or mother-in-law.

“I know. I'm very sorry. I was hoping that I might speak with Jane's husband. It's important.”

“I don't know . . .”

“My name is Silas Pearson. My wife knew Jane well. They worked together. I was just hoping I might talk with Dallas a moment.”

“Hold on please.” Silas looked around the room while he waited for Dallas Vaughn to pick up the phone. He could hear muffled voices in the background, as if the woman had her hand over the phone's mouthpiece.

“This is Dallas.” He sounded gruff but worn thin.

“Mr. Vaughn, this is Silas Pearson calling.”

“Alright. Listen, we've had a bit of a tough week here.”

“I know, sir. That's what I was hoping to talk with you about.”

“Can this wait? I'm trying to arrange a funeral. Can you call back next week?”

“Mr. Vaughn, I just arrived in town from Moab. I really think you and I should talk.”

“Listen,
Silas
, was it? It's just not a good time. The kids are traumatized. I really should go—”

“Dallas, I was the one who found your wife.
I
found Jane.”

SILAS SAT IN
Macy's, a funky café on the south side of the tracks a few blocks from the university. He had often met students and other professors here for coffee during his tenure at Northern Arizona University, and he felt a strange sense of comfort being back in the familiar surroundings. He found a table near the front of the café where he could see the doors and watched for Dallas Vaughn. When he arrived the man was not what he expected.

Vaughn was taller than Silas—who was six-two—and easily weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. He was dressed in Carhartt work pants and jacket, and a Cat Diesel Power cap. His hands were callused and very large.

“You Silas?”

Silas stood and extended his own rough hand. They shook, then ordered coffee.

Vaughn looked around. “Jane used to come here. Her office is just around the corner.”

“I think Penelope used to meet her here.”

“Not my sort of place, really,” said Vaughn, sipping his coffee. “I'm more of an Uptown Billiards kind of guy.”

“What do you do?”

“I'm a heavy equipment operator. I work for the state highway department.”

“I'm sorry to bother you at such a traumatic time, but I thought you might be able to help me with something. I think our wives were working on something together and if I could just find out what, it might help me find Penelope.” Silas was careful not to mention that it might also help find Jane's killer.

“I remember Jane telling me that Penelope had gone missing and you were trying to find her.”

“It's been four and a half years.”

“That's a long time. I've been looking for Jane for five months—at least the local cops and the feds have been. How the hell did you find my wife anyway?”

Silas watched the man. He tried to read his face, but couldn't. “I was looking for my own wife,” Silas lied. “I had some evidence, a suggestion really, that maybe Penelope might have been nosing around the Atlas Mill site. Do you know it?”

“No, what is it?”

“It's a huge uranium waste site near Moab. It's being cleaned up now. Penny hated stuff like that, right on the Colorado and all. That's when I found Jane—”

“I don't know how you did it. The
FBI
and the local sheriff's office had been looking for months. There was nothing, not until you showed up.”

Silas changed the subject. “I wonder if you might have any idea what Jane was working on before she went missing?”

“What wasn't she sticking her nose into? I mean, Jane was a one-woman wrecking ball.”

“You don't sound like you approved of her work.”

“Look, everybody's got a right to their opinion. Jane certainly had her share of them. But I wouldn't call what she did work. She mostly volunteered. I don't recall much of a paycheck. We mostly did with my salary. I think Jane's work cost us more than it brought in. Plus, the stuff that she was into didn't really hold with the work I do. I build roads. She was trying to tear them up. In the last five or six years Jane got more and more single-minded. In the end, we didn't really talk about what she was working on. Every time we did we got into a fight. I know this sounds pretty low, but it was sort of a relief when she disappeared. We didn't have to fight anymore.”

Silas regarded the man, who was still looking out the window. What he said did sound crass, but this was a man who had just learned that his wife had been murdered. He didn't expect Dallas Vaughn to be thinking clearly.

“What's going to happen now with your family?”

“We're going to move on. The kids will have to adjust. So will I. My folks live in town. My mom will come by and sit with the kids. And we'll have a little extra now to cover the bills.”

Silas wanted to ask about that, but instead got to what was most on his mind. “Mr. Vaughn, I don't suppose you'd let me have a look around Jane's office, would you?”

Vaughn looked at him for the first time since they'd sat down.

“I understand she had a little space she rented near the university. I'd like to have a look at it. It might help me make a connection with Penelope.”

“The local cops and the
FBI
have already been there. They wanted to look at the same stuff you want to see. I don't know what you expect to find.”

“It may be nothing. Maybe the
FBI
will have taken everything of importance. But I'd like to look just the same.”

“You get in trouble with the feds, don't come crying to me.” He reached into his pocket and took out a ring of keys. He started to thread one off.

“I won't. Here's my cell number.” Silas pulled a scrap of paper from his shirt pocket, wrote on it, and handed it to Vaughn. “I've also written the name of my hotel on it. Call me if you think of anything else that might help.”

Vaughn took the paper, stood up, and handed Silas the key. Silas scribbled Vaughn's address on a receipt so he could return the key when he was done. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Silas stood and offered his hand. They shook. “I'm sorry about your wife.”

“I'm just glad we can get on with business as usual now,” said Vaughn, and he turned and left. It was the strangest thing Silas had heard anybody say about the death of their partner, and it made him wonder just how bad Dallas Vaughn's relationship had been with his wife.