Darkwind: Ancient Enemy 2 (8 page)

Klein stood beside Palmer and watched the activity for a moment and then he looked at the agent. “What do you think we’re dealing with here? I mean, you got any theories yet?”

Palmer watched the men and women work on the truck for a moment, not even glancing at Klein. They were out of earshot of the team members, but all three of them looked so involved in their work that they probably wouldn’t have heard them even if they were closer.

“At first I thought one of the archaeologists went nuts and killed one of the other people here,” Palmer finally said. “And then I figured that person might have killed the others to cover everything up. But after we went in the cave, I changed my mind. I don’t think one person did all of this.”

“I don’t either,” Klein responded. “I think a group of people killed these people and put their body parts in that cave. Maybe four or five killers at least.”

Palmer could tell that the agent couldn’t wait to talk about his own theories, to compare his ideas with a legendary serial killer hunter.

“Might be true,” Palmer answered. “Hard to tell if all ten people are in that … that arrangement in the cave. If they’re all there then one of them wasn’t the killer.”

“Looks like they’re all there in that cave,” Klein said, making up his mind already. “There’s too many body parts in there … has to be all of them. So that means other people killed these scientists. We already know that much.”

Palmer was sure Klein had some suspects in mind already. “I thought of robbers,” Palmer said. “Maybe a group of people trying to steal the artifacts these guys dug up. Maybe some gold trinkets or something. But then when Captain Begay told us that Anasazi writing had never been discovered before, I thought that those tablets in that cave might’ve been valuable. But if that’s the case, then why leave all of those tablets behind, displayed like that in front of the body parts?”

Klein nodded like he could see that possibility, but Palmer could tell that he already had his mind made up about who he suspected and he couldn’t wait to tell him about it.

“And it doesn’t seem like any of the artifacts in the trailer were taken,” Palmer added.

“I noticed that, too,” Klein said.

Palmer thought it might be a lie.

“So then I thought it might be a group of eco-terrorists that did this,” Palmer continued. “Or possibly some local Navajo extremists who were opposed to this dig site on their land. I figured maybe they were trying to send a message and … and then maybe things went too far.”

Klein smiled at Palmer, staring at him and nodding. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking the whole time. But not tree huggers. I don’t think they would do something like this. But I could see a group of Navajo radicals sneaking down here and slaughtering these people. A warning for others to stay off their land, just like you said.”

“But the lack of blood in the cave and between the trailer and the cave bothers me,” Palmer said.

“Yeah, it’s a puzzle,” Klein agreed excitedly. “But I think they set this up to look like a mystery.” He lowered his voice a little. “You heard what Captain Begay said earlier, something about it not being people or animals that did this.”

So Begay’s words hadn’t slipped past Klein after all.

“I think these guys set this up to look like one of their mythical monsters did this,” Klein said. “There are still a lot of people around here who believe in witches and skinwalkers and corpse sickness, all of that kind of bullshit.” He looked away and shook his head. “You don’t know the kind of crap I have to put up with here.”

Palmer didn’t respond. It seemed like Begay wasn’t completely ruling out the possibility of some kind of supernatural force at work here. Palmer didn’t believe in that idea, he sided with Klein’s idea, but the clues were most likely going to come from Begay and locals like him.

“There are a couple of other odd things,” Palmer said. He nodded towards the line of vehicles a hundred yards away. “The dead batteries in those vehicles.”

“These people have been dead for two or three days at least. Maybe longer. It’s been freezing. Not impossible that the batteries in their vehicles died.”

“And the generator wouldn’t start,” Palmer reminded him. “And the laptop in the trailer was destroyed. What about the radio equipment in the trailer?”

Klein just shrugged.

Palmer was sure Klein hadn’t even looked at the radio closely.

“If these guys were attacked, then why didn’t they use the radios to contact someone right away?” Palmer asked. “Maybe the radio wasn’t working. Just like all of the batteries were dead in their trucks? But if they couldn’t call for help, then why didn’t some of them run out into the desert? How come some of them didn’t get away?”

“We can figure out the
why
later,” Klein said. “Right now I think we should concentrate on the
who
first.”

“What about the bodies in town?” Palmer said, looking at Klein. “You want to pin that on Navajo activists, too?”

“I’m not pinning anything on anybody,” Klein snapped. “I’m just exploring theories that make the most sense.”

Palmer waited patiently for Klein to answer the question.

He sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “Could be another murder altogether that happened around the same time as this one. Husband could’ve killed his wife, and then killed himself.”

“And then skinned his own face off?” Palmer asked.

Klein didn’t respond.

“Or those two murders could have something to do with the slaughter here and we just don’t know what the connection is yet,” Palmer said. “You have to admit that the display of their bodies seems a little similar to those body parts in that cave.”

“They weren’t torn apart,” Klein said. “They weren’t displayed like the bodies in the cave.”

“Yeah, but they were mutilated. Rounded, as the captain said.”

Klein just nodded.

Palmer looked at the line of trucks again. “One of those vehicles is gone. Looks like it drove right up that embankment onto the dirt road. In quite a hurry to leave.”

Klein nodded. “Yeah, looks that way.”

“Why would Navajo radicals come here, do this, and then steal one of the vehicles?”

Klein didn’t have an answer for him.

“Forensics will get a tire tread sample,” Palmer said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. DMV is working on whose vehicle belongs to who among these archaeologists.”

Klein just nodded again.

Palmer started walking towards the vehicles. Klein hurried to catch up with him. A forensics tech dressed in a white bodysuit and gloves over his clothes stood at the back of the pickup truck, the camper top open and the tailgate down. He looked Palmer’s way as he approached.

“What’ve you got so far?” Palmer asked the tech.

He shook his head like he didn’t understand something. “This is the most bizarre crime scene I’ve ever been to.”

Palmer waited for the man to go on.

“It looks like someone changed the battery in this truck. There’s a battery back here.” He pointed inside the back of the truck.

Palmer and Klein stared at the battery.

“It’s dead just like the one in the engine,” the forensics tech said.

“What are the chances the backup battery would be dead, too?” Palmer asked Klein.

Klein didn’t answer.

Palmer turned around and looked back at the cave. The sun was dipping down lower towards the western horizon behind the jagged mountain tops and the shadows from the ridge had stretched completely across the canyon floor now, the temperature dropping even lower. “Who’s in charge here?” Palmer asked while still looking at the mouth of the cave where a short, heavy man in a white suit had just come out of.

“That’s him over there,” the tech said. “Dr. Alonzo Johnson.”

“Thanks,” Palmer said and he started marching towards the cave without waiting for Klein.

Both agents met up with Dr. Johnson who stood beside a large cooler, drinking down a cold bottle of soda even though it was freezing out here.

“Dr. Johnson?” Palmer called out as he approached.

The older man looked at Palmer and Klein. His wiry hair was pure white and he had a roadmap of wrinkles etched deep into his dark face. He looked shell-shocked and exhausted from his time in the cave. “Please call me Alonzo.”

“I’m special agent Palmer, and this is Agent Klein.”

The older man nodded at both of them like a weariness was pressing down on him.

“You got any ideas yet about what’s going on here?” Palmer asked Alonzo.

Alonzo took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with fingers that were wrinkled like prunes from wearing latex gloves for too long. He sighed and seemed so tired it looked like he might fall over at any moment. The generator was humming along twenty yards in the background, and he walked away from the noise of it. Palmer and Klein fell in step beside him.

“We haven’t run many tests yet,” Alonzo said. “We’re still trying to figure out what we’re dealing with in there.”

Palmer nodded.

“The pieces of the bodies … they don’t look cut apart. They look like they were torn apart. The flesh is ragged with tears, bones pulled right out of the sockets, some of the bones snapped in half like someone would snap a twig. I haven’t really found any signs of tools or weapons used at all. No knife cuts or ax marks in the bone or on the flesh so far. Nothing.”

Alonzo stopped walking and stood near the twisted trunk of tree. Palmer and Klein watched him—he seemed like he had more to say.

“Of course, these are just preliminary investigations. We need to get the bodies … I mean the parts … back to the lab in Albuquerque. We’ll be able to run a lot more tests there. Right now we’re just doing a lot of bagging and tagging. We’re going to be working all night and well into tomorrow. We’ve got some ice trucks coming tomorrow afternoon to start transporting the … the evidence back to lab.”

“Who do you think could do something like this?” Palmer asked Alonzo. “Tearing people apart like that. Snapping bones.”

The older man shook his head slowly in frustration, sighing again, his breath misting up in front of him in the quickly dropping temperature. “I don’t really know. I don’t believe a human could’ve done damage like that with his bare hands. Nobody could be that strong.”

“So what are you saying?” Palmer asked.

Alonzo shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t have any answers right now.”

“What about the other crime scene?” Palmer asked. “The one in town?”

“I sent Susan Dorsett over there. The chief of police here,” Alonzo looked around like he might spot the large man somewhere.

“Captain Begay,” Klein corrected.

“Yes, Captain Begay. Sorry. He told me that he would have a twenty-four hour guard on duty outside the home while Susan was there.”

Palmer looked towards the Navajo police vehicles; all three of them were grouped together and parked the farthest away, closest to the dirt trail that led out of this canyon. The three Navajo police officers stood together in a small group watching everything in silence. “Captain Begay seems to be trying to help as much as he can,” Palmer said and looked back at Alonzo.

“Sorry, guys,” Alonzo said. “This one’s going to take a while before we can find anything useful. And speaking of that, I need to get back to work.”

The doctor finished his bottle of soda in a few swallows. Then he turned to head back to the mouth of the cave, the interior lit up in the darkening afternoon now that the construction lights were on.

“You guys working through the night?” Palmer asked Dr. Johnson.

“Yeah,” Johnson said, turning back around to them. “Some of us might try to catch an hour or two of sleep in one of the vans. Sleeping in shifts.” He paused for a moment and then added: “It’s going to be a long night.” He nodded and walked away.

Palmer looked at Klein. “What about you? Are you working through the night?”

“I’m going to stay for a little while, but there isn’t much to do until forensics comes up with some more evidence or the DMV comes back with whose vehicles are still here and which one might be gone.”

“You got some people you can talk to about your Navajo radicals theory?”

“Yeah,” Klein said. “And remember, it’s your theory too.”

Palmer didn’t want to argue with him.

“I’m staying at a motel in town,” Klein said. “There’s plenty of other rooms there.”

Palmer nodded. “Thanks, but Captain Begay asked me to stay the night at his place.”

Klein looked shocked. “He did? Lucky you.”

“We’re going to grab a bite to eat in town. He said he wants to tell me some things.”

Klein nodded and pretended to not look intrigued.

“I think he knows more about what’s going on here than he’s letting on,” Palmer said.

C
aptain Begay left one officer at the dig site and worked out a schedule so there would always be one police officer there near the edge of the dig site, watching over things. Palmer told Begay that he didn’t need to do that, but the captain insisted and Palmer thanked him for all of his help so far.

Fifteen minutes later Palmer was following Begay’s Bronco as the afternoon quickly turned to evening. And forty-five minutes later they were back in the small town of Iron Springs. Begay pulled into a diagonal parking space in front of the Mexican restaurant. Palmer parked his rental car a few spaces down from Begay’s Bronco and he got out. He met the captain at the front door of the restaurant.

“The food’s good here,” Begay told him.

Palmer nodded—he believed him.

They entered the restaurant and it was bigger than it looked from the outside. The place was about half-full and looked like it could seat a hundred people at full capacity.

A plump waitress met the captain before he was barely inside. “Captain,” she called out and then she escorted him and Palmer to a table in the back that must’ve been “Captain Begay’s table.”

Palmer sat down at the table so he could face the door; an old habit of his. He had noticed the patrons nod and greet the captain as they walked by, and he noticed the lingering stares directed his way. He was wearing his FBI “uniform,” a dark suit and tie with black sunglasses. But it was more than that, people just seemed to get a feeling that he was the law, the authority, and most people tensed up around him whether they realized it or not.