Double Prey (12 page)
Rather than driving from the Prescott’s back out to the state highway and then heading south to the Broken Spur and that access to the back country, Estelle took a rough two-track north from the ranch, intersecting the oldest patch of pavement in the county, State 17. Ten miles west, across a dilapidated cattle guard, they turned onto the northernmost terminus of Bender’s Canyon Trail, and for at least two miles, the two-track was relatively smooth, cutting through a few hundred thousand acres of state-owned prairie. They reached the intersection that took them to Miles Waddell’s gate north of the mesa and turned east.
More than once, Estelle saw Casey Prescott lean forward in her seat. They plunged into deep shade on the east side of the mesa’s flank.
“Just up there.” The girl gestured and Estelle slowed the SUV. “We parked right under that big old juniper there.” Estelle recognized the spot where she and Bill Gastner had paused earlier.
“This is where we were on Sunday,” Casey said. “We hiked up the mesa a ways.”
“Tell me something.” Estelle opened the door. “What was the attraction here in the first place?”
Casey bit her lower lip. “Freddy was talking to a friend at school about the canyon? That there were a lot of fossils in that area just south of the window where the bottom of the arroyo is washed clean down to bedrock?” She nodded at the memory. “He’d been pestering me to go with him, so,” and she shrugged. “I did. We took a picnic lunch and made a day of it.” She blushed. “I know…my mother told me that I wasn’t to ride with Freddy on the four-wheeler. But she and my dad went into town, and the weather was perfect and I thought…”
“What did you think?” Estelle prompted gently.
“Freddy was talking about not bothering to finish the year, you know. At school? He’d had a job offer down in Deming and was thinking of just getting it on. Soooooo stupid, Sheriff. I mean, just one year to graduation, and he’s going to drop out? That made me so mad.”
“So you hoped to talk some sense into him?”
“Yes.”
“Freddy drove out to the ranch to pick you up?”
“Yes. In that awful old truck of his. The oil fumes make me sick.”
“And you parked it where?”
“Over on the trail just off the county road. We drove into Bender’s just a little ways and unloaded so we could ride up the canyon road.” Her expression ran the gamut from vexation to sadness. “Way too fast. We rode up to the spot where the fossils were supposed to be, and poked around for a while. Freddy got impatient, which doesn’t take much.”
“So you left that spot and rode here. What prompted stopping and then climbing up the mesa?”
Casey hesitated, the memory obviously painful. Her hands wadded the handkerchief, and she showed no inclination to open the door. “I got mad at him.” She shook her head. “You know, it
could
be really nice out here, just putting along and enjoying the ride. But Freddy always has to careen along like he’s trying to win a race.”
“So you yelled at him to stop.”
“Sort of. He ran through a bunch of ruts, and I cracked my elbow on that stupid plywood tool box he has strapped to the back of the ATV. He laughed, and I punched him and told him to stop.” She pointed at the juniper. “We pulled up under the tree there.”
Estelle stepped out into the center of the two-track and looked up the steep slope of the mesa. The approach to the rim was a rugged jumble, with no single attractive feature that called out, “Climb me.”
“Where did he go, exactly?” Estelle asked.
“The first thing he wanted to do was run all the way up to the top,” Casey said. “I told him he was crazy…it’d be after dark by the time we got back down. And we had all this food and stuff that he bought at the Handi-way. We’re like really going to lug all that up the mesa? I don’t think so. So he charges up saying that if we climb up just a little ways, we could see the ranch.”
“The ranch,” Estelle said. “Yours, you mean?”
“Sure. And I’m really excited about that,” Casey said dryly. “I mean, duh? I
live
there. I don’t need to see it from half way up this mesa.” The mesa’s shade was now comfortable, and Estelle beckoned.
“Show me where he went. Will you do that?”
Casey pointed off to the left, where a rim boulder had tumbled for a few feet and then perched, overhanging the slope like a two-story house that had slid off its foundation. “He wanted to see if he could climb that. Maybe up the back.”
“¡
Caramba
! ” Estelle breathed. “Interesting,” she said. “Boys seem to need to
climb
things. That’s where he found the skull?”
“If you want to climb up there, I’ll show you.” It didn’t look particularly far, perhaps a hundred yards. But by the time Estelle placed the flat of her hand on the wall of the boulder, feeling its rough warmth, she was breathing hard. “This is where I stopped.” Casey was not the least bit winded. She took another couple of steps and pointed behind the boulder. “Right there. Freddy went around the back there, and he hollered at me that he could feel this gush of cold air coming out of the rocks.”
Estelle followed the girl with caution, seeing altogether too many convenient flat surfaces for reptiles to coil, enjoying the residual warmth from the rocks.
The house-sized boulder could have tumbled from higher on the rim anytime in the past millennium. Stunted trees tried for purchase here and there on the slope behind the wall of rock, shaded both morning and afternoon. Estelle could see the scuff of tracks, and saw the way several rock outcroppings formed a mild overhang. The floor under the overhang was mounded with debris, the efforts of a diligent packrat.
“That’s where the skull was. See, right there?” Casey knelt and pointed up under the overhang. Estelle crouched beside her. From where she crouched to the back of the overhang was perhaps six feet, and the packrat had made the most of it. The undersheriff saw bones here and there, but nothing that she would immediately have identified as a cat. She shifted a bit, edging closer to the packrat’s nest, wary about dark corners.
By the time she’d moved so that her head was just under the upper portion of the overhang, she could feel the flow of cool air from her left. Bending still further, letting the air flow touch her face, she turned and saw the black slit of an opening, a roughly elliptical mouth no more than eighteen inches high at its extreme, tapering at the corners. Rocks had been tumbled to one side, perhaps by Freddy as he explored.
“You’re kidding.” Estelle spoke more to herself than to Casey.
“Oh, he had to explore
that
. He was all excited about the air coming out. I told him that he was crazy.”
“He couldn’t possibly see a thing.”
“Well, he kept chucking little rocks into it, figuring if there was a snake there, it’d rattle.”
“By then he’d already recovered the skull, though?”
“Yes. It was lying toward the back of the packrat’s nest.”
“You’d have to squirm in on your stomach to explore that hole,” Estelle said.
“Not me.”
“But Freddy did?”
“Of course. ’Cause he’s Freddy.” Casey leaned against the house-rock, eyes closed, tears brimming again.
“How could he see?”
“He had his lighter. He turned it up like a torch. I told him that if he got caught in there somehow,
I
wasn’t going to be the one to pull him out. He’d just have to stay stuck until I could find help. But he didn’t go very far. He moved a couple of rocks, and then said something about needing a pry bar.”
“Delightful. Is that when you went back to the ATV?”
“No. Freddy crawled in a little ways on his tummy. Not very far. I was kneeling right about where you are now, and I could hear him breathing. Then he said, ‘Whoa!’ real excited. And I said, ‘what?’ and he said there were
bats
roosting in there. He could see ’em up on the ceiling.”
“Bats,” Estelle grimaced. “Well, why not.”
“And I could imagine him crawling through all kinds of guano, and coming down with hantavirus or whatever. I mean, just the sort of place I’d want to be. I told him that the skull was really neat, and that we needed to take care of it. That’s when he backed out of the cave and ran back down to the four-wheeler to get one of the old towels that he had folded up in the tool box.” She wiped her eyes again. “I mean, it’s an amazing skull. You’ve seen it?”
“I saw it when I talked to Mr. Underwood earlier today. It’s impressive.”
“He told Freddy that it was illegal to keep it—even for the
school
to keep it without getting a permit for it.”
“All true. So you two had the skull, wrapped in an old towel.”
“Freddy wanted to go home and get one of his dad’s big shop lights—he said it’s one of those big battery-powered floods on one of those little tripods?”
“A simple flashlight wouldn’t do?”
“Well, that’s Freddy,” and she flinched as if the name was a knife twisting in her heart.
“But he didn’t come back right away, then?”
“No. He packed the skull as carefully as he could, and he kept talking about the rest of the skeleton. I told him that he should take the skull in to show Mr. Underwood… I mean, he’s really up on things like that. And then there might be a proper way to collect the rest of the skeleton, instead of just jumbling it all in a big mess. You know, like an archeological dig, or something? Freddy didn’t want to take time to do all that, but I told him that it was too important to ruin.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why. I mean right then we both thought it was just a mountain lion. But even a mounted
lion
skeleton would be a fun project, don’t you think? I mean, there are lots of those old musty stuffed lions around, but not an articulated skeleton. That’s what Mr. Underwood talked about.”
“It would be neat. So Freddy agreed to that?”
“Sort of. He didn’t want to, but I can be fairly persuasive.” Her pained smile came at considerable price, Estelle guessed. “When I told him there was probably even a right way and a wrong way to clean the skull so it wasn’t ruined, he understood that. So that’s what we did. We packed it up as best we could, we had our lunch back down in the shade in Bender’s Canyon where the fossils were supposed to be, and then…just kinda hung out.”
“But Freddy
did
come back out by himself. And he brought a flashlight with him.” Estelle pointed at the opening. “Rocks have been moved recently. Freddy might have done that?”
“I don’t know. If he did, he didn’t tell me. I know he talked to Mr. Underwood a
lot
on Tuesday morning. And then we went to the bio room during lunch, even, and Mr. Underwood showed us what he’d found out…that it was for sure a jaguar, not a mountain lion. There was still a little cape of fur left on the back of the skull, right where it would join the neck?”
“Had he called the Fish and Wildlife Service at that time?”
“No. He was going to, that afternoon. He wanted to know if Freddy would agree to talk with the newspaper, and Freddy thought that was sort of neat. They did that after school on Tuesday. Mr. Dayan came over.”
“You’re sure all of this was on Tuesday?”
“Yes. And this past week, I was buried in work, so I got Freddy to agree to come back here on the weekend…I mean, like
now
? I said I’d go with him and help…whatever he needed.”
“And he agreed to that.”
Casey nodded. “So much for promises.”
“As far as you know, he didn’t tell anyone else about this location? He stuck with the Borracho Canyon story?”
“Yes. I told him that I thought that was silly. I mean, who’s going to find this spot, anyway? But he said just to let it be. He knew what he was doing. Oh, sure.”
“You were both in school Tuesday and Wednesday, but you didn’t see him on Thursday?”
“No. I don’t know where he was…I mean,” and she gulped, “I
didn’t
know. His stupid phone was broken, so I didn’t reach him. And then I tried to call his house Thursday night, and nobody answered. I didn’t know about the deal with Butchie until yesterday in school. So I thought that Freddy probably was with his family up in Albuquerque.” She thumped the boulder with her fist. “And all that time, he was out here somewhere, so hurt…”
Estelle squeezed Casey’s shoulder. She thought about her conversation with Bobby Torrez. If something, or someone, had been responsible for Freddy’s losing control of the ATV, then just as surely there
was
someone who had looked down into that arroyo after the crash…perhaps had even clambered down to the arroyo bed and approached close enough to see the aftermath of the wreck, to witness Freddy’s final struggle.
Casey Prescott didn’t need to be haunted by that possibility.
“I need to go back to the truck for just a moment,” Estelle said. “I’ll be right back. Would you like a bottle of water?”
“No, thanks. I don’t think so.”
Estelle nodded and hugged her again, just a one-armed caress that also said, “stay here,” and then she made her way back down the slope to the truck where she threaded the case for her small digital camera onto her belt, and pulled the big Kel-lite from its boot on the far side of the center console. “I just love this,” she said aloud, mocking her own impatience. But she knew exactly what Sheriff Robert Torrez’s first question would be when she reported finding the little cave.
Walking back up the side of the mesa, Estelle came to the conclusion that she knew exactly the emotion that had driven Freddy Romero’s return trip to the cave after finding the skull. Sure, there were proper ways to do this…especially for the undersheriff of Posadas County, who had access to all manner of resources, equipment, and personnel. All of that took time. And Estelle could not bring herself to wait. Just a quick look—that would be enough to satisfy her.
Casey Prescott looked at the flashlight, and wilted. “You’re kidding.”
“I have to see a little more than a cigarette lighter will show,” Estelle said. “Trust me. I don’t like caves any more than you do.” She took a deep breath and dropped to her knees, regarding the narrow slit. The even flow of cool air said that this was more than a tiny irregularity, a small pocket. On the far western side of the mesa, the network of caves had attracted considerable interest, even talk of another national monument or park...at the very least, a site of spectacular interest, perhaps on a par with Lechuguilla, the huge cave system in the southeastern part of the state that rivaled some of Carlsbad’s branches. It was conceivable that this could be more of the same. That would be enough to take anyone’s breath away.
What had caused the overhang that now housed the happy packrat was anyone’s guess. Perhaps decades ago, someone had dug a small exploratory pit, then given up. When the house-sized boulder had crashed down from above, loose rocks could have skidded away, causing the overhang.
“When Freddy crawled in here, how far did he go?”
“Oh, not far. Just his shoulders. I had one hand on his left foot the whole time,” Casey said, and Estelle laughed.
“I won’t go even that far.” She adjusted the hardware on her belt around to the small of her back, and then handed first her jacket and then the small two-way radio to Casey. “Maybe you’d hold this so it doesn’t get all grunged up.” A broken juniper limb, with a wand of dried needles on the end, made a fair probe, and Estelle carefully swept the cave entrance, not hard enough to disturb the dust, but enough to annoy any critters into announcing themselves. Loose rocks, most the size of a basketball, plugged the cave opening—perhaps Freddy’s work. It wasn’t the neat work of a stonemason, just a quick effort at camouflage. One at a time, Estelle moved the jumble, at the same time watching fragments that hung down from the ceiling. Finally satisfied, she grasped the light and found that in the widest portion of the slit, she could work her way forward on her elbows and toes.
The light revealed a fairly smooth ceiling, dotted here and there with tiny brown bodies. One of the bats yawned, showing needle teeth. “Yes, there are bats,” she said.
“Oh, boy.”
“Okay,” she said, and inched forward a bit, cranking the light around to illuminate the jumble of rocks that arched around her. The silence and cool air could have been refreshing under other circumstances, like when strolling through Carlsbad Caverns on a nice walkway with a printed tour booklet in hand.
By shifting a football-sized rock, she could inch forward a bit more. By the time her belly rested in the cave’s entrance, she could see that the ceiling was studded with a vast puzzle of interlocking rocks, some poised for the slightest jar or tremor or bump of a shoulder. Several that had fallen littered the floor of the cave.
Estelle wiggled another foot forward and stopped. The beam of the flashlight was harsh, and several of the little brown bats were fretful, one of them fluttering to a new perch.
Off to the left, a fragment of metal winked, and Estelle juggled the light to free one hand. Slipping her ball-point pen from her breast pocket, she deftly hooked the artifact, a heavy brass buckle with the remnants of a leather belt still attached.
“Hello,” she said.
“That’s probably far enough,” Casey responded.
“Did Freddy ever mention anything other than the cat’s skeleton?” Estelle’s voice sounded amplified by the chamber, small as it was. “Anything at all?”
“No. He wanted the rest of the skeleton.”
“But that’s out with the main packrat’s nest,” the undersheriff said.
And cats don’t wear belts
. Loath to move the buckle, she shifted the light and saw that the brown patch of rotting hide was in fact dust-covered black. Ever so gently, she slipped the pen under one edge and lifted. She had no trouble recognizing the object, especially since there was one almost identical to it strapped to her own waist.
For a long moment she held the pen so that the holster was elevated. It was no longer attached to the belt. Although the rats and mice and who knew what other sets of teeth had chewed the leather to bits, enough was left to judge shape and size. It was a perfect fit for a heavy-framed automatic.
