Page 15 of Desert Angel

“I’m fine,” Dylan noted Nikki eyeing him closely and quickly changed the subject. “Have you had any unusual activity lately on the border?”

Dan shook his head. “We don’t have a lot of mass crossings. When we patrol, we stick to the unfenced areas and haven’t seen much movement.” Dan glanced at Nikki. “Although, we know there are crossings, we’re spread too thin to catch the odd small party.”

Nikki had been standing in the middle of the room, looking at them as they talked, but now she walked to the window facing south and the border. “It’s going to get hotter soon.”

Dan joined her and looked at the desert in front of them. “Yeah. And unfortunately, there will be more crossing with the change of season. More work, more opportunities.”

Dylan watched as her shoulders slumped and he curbed the urge to put his arm around her and hug her. She tried so hard to help people. Why didn’t she focus on those who were surely in need on this side of the border?

She sighed and then turned to face him. “What happened to you that you need to take care accepting assignments?”

He hid a grimace and tried to make light of his injuries but his brother-in-law made sure she knew of the stabbing and subsequent hospital stay. Afterward, she stared at him in horror. “And you put out the fire with your injury?”

He shook it off. “I helped put out the fire. Remember? You were there and so was Wayne French. Besides, it’s been weeks out. If I hadn’t been in shape for the assignment I wouldn’t have taken it.”

Dan snorted then cleared his throat at Dylan’s frown. “Speaking of Wayne French, he was in this morning. Seems one of his hands found a body on his property, near the border.”

Nikki took in a breath then asked, “Do you know the cause of death?”

“Not sure. Probably exhaustion. It was an older man, probably in his fifties.”

“That’s not that old,” she protested then paused. “If you’re traveling by foot in the desert, I guess it is.”

“Have you been out to investigate?” Dylan asked, all business now.

“No. I’m the only one at the station. I can’t leave my post.” Dan’s obvious frustration sealed Dylan’s decision.

“I’ll go out and see what I can find,” he said and held his hand up at Dan’s protest. “I’m trained in criminal investigation. You know that. I’ll take my gloves and be careful.”

“You know if you go back to the ranch then out there won’t be much left.”

“Why would he go back to the ranch? Does he need specialized equipment?” Nikki was watching Dan as he gathered gloves, evidence bags, and a digital camera and placed them on a table where Dylan was gathering them into a satchel.

“He means to take you back home,” Dylan said as he worked, his eyes on his task.

“I’m going with you,” she said firmly and at his look of surprise, said solemnly, “It’s not my first time seeing a body in the desert.”

He paused in his work and studied her. Her face, delicate and serious, could be that of an angel, ready to help and eager to save lost souls. This soul, he feared, was lost forever.

They took their time in getting to the body. On their way, Nikki used his sat phone to call Wayne and inform him of their visit. Listening to Nikki’s end of the conversation, Dylan was sure Wayne didn’t want either one of them on his property right now. Because he didn’t want Nikki facing the brutal realities of those crossing the desert or something more? Was Wayne as innocent as Nikki thought?

They followed the coordinates Dan and Wayne supplied and found the tarp-covered remains by the afternoon. As he left the truck, Dylan thought of the countless times he’d surveyed remains, looking for identification, evidence of wrongdoing, and cause of death. The military had trained him in many things, but his early years as a criminal investigation tech had ingrained in him an awareness of the fragility of life.

The body had been exposed to predators but still had information to give. As Nikki looked on, her head bowed at times and her eyes closed, Dylan did the tasks he’d been trained to do, examining the body for insults, both natural and man-made. The compactly built man had been in his late fifties to early sixties, old to chance the trip across the Mexican border. His body showed signs of hard labor, a couple of badly healed broken bones, and scars that were visible even with his clothes on. Dylan took photos of the body, the site, and any other possibilities, then started tucking the tarp around the body in preparation for transporting it. As he did he heard the sound of tires crunching over rock and a truck’s engine rumbling.

Wayne French halted his truck beside Nikki’s then stomped over to where they were, yelling at Nikki as he approached. “What are you doing here? Why’d you bring her, Wright?”

“Because she’s an adult and has her own mind, Wayne.” Nikki’s fists were pushed into her waist and she frowned at her neighbor. “I’ve seen this before, remember?”

“Well, you didn’t need to see it again,” he said, his tone mulish. He stared down at the covered body and then noticed Dylan’s actions. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to put this man in Nikki’s truck and take him to the station.”

“You don’t have the right to do that. I need to look at the body and then contact the border patrol.”

“I thought you’d already done that,” Nikki said, her heart sinking.

“One of my men found him. We called it in to the station but I hadn’t made it out here yet.”

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