Page 11 of Dead Mountain

“You didn’t know they were petroglyphs?”

“I didn’t, sir. They didn’t look old. I guess . . . I mean, I know that we weren’t thinking very clearly.”

“No more questions,” said Sharp after another pause.

Corrie said, “Thank you, gentlemen, you’re excused.”

Neither one rose. “What’s going to happen to us?” Kottke asked. “Are we in trouble?”

“We’ll turn this information over to the Torrance County Sheriff’s Department. What happens next is in the hands of the sheriff’s department and National Forest Law Enforcement.”

Now the boys stood up and shuffled out, still pale and scared.

When they were gone, Agent Sharp turned to Corrie. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve become distinctly aware we both missed lunch. Would you like to head down to the cafeteria for coffee and a snack?”

Corrie was hungry herself—and she could hardly say no. “Yes. Of course.”

6

THOUGHTS?” SHARP ASKED as they sat down for coffee, Corrie with a donut, Sharp with an egg salad sandwich.

“I think we’ve dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s,” Corrie said, “and now we can let the capable Sheriff Hawley take over.”

Sharp chuckled. “Do you see any criminal culpability in their conduct?”

“Hard to say. Deliberately disturbing the burial might have been a felony, but I believe them when they say they didn’t mess with it. I bet if any digging was done, it was by Sheriff Hawley or his deputy. There might be a criminal mischief charge for damaging federal property, but I think it’s a stretch—especially with their asserting they thought the petroglyphs were graffiti.”

Sharp nodded. “I agree on all points. You’ve done a responsible and thorough job, Agent Swanson.”

“Thank you.” It was funny—Sharp was a true enigma, but already she felt herself growing more at ease in his presence, less worried about her every move. It had taken a lot longer with Morwood.

Sharp said nothing more until he’d finished his sandwich. Then he took a sip of coffee and turned toward her. “When I first heard about the remains in the cave, I thought perhaps we’d finally discovered a few more Dead Mountain victims.”

Corrie stared at him. “Dead Mountain?”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“No.” Dead Mountain . . . It rang a bell somewhere in the back of her mind, but beyond that only a blank.

“Curious,” Sharp said, looking at her appraisingly. “Next to the Roswell Incident—which I know you’re all too familiar with—it’s perhaps the biggest campfire legend in New Mexico.”

“What was it?”

“Fifteen years ago, nine grad students from the New Mexico Institute of Technology disappeared up in the Manzanos. Six bodies were found, but three are still missing.” Sharp leaned back in his chair. “You’ve really never heard of Dead Mountain?”

“Fifteen years ago I was in a Kansas high school,” Corrie said, “and not really keeping up with the news of the day.” She was pleased she’d been able to put this out there without sounding defensive. Not only had she been ignoring the news at the time, but she’d been dealing with an absent father and an alcoholic and abusive mother, spending her time stealing paperback books from the travel center on the interstate, avoiding the sheriff, and dreaming of escaping the hellhole that was Medicine Creek, Kansas.

“That’s what comes of not fraternizing with your fellow agents,” said Sharp. “It’s quite a story. I’d just arrived at the Albuquerque FO in 2008 when it happened. I didn’t work on the case directly, but it consumed the office for months. It’s never been solved—still officially open.”

Sharp didn’t seem exactly the fraternal type himself, but Corrie was surprised he knew this personal detail. Beyond that, however, she found herself growing intrigued. “Where is this Dead Mountain?”

“There isn’t an actual Dead Mountain in the Manzanos—it’s just the name the media gave the case.”

“So what happened?”

Sharp glanced at his watch. “You have a few minutes?”

“Yes, if you do.” Sharp, despite his mellow demeanor, enjoyed telling stories—or, more likely, wanted her to hear this one.

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