Page 37 of Dead Mountain

“Not a chance,” said the sheriff. “Evidence.”

“That’s my phone!” Skip said.

The sheriff gave Skip a hard shove. “Shut the fuck up and get going—unless you want to get charged with resisting arrest as well.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Nora asked in a panic.

“He’s going to jail, to get processed, fingerprinted, photographed, arraigned. The whole nine yards.” Hawley rubbed his shoulder. “Assault and attempted murder of a police officer.”

“That’s completely false!” said Nora. “You assaulted me first!”

“Bullshit, lady. I didn’t touch you. You lost your balance and fell on your own.”

“It’s on video!” cried Skip.

“Really? The phone will be entered into evidence, and we’ll see. Anyway, I’ve got a witness here. Deputy Baca will swear I didn’t touch you.”

Nora looked at Baca, who didn’t meet her eyes.

“I said, get moving.” The sheriff gave Skip another push.

Skip looked back at Nora, his face full of fear mixed with receding bravado.

“Skip,” she called out to him, “for God’s sake, keep your cool and shut up.”

The sheriff shoved Skip into the rear seat of his vehicle, Baca getting in the front passenger side. They backed up with a roar and skidded out down the road. Nora watched them disappear into the forest, trying to get control of her fury and dismay, savagely wiping away a tear. She was afraid Skip might still do something stupid that would get him shot.

Silence soon returned to the forest, the only sound the whispering of wind in the firs. The body bag lay on the ground where it had been dropped, forgotten by the sheriff in his eagerness to arrest Skip.

She stood there, heart pounding. It was just like Skip to get himself in trouble. But . . . at the same time, she’d been the one to ask for his help; they came here to do something important—and they were going to do it. She picked up the bag in both arms, took it to the Isleta van, and placed it inside. Then she hiked back down to the cave, just in time to find Tenorio and Morrison bringing the second bag out of the cave.

“What’s going on?” Tenorio asked when he saw her face. “We heard shouting.”

She recounted what had happened.

Tenorio’s face darkened when he heard the story. “I’m very sorry to hear this,” he said.

She swallowed. “My brother . . . is a bit impulsive.”

“Your brother is a good man,” said Tenorio, “and he was only protecting his sister. The sheriff assaulted you first.”

“Yeah. And he got it on his phone.”

Tenorio looked grave. “The sheriff will have erased the video by the time they’re off the mountain—and Baca will back up his lies in court.”

Nora stared at him. “You really think so?”

“I know so. We’ve been dealing with Hawley for twenty years.”

She wiped away another tear. If the video was erased, Skip was screwed.

“What do you want to do now?” Tenorio asked.

“We came here to repatriate these remains,” said Nora. “So let’s finish it. Gain at least one measure of justice.”

Tenorio nodded. “Thank you. I’m going to bring this matter before the Tribal Council—we’re not powerless in this state, I can tell you that. You and your brother are true friends of the Isleta people.”

“I appreciate that.”

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