Page 41 of Dead Mountain

“Listen, Corrie. In retrospect, I realize I should have called you. But I also know it would have put you in a difficult position if I’d told you ahead of time.”

Another long silence. “Okay. But you got the Forest Service, or Interior, or some other federal agency to greenlight it—right?”

“No. I didn’t. In my experience, it takes months or more for tribes to repatriate remains found on federal land. The red tape is nuts. This is a clear case where the Isletans are the custodial tribe and NAGPRA rules apply. The cave had been desecrated by those frat kids, not to mention the violent deaths of the two Dead Mountain victims. The spirits of their ancestors were in a disturbed state. Corrie, they take their religious beliefs as seriously as any priest does. It was my moral responsibility to recover those bones before they became even more disturbed—or stolen.”

“So you just went up there, dug up the bones, and turned them over to the tribe?”

“Yes.”

She heard a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well, I’m not sure this is something that concerns the FBI. I’ll talk to my supervisor, but I think our position is going to be this is an issue between you and—I don’t know—the Forest Service or local law enforcement.”

“There’s a complication,” Nora said.

A short silence. “Go on.”

“The sheriff physically tried to prevent us from removing the remains. He claimed they were federal property. When he blocked our path, my brother, Skip, began videotaping him. He knocked me down and lunged for the phone. Skip pushed the sheriff down, and then Hawley arrested him and confiscated his phone.”

“The sheriff knocked you down? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. But Skip’s in jail, and they have his phone. I’m worried they’ll erase the video, since the sheriff is already claiming he never touched me. Skip only acted to defend me, but Hawley claims his head hit a rock and he’s threatening an attempted murder charge.”

Now the silence went on for a good thirty seconds. Finally, Corrie spoke. “What a shit show. Nora, this is so unlike you. You’re supposed to be the steady one, the one who follows the rules. I’m the impulsive one. And yet here you are, stealing bones and getting in a tussle with a sheriff.”

“I didn’t steal anything! What I did was well within the NAGPRA law. And it was the right thing to do.”

“Of course it was the right thing to do,” said Corrie. “But, Nora, we live in the real world, where the right thing is not always the smart thing. Believe me, I’ve found that out the hard way. I thought you were savvier than this.”

“I’m not going to apologize for ethically correct behavior,” Nora said hotly. “Especially when it comes to the dignity of Native Americans and their religious rights!”

“Whoa, don’t lecture me like I’m some retrograde. I’m totally in sympathy with those views, but, for God’s sake, Nora—your brother got in a fight with a sheriff!”

Nora swallowed, trying to collect herself. “Look, I know I’ve created a problem, but I’m going to need help. Skip’s in a lot of trouble. You’re FBI—I’m hoping you’ll be able to intervene, calm the situation down, use your influence to get the charges dropped.”

“Are you kidding? The FBI can’t touch this with a ten-foot pole. I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to disavow this rogue operation of yours—and in no uncertain terms.”

“You’re not going to help? What if the sheriff erases the video? I mean, he’s a corrupt bastard. You know that.”

“We can’t intervene in any way. I’m sorry. I really, really wish you’d come to me first. This is going to be all over the news—and I’m going to look bad for bringing you in.”

“You’re going to look bad? I’d like to remind you that if you hadn’t asked for my help to begin with, my brother wouldn’t be behind bars right now!”

There was a brief, brittle pause. “I’m sorry. You need to get Skip a good lawyer, because if Hawley follows through on that attempted murder charge . . .” She paused, and Nora heard her speak to someone in the background. “Nora, I’ve gotta go. Quantico’s about to send us the dental labwork on the two bodies.”

Nora lowered her cell phone. Her hand was shaking, and she felt sick to her stomach. She looked out at the parking lot in time to see the greasy McDonald’s wrapper come back around in a circle, scraping on the asphalt, carried by the endless wind of the Staked Plains.

She raised the phone again and called Councilman Tenorio.

23

TAKE A RIGHT at County Road 69,” Sharp said, “and follow it north for a mile or so. The entrance isn’t far past the Masonic Cemetery.”

Once again, Corrie was driving the Tahoe and her mentor was riding shotgun. It was a three-hour drive from Albuquerque up to Trinidad, Colorado, and Sharp hadn’t said more than a few dozen words over the last hour—most of those involving directions. She’d told him about Nora’s rogue disinterment and Skip getting arrested, and his reaction had been opaque to say the least. A curt nod, a vague murmured phrase about “not our problem,” and then he’d fallen silent. As the ride went on, she’d given him a few covert glances, and he appeared fast asleep—but she didn’t think that was the case. At times like this, he reminded her almost of a lizard: a wiry lizard that could stay motionless forever, only to strike abruptly and with lightning speed.

Just one more thing, Agent Sharp . . . Do I need to remind you of it? She recalled Garcia’s final words. Once again, she wondered what that had meant.

Most of the first of kin of the Dead Mountain victims lived in or around Albuquerque. Paul Tolland Sr. was one of the few who, bucking the tide, had moved farther away. He and his wife had relocated to Colorado to a condominium community about five years after their son went missing. Five years later, his wife had passed away as well.

The Wrights were also on their list to visit, but they lived closer to Santa Fe, and Sharp had thought it best to talk to them on the ride back. Meanwhile, the other lead agents, Bellamy and O’Hara, with some others Sharp had corralled, were doing the grunt work of re-interviewing everyone associated with the case—starting with the families of those whose bodies were first to be found. Corrie wasn’t sure which of these tasks she’d rather have been assigned to.

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