Page 9 of Dead Mountain

CORRIE LOOKED DOWN at the two ID sheets in front of her, then up at the two young men awkwardly taking seats opposite her and Agent Sharp at the metal table bolted into the floor. They were inside one of the interview rooms at the Albuquerque FO, a spare cinderblock cell painted gray. The ID sheets had been put together in haste and neither had pictures.

“Brandon Purdue and Michael Kottke?” Corrie asked. “Which is which?”

“Brandon,” said one of the young men, raising his finger.

“Kottke,” said the other.

“I’m Special Agent Swanson, and this is Special Agent Sharp.”

The pair fidgeted in their seats, looking nervous.

She took a moment to appraise the two. Even though they had obviously showered and changed their clothes, and it was three in the afternoon, they still looked brutally hungover. Brandon had light brown hair cut short, thin lips, barely of shaving age—a follower for sure. Mike was the alpha male here: black curly hair, beefy, with bloodshot eyes and no doubt a pounding headache to accompany them. According to the ID sheets they were both nineteen. They looked scared—as well they should be. Prior to the introduction, Corrie had been undecided as to what tack to take—sympathetic and understanding, or hard-ass scary bitch. But as she looked at them, she realized they were intimidated enough and pushing things might cause them to shut down, lawyer up, or—worse—get their parents in. It was still too early to know if they’d committed a serious crime or not. Much would depend on Nora’s examination of the burials—if they’d been deliberately vandalized and dug up, or accidentally disturbed.

She glanced at Sharp. He looked sleepy as ever, his eyes half-lidded.

“All right, gentlemen,” she said. “We’re recording this interview. Do you understand you’re here voluntarily to answer questions, and that you’ve waived the right to an attorney?”

They agreed.

“We’re just gathering information at this point.”

“Right,” said Kottke. “We’re okay. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Corrie nodded. “So what happened? Start with the road accident.”

Kottke looked at Purdue. “Well, we were driving around the national forest, and I guess we took a wrong turn.”

“Were you drinking?”

A silence. “No.”

A lie, but Corrie let it go.

“So anyway, we took a wrong turn and skidded off the road into a ditch. There was no cell reception up there and it was after sunset, so we decided to look for shelter.”

“And how did you find the cave?”

“It was totally by accident. When it started to snow, we went downhill looking for an overhanging rock or someplace. We came to a ravine, saw the cave, climbed up, lit a fire.”

“And then you began drinking?”

“We had some rum to help warm us up.”

“Marijuana?”

“It’s not illegal. I’ve got a medical card.”

“Please just answer the question. We’re not going to charge you with possession. Were you both smoking marijuana?”

“Yeah.”

“What else did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Corrie turned to Purdue. “Is this also your recollection?”

“Yes.”

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