Page 106 of Dead Mountain

“When I couldn’t get you or Dr. Kelly on the phone, I guessed you might have come up here looking for that bunker—especially after signing out an all-terrain Jeep.”

“That’s when he called me,” Watts said. “I knew about this lodge. Seemed logical that you’d use this place as a trailhead. Agent Sharp verified that by calling the lodge caretaker, and he said you’d just come through.”

Corrie winced. “Okay, now it’s starting to come back . . .” She took a deep breath. “The caretakers—?”

Sharp’s face creased. “I’m sorry—dead. When we got up here,” he continued, “we found the gate locked. So we went in on foot and saw a vehicle by the garage—not yours. Two dead bodies were in the back. So we crept up to the lodge, using the storm for cover, saw and heard what was going on inside—and rushed in.”

“Just in time,” said Nora.

“I’m afraid that’s all too true. Watts is damned fast with a six-gun—it was his shot that saved Corrie.”

“Hell yes,” said Watts. “You remembering things now, Corrie?”

“It’s all coming back,” Corrie said, and Nora could see her face was clearing. She looked at Sharp. “Sir, there was more to this than just the bomb accident.”

Sharp nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s all there,” said Corrie, pointing to the journal lying where DeGregorio had tossed it.

“There’s also a camera,” said Nora, “with undeveloped film containing important evidence. It’s in the bunker, inside a grand piano, where I hid it while we were running from these goons. I put it there hoping to buy us some leverage, if those bastards caught us.”

For a moment, all was quiet. Then Corrie turned to Sharp. “What’s going to happen now?”

He returned her gaze but said nothing.

“We’re going to go public with this—right? This can’t be suppressed. The bloodbath up here. DeGregorio’s crimes. Cheape’s murder. The truth, finally, about the Dead Mountain case!”

Sharp said nothing for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was slow and gravelly. “It’s not up to you.” His gaze swept Corrie and Nora in turn, and he lowered his voice. “Nor to me.”

59

ALL RISE.”

Once again, the judge entered the courtroom, more lugubrious than ever, hiked up his robes, sat down behind the bench, and called the courtroom to order. Skip sat once again in the dock, miserable and scared and worse than ever after four days of waiting, his suit more wrinkled, his hair sticking out. Nora was exhausted. She ached all over, and she felt like she’d slept no more than four hours in the last four days. But she couldn’t miss this last session of her brother’s trial—and her opportunity to testify.

The jury, on the other hand, was alert and refreshed from the weekend, and the spectator section was once again full.

Lightfeather had explained to Nora that unless something freakish happened, today—Monday—would be the last day of the trial, and Skip’s fate would be determined. The prosecution had decided not to call their surprise witness from the fight at Gallina’s Peek after all; Lightfeather told Nora he’d learned that the fight had broken out over an impolite nickname of Hawley’s, one that the sheriff decided he didn’t want to make public. Deputy Baca, Lightfeather went on, would be the last witness to testify for the prosecution, and then they’d have an opportunity to cross-examine. After that, Lightfeather would mount Skip’s defense. He was planning to call two witnesses, Nora and Tenorio. He was not going to call Skip, as he had concluded—rightly so in Nora’s opinion—that Skip would not testify well.

As the court settled in, the judge called on the DA to continue the prosecution’s presentation.

Scowsen stood up. “I would like to call as our final witness Deputy Sheriff Raymond Baca.”

Baca entered the courtroom in uniform, immaculate, badge gleaming with a fresh polish, black hair combed back. He took the witness stand and was sworn in. Nora glanced at Hawley, sitting at the DA’s table; he had a satisfied smile on his face.

Scowsen strolled over to the witness stand—he had an unhurried manner, studied or not—and greeted Baca. “Deputy Sheriff. How are you today?”

Baca nodded.

“Your answers,” said Scowsen, in an affable tone, “should always be spoken so our court reporter can be sure to get them down on paper.”

“I’m fine,” said Baca curtly.

“Excellent. This should not take long. Now, I’d like to direct your memory back to the events of the afternoon of November 5. I understand you were guarding the recently discovered cave site when some people arrived. Could you tell us about that?”

“Yes, sir. The defendant, there, Skip Kelly; his sister, Nora Kelly; and another fellow arrived around two PM. Mr. Tenorio arrived at the same time in another vehicle.”

“And you knew them from before?”

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