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“He didn’t say, but I caught radio chatter that several deputies are headed this direction.”
Hunter pulled the brim of her Stetson lower over her eyes to help cut the glare, “Let’s wait in the Jeep. It’s so hot out here I’m cooking.”
Half an hour later, Sheriff Montoya arrived. He had one passenger in the Suburban with him, a white-haired man wearing sunglasses and a black suit and tie.
This guy’s watched Men in Black one too many times, Hunter thought.
They converged at the body, and Montoya introduced the new man. “This is Mr. Jones, he’s with the federal government.”
Hunter said, “Well what do you know, we’re with the federal government, too. You have a first name, or do we call you, Your Governmentship?”
He said, “Why don’t you tell us everything, starting from the beginning?”
Gary stepped in front of Hunter to keep her from smart-mouthing. He said, “Sure. We started on the River before daylight…”
It was four AM when Hunter spotted the trail coming out of the Rio Grande a quarter-mile upriver from Las Vibras. At first the tracks were indistinct, hardly more than smudges, but Gary and Hunter figured it was a single person, and probably male because of the stride.
As they followed the slight indications of passage, with one of them driving the Jeep and the other on foot, the Agents realized this one was someone who knew the desert. He’d crossed at night to avoid the heat, and he walked fast, not wavering his direction except to avoid cactus, Spanish daggers, and ocotillo.
Hunter had seen the first smudged track in her headlights, and they followed the sign by headlight and flashlight for three hours until the sun winked a sliver of yellow above the eastern horizon.
That’s when the man’s trail went crazy.
He went left, then right, and doubled back, then raced forward to another gulley, where the tracks showed he stayed for a while. Then it was off again, weaving and twisting from one draw to the next, from one patch of cenizo to a cluster of boulders. It seemed he was trying to throw someone off his trail, except he wasn’t brushing out any tracks.
His trail became harder to follow when the terrain grew rougher as they approached the eastern side of the Chinati mountain range. She found fewer and fewer tracks in the rock. They were losing ground on the man, and knew they had to make a decision. Gary said, “I think he’s planning to go through Tinaja Prieta Canyon.”
Hunter said, “Yeah, I think so, too.”
They split up, with Hunter following on foot while Gary drove the Jeep in a wide circle to avoid a series of gulleys and washouts. That’s when he got Hunter’s call about the body. He radioed Headquarters and had them contact the Sheriff’s Office, then drove to Hunter and the dead man.
Gary finished the story with, “And then you two arrived.”
Mr. Jones nodded. “Neither of you took anything off the body?”
“What are you saying?” Hunter asked.
“I said did you take anything off the body?”
Hunter put her hands on her hips, “I just wanted to make sure I heard right, that we’re being asked if we’re thieves.”
Mr. Jones said, “I’ve seen enough, Sheriff. You can take me to Marfa.”
Hunter stepped in front of him when he moved toward the Sheriff’s vehicle. “You never told me your first name. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“Someone who’s way above your pay grade.”
“Oh, shit,” Gary said softly, shaking his head. He was sure that if he looked close, steam would be coming out of Hunter’s ears.
Sheriff Montoya stepped between Hunter and Mr. Jones, “We’re leaving. Hunter, you and Gary come by the office later and we’ll drink a cup.”
He ushered Mr. Jones to the vehicle, and they left as a Sheriff’s Department Ram Charger arrived and three deputies emerged with rolls of banana yellow crime scene tape and other gear.
Hunter said to Gary, “That guy ticked me off.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell.” He grinned at her.
Hunter said, “You’re a funny, funny man.” She stepped to the older Deputy and asked, “Alonso, who’s that guy with Danny?”
