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FOURTEEN
Terra stared at the headdress created from eagle feathers. The warbonnet was as long as Terra was tall. “Now, this is definitely Crow. And behind the headdress, deeper in the cabinet, I see more things. Some pottery shards, tools, and the like.”
She reached to touch the beautiful features but held back. “This could potentially violate several acts, including the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act.”
“Don’t tell me, eagle feathers are illegal.”
“You didn’t know?” She couldn’t take her eyes from the headdress. “Eagle feathers and body parts are illegal to sell. I think this is a stash of Native American relics. Regarding this headdress, unless Jim had certifiable American Indian ancestry, even having the feathers in his possession is a huge fine. And in this case, I don’t think there’s any doubt he knew what he was doing was illegal.”
She tugged out her phone again and took more pictures.
“How huge is the fine?”
“Why do you ask? Got some eagle feathers?” She continued taking pictures. “A hundred grand or more. That’s down from two hundred and fifty million a few years ago. Maybe jail time. That is, if this headdress is of cultural and religious significance.”
“I get it. More violations. Where do you think he got the pots? Public or private lands?”
“The pots on the shelf and in the cabinet I believe were pilfered from an archaeological site, just not local. Some of the tools in the cabinet could be local. The archaeologist will have to identify the tribe. This headdress didn’t come from a dig, but it’s in good condition. If we find items actually taken from a gravesite, the penalties are much steeper. I would say that Jim has some explaining to do.” Except Jim was dead.
“Maybe that’s our answer—someone didn’t want Jim explaining. He could have been a middleman. Fencing the items. I think that sounds more like Jim to me. He wasn’t the type to literally get his hands dirty, but he was a businessman. Had a lot of connections.”
“Or he kept secret this private collection that he came here to enjoy or share with other enthusiasts.” She stepped back from the cabinet to catch her breath. “Someone could have killed him for his collection and plans to come back and get the rest. Or planned to.”
“So, which is it then? Collector or fence?” Jack asked.
“In my previous investigation, no one was murdered. We have to consider that this might not be connected to his murder at all.” Terra skimmed through the pictures she’d taken on her phone. “Between you and me—because, again, we’re only theorizing here—I think he was fencing, buying and selling. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” And depending on which direction this investigation took, other agencies might want to weigh in. When she’d worked the sting before, the BLM—Bureau of Land Management—and FBI were also involved.
Terra finished taking pictures. As soon as the county evidence collection team finished here, she would transfer the artifacts to a secure room at the forest service supervisor’s office in Goode’s Pass.
She sighed. They could only be touching the surface of what was going on. Others, locals, friends even could be involved in a trafficking ring. She’d seen this before, and it could be devastating. God, please don’t let it be a repeat of the past. The last sting she was involved in had devastated an entire community.
Terra wanted fresh air and fled the cabin, leaving Jack inside. Thoughts of her past job reminded her of so many things gone wrong. A man bent on going out in a blaze had driven into the national park and, using an assault weapon, had taken out a park ranger who was sitting in his vehicle minding his own business. As the man held off law enforcement, the ranger bled out before help could arrive. He was Terra’s friend, who she’d gotten to know through a joint task force. Had a wife and a child. His death was a huge blow to them all and drove Terra into someone’s arms and down the wrong road.
And now here she was, back in the same space with Jack. Another mistake?
Seriously. Sometimes she had to wonder about God’s plans for her life.
So ... yeah. She needed air, and she needed it now.
She walked a few paces away and soaked in the forest—the evergreens and rust-colored needles carpeting the ground. She drew in the scent of pine and clean mountain air. In mid-September, when summer shifted to autumn, the breeze held a hint of the cold winter to come. She listened to birdsong. A squirrel chattered in the trees and shook smaller branches as it jumped between them.
Had Jim been killed here at the cabin? Or in these woods? Or at the cliff?
Jack joined her outside. “We’ll have company soon. I got a text that they’re at the trailhead.”
“Good.” She needed to touch base with her ASAC and others in her district about possible looting at local sites, though she didn’t think the pottery she’d seen was local. She wouldn’t make that call. But she’d have to wait for a stronger cell signal. She would remain here until the evidence techs arrived so she could speak to them about the artifacts. They could collect evidence surrounding the pots, but she was taking the items.
She’d need assistance with that, especially the headdress.
“Bad enough he was murdered,” Jack said, “but to find out he was involved in something illegal is a shock.”
“At least we have a possible motive.” Terra soaked in everything she had always loved about the outdoors, at the same time loathing the horrors of the crimes that were committed against nature and man alike in remote places such as this.
Would the forest give up its secret? Who had killed Jim?
Jack peered at the ground, the bushes and trees, like any good tracker looking for signs. Then he caught her watching him. “We should set up surveillance cameras near the road to see who drives by to watch, as well as cameras near this cabin to see if someone attempts to come back.”
“Good idea.” All of it required funding, resources, and time. She hated that feeling in her gut that told her they were already too late.
