Shadow Wolf. Jenna Kernan

Shadow Wolf - Jenna  Kernan


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panted from her exertions. “I didn’t hear no shooting.”

      “Where do you keep the keys?” asked Kino, fearing the answer.

      “Right up there on the dash,” said Bill.

      Arnette shuffled along on swollen feet. “Right there.”

      Clay was already searching the ground for sign. Kino noticed the key ring had a red metal fob inlaid with the image of a coiled silver rattlesnake. His eyes narrowed on the key ring and then on Moody.

      Kino asked a few more questions and learned that Bill worked in Pima at the auto-repair shop but had the day off. Kino also discovered that illegals were frequent visitors to this place, filling their water containers at the hose and stealing clothing from the line.

      “Them illegals even broke in here while she was at church and cooked a meal right there in our kitchen.”

      “And left a mess,” said Arnette.

      Clay returned. “Looks like a truck, newer tires. Footprint shows one single male, construction boots, weighs about two-twenty.”

      Arnette stared at Clay in wonder. “You boys are them? Part of the unit. All Indian? Right? The Shadow Wolves?”

      Clay nodded then checked the tread left by Bill Moody. Kino waited for Clay to lift his head and give a shake. But he didn’t. He merely shrugged. That meant he couldn’t eliminate Moody. Clearly he was wearing different shoes. But his size matched the prints.

      “Did you see anyone today?” asked Kino.

      “Been inside all day. Threw out my back chasing one of them rams. He got out somehow.” He pointed vaguely toward the pens.

      Kino looked at Arnette, who dropped her gaze and shook her head.

      “Will you call us if you see a guy? Big, white, wearing a cowboy hat.” Kino handed over a card.

      Moody rejected the card. “I don’t got a phone.”

      “Then find someone who does,” Kino said and then held Moody’s gaze until the man looked away.

      “He dangerous?” asked Moody.

      Kino nodded.

      Arnette made a sound of discontent in her throat. “Guess I’ll start carrying my shotgun again.”

      Unlike Lea, Mrs. Moody seemed to have no qualms about arming herself against danger.

      “That your barn?”

      “Garage,” corrected Moody. “Sheep don’t need no barn.”

      “You always keep your garage locked like that?” said Kino, pointing at the padlock.

      “Told you that migrants come through here. They steal everything that ain’t locked down. Sleep in there if they could,” said Moody.

      “Can we have a look inside?”

      Moody’s jaw bulged and he narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about?”

      “Shooting in the desert.”

      “I don’t know nothing about it. And as you can see, the garage is locked. No other way in.”

      Kino’s antenna for lies vibrated. He wanted a look in that garage. But he didn’t have cause, so he handed over a card.

      “Still, I’d like to have a look inside,” said Kino.

      Moody’s face reddened. “Well, you can’t. Now get off my property.”

      “Thought you said it was rented,” said Clay.

      “I had enough talking to the both of you. Coming in here with a lot of questions. Why don’t you catch the damned migrants instead of bothering us? They’re like damned locusts.” He hoisted up his pants. “We done here?” asked Moody.

      Kino touched his brow in salute. “All done. Thank you for your help.”

      Moody growled and folded his arms, waiting for them to leave.

      “You buy his story?” Kino asked Clay.

      “Tracks didn’t match. But he is wearing sneakers now and the size and his weight are about right. Whoever it was, he changed vehicles. Had another behind this building, judging from the tracks.”

      “Like to get a look inside there,” said Kino, thumbing over his shoulder at the building that was too new and too well kept to be on this property.

      “Think you need a warrant,” said Clay.

      “She didn’t look at us when I asked if she’d seen anyone,” Kino said. “Might want to speak to her when he’s not around. Maybe she’ll let us have a look inside.”

      “Come back in an hour,” said Clay. “The way he’s going, he’ll be passed out by then.”

      “Couldn’t she hear someone starting a truck?”

      “Not with a generator and television on,” said Clay.

      “I suppose.”

      “I saw those other tracks on the turnoff. They’re headed south. Same way we’re going.”

      “Could that car be a Ford Explorer?” Kino was thinking of Anthony DeClay, Lea’s boss. The one with the new truck and the key ring with the rattlesnake rattle.

      “Sure or a Ram or a Toyota, Chevy or Subaru. Can’t tell from the tire tread. Only shows the width and tire brand. Not the make. You know that.”

      They reached their vehicle and Kino settled into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go talk to Altaha. See if she can give us that description.”

      “Don’t you think she would have mentioned if the guy who pointed a gun at her was her boss?”

      “She’s never seen him. He said so at the scene. She’s been out in the field both times he visited. Love to have her take a look at Moody, too.”

      “Yeah,” Clay said and buckled in. “But that sounds a lot like an investigation and you quit your job on Tribal.”

      “Leave of absence.”

      “Yeah, well, Gabe told you there were plenty of dead cases on the rez. If you want to investigate crimes, we could have stayed put.”

      Kino didn’t take the bait. He needed to find out all he could about Lea Altaha. “Call Rubio. Tell them we found the truck and ask what they have on Altaha.”

      Clay lifted the radio and Kino turned them toward Cardon Station, where his witness would be waiting. Because no matter what Barrow said, Lea was his witness and he had a lot more questions.

      Lea was tired, drained, dusty and hungry. All she wanted to do was go home, or what passed for home while she was in Pima finishing her college internship before starting as an anthropologist for the Salt River reservation’s historical society.

      The border patrol officer paused, looking over what he had typed on the computer monitor. A sheen of sweat made his brown skin gleam despite the churning air conditioner. The stitched name on his forest green shirt read D. Mulhay, though he had not bothered to introduce himself. Where she came from that was considered very impolite.

      “Are we done?” she asked him.

      “Almost.” He scanned the form. “I just need your partner’s name.”

      “I was alone today.”

      Mulhay typed in the information and then glanced up, studying her in silence for a moment. “I don’t mean to tell you your business, Miss Altaha, but you shouldn’t be out there alone.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the window. “Guess you know that already.”

      “Yeah.”


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