As the crow flies

8

I studied the rain-washed landscape-it must have poured here again during the night-and the edges of everything seemed more poignant, as if the country had redefined itself, imposed a sharper image onto the cliffs and the crowns of lodgepole pines that surrounded the valley.

The cliff was as Lolo Long and I had left it, with the exception of the CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS tape the FBI had strung between the trees and which we carefully pulled down and stepped over.

The Bear stopped. “This is illegal.”

I looked at him as Dog went underneath. “I’m sorry, is this your first time?”

“I have always tried to lead a lawful life.”

I cleared my throat and petted Dog. “Thank goodness; I’d hate to have seen what it would’ve been like if you hadn’t shown a modicum of restraint.”

He watched where he was placing his moccasins. “Virtue being my nature.”

I thought about the talking bear. “I thought asking questions was your nature.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I began looking around in a vague kind of way as he watched.

“What, exactly, are we looking for?”

“Something shiny.”

He glanced up at the calypso-blue sky and breathed in deeply. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“I will not.”

I nodded as I began searching the surrounding ground with Dog following me. “You will.”

He raised a hand in solemn oath. “Indian Scout’s honor.”

“I happen to know you were never a Scout.”

“Perhaps, but I have been an Indian my entire life-with the possible exception of a brief period in 1969.”

“And what were you then?”

His head tilted, and he looked a great deal like the bear in my imagination. “I am still not sure.”

I continued to look around at the edge of the cliff. “It was something the crow said in my dream.”

“Vision.”

“And something she was wearing.”

He looked at me. “Wearing?”

“Yep.”

He glanced around. “I am not sure I want to hear this part.”

“It was a bracelet; one of those medical ones.”

He paused for a moment. “On a crow.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

He smiled instead. “Maybe the crow had a condition.”

I glanced at him with a hard look, for all the good it was going to do, as he began looking in the branches. “Whooping cough; might have caught it from a crane.”

“If you remember, I saw something reflecting up here from down below, and for some reason I’ve got it in my head that it’s a bracelet.” I stared at his Adam’s apple. “Do you mind telling me why it is you’re looking in the trees?”

He spoke in a pedantic tone. “Because that is where crows live. They are drawn by shiny objects; if there was something up here, either on someone or left behind, the first thing a crow would do when it found it is take it to its nest.” He lowered his face. “Now, if you had had a vision of talking prairie dogs…”

I joined him in studying the trees, and even Dog looked up. “All right.”

He pointed skyward like the ghost of Christmas future, and his hand, tanned and powerful, extended from the rolled-at-the-cuff chambray shirt he wore. I followed his finger and rested my eyes on a twisted mass of branches and thick, seed-head grasses deep in one of the conifers.

“There.”

I glanced down from the cliff to check the angle. “Gotta be it.” I looked at the tree, which was a little to our right and almost at the edge. I indicated the lowest limb. “I don’t suppose you’d like to…?”

He glanced over the precipice. “Not really.”

I looked up and sighed. “I already climbed one today, and that didn’t end well; besides, I have to keep an eye on Dog.” I placed a thumb through the beast’s collar, just to emphasize my point.

He watched me for a moment more and then sauntered over to the trunk, and it was as if he levitated himself onto the thing. I watched as he effortlessly made his way up, his weight causing the pine to shudder but not crack.

He was almost to the nest when a large and very irate crow banked with the thermals rising at the face of the cliff and stalled for a moment before lighting about ten feet above his head.

“You’ve got company.”

He leaned out and glanced up at the crow, which had begun screaming down at him.

I looked over the edge. “I think she might have young ones in that nest.”

“Would you like to talk to her? You evidently have a knack.”

“Very funny.” I kept hold of Dog. “Don’t let her knock you off.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

He started up again, and the crow flapped her wings and flew over me to circle the adjacent treetop. She planted herself in the pine next door and began cawing at Henry with a renewed ferocity.

He was just underneath the nest when three small heads appeared and, thinking the dinner bell must’ve rung, began calling back to their mother. “It is getting crowded up here.”

“I think you should look on the side toward the cliff.”

He shifted his position and went up a few more branches, the limbs getting closer and causing him more difficulty. “Your concern for my welfare is very touching.” He was studying the bottom of the nest, and I saw him draw back. He smiled, shook his head, and pulled something from the bottom of the wad of intertwined material. He leaned out from the main trunk, holding on with only one hand, and tossed something through the air.

It shone and caught the rays of the sun as I held out a hand, barely capturing it before it hit the edge of the rock. I breathed a sigh of relief, stepped forward, and released Dog. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

He was carefully descending, keeping time to the cacophony of crows but careful not to upset the nest anymore than he had to. “You always catch things.”

I turned the item over in my hands-it was just like the one in my dream.

“Visions, they never lie.” He was standing next to me now, examining the thin, stainless steel bracelet that lay in my palm.

The medications that were engraved across the broader section of the band were diazepam, tizanidine, baclofen, amitriptyline, oxybutynin, dantrolene, and pregabalin. “You ever hear of any of these?”

“Only diazepam; otherwise, no.”

“Me neither.” I flipped the thing over, and we both stared at the red caduceus insignia: two snakes intertwined. This was different from the one used by the American Medical Association, which had only one snake.

I held it out to Henry, who read my thoughts. “Caduceus; two winged snakes.”

“Old.”

“Yes, very.”

I thought about it. “When did they stop using two snakes?”

“I am not sure.”

“Well, I know a place where we can find out some answers to these questions.” I glanced back into the tree where the mother crow was checking and tending to her still-squawking brood, and dropped the bracelet in my shirt pocket. “I must’ve seen it when we were up here and just forgot about it.”

The Cheyenne Nation smiled as I held the FBI tape for him to step over. “Yes, that must have been it.”

Rezdawg stalled out three times before we coasted into the Bear’s driveway alongside Lola and traded the ugliest truck on the high plains for the Thunderbird, a more reliable and suitable ride for the trip to Billings.

The health center was on the way, and it was a quick drive, so we stopped there first; Lolo Long’s cruiser was parked in front.

When we got inside, Henry stopped to look at Lolo, who, leaning with her elbows on the counter, was providing a remarkable, back-lit silhouette in the diffused light of the large window at the end of the hall. With one booted toe balancing on the tiled floor and the arched back I was once again reminded of just how breath-pausingly beautiful the tall woman was.

She was talking with her mother as we pulled up but turned to look at Henry and me with what could have almost passed for a smile. “So, while I’ve been working, you’ve been out getting a holy high?”

I waved at Hazel and turned back to her daughter. “It wasn’t really my choice. Anything happening?”

“Artie Small Song, in a fit of remorse, hasn’t turned himself in, if that’s what you mean.” She flipped a wave of her hair back, glanced at the Cheyenne Nation dismissively and then back to me. “Your buddy, the man who puts the ‘Special’ in Agent, Cliff Cly, left a message and wants to meet at noon.”

I made a face. “Can’t. I have to be in Billings in about an hour. My daughter and her future mother-in-law are landing from Philadelphia and I’d better be there to update them as to the ongoing preparations, or lack thereof.” I tipped my hat back and thought about Cly. “He probably just wants an update; he’s got people he has to answer to and reports he’s got to write just like the rest of us.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “Uh huh.”

I fished the bracelet from my pocket and turned to her mother for some relief from the jasper stare. “Mrs. Long, do you know when the AMA stopped using the two-snake caduceus in their insignia?”

Lolo answered. “In 1910; they thought it was inappropriate, witch-doctor symbolism-that, and when they discovered the double helix in 1953, everybody mistook the caduceus for DNA rather than snakes.”

I smiled as it dawned on me. “You were a medic.”

She actually smiled back. “Yeah.”

I handed her the bracelet. “So this would be from 1910 or older?”

She studied the insignia. “But this isn’t AMA.”

“What is it then?”

“Army Medical Service Corps, or one of its ancestors; possibly the WWI Sanitary Corps.” I was again attacked by jasper. “Where did you get this?”

“Painted Warrior.”

Henry interrupted. “A little bird told him.”

We both ignored him. “I’d seen something reflected in the trees, and we found it in a crow’s nest.”

She flipped it over in her hands. “It looks like it could’ve been up there since WWI.” She paused. “No, it couldn’t have.” She handed the bracelet to her mother, who readjusted her glasses and stared at the engraving on the other side.

“These are modern medications.” The older woman glanced up at me, and I was starting to see more of a resemblance between mother and daughter. “Heavy medications.”

“What’s that mean?”

She shook her head. “Diazepam is used to treat muscle spasms, seizures, and other side effects from alcohol addiction; the same with baclofen but it’s more for control of spasms. Tizanidine is a muscle relaxant, and so is dantrolene. Oxybutynin is an anticholinergic used to relieve urinary and bladder difficulties, and pregabalin is a pain killer and an anticonvulsant.” She handed the bracelet back to me. “Whoever is using these medications on a regular enough basis to put them on a medical bracelet is in enough trouble that they can hardly stand up, let alone push somebody off a cliff.” She reached behind her and poured a couple of cups full of coffee and handed one to me and the other to the Bear. “But they might think about jumping themselves.”

“So, a dead end on both counts?” I pocketed the thing and sipped my coffee, gesturing with the cup. “Thanks for this.”

She smiled, and it was unreserved. “You both look like you need it.”

I glanced at Henry, who appeared to be catching a second wind, and grunted an affirmative. “We had a late night.” I patted my pocket. “Why would someone use an old bracelet like this for a medical ID?”

She shrugged. “We see it from time to time; people use whatever they’ve got here on the Rez. The first thing we do when people come through here is check every piece of jewelry they have on them. We had a guy one time whose allergies were engraved on a Howdy Doody bracelet.”

Boy howdy.

“Can you do me a favor and check to see who in the health services records has prescriptions for all of these medications?”

“I’ll need a warrant.”

I appealed to a higher power and looked at her daughter. “Chief?”

Long looked at the head nurse. “Mom.”

It was the three-syllable “Mom” I’d heard my daughter use on my wife for years, and a variation of the “Dad” that I would be hearing very soon.

Mrs. Long held out her hand for the bracelet. I deposited it in her palm and watched as she began writing the medications on a pad.

I turned to Lolo. “How’s Adrian?”

“He’d be better if you brought back the dog; what’s his name, anyway?”

I scored major points on the lack-of-imagination scale and told her. “I’ll bring him in; he loves my daughter, but he takes up a lot of room.” I gave Henry a look and started toward the car. “Lolo, any word from Clarence?”

“Nothing; why?”

“Don’t you find it strange that he wouldn’t be in to check on his son?”

She shook her head, the thick, loose hair mimicking her movements. “You mean if Adrian is really his?”

I stopped and turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been asking around, and it would appear that Clarence indeed has some problems in that area, and besides, he’s probably passed out somewhere. Anyway, I thought you didn’t like him for this.”

I slipped on my teaching hat as I turned to go. “Remember, you’re in the business of liking everybody for this-until you find out who did it.” Then I added, “ I’m in the wedding business, until my daughter kills me, which should be in a little over an hour.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

I shifted to turn and look at the two beautiful women in the backseat of the Thunderbird, one family and one soon to be. “I’m sorry, Cady.”

Lena Moretti kept her counsel but placed a hand on my daughter’s knee in hopes of calming her.

“There’s a case on the Rez that’s kind of landed in my lap.”

“A case.” I could see the tears beginning to form in her gray eyes. “Unless I’m mistaken, Montana’s not your jurisdiction.”

“It’s a homicide.”

She turned her head, looked out the side window, and wiped her nearest eye with a swipe.

“A woman fell from a cliff with her child in her arms.”

“I don’t want to hear this; I really don’t.” Both hands came up this time, scrubbing the tears away. “I don’t mean to come across as some self-centered bitch, but I just thought for a few days. I mean…”

Her mouth opened as she breathed and then turned her head toward Lena, the next words tumbling out. “Did I ever tell you about my college graduation? My dad couldn’t make it because there was a case. My graduation from law school? There was another case.” She sighed and smiled into her lap. “I can mark the progression of my life, every landmark-in cases.” She looked up at me. “There’s always a case, Dad.”

There was a very long and uncomfortable silence in the car as we all listened to the tires on the interstate highway, rolling us into Little Big Horn country. She laughed a sad gasp, and it was far harder on me than the tears. I reached a hand out. “You’re right.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine and searched the floor mats at her sandaled feet. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to stay steady. “If your mother were here, she’d kick me.” This, at least, got a laugh. “I’ll just gracefully back out of the case.”

The eyes came up as she shook her head at me. “Daddy, you’ve never backed out of anything in your life, gracefully or otherwise.”

The Cheyenne Nation grunted, and I gave him a quick look. “Well, maybe it’s time I started.” I took my hat off and rested it on my drawn knee. “They’ve pretty much figured out who did it, so it’s just down to a manhunt at this point. They don’t need me for that.”

Cady took Lena Moretti’s hand and held it, gently pounding her knee with both their fists. “It’s okay.”

I glanced out the side and noticed we were approaching Hardin and had taken the exit ramp for the Blue Cow Restaurant and Casino. Henry took the left at the overpass toward the Texaco station and the venerable cafe. “I have to get gas; is anybody else hungry?”

I smiled at Ray Bartlett, who was behind the counter, and he seated us by the window so the Bear could keep an eye on Lola and so we could enjoy the day. Wanda Pretty On Top came over and took our orders, and about a minute later, Cady excused herself.

Lena Moretti placed her hand on me this time, and I had to admit that it was a nice hand that I remembered from my adventures in Philadelphia no more than a year ago. “She’ll be all right.”

I nodded.

“She’s just nervous.”

I nodded some more.

“Christ, she’s marrying my son-that’s enough to throw a scare into any woman.”

I laughed. “How’s the family?”

The little curve came up at the corner of her lipsticked lips, sly and dangerous, just like her daughter’s. “Mean as snakes, and they’ll all be here in less than a week and a half.” She crossed her legs and thanked Wanda for the collective iced teas she’d brought over. “How’s the Terror?”

I thought about Vic. “Doing a public relations seminar in Omaha.”

“Public relations? You’ve got to be kidding.” She laughed. “So, she escaped?”

“Something like that.”

Lena glanced at Henry. “This reservation thing: big case?”

“Well, maybe not the crime of the century, but it sure looks like a homicide.”

“Aren’t there Reservation police?”

Henry finally smiled. “Tons of them, federal, BIA, and tribal.”

Her buckskin eyes shifted back to mine.

“Can’t they take care of this?”

“It’s complicated.”

Her turn to smile. “It always is, isn’t it?”

I explained about Chief Lolo Long in all its three-part harmony and found myself studying Lena Moretti more and more as I spoke.

“But there’s a suspect?”

I nodded and tried to not get distracted by the shape of her neck. “A couple of them, but one has some truly antisocial tendencies.”

“Such as?”

“A closet full of guns, and he pretty much threatens to kill everyone he comes in contact with.”

“Sounds like wild, wild Westmoreland Street in Philadelphia.”

Henry and I both laughed, and my eyes wandered toward the alcove where the bathrooms were located.

“Would you like me to go check on her?”

I scooted my chair out and stood. “I think that’s my job-I’ll just knock on the door and see if she’s okay.” I sipped my tea in preparation for the conversation to come and glanced at the Cheyenne Nation. “But, madam, I leave you in expert hands.”

I walked toward the bathrooms, but Ray caught my eye and jerked his head toward the casino portion of the establishment. I nodded and walked into the windowless area where the electronic sounds of the numerous one-armed amputee machines drowned out everything else.

Cady was sitting at one of them, dropping quarters in and pulling the lever as if she were working on an assembly line. I watched her dispatch a good two dollars and two bits before crossing and sitting on the seat next to her.

She paused for a second and then went on playing, if you could call it that.

“I remember when your mother and I got married.” I sighed. “Her parents didn’t care for me all that much. She was kind of their princess, and I guess I wasn’t their idea of prince charming. Then I lost my deferment. After the war, I got back and looked her up and we got in a whirl again. She wanted a big church wedding, but her father said he wasn’t going to invest a big bunch of money in failure and that we’d be divorced in a year. I was working odd jobs, just trying to pay the rent on a little apartment south of town and have a little gas money. I’d heard Miles City was nice, so I threw your mother in a ’66 Plymouth Belvedere and drove her up there for a long weekend. We got married by the justice of the peace and his wife played the wedding march on an accordion. It snowed like a bastard the whole time.” I cleared my throat and laughed at the thought of it. “After a day, we were running out of food so your mother went off to the grocery store down the street with five dollars-all the money we had. She came back with two bottles of Coca-Cola, a package of bologna, a loaf of bread, and little jar of mustard-and change from a twenty.”

Cady’s hand paused on the lever.

“The man at the grocery store had mistaken the five for a twenty, and when he gave your mother the change, I guess she just nodded her head, stuffed that money down in her pocket as quick as she could, gathered up her things, and went out of that place like a shot.”

I watched her swallow, and her hand slipped from the handle.

“For the rest of the weekend, she wouldn’t walk on the same side of the street as that grocery store. I did, and I’d call over to her-Hey, Martha, Mrs. Longmire? How come you won’t come over here and walk with me?”

There was a tiny sob of a laugh.

“When I got my first paycheck from the sheriff’s department, she made me drive her up to Miles City so that she could pay that man back at the grocery store.”

Her face turned toward me, and the tears were flowing freely, and I guess mine were, too.

“To my knowledge, that was the only illegal act your mother ever committed in her life.”

We both laughed, and the greatest legal mind of our time launched from her stool and into my chest.

I held her there, wrapping my arms around her, and felt my hat flip off and fall to the floor as I rested my chin on the top of her red head. “I promised her that someday we’d have some kind of big wedding celebration, but we never got around to it; there was always something else that came up. About six months later the transmission went out in that Plymouth, the plumbing in the apartment froze up and the landlord wouldn’t fix it, so we had to move; then she went and got herself pregnant.”

Cady pulled her head away and looked up at me. “She did, huh?”

“Yep, and she had a girl so they could gang up on me.” I pulled her back in and placed my chin back on the top of her head. “This daughter, she cried a lot at first, then she quieted down and didn’t speak until she was two-no practice words, nothing-and began talking in full sentences, paragraphs, and pages; she has yet to stop.” She tried to pull away, but I held her fast. “She kind of grew on me, and now she’s the most important thing in my life, and I’m going to make sure that there will be a wedding here the likes of which she’s never seen, in a little more than a week.”

She sniffed again and grabbed my shirt. “It’s okay.”

“Hush.”

She pulled away, and this time I let her. She clutched her hands in her lap and looked to me to be about ten, but maybe that was the way I would always see her. I was consistently surprised whenever she got off a plane and reentered my life. I always expected her to look like she did whenever she came back from the HF-Bar dude ranch where she would disappear from us each summer, and she would hit our cramped, little rental with the force of a teenage hurricane, generally with a retinue of broken adolescent male hearts in tow.

I looked into those gray eyes and could see the reflection of myself, a man who had mislaid some of the most prized moments in his daughter’s life. I was ashamed of myself.

Pulling my handkerchief from my pocket, I handed it to her. “We’ll get everything squared away. It’s not like we haven’t done anything, and we’ll get all the details worked out.”

She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “I’ve got Lena with me, and she’s a wonder.”

“Yep, I know.”

Her hand went self-consciously to her head and the scar along her hairline where the surgeons in Philadelphia had opened her skull to allow her brain enough room to swell, and I was momentarily reminded of Lolo Long’s scar close to the same location. Cady’s eyes drifted past me and over my shoulder, and I turned to find Lena Moretti standing a respectful distance away.

Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her black linen slacks as she pivoted on one heel of a flat-soled shoe. “I’m sorry, but I think your food is getting cold.”

By the time we topped the hill overlooking Lame Deer, regular conversation had been restored.

“Oh Daddy, I can’t believe you did that.”

I gave Henry the eye, but he remained silent. “It wasn’t my choice.”

“A peyote ceremony?”

“Well…” I glanced past the Cheyenne Nation’s profile at the inordinate amount of unmarked and marked cars, along with a Mobile Task Force trailer emblazoned with the FBI’s insignia, that were crowded into the small Tribal Police parking lot.

Henry finally spoke. “Uh oh.”

We slowed at the stop sign, and the Bear and I looked at each other. Cady leaned up between us and glanced at the hubbub to our left, her natural Philadelphia lawyer tendencies getting the better of her. “What’s happened there?”

“I’m not sure.”

She looked at the Bear and then back to me. “Well, shouldn’t we find out?”

I took a deep breath and gestured for the Cheyenne Nation to advance forward. “Not my job.”

Henry didn’t move, and someone honked an air horn behind us.

Cady leaned her face close to mine and pointed toward the clock in the ornate, chrome-slicked dash-it was almost three. “You can be a cop for another eighteen minutes.”

“It’s okay.”

The horn behind us blasted again, and the Cheyenne Nation calmly slipped Lola into PARK, removed his lap belt, pulled the door handle, and stepped out.

I swiveled my head to get a look back, but Cady countered to block my view. “Henry and I can just go ahead over to Ashland and get you women into your motel room.” There were noises coming from behind the car, including the opening and slamming of a door and loud voices. I redirected my attention to Lena, who was now looking out the back window. “And get you settled in.”

Cady reached up and gripped my chin, redirecting my attention to her-a trick she’d adopted from her mother. “I’d rather you go over and get things settled than have you worry about this case, okay?”

There was suddenly no noise from the street. “I’m not going to worry about it.”

Her eyebrows rose to the point where I thought they were going to fall off the back of her head as the Bear reentered the Thunderbird, sat, and reattached his seat belt.

I looked at him. “Sorry about the trouble.”

He shrugged. “What trouble?” He gripped the wheel. “I am assuming we are making a stop at the jail to see what’s going on?”

I shot a look at my daughter, who ricocheted it to the Cheyenne Nation, who, in turn, whipped the wheel to the left and blew across the intersection onto the street beside the full lot. I caught a glimpse of a large man behind us holding his nose in an attempt to stop it from bleeding while leaning against the fender of his eighteen wheeler. No problem-right.

Henry pulled up behind the Task Force trailer and parked as we opened the doors, and I flipped the seat forward so that the Philadelphia contingency could join us in witnessing the spectacle.

Federal agents in flak jackets and full tactical gear were flying out of the adjoining buildings, jumping in the assorted cars, trucks, and SUVs, and making swift departures onto 212 and points beyond. Lolo Long and Cliff Cly were engaged in a heated conversation on the ramp of the Tribal Police Headquarters. Cady and Lena appeared to be enjoying the show. Henry and I looked at each other.

“Hopefully we’ll be right back.”

Cady waved and pointed at her wristwatch. “Fourteen minutes.”

I bumped the Bear’s shoulder. “Don’t beat anybody else up, okay?”

We advanced on the ramp as Agent Cly broke from Long and stepped toward us, stopping when he saw me, extending a hand in admonition. “Don’t even start.”

“Have we missed something?”

“Well, hell, yeah.” He looked over both our shoulders. “Nice car. Hey, is that your daughter?”

“Cliff, what’s going on?”

He looked exasperated. “Listen, I wanted to let your little friend back there handle her end of the log, but its lumberjack time and we’ve got fugitives, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That moron, Clarence Last Bull, was dealing out of his house and had a wire on his phone.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know; nobody knew, especially me. I mean, why would you check any of this with the fucking agent in charge, huh?” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and bit one between his teeth; I noticed that the stubble on his face was the exact length I’d seen days ago; he probably had an electric razor set to that length. “I swear to God my title should be Agent-Who-Doesn’t-Know-What-the-Fuck-Is-Going-On.” I could see Chief Long advancing as he lit the Marlboro and took a vicious inhale. “To make a long story short, we’ve got a tape on this asshole from an anonymous informant where Clarence is discussing with Artie Small Song how he wasn’t going to pay him the money he owed him for pushing his wife and kid off the cliff.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yeah. A very heated conversation that ends with an inordinately pissed-off Artie Small Song promising to turn Clarence Last Bull into the Native American equivalent of Jimmy Dean Hickory Smoked Sausage.” He turned. “Did you know about this?!”

Chief Long had arrived. “No.” She looked doubtful. “No.”

Henry’s voice cut through the emotion. “Where is Clarence Last Bull?”

The agent in charge removed the cigarette from his mouth. “That’s a good question, and one we wish we had an answer to.” He turned to the young Cheyenne woman. “Chief Long?”

“His Jeep is gone, but somebody spotted it in Birney.” She added, before I could ask, “Red Birney.”

I blew out a breath. “Has anybody seen or heard of the whereabouts of Artie?”

The chief and the AIC answered in unison. “No.”

“What about the maroon truck?”

Lolo shook her head. “Up at KRZZ with the little nephew Nate.”

The agent shrugged. “Well, that means the last of the Mohicans is perhaps afoot and possibly easier to capture.”

The Cheyenne Nation pursed his lips. “Or not.”

Cly glanced at Henry, and you could see that even he couldn’t underestimate the Bear. “I gotta go, but you’re all welcome to join in the great manhunt of eastern Montana.”

I looked over my shoulder, where Cliff Cly’s eyes kept wandering. “No, we’ve got a wedding to plan.”

“Is that your wife, Sheriff?”

I sighed. “No, that is the mother of the groom and of my undersheriff, wife of the Chief of Detectives North, City of Philadelphia, and I’m sure that if you make a pass at her he will attempt to turn you into the FBI equivalent of Jimmy Dean Hickory Smoked Sausage.”

He spoke as he passed us, going toward a Crown Victoria with a driver in attendance behind the wheel. “Philly’s a tough town.” He waved at Lena and Cady, and they waved back. “Never know till you ask.”

I turned to look at Lolo Long, who was now conversing with someone by way of the radio attached to her collarbone. “You don’t look happy.”

She rogered the call and looked up at me. “Someone just punched a trucker out here on the highway.” She fished her keys from her pocket, aimed the remote at the black SUV, and the vehicle chirped and blinked its lights. “Besides, what have I got to be happy about?”

“The investigative part of the case is over. Now all you have to do is capture the suspects, one of whom is apparently on foot.” I glanced back at the women next to the vintage automobile, where Cady was pointing to her wrist. “Anyway, if I’m betting on who knows the territory best-my money’s on you, Chief.”

I started backing away with Henry following and she took a step after us. “So, that’s it?”

I stopped. “Excuse me?”

She folded her arms and looked just as hard as the baking concrete on which she stood. “That’s it?”

I stepped back toward her, Henry’s hand on my arm. “There’s nothing else to do, Chief. They got ’em red-handed.”

“No pun intended.” Henry glanced back at my daughter. “Come on, we need to go, for numerous reasons.”

Long advanced another step after us. “You were there, you saw how he reacted; neither of us thought Clarence Last Bull did this.” Her head began slowly shaking in disbelief. “You know that.”

I made a beseeching gesture with my hands as the Bear continued to hold onto me. “It’s the nature of the business, Lolo. Sometimes we’re wrong.”

“Yeah, right.” Her head turned just a little, her hair moving with her, exposing the sickle-shaped scar. I stood there for a second more, and then watched as Lolo Long turned, walked back to her unit, and slammed the driver’s-side door behind her.

She threw the car in gear and laid a strip of rubber on the roadside that would’ve made Mickey Thompson proud.