Double Prey

Chapter Twenty-two

For long enough to frustrate Sheriff Robert Torrez, Estelle studied the screen of her laptop, examining the photos downloaded from Linda Real’s camera. The sheriff’s “just do it ” approach was sometimes the best strategy, but in this case, Estelle was loath to disturb the cave until everything that could be documented had been…and until she had a clear notion of how she wanted to go about the recovery process.

Little things might come back to haunt, she knew…coming back with new questions that could not be answered once the scene had been not only disturbed but eliminated.

“For one thing, the gun was out of the holster,” she said, and Torrez made a little growling sound of impatience.

“That’s quite a photo,” Bill Gastner interjected. He reached out and touched part of the photo that was displayed in all its digital clarity on the laptop computer’s screen. “Dust and debris on the inside surface of the leather, at least right there at the mouth of the rig. Even I can see that. And the gun that Freddy had wrapped up in that damn cloth was completely covered with all kinds of shit. Had it been in the holster all these years, it would have been at least a little bit protected. I can think up all kinds of theories…the guy went in to retrieve his jaguar specimen, gun in hand. Then blam. Either the cat swatted him silly, or he had a heart attack, or…” Gastner waved a hand. “Any number of things.”

“Cat with a bullet through the brain ain’t going to swat anybody,” Torrez said. “So where was the gun, then? Estelle says there wasn’t any disturbance of the cave farther on in. If that’s true, then it don’t look like Freddy crawled any farther back in than you guys just did. He found the gun, and then what? Ran out of light? He just had that one flashlight. That’s all we found on his four-wheeler.” He smiled at Gastner. “You think somebody havin’ a heart attack would squirm into that cave, rather than out? ”

“I’ve given up thinking,” Gastner replied. “I’m just rubber-necking.”

“Who was where,” Estelle said. “That’s the whole issue. Freddy rooted around in there a bit, and now we’ll never know exactly where the gun was when he found it. We don’t know the relationship of the gun to the skeleton-if there is one. That’s a part of the puzzle that’s been obliterated.”

“I’m takin’ a look,” Torrez said. He thumped his heavy flashlight against his thigh, regarding the depression, the over-hang, and the jumble of rocks warily. Not only a big man, standing more than six feet four inches and weighing a solid 230, the forty-two-year-old sheriff had suffered enough misadventures to stiffen his joints.

“You want a grid?” Linda asked quickly as Estelle turned to follow Torrez.

“Yes, everything that comes out of that cave,” the undersheriff replied. She reached for the laptop that Linda offered. “Numbered and recorded.” She scrolled quickly through the photos, selecting an overview that had been taken with the camera held high, up against the ceiling rocks. “Grid that one.”

Torrez slipped carefully into the initial crevice, taking his time as he examined the carcass of the jaguar. “Surprised there’s anything left,” he said to Estelle, who crouched behind him. “Weather’s going to get in here some, wind, critters.”

Torrez had spent more than thirty years hunting every game animal in the southwest, tramping the most remote corners of Posadas and surrounding counties. He’d even hunted desolate stretches of Mexico, and more than once, Estelle knew, had risked his own safety by doing so without permit or permission.

“You want to make a guess on how long this has been here?” she asked.

“Nope.” Torrez reached out and ran his fingers down the length of one dusty leg bone, a touch of almost tender affection. “Damn shame.” He turned and regarded the opening to the small cave.

“If you slide up there to your left, you’ll be able to see over that hump of rock,” Estelle said. She could smell the musty odor, now enhanced by the heat of the bright spotlight. Hitching hardware out of the way, Torrez slid forward on his belly. Despite his apparent impatience, Torrez moved with care, hiking himself forward on elbows and toes, his flashlight probing the harsh shadows left by the spotlight.

“Huh,” he muttered, and lifted himself as high as he could, his cap and shoulders touching the ceiling. Estelle gauged the width of his shoulders against the opening. He could slide farther in, if the urge was irresistible. Whether they’d be able to pull him out was debatable.

“Let’s get movin’ on this,” he said, and pulled back. Estelle climbed out past the packrat’s nest where Linda waited, turning the laptop’s screen for Estelle to see. The fine white lines over-laid the image, labeled in bright orange A through K down the left side, 1 through 10 across the top.

“Perfecto,” Estelle said.

“Now the fun begins,” Gastner quipped. “I thought maybe you were going to stuff Bobby in there and leave him.”

“Not a chance,” Torrez growled as he straightened up. Linda offered the computer to him, and he glanced at it without much interest.

In a moment, a blue tarp had been spread out on one of the few level spots of ground behind the huge boulder. With a roll of masking tape, Linda and Tony Abeyta made short work of the grids, zipping down strips of tape until the tarp was divided into the same one hundred squares represented in the photograph.

“You be careful in there.” Torrez watched Estelle snap on a fresh pair of latex gloves. The respirator she hooked around her neck was many clicks improved over the small cloth masks that she and Linda had used earlier. The two valves stuck out on either side of her face like parts of some strange insect.

“There’s a good spot for this so that I can see it,” Estelle said, taking the laptop from Linda. “I’ll hand whatever I find to the sheriff, and assign a number for each piece. For now, let’s keep it simple. Each piece is numbered by its grid location, and then one through how many ever we end up with. As each item comes out, I want it placed on the corresponding grid on the tarp. Tony, the sheriff will hand the items to you. Just pass ’em out so Bill can bag everything with a number and grid tag. So you’ll have something like A-6, number 1. And so forth.”

“Got it.”

“You’re trusting me to count?” Gastner asked.

“You’re probably the only one here who can,” Torrez said.

“Linda, I want digital for every piece,” Estelle continued. “As soon as Padrino places it on the tarp. Every piece. Every single one. Okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“What we’re going to end up with is a copy of what’s in that cave, spread out on this tarp.” She squinted up at the blank blue of the sky. “A perfect day for it. We go slow and sure. We miss nothing.”

“Did you call Miles Waddell yet?” Bill Gastner asked.

“I did. Early this morning.”

“Did he have any ideas?”

“None whatsoever, but he was annoyed that I wouldn’t discuss this with him. He was definite about one thing, though…he wanted to make sure we had a warrant to be on his property.”

“And here he is,” Deputy Abeyta observed. Estelle turned and looked to the northwest. The vapor trail of dust rose behind a fancy red pickup.

“Asking for a warrant is fair enough,” Gastner said. “Kinda wonder why he’d worry about it, though.”