Double Prey (11 page)

“Cool beans. Everything?”

“Absolutely. Over, under, around, and through. Three-sixty.” She tapped her own right orbit with an index finger. “And special attention to any damage or signs of injury.”

“Ten four.” Linda flashed Dr. Archer a brilliant smile. “I’m with ya, sir.”

Estelle waited until she was in her vehicle before dialing Sgt. Tom Mears’ cell. He picked up on the fifth ring.

“Did I catch you in the middle of something?” she asked.

“Hey,” Mears replied. “No, I’m just cleaning up my mess here. Look, Bobby and I ran a preliminary, and we’re both completely certain that the Smith and Wesson 4026 that Romero had in his possession fired the bullet into the cat’s brain.”

“
Ay
.”

“Interesting stuff. I’m packaging things to send off to the FBI, but right now, that’s the way it looks. Absolutely characteristic. Be nice if we had the fired shell casing to do a primer indent and breech-face match, but even without it, I’m sure of a match. So is Bobby. You’ll want to take a look at what we have when you get back.”

“That may be an hour or two. I have another stop I need to make this afternoon.”

“It’ll be interesting to know if Freddy found anything else out there,” Mears said.

“First we need to know where the ‘out there’ is.”

Chapter Fourteen

Just beyond Moore, Estelle turned onto the Prescott ranch road, a two-track deeply cut in spots with a steep plunge across Salinas Arroyo. Once up and out of the arroyo, the road wound across a mile of open prairie dotted with complacent cattle who stood in ragged groups, waiting for a pickup truck to arrive with feed supplements. Two windmills each pumped a trickle of water into battered stock tanks.

The undersheriff drove slowly, letting the bouquet of the prairie waft through the truck. As the fat tires disturbed the stands of bunch grass, grasshoppers clattered off, some flying only far enough to thump onto the hood or windshield.

The road to Gus Prescott’s ranch passed through country that was hardly conducive to an active social life. The ranch wasn’t the sort of place where people casually stopped by for a chat. Perhaps, Estelle thought, that was the sort of solitude that Gus Prescott didn’t handle so well. She knew that he spent long hours at the Broken Spur Saloon eighteen miles down the highway.

Casey Prescott, the youngest daughter, drove herself to school each day in an older model Volkswagen rather than parking out by the state highway bus stop.

Estelle wasn’t sure what Casey Prescott could tell her about the events of the past week, but she was certain that the two teenagers had talked on a daily basis—that’s what kids with cell phones and text messaging and Twitter and
stuff
just did, whether or not they had anything to say. And she couldn’t imagine Freddy being so tight lipped that he wouldn’t brag about his discoveries to his
amor
.

As the Expedition juddered across a cattleguard a quarter mile from the Prescotts’ double-wide mobile home, three dogs bounded out from under the front porch, taking the shortest beeline through the bunch grass and cacti to intercept the visitor. When they reached her vehicle, one that might be a yellow lab cross jogged point, staying just ahead of the front bumper. A large mostly shepherd loped beside the driver’s door while the third, a wild-eyed heeler pup, tried to spin in ecstatic circles while she dodged through the vegetation along the lane.

Casey’s older model Volkswagen was parked in the shade of one of the elms, beside a battered SUV. Once through the gate, all three dogs sprinted ahead, tails thrashing, ready to play should the new arrival be willing.

Jewel Prescott opened the screen door and stepped out onto the small front porch. A heavy woman, she moved as if her legs were turning to wood. She whistled once, a shrill, commanding note that stopped two of the dogs in their tracks. The youngest continued to dance, but an additional command brought her into line with the others. They waited near the front step with tongues lolling.

“They won’t bother you,” Jewell called as Estelle got out of the county car.

“They’re eager to play,” Estelle replied, and the dogs all quivered, feet jittering. As she passed them, the oldest dog stretched his nose out, catching scent. Apparently satisfied, he turned and trotted off toward an aluminum water dish by the corner of the porch, followed by the other two.

Estelle extended her hand. The woman’s grip was firm and moist. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Prescott,” the undersheriff said. “I’d like to speak with Casey if she’s home.”

“Oh, my,” Jewell Prescott whispered. “Isn’t this just an awful thing, though? That Freddy…” Her broad face crinkled into a painful grimace that nearly buried her eyes. As if the wooden legs were giving out, she reached for the back of an aluminum lawn chair for support. “Casey-girl took one of the horses out,” she said. “That’s what she does when she wants to be alone. Would you like something to drink?”

“Thanks, but no…not just now.” Behind Mrs. Prescott, from the depths of the house, the sound of a television set was insistent. “Will she be gone long?”

“You know, I didn’t ask. I could see that she just wanted to be alone.” The lawn chair creaked under her weight. “This is an awful thing, just awful. I mean, what do we tell a child when something like this happens? Just senseless.” She waved a hand in frustration. “Of course, she’ll be back by dark, you know. She won’t ride with failing light. She knows better than that.” Jewell thumped the back of the chair. “Christine’s coming home this weekend. Those two will talk the whole night long, and a good thing, too.” Casey’s older sister, Christine, had finally broken from her long-time job as bartender at the Broken Spur to attend the state university.

Estelle looked off toward the scattering of sheds and the single large, dilapidated shop building with the corral and livestock shelters behind it. Behind those, a dozen or more abandoned vehicles were arranged in a row, some hoods up, some missing entirely, a door here or a set of wheels there scavenged.

“Does she have a favorite place to go, Mrs. Prescott?”

“It’s a big country,” the woman replied. “But you know, if I had to bet, I’d say over by Lewis Wells. He lived here before we did, you know, Bertrand Lewis did. That’s what we’ve always called the mill over east of here, over by that old grove of dead elms. That’s where the spring used to be. That was the first windmill he put in.”

Jewell’s comment reminded Estelle of Bill Gastner’s passion for such connecting links with other times and places. Every spot had a history, she thought. Every patch of ground, every two-track, every foundation and windmill…places of solace when life turned ugly.

“That’s one of Casey-girl’s favorite places,” Mrs. Prescott continued. “Now you’re welcome to drive out that way. Just take the trail right behind the corral, and head east. You’ll see the little stand of dead elms once you cap the rise. If she’s not there, well…like I say, it’s a big country.” She leaned more heavily on the chair. “We’re awfully proud of that girl, sheriff.”

“I can understand why.”

“Now don’t take this wrong, but I wasn’t all that thrilled with her carrying on with the Romero boy, I’ll be honest with you. And I know that Gus just hates the idea. But my daughter’s like this,” and she thrust the flat of her hand out, cleaving the air like the bow of a boat cleaving water. “She knows where she’s going and what she wants. Freddy…well, he’s a wild hare, Estelle. Those big brown eyes of his melt your heart, but he’s what my granny used to call ‘just plain dizzy.’ I’d never wish him ill. Just senseless, is what all this is. Just senseless.”

“Do you recall when she was with Freddy last?”

Jewell twined two fingers together. “Like this,” she said. “
All
the time. And you can imagine what a parent thinks about
that
. I keep thinking, all the time I keep thinking. If Casey-girl can just get through the next two years. She’ll have scholarships, you know. One of the counselors at school predicts a full ride, they call it? To Texas A & M for engineering. Now isn’t that something?”

“You must be very proud.”

“Oh, more than proud. But the way she carries on with Freddy Romero…well. Like I say, you know how a parent thinks.” She heaved a mighty sigh. “She’s turned sixteen now, so I try to keep my mouth shut. But when I see the two of them take off on that four-wheeler of his, my heart just sinks.” She managed a pained smile. “Sometimes I think that convents are wonderful inventions. But as I said, she’s sixteen now, and it has to be her choice, doesn’t it.”

“She’ll do fine,” Estelle said. “I think I will drive over that way.” She extended a business card to Mrs. Prescott. “If I don’t cross paths with her this afternoon, will you have her call me? Right away?”

“May I tell her what this is all about?”

“I need to know when she was with Freddy last. When she was actually with him.”

“At school, I would think. But who can keep track of these kids.” She leaned forward a bit and the chair creaked dangerously. “What happened, actually? Will we ever know?”

“It appears that Freddy lost control of his four-wheeler and went into the arroyo off Bender’s Canyon,” Estelle said. “That’s all we know at the moment.” She could see the muscles in Jewell Prescott’s jaw set.

“You know what I’m thinking, so I won’t say it,” Jewell said, and pushed herself erect. “You know, I don’t mind Casey girl riding off by
herself
. Some would. I don’t. She’s got sense.” And she paused for a second before saying what she had promised not to. “She could have been with Freddy in that crash, sheriff. I’ve told her a hundred times that she wasn’t to go careening off with that boy on that machine, but I might as well be talking to thin air. But she has sense, that girl.”

Keep hoping that
, Estelle thought. “If you’d pass on the message for me?”

“Of course. And please, you stop by on your way out for something to drink.”

The trio of dogs escorted Estelle to her vehicle, then turned back to the house. She watched them slump in the shade as she started the truck. Casey Prescott hadn’t even wanted their good-natured, nonjudgmental company.

The undersheriff had driven no more than a quarter mile, the Prescott homestead still clear in the rearview mirror, when her phone chirped. For a series of rings, she considered ignoring it, but then grudgingly pulled it from her belt.

“Guzman.”

“Where you at?” Sheriff Torrez asked with his usual lack of preliminaries.

“I’m looking for Casey Prescott. Her mother thinks that she rode out to Lewis Wells. I just left their place. What’s up?”

“Look, I got something you need to look at when you’re finished out there. We’re over at the barn,” Torrez said, referring to the secure Quonset hut at the county boneyard where the Sheriff’s Department kept impounded vehicles.

“Is there something I should know before I talk with Casey?”

Torrez hesitated. “I’m not sure what we’re lookin’ at here, but for one thing, Mears found a little chunk of metal on the inside of the kid’s front tire.”

“Metal?”

“Brass. Sure as hell looks like it, anyway. A little fragment of brass. We’ll put it under a microscope here in a few minutes. I think we still got some diggin’ to do. In the meantime I’m sending Pasquale out to sit the Bender Canyon site.”

For a moment, Estelle didn’t respond, instead letting the front wheels jar this way and that, twisting the steering wheel under her light grip as the Expedition idled along the rough two-track.

“What are you after?” Torrez prompted.

“I want to know if Casey was with Freddy when he found the skull.”

“You think she might have been?”

“I don’t know. But you know how kids work. What are the odds they
weren’t
together on Sunday? It was a beautiful day, perfect for exploration. Or anything else.”

“Someone sayin’ that’s when he found it? On Sunday?”

“No. Freddy apparently didn’t tell anybody exactly where…or when. He took it to Underwood on Monday. So it makes sense. Saturday or Sunday.”

“Huh. Well, look…we’ll be back at the office when you’re done out there. Swing by.”

“You got it.” She switched off and dropped the phone in the well of the center console. A mile later, reaching the pinnacle of one of the prairie’s undulations, she stopped the Expedition and slipped her binoculars out of the case. The late afternoon shadows shimmered as she scanned the distance. Eventually she found the windmill, its blades idle and facing west. The metal framework, with a ladder running up one side, presented a composition of geometric, harsh lines in an otherwise tawny world.

A saddled horse grazed near the water tank, cropping patches of green that were nourished by tank seepage. Estelle could make out that the animal was saddled but riderless.

The two-track meandered around rises and through swales, and each time the windmill came back into view, Estelle checked to make sure the horse hadn’t wandered. At last the path turned into an expanse of laser-flat prairie, the windmill a hundred yards ahead. The horse swung its head to watch her approach, and Estelle could now see the reins leading into the shadows of the water tank.

Casey Prescott sat with her back against the tank’s water-cooled galvanized steel.

Chapter Fifteen

The teenager didn’t rise as the sheriff’s department vehicle approached, but the horse sidestepped nervously. Estelle stopped twenty yards from the tank and palmed the mike.

“PCS, three ten.”

“Three ten, go ahead.”

“Three ten will be ten-six at Lewis Wells.”

Dispatcher Ernie Wheeler managed to sound completely disinterested. “Ten four, three ten.”

Estelle shut off the engine. Casey might have been watching her, but the wide-brimmed straw hat shaded her face. The horse shifted again, uttering one of those heavy, deep-in-the-throat
huh, huh, huh
mutters that said she was thinking hard but hadn’t reached any decisions.

As the undersheriff swung out of the SUV, Casey pushed herself upright. With her lithe figure in boots, blue jeans, and a flowery blouse and her strawberry blonde hair braided into a long pony-tail flowing from under her white straw hat, the teenager looked ready for an appearance as a rodeo queen. But her face belied any festive mood. Her flawless complexion was puffy from crying, her green eyes bloodshot, her nose reddened.

“Hi.” She let it go at that. Almost absent-mindedly, she reached out and stroked the mare’s broad, flat forehead.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Estelle said quietly.

“That’s okay. Am I in trouble?” A logical question, Estelle thought. Cops didn’t drive out across miles of prairie simply to offer condolences.

“Hardly. Your mom said you might be out this way.” The girl nodded but said nothing. “Casey, I am so sorry about all of this. I wish there was something I could say that would make it easier for you.” The girl shrugged helplessly and turned toward the horse, butting her head gently against the horse’s neck in agonized frustration. “Will you try and answer some questions for me?” Casey managed a small nod. “Did Freddy tell you what he was looking for out in the canyon?”

Casey turned away from the mare and slumped against the tank, her elbow resting on the rim. The horse’s ears twitched at the sudden motion. She thought about the question for a long time before answering. “He wanted to find the rest of the skeleton. The jaguar skeleton.” Her voice was small and distant.

“In the canyon?” Estelle asked.

Casey nodded.

“He told Mr. Underwood that he found the skull above Borracho Springs,” the undersheriff added. “Up on the mountain. That’s what the newspaper article quoted him as saying. That’s not what happened?”

Casey brought both hands up and squeezed her cheeks, digging the tips of her fingers into her eyelids. “He didn’t want them to know,” she said. “He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Know what?” Estelle asked gently.

“He said that there was more stuff in the cave. But he needed…he needed to move a couple of rocks. It was going to take a little time.” The girl took a deep breath. “I
told
him that he shouldn’t. Like, for one thing, it isn’t on
his
property. But Freddy didn’t really understand the concept of trespass.” She ground a palm into her right eye.

“You two were out there on Sunday?”

Casey dug out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. “Yes.” The tears wouldn’t stop, and she gave up trying. “Yes. I wouldn’t go in the cave with him.” She managed a ghost of a smile. “Caves are gross.”

“But
Freddy
had no problems with the spelunking?” Estelle asked. That news about her neighbor didn’t surprise Estelle.

“Oh, no, he sure didn’t. Once he found the cat’s skull…or maybe there’s more skeleton there too…he was so excited. He thought it had to be a mountain lion, and then Mr. Underwood said for sure it was a jaguar. That’s really something, I guess. Everyone got even
more
excited.”

“And Freddy wanted to go back.”

“I’m sure he
did
go back, Sheriff.”

“Did anyone see you two out there on Sunday?”

Casey nodded. “Herb came by. Mr. Torrance? Freddy was up in the rocks on the mesa, and I was waiting for him down by the four-wheeler. Mr. Torrance has a little herd out that way, and he said he’d just dropped off a couple nutrient blocks.”

“That’s all he said?”

“That I should be careful of snakes. Like, I needed to hear
that
. But Freddy wasn’t the least bit afraid.”

“Did he know that Freddy was with you? Did he see him?”

Casey hesitated. “Well, no…I guess not. I mean,
I
couldn’t see him from where I was standing by the four-wheeler, so Mr. T couldn’t either, I guess.”

“Did you mention to him that Freddy was up in the rocks? That you’d found a cave?”

Casey shook her head. “He probably knows about it, though.”

“Maybe he does. Herb didn’t see the skull?”

“No. He was kinda in a hurry. He had some problem with a calf and he was going out to get some medication. He asked how my mom and dad were doing, and then he left.” Tears seeped from her eyes again, and she turned to the mare, wrapping an arm over the animal’s neck and burying her face in the brown pillow.

Had the horse not been there, Estelle would have enveloped the girl in a long hug, but the mare served the purpose. “Did Freddy show you anything else that he found in the cave?”

“No. I don’t know what else he found, if anything. Or what else he
thought
was there. He didn’t tell me. Maybe it was nothing. But he was excited about the skull. He wanted to make sure that he carried it back without breaking it up any more than it already was.”

“Did he actually say that he wanted to return to the site?”

“No. He didn’t say. But I figured out that he would. I mean, why else would he make up that story about Borracho Springs? That’s what I decided. There was something there, and he didn’t want anyone else knowing.”

“Not even you.”

That brought a grimace and more tears, and Casey Prescott shrugged helplessly.

“Would you have gone back out there with him?”

Casey shook her head. She patted the mare’s neck. “He skips school. I won’t. And I didn’t want to ride on the four-wheeler any more. Not double, anyway. And that’s what Freddy was always pestering me to do.” The tears flooded out despite her best efforts. “I mean, I drive one all the time around here when we’re working, but I don’t like ’em much. And riding double is
really
uncomfortable. Freddy, I mean…he won’t…” Her face crumpled up again, and she fought for composure. “Always so fast. I mean, that’s fun sometimes, but not hanging on to the back.” She looked at Estelle. “I wanted Freddy to ride horseback with me, but he’s afraid of horses…can you believe that?”

“Hard to imagine.”

“Well, it’s true. Go figure.” Casey blew her nose on a bright blue handkerchief.

“Freddy liked horsepower, but more than one, maybe,” Estelle said. “My two little boys worshiped him. There were plenty of opportunities for Carlos or Francisco to ride double with him or his little brother on all manner of crazy machines, but their mean old mom wouldn’t let them.”

Casey bit her lip and wadded her handkerchief against her eyes. “Will Butch be all right?” Her lips quivered. “Mr. Romero said Butch was in a bad way, but he couldn’t talk about it on the phone.”

“It is bad. He’ll lose the eye, maybe with other complications. It’s a bad time for them.”

“I like Tata.”

“She’s a good person.”

“She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“We don’t always get what we deserve.” She reached out and stroked the mare’s velvety nose. “Will you show me the cave, Casey?”

“If I have to.”

“I’m not asking you to go
into
it,” Estelle said. “Just where it is.” She glanced at her watch. “Would you take me there now?”

“We won’t see where Freddy… ”

“No. We won’t go that way.”

“Did Freddy do something wrong? I mean when he took the skull?”

“It just doesn’t matter, Casey. Technically, it’s like taking an eagle carcass that you might find, maybe so you could use the feathers. Or even picking up an elk skull with rack. But his retrieving the skull is not the issue.”

With the handkerchief crumpled into a ball and held over her nose, Casey regarded the undersheriff. “What
is
the issue? Did Freddy do something else?”

“Whenever there’s an accident, we try to find out all the answers,” Estelle said, and she could see that Casey caught the evasion. “Can I meet you back at the house, then?”

Casey nodded. “Flory doesn’t want to go up into all those rocks, do you, lady.” The horse muttered another
huh, huh, huh
. “She was bitten by a snake last year right here on her pastern.” She bent and stroked a hand down the mare’s left leg, stopping near a bald spot on the hide above the hoof. “She gets skittish sometimes.”

Estelle stepped back as the girl swung effortlessly into the saddle. “I take short cuts.” Casey managed a full smile. “I’ll let mom know.” With no apparent movement of the reins, the horse wheeled and charged off past the Expedition, following the two-track for only fifty yards or so before veering off through the scrub.

Back at the truck, Estelle thumbed the cell phone, and it rang half a dozen times before Sheriff Robert Torrez picked up.

“Bobby, I’m out here with Casey Prescott. It looks as if Freddy Romero made up the story about the cat’s skull. He didn’t find it above Borracho Springs at all.”

“Imagine that,” Torrez muttered. “I said there weren’t no caves up there.”

“Casey is taking me to the spot, but it’s over near the canyon, not far from where he crashed.”

“Pasquale’s out there now,” the sheriff said. “Does she know why Freddy lied?”

“No, she said she doesn’t, and I believe her. Other than that maybe there’s something more to the cave. That’s the logical assumption. She did say that Freddy was excited about bringing out the entire skeleton. He didn’t want anyone else to find his stash. That would be enough for him to play it clever.”

“You ask her about the gun?”

“No. I wanted to wait a bit on that. Until we found out a little more about what she knows.”

“Just as well. We’re still over at the garage. Got interesting stuff going on. Mears is dead-on sure that we have a bullet fragment.”

“A fragment…”

“In the tire. Left front. And there’s a little scuff on the fender panel. Looks like it lines up.”

“
Ay
, ” Estelle breathed. “The fragment was enough to make the tire go flat right away?”

“No way of tellin’.”

“So it might have been from some other time. Something that didn’t cause a flat, at least not right away. Maybe Freddy got careless with his own rifle.”

“Nope. Twenty-two slugs are lead. This is brass. Mears is goin’ over the tire inch by inch. We’ll see.”

So many possibilities, Estelle thought. A well-placed shot and a suddenly exploded tire, sending the four-wheeler into the rocks. A sudden startle by the rider, maybe when he saw someone or something in the two-track just as he crested the hill, sending the ATV slightly off course to graze the rocks. The way Freddy rode, pell-mell and airborne half the time, any slight distraction could lead to a disaster. And just as easily, the fragment might have been picked up by the tire in normal running—a scrap of something in the roadway, then carried for miles before the tire went flat.

“You be careful out there.” Torrez didn’t need to remind her that some possibilities were uglier than others.