asked.
“Yeah, I’ve thought of it. Air drop by a plane or helicopter. Don’t see any other way.”
“We’re missing something,” Smokey said. He thought again about Jennifer spending those nights up here.
“Nathan.” Smokey stopped, looking at his friend. “We’re still missing a body.” He flipped his cell phone open and dialed. Chief Martin Andrews answered immediately. Smokey stood in the meadow and relayed what they had. A fucking mess is what we have.
“How long do you think the body has been up there?” Andrews asked.
“We figured some of the bones Jennifer found have been here over the winter, under the snow. The one body hasn’t been here more than a couple of days. Hard to say, this is a big, rugged area, nobody comes up here.” And then he had a thought, something that had been nagging at him for awhile. The only people who know just how desolate this is, or who know how to get here, are most likely tribal members. An Indian told the bad guys where to dump bodies.
“You find the person who lost a hand?” Chief Martin asked.
“Uh, no, we haven’t found a woman.”
“We’ll have fingerprint identification sometime today, they tell me. Prints are pretty bad but they should be enough to get a name.”
“We have a name on one of the bodies,” Smokey told him. He gave it to the chief over the phone, name and date of birth.
“We’ll send in a forensic team tomorrow. How long will it take you to hike out to your truck? I want to see both of you tonight.”
Nathan held up his hand. Four fingers.
“Uh, Chief, the old man says we can make it to our truck in four hours. Was that four hours or days, Nathan?” Smokey laughed as Nathan held up one finger.
“See you tonight, Chief.”
It took five hours of a punishing hump, too fast and hard to think. Smokey sweat through his shirt in the first hour, but he wasn’t going to let the old man see how tired he was.
C hapter 20
Cold River Tribal Police Department
2200 hours
Smokey stood in the shower and washed the sweat of the trail off of his skin. He tried to wash away the smell of death, but he knew that he would have to go to the sweat lodge and cleanse himself to get rid of the death he had touched and seen. He would put his BDU’s in a plastic bag and seal it so he could burn them at a later time. Everything that touched death must be burned. He dried his hair and put on a clean uniform. For his meeting with the chief later he wanted to wear a uniform, no matter the time, since he didn’t know what he would be doing after that.
He left the reservation, driving across the new bridge over the Deschutes River, the old one destroyed by a madman determined to protect the reservation and its peoples at all costs.
Madman, hell, he was a courageous savior.
Smokey made the fifteen minute drive into Madras thinking they needed answers, and fast. Who put the bodies there, and why? Bodies new and old - that didn’t make sense. A conspiracy that they didn’t need. People from off the reservation, of that he was sure. He had some thoughts about who might be in league with the killers. There are only a few people who knew their way around the remote areas below the glaciers. Jennifer was caught up in this, and he also had some idea about how the feebs would treat her. They would be sniffing around by tomorrow.
At the hospital, Smokey parked near the emergency room entrance, the only doors open at this time of day. There was a bright halo around the lights of the parking lot, a tired Honda Accord, the single car in the parking spaces making it seem even more deserted. The ER doc’s Mercedes would be around the side, in an alcove, out of sight from mere mortals.
He sat in his car, dialed Chief Andrews on his cell phone and got his voice mail.
“Chief, this is Smokey, I’m at the hospital, will be back to meet you in about thirty minutes. Call me.”
The ER doors slid open, whisper quiet, and he entered the hallway, the
“Yeah, I’ve thought of it. Air drop by a plane or helicopter. Don’t see any other way.”
“We’re missing something,” Smokey said. He thought again about Jennifer spending those nights up here.
“Nathan.” Smokey stopped, looking at his friend. “We’re still missing a body.” He flipped his cell phone open and dialed. Chief Martin Andrews answered immediately. Smokey stood in the meadow and relayed what they had. A fucking mess is what we have.
“How long do you think the body has been up there?” Andrews asked.
“We figured some of the bones Jennifer found have been here over the winter, under the snow. The one body hasn’t been here more than a couple of days. Hard to say, this is a big, rugged area, nobody comes up here.” And then he had a thought, something that had been nagging at him for awhile. The only people who know just how desolate this is, or who know how to get here, are most likely tribal members. An Indian told the bad guys where to dump bodies.
“You find the person who lost a hand?” Chief Martin asked.
“Uh, no, we haven’t found a woman.”
“We’ll have fingerprint identification sometime today, they tell me. Prints are pretty bad but they should be enough to get a name.”
“We have a name on one of the bodies,” Smokey told him. He gave it to the chief over the phone, name and date of birth.
“We’ll send in a forensic team tomorrow. How long will it take you to hike out to your truck? I want to see both of you tonight.”
Nathan held up his hand. Four fingers.
“Uh, Chief, the old man says we can make it to our truck in four hours. Was that four hours or days, Nathan?” Smokey laughed as Nathan held up one finger.
“See you tonight, Chief.”
It took five hours of a punishing hump, too fast and hard to think. Smokey sweat through his shirt in the first hour, but he wasn’t going to let the old man see how tired he was.
C hapter 20
Cold River Tribal Police Department
2200 hours
Smokey stood in the shower and washed the sweat of the trail off of his skin. He tried to wash away the smell of death, but he knew that he would have to go to the sweat lodge and cleanse himself to get rid of the death he had touched and seen. He would put his BDU’s in a plastic bag and seal it so he could burn them at a later time. Everything that touched death must be burned. He dried his hair and put on a clean uniform. For his meeting with the chief later he wanted to wear a uniform, no matter the time, since he didn’t know what he would be doing after that.
He left the reservation, driving across the new bridge over the Deschutes River, the old one destroyed by a madman determined to protect the reservation and its peoples at all costs.
Madman, hell, he was a courageous savior.
Smokey made the fifteen minute drive into Madras thinking they needed answers, and fast. Who put the bodies there, and why? Bodies new and old - that didn’t make sense. A conspiracy that they didn’t need. People from off the reservation, of that he was sure. He had some thoughts about who might be in league with the killers. There are only a few people who knew their way around the remote areas below the glaciers. Jennifer was caught up in this, and he also had some idea about how the feebs would treat her. They would be sniffing around by tomorrow.
At the hospital, Smokey parked near the emergency room entrance, the only doors open at this time of day. There was a bright halo around the lights of the parking lot, a tired Honda Accord, the single car in the parking spaces making it seem even more deserted. The ER doc’s Mercedes would be around the side, in an alcove, out of sight from mere mortals.
He sat in his car, dialed Chief Andrews on his cell phone and got his voice mail.
“Chief, this is Smokey, I’m at the hospital, will be back to meet you in about thirty minutes. Call me.”
The ER doors slid open, whisper quiet, and he entered the hallway, the
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