Michael McGarrity - Hermit_s Peak

It took half an hour by horseback to reach the grove where Kerney had found the bones. He slowed Soldier to a stop and watched. Gonzales and Thorpe were doing a field search around the perimeter of the trees, while two crime scene techs worked in the shadows under low branches.

Dale sidled up to Kerney.

"Aren't you going to see if they found anything else?"

Kerney didn't want to interrupt the search.

"We'll wait and watch for a few minutes."

Finally, a figure emerged from the grove and Kerney recognized Melody Jordan, a senior crime scene technician who specialized in forensic pathology. Jordan did all the preliminary assessments of human remains for the department.

Aside from being highly competent. Melody was an attractive woman. No more than thirty, she had lively brown eyes, a mouth with a sexy little pout, and wheat blond hair. Born and raised on a ranch in the Hondo Valley, she had a frank and casual style that Kerney found charming.

Melody walked in his direction, pausing briefly to brush some pine needles out of her hair. When she got close, he introduced her to Dale. She shook Dale's hand, stroked Pancho's neck, and looked Soldier over before turning her attention to Kerney.

"You made quite a find here, Chief," Melody said.

"How so?"

"We've recovered a pelvis and some bones from the lower extremities.

Femurs, fibulas, and feet. The pelvis strongly suggests it was a female. I'd guess she's been dead about a year. Maybe less."

"The skeleton is incomplete?"

"So far. There are some tool marks on the bones.

Prom the looks of it. I'd say the body was sawed or cut up."

"Was she lolled here?"

"That's hard to say. Maybe not."

"Was she dismembered here?"

"I don't know. We're looking for trace evidence now.

If we find fibers, hair, or bloodstains, we'll have a dearer picture.

But don't count on anything: weather probably washed it all away. I'll take the usual soil samples for analysis. Maybe we'll get lucky and some foreign matter will turn up."

"Did you find the scrap of fabric and the comb?"

"We did indeed. It's bagged and tagged."

"Do you have anything that points to the cause of death?"

Melody laughed.

"Dream on. Chief. I've got bones here, not a body. Some have been chewed on. But I can't wait to take a closer look at them under a microscope. I think the killer knew how to butcher a carcass."

"Any ranch hand worth his salt knows how to butcher," Kerney said.

"Don't I know it," Melody said.

"You've found no garments or personal items?"

"Nothing other than what you discovered. I'd say whoever did this didn't want the victim to be identified."

"Find the rest of the skeleton," Kerney said.

Melody looked out over the mesa.

"It could be scattered anywhere. There's a lot of ground to cover here, Chief."

"I know it. Bring in additional help. I want a full sweep of the mesa."

Melody smiled.

"Sergeant Gonzales said this is your land."

"It is," Kerney replied as he remounted.

"Welcome to the neighborhood."

Melody smiled.

"It's beautiful. I can think of better ways to spend a weekend in this country than scraping up soil samples."

"Me, too, and that's exactly what I intend to do."

Melody waved and watched the two men ride away, thinking Kerney looked very hunky on horseback.

"That's a nice-looking woman," Dale said, when they were out of earshot.

"Yes, she is," Kerney said, pointing Soldier toward the windmill.

"She sure seems to like her job. I never heard anybody sound so damn cheery about a butchered murder victim."

Kerney laughed.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing."

Dale trotted Pancho until he was even with Soldier.

"What?"

"If I remember correctly, you don't like puzzles."

"Never did," Dale said.

"When we were kids, you always figured the damn things out before I could."

"Melody likes puzzles."

"That's not all she likes," Dale said.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you."

"Get serious."

"That was a thousand-watt smile she gave you when we showed up. Did you know that a lot of relationships nowadays start in the workplace?"

"Is that a fact?" Kerney said.

"That's a fact. You should take advantage of those opportunities when they come along."

"Since when have you become an expert on relationships?"

"I read about it somewhere."

Kerney laughed again.

"I thought so."

"But I've been living with women for over twenty years. A wife and two daughters can teach a man a lot about how women operate, how their minds work."

"I defer to your experience."

"That'll be the day. Think you have a chance of finding the killer?"

"There's always a chance."

They passed the stock tank and rode south through a thicket of big sagebrush that spread across the grassland.

They found the second windmill and tank, both in good working order, with no recent sign of cat de milling at the water source. Unless forced to move, cows stayed near water, trampling the ground bare and sterile.

The mesa rose gradually and seemed to run hard up against the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. They crossed a brake of cholla cactus, moving carefully around the long, spindly branches that could dig dusters of thorns into a horse and rider, and entered another large sweep of open country.

All Kerney saw told him the range had been well rested. New grass was greening up nicely among the un foraged knee-high blue grama. His mind started racing with all that needed doing to put the land into production.

Maybe the cabin-the only structure on the ranch-could be shored up to serve as temporary quarters.

He would need to get inside and inspect it. But a place to stay wasn't the half of it: a barn, stables, corral, shipping pen, a loading chute, and new fences to segregate pastures were essential to put the land to use. Then he had to buy livestock.

Reality hit: starting up a ranch wasn't going to be cheap. It would take a big mortgage to get things underway, and Kerney had no idea if he could swing a large bank loan. The thought that he might not be able to pull it off put a knot in his stomach.

"Deep thoughts?" Dale asked, as he rode alongside.

"You could say that," Kerney answered, nodding at the stand of ponderosas that denned the far edge of the mesa. He didn't want to talk about his newfound worries.

"Let's see what's on the other side of those trees."

They followed a game trail into the woods, tall pines cutting the afternoon sun to half-light, and reached a treeless, rocky shoulder that jutted out over the backside of the mesa. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains, austere and vast against the skyline, stood a close two ridgelines away.

Below, in a small defile at the edge of a narrow valley, a forty-acre swath of trees had been dear-cut. Only stumps, dead branches, and slash remained. An alluvial fan of gravel and sand spread out from a small occasional stream that ran through the defile. Erosion had begun in the sandy soil; water-filled down-cut troughs twisted around tree stumps at the edge of the stream.

"Jesus," Dale said, "who would do something like that?"

"Good question," Kerney said, trying to contain his anger. He nudged Soldier ahead and the horse picked his way carefully down the slope.

In the defile they scoured the area and found tire tracks that petered out on a rocky Jeep trail that climbed up the adjoining mesa. A hundred feet in, they discovered a cut barbed-wire fence and a discarded motor oil container.

Kerney had started the weekend with no intention of doing any police work. He was totally unprepared to collect or document evidence. He left the container where it was, staked it with a tree branch, and noted its location. Back in the defile, they inspected the tree stumps. The absence of weathering pointed to recent harvesting.