AFTER NORA LEFT, Corrie took a moment to jot some questions in her notebook and check the recording she’d just made while waiting for Dr. Benton to arrive. The tent was pleasantly warm, the air fresh. It was nice being in the mountains, even if this was her first real job in the field and she felt stressed out as a result. She took another deep breath and tried to tamp down her nervousness. The practice interrogation sessions at the Academy had been straightforward, leaving her ill-prepared for the sort of investigation she was engaged in now—in which she could see no motive, develop no hypothesis of a crime. All she had were a lot of disconnected facts and coincidences, along with a gut feeling.
One of the things she’d been taught at the Academy was to clarify the facts, work chronologically, and—especially—resist forming ideas. But as Clive Benton entered the tent, Corrie realized she had already formed an idea about him, and it wasn’t good. The man was not a slope-shouldered, meek, bespectacled historian; he was tall and fit, not rugged exactly, but with a good-looking, weather-beaten face from which two baby-blue eyes looked out at her own. Maybe it was the good looks that put her off, but more likely it was the fact that he, and no one else, had set in motion the events that led to the discovery of Albert Parkin’s skull—now, unfortunately, missing.
“Please have a seat,” she said.
He pulled up the folding chair and sat down. His attractive face was marred by a scowl he made no effort to hide.
Corrie turned on the recorder again and went through the preliminaries.
“Dr. Benton,” she said, “I’d like to know the source of your interest in the Donner Party history.”
He gave a sigh of impatience. “I’m a collateral descendant of the Breen family. They were one of the families that formed the Donner Party. I’ve been fascinated with the subject from childhood. I majored in history in college and got a PhD from Stanford. My dissertation was on the Donner Party. You know most of this already.”
“I know we’ve discussed some of this before, but I’m going over these points for the record, if you don’t mind. How did you get from that interest to this specific excavation?”
He gave a distinct sigh of annoyance. “Historians had known that Tamzene Donner, George Donner’s wife, kept a journal. It had never been found. I managed to track it down.”
“How?”
“I found it in a deserted house that once belonged to the daughter of Jacob Donner.”
“How did you know to look there?”
“An educated guess.”
“That’s rather vague. You didn’t have more specific information?”
“I was pretty sure the daughter had it, and I figured it must still be somewhere among her stuff, given that no one else ever saw it or remarked on it.”
“You found it and…what? Bought it from the family?”
A hesitation. “Well, no. The house had been vacant for many years.” He sat back rather defiantly. “I entered the house to save it from imminent destruction.”
“Let me just clarify this point,” Corrie said. “You trespassed and took the journal, even though you had no legal right to it. In other words, you stole it.”
The defiant look grew more pronounced. “It was a priceless historical document. It would have been lost forever. The bulldozers were about to tear the place down. So yes, I broke the law. Go ahead and arrest me.” He held out his hands in dramatic fashion, as if for handcuffs.
“Dr. Benton, you can put your hands away.” For now, she almost said.
He withdrew his hands.
“That explains the first step. So how did you go from the journal to this project?”
“When I read the journal, I realized it contained vital information regarding the location of the Lost Camp. Since I’m not an archaeologist, I brought the idea to Nora and the Institute. I suggested they finance it with the gold presumed to be hidden in the area.” He spread his hands. “End of story.”
Interesting that, unlike Nora Kelly, Benton had not hesitated to bring up the gold. “And you’re the one who figured out there was gold hidden up here?”
“Historians have known forever that one of the pioneers, Wolfinger, was carrying gold, but I was the first to determine the amount.”
“How?”
“Old bank records.”
“I see. And where do you think this gold might be hidden?”
“Somewhere in those cliffs that surround the dig site.” He leaned forward. “I might note that, having realized almost a year ago the gold was up here, I could have come up on my own, found it, and bugged out with no one the wiser. But I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
He laughed. “You certainly are direct. I didn’t because I’m an honest man. I care more about history than money. It was important for the gold to be recovered in the right way, through a legitimate dig. Even though it meant I wouldn’t get a penny of it.”
These points were all hard to refute, Corrie thought as she made notes. She moved on to the next set of questions in her notebook. “Where were you on May second?”
“What happened then?”
“That’s the day Rosalie Parkin disappeared. The floor of her bedroom was covered with so much of her blood, it’s being treated as a likely homicide.”
“And I take it you’re looking for an alibi?” He laughed again. “I don’t even need to check my calendar. I was driving up here from Santa Fe, along with all of the scientists now here on the dig.”
“And on April twenty-second?”
“April twenty-second.” He pulled out his phone and did examine his calendar. “I temporarily put aside preparations for this expedition and took a flight from Santa Fe to attend a western history conference. At the University of Oklahoma in Norman, with hundreds of witnesses. Did something sinister happen on that date, as well?”
“That’s the night a Parkin corpse was exhumed from the cemetery in Glorieta Pass. And a body was shot and left on top of the coffin.”
“Looks like I’m off the hook, then,” he said, wiping his brow in mock relief.
“These are routine questions, Dr. Benton.”
“Routine?” He rose and placed his hands on the table, leaning toward her. “Let me just tell you to your face: this whole idea is ridiculous.”
Corrie was about to respond, but she remembered what an instructor at the Academy had said: when they’re angry, shut up and let them keep talking.
“From what you’ve told us,” he went on, “it seems these Parkin disappearances have been going on for less than a year. My research into the Donner Party and the Lost Camp has been a twenty-year project. Not to brag, but my scholarly credentials are impeccable. I’ve already demonstrated my honesty by not scooping up the gold. You are absolutely barking up the wrong tree, and I doubt if you’re doing your career any good in the process.”
Corrie waited. He seemed finished.
“Any more questions?” he asked.
“Not for now. I may have more after I interview the others.”
“I’ll bet they’re just lining up.” He turned to leave.
Corrie said evenly, “Could you please send in Jason Salazar?”
“Sure, why not?” He exited the tent, shaking his head, and called for Salazar.