READY FOR HER TRIP to Lea County, Ashley Kohen stood in the underground garage of the field office. The motor pool manager handed her the keys to a white unmarked Chevy Suburban parked at the exit gate. "When did you last service it?" She asked.
With an ugly twist of his mouth, the manager spoke slowly to emphasize each word. “Yesterday. I topped everything off, too. By that I mean the gas tank is full and I checked all fluids."
Ashley kept a blank expression. "Four-wheel drive?"
"All our vans and SUV’s are four-wheel drive.” He rolled his eyes upward. “And it’s equipped with emergency flashers, radio communication units and GPS. That stands for Global Positioning System”
Ashley gave him a hard smile. “How informative. You’re missing one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s listed on my order request.” She pointed to the paper he held in his hand. “I’ll need two five-gallon reserved tanks mounted in the rear. One with gas and the other with water–if it’s not too much trouble.”
The manager dipped his head. “My crew must have missed that. I’ll tend to it right away. Do you need a hand with your stuff?"
"No, thanks, I'll manage." Her stuff consisted of the black bag from the Supply Depot, a Crime Scene Examiners Field Kit, granola bars bought in the cafeteria, and half a dozen bottles of water. On her way to the motor pool, Ashley had stopped in the rest room, changed her clothes, and clipped her badge on her belt.
With reserve tanks locked into place and everything tossed into the suburban, she punched Roswell into the onboard GPS. Then she buckled up, started the engine, adjusted the rearview mirror, and flipped on the flashing emergency red and blue lights. The tires squealed as she climbed the underground ramp and entered the public street.
To preserve evidence, she wanted to get to the body in the desert as fast as possible. Two hundred miles of four lane highway lay ahead. A four-hour trip she intended to make in fewer than three.
The busy forty-five mile stretch of I-40 leading to the junction with Highway 285 at Clines Corner's needed her full attention. The Suburban hurtled down the pavement as if it were an NASCAR entrant on steroids.
Finally, the road signs announced Clines Corner's on the horizon and Ashley eased up on the gas as she exited the Interstate south. The traffic volume on 285 was nonexistent. This gave her a chance to make some necessary calls. First she called Sergeant Gallaher in Lea County and learned he had been delayed by helicopter problems but was now on his way to the crime scene. Next she called the BLM District Manager Tim McKruger, who promised to meet her in Roswell at the north side Wal-Mart parking lot. He would escort her to Joe Halverson's location east of town.
At 3:15 p. m. Ashley turned off the flashing lights and pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot with McKruger on her phone explaining his exact location. She spotted him standing beside a BLM truck. She ran the passenger side window down and lurched to a stop a few feet away.
"Good afternoon Mr. McKruger. Hop in." She noted surprise on his face. "I know, you planned to lead me to the burial site, but if you come with me, we'll get there faster. The body is slowly cooking vital evidence under the hot sun. Time is important." Ashley gave him one of her "pretty" smiles, and he went for the bait.
"Straight south on Main Street?" she asked as McKruger buckled-up. "Yes, make a left when I tell you. It's about thirty miles east."
Main Street was like most main streets in rural America. Everyone used it–frequent stoplights and slow moving traffic. The left turn she made onto Highway 380 downtown, gave her hope of an open road.
"Straight ahead," said McKruger. "My field crew is waiting. There are no roads to the site. Four-wheel drive?" Ashley gave him a thumbs-up sign. At the edge of town, she switched on the flashers and concentrated on the two lane road.
Twenty minutes later, McKruger pointed. "There, on the side of the road." Ashley slowed and pulled alongside the BLM white van. All the doors were open and five sweaty faces confronted her. A man slipped out of the driver’s seat. "That's Joe Halverson." McKruger and Ashley jumped out of the suburban. Before the two men exchanged greetings, Ashley asked, "Has Sergeant Gallaher arrived yet?"
"Uh, yes." he stammered, "about an hour ago. Two of them, a pilot and the deputy."
Ashley noted the crew was ready to pack it in and go home. Not the best way to spend an afternoon. “Who found the body?"
Halverson pointed over at the van. Kabunsky nodded her head and raised her hand. "That's Alice, she's our archaeologist. She found it.”
Ashley stepped over to the van. "Alice, I'm sorry, but you need to come back to the site with me."
Alice shook her head. "I don't want to go back there."
Ashley paused a moment. "Alice, this is a police investigation. You must cooperate. It won't take long. I need to document your discovery."
McKruger agreed. "You have to do this, Alice. Sorry." He placed a hand on her shoulder.
Ashley continued, "I have an air-conditioned Suburban, with water and snacks.”
Alice perked up. "Air-conditioned?"
Joe, and Alice prepared to go with Ashley to the site. McKruger and the others would take the van back to the District office. Ashley heard McKruger tell the others, "Okay guys, you're done for the day. Police work is not in your job descriptions."
He glanced at Ashley. "Take care of Alice." A long pause. "You must be dedicated to do this kind of work."
Ashley knitted her brow. "If you only knew."