Mac and Dana secured an evidence tag over the zipper of the body bag after Sara’s body was loaded in the back of the medical examiner’s truck.
“Looks like the investigation is yours now, Detectives.” Agent Lauden rubbed his forehead. “I hate to see a case end like this.”
Dana nodded, offering empathy. “We were all hoping for a better outcome.”
“She was probably killed within a few hours after the abduction.” Miller pursed his lips. “We’ll meet up with you guys Monday morning to brief you and turn over our files.”
“Thanks,” Mac said. “Appreciate the offer.”
“I’m taking the remains into Portland,” the M.E. told them. “We won’t be able to get to the autopsy until late morning.”
They would need the official report from the medical examiner’s office, of course, but it looked as though all the rumors and speculation of Sara’s whereabouts had come to an end with a dog’s find in a shallow grave. Mac watched the M.E.’s taillights move into the darkness outside of the bright halogen lights. Tires crunched on rocks and pavement as Steve pulled out of the campground, en route to the state medical examiner’s office.
He looked up at the red sky, the peaceful glow of the sunset long since replaced by the forest fire’s ominous presence. Ash fell like snow over the White River and the empty campground behind him. Why, God? Sara’s sweet little girl would grow up without a mother.
“The fire’s getting close.” The voice startled him. He turned to see Nate standing beside him.
“Sure looks that way. I hope our scene is still intact later. I’d like to see it in the daylight. Any reports from the fire line?”
“Burning hot, still heading north, northeast.”Nate pulled off his green ball cap and wiped his brow with a once-white handkerchief.
“My wife and kids are going to Madras to stay with her sister, just to be on the safe side.”
“Do you live on the . . .” Mac stopped midsentence, not knowing the acceptable term for the Indian reservation. Although listed on the map as a reservation, the word sounded a little harsh to Mac, and he didn’t want to offend Nate.
“On the rez?” Nate smiled. “Yeah, I have a house on Warm Springs tribal land and have some pasture land in Jefferson County.”
Mac nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t know the proper name.”
“No worries. The reservation or rez is fine. I’m proud of my heritage and my home. I left Warm Springs for a few years, but my heart and my spirit longed to come back.”
“You moved away for work?” Mac asked.
“Actually, I moved away for eight years after high school—four years in the army and four years at Oregon State University. My wife and I moved back to the reservation after college to farm, raise horses, and have a family. Things were a little tight a couple of years back, so I took a job as a police reserve at the sheriff ’s office. One thing led to another, and I ended up taking a full-time officer assignment at Warm Springs. I like this line of work more than I thought I would. The Spirit led me to this profession for a reason— if nothing else, to give back to my people. Many of them are not as fortunate as myself. Alcoholism still runs rampant on the reservation, and many of our people have lost focus.”
“The Spirit?” Mac asked, thinking Nate would spin an interesting yarn of Native American beliefs.
“The Holy Spirit.” Nate turned to look at the red glow of the fire. He slapped the cap back on his head. “Do you believe in God, Mac?”
Nate’s directness startled him. A few years ago, the question might have been met with a sneer and a flippant answer from Mac. Maybe having Kevin as a partner had changed him—made him less cynical and more at ease with the idea of God. He remembered when Kevin had asked the same question of him in the early days of their friendship. His response had been much different then. He’d answered more out of embarrassment than a true reflection of his personal beliefs.
“Yeah, Nate, I do.” Although he didn’t understand many things in today’s world, Mac’s faith had grown over the past year to the point he could answer the question with little hesitation. “Are you interested in working this case with us, Nate?” he asked.
“You mean it?” Nate smiled.
“Of course,” Mac said.
“You bet I am.” Nate couldn’t keep from grinning.
“Not that you’d have much choice.” Dana, who’d been talking to Miller and Lauden, joined them. “Having the body dumped this close to your jurisdiction, I’m sure we’re going to have some follow-up that would require your expertise.”
“Ever been to an autopsy?” Mac asked.
“A couple of times, both on natural deaths.”
“Why don’t you plan on coming to the post with us?” Mac offered. “That is, if you can get away.”
“I’ll try. Since there may be some tribal ties to the case, I doubt the police chief will have a problem with my attending. I’ll tell him I’m in for the experience. He’s pretty progressive with our training. Where should we meet?”
“How about our OSP office in southeast Portland at around ten? We’ll shoot for a post time of eleven or so. Is that too early for you with the drive time built in?”
“Let’s see. My workday starts around three a.m. to take care of the farm and horses before I go to work. I may be able to drag myself out of bed on a Saturday by seven o’clock to make your schedule.”
Nate grinned and slapped Mac on the shoulder.
“I’m not getting up any earlier than I have to. I guess I wouldn’t make a very good farmer.” Mac glanced at his watch. Almost one thirty. Even with a late start in the morning, they wouldn’t get much sleep.
“Tell you what, Mac. There’s nothing better than working the earth with your own hands. I’ll make a deal with you. I help you solve this case, keeping in mind I don’t get paid overtime on my days off like you city slickers, and you help me on the farm for a weekend. Deal?”
A broad smile inched across Mac’s face. “Do I get to drive a tractor?”
“Sure.”
“Then it’s a deal.” Mac offered his hand.
Nate looked over Mac’s proffered hand before shaking it. “Looks to me like you could use some work that puts a few calluses on those hands, though.”
“If you two are done bonding, would you mind if we wrap this up?” Dana yawned.
“I’m ready,” Mac answered. “Let’s get those bags of soil loaded up, and we’re out of here.” Looking over at Nate, he said, “Why don’t you go on home? I’m sure you have things to do—like making sure that fire isn’t encroaching on your property.”
“You’re right, thanks. I’m pretty sure my place is going to be fine, but I would like to get home and check my livestock. It’s the smoke I’m worried about now. You better take all you need from here tonight. With this southern wind blowing fuel into the fire, this place will be history.”
“Hopefully, we have all we’ll need. I went down over a foot under the body in soil collection, and I have plenty of photographs of the scene to look over if need be. It’s not ideal, but we’ll make do if we have to.”
“You calling it a night after you leave here?” Nate helped them load the bags into Mac’s trunk.
“Unfortunately not.” Dana sighed. “We have to log all this evidence into the Portland office before we can even think about going home. We both live across the river in Washington, so we are a good three hours from hitting the pillow.”
“Oh, are you two . . .?” Nate pointed a finger at both of them, asking if they were a couple.
“Oh, no, no.” Dana was quick to respond. “We just live in the same town. Not the same house.”
“You don’t have to make it sound like the idea is totally repulsive, partner.” Mac tried to look insulted. “I feel you owe me an apology.”
“Oh, please.” Dana slapped her hands together to brush off the ash and dust. “I’ll see you later, Nathan.”
“See you, pal.” Mac scanned the parking lot, the gravity of his mission returning to him. He took one last look at the body dump and the glowing red sky before loading the remainder of the soil sacks into the back seat. Dana had placed a yellow plastic emergency blanket out across the back seat to afford the seats some protection from the dusty plastic sacks.
She secured the beaded leather piece she’d gotten from Nate inside a second evidence bag before writing a case number and date on the outer bag. Then she placed it in her briefcase.
With their work complete, the detectives started westward. The initial excitement of the call had long since worn off and turned to exhaustion.
“You think we ought to contact Scott Watson right away, let him know we think we found his wife?” Dana asked.
“Let’s hold off until we can confirm the identity at the post tomorrow. We can at least give him one more night of rest before we make the call.”
“I don’t think I’d be resting much if my spouse was missing. I think I’d like to know,” Dana countered.
“I agree, but I think the best call is to confirm her identity though the M.E. and meet with the hubby tomorrow. If it turns out to be Sara, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure it is, then we’re going to have to be prepared for a comprehensive interview with her husband after making the notification. Who knows? This guy could be dirty.”
“Your call, Mac. Don’t know if I agree with you, though. I just think the decent thing to do is let the guy know, that’s all.”
The decent thing wouldn’t be to dump your wife in a shallow grave. Mac kept the thought to himself. More often than not, murder victims were killed by someone they knew, and female victims were most often preyed upon by a male counterpart. Dana knew that, so what was her problem?
“I’d rather do it by the book, Dana. I’m sure that’s what Sarge would want us to do. Another half day won’t matter.”
“Like I said, Mac, it’s your call.” Dana crossed her arms and stared out the window.
Mac shook his head and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He knew better than to argue with Dana when she was tired.
Besides, if she was upset with him, it might be something he did hours or days ago that came to a head over a discussion on the death notification. Or she could simply be a little tired and grumpy, a danger for everyone in their line of work from time to time.
He would cut her some slack and give her some space. Mac was a quick study if nothing else.