by Susan Slater
“Who’s there?” She called out, and listened. Nothing. It must be the wind playing tricks. She tried to relax. Would she feel better if she were armed? She slipped her backpack off and knelt on the ground to fish the hunting knife out of a side pocket. There. That was better. The honed steel with bone handle felt good in her hand. But wouldn’t she look a little ridiculous if her mystery man suddenly popped out of one of the caves? She’d have some explaining to do.
But then, so would he. She couldn’t lose track of that. He’d trespassed. She was sure of it. The wad of cellophane wrappers weighted down by a nearby rock looked strangely familiar—especially the large empty bag of corn chips still in the bottom of her tote. She pulled it out from under the rock and clutched it to her. He’d been here. She didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic that she’d tracked him, second-guessed him and found his hideout or bitterly disappointed that he wasn’t what he seemed to be.
She moved toward the back. How long had he been up here? There was a hollowed-out, shallow pit close to the front of the cave. Had he or they risked a cook fire? She leaned over to scoop up a handful of ashes and feel the rocks piled around the sides. Cold. If he’d built a fire, it hadn’t been recent.
And now he was gone. Edwina felt emptiness and acute disappointment like a scab of pain. She’d probably never see him again. Wasn’t that the story of her life? Another opportunity evaporated before she had a chance to make something of it. She sat down on a rock beside the fire pit. She’d have to check the caves in back but there was no indication of wrongdoing, no telltale trails of dirt or freshly chipped rock that might indicate someone had been excavating. He was apparently just a camper who, with friends, thought it would be more interesting to spend a few nights with the memory of the Ancients. She couldn’t really fault that. It wasn’t like he’d committed a serious crime.
At first the sound registered on her brain as the growl of a bear. Edwina leaped to her feet, straightened and frantically peered into the near darkness of the cave. A wild animal. But how could that be up here? Predators at this height either flew in or crawled up the vertically straight cliff sides—lizards and such. She shifted the knife back to her right hand and gripped the handle. Her breathing was ragged, and she shivered as a breeze dried the sweat on her arms.
Then she saw it emerge from the shadows, lumbering toward her upright, arms outstretched, staggering under the weight of its bulbous head. Rooted to the spot, she opened her mouth to scream. Then it lunged, hands raking the front of her blouse, tearing the silk, popping buttons. She dodged, then scrambled backwards on all fours forgetful of the cliff’s edge, aware only that she’d dropped the knife. Then she was slipping, grasping the rim, waving her legs to find the ladder. Digging with her nails into the shifting sandy edge, realizing she was going to fall unless she had help. Looking up she found her voice, but her screams bounced from boulder to boulder as a foot came down hard, breaking every finger in her right hand, killing the screams as she was tossed outward and down to crash against the rocks below.
CHAPTER TEN
“There is no such thing as a universal symbol for aliens.” Ben didn’t try to hide his frustration.
“Then what do you call it? What is this a picture of—this something that was so important so terrifying that a dying woman drew it using her own blood? You can’t tell me she just slipped off the edge, a Park Ranger with years of exposure? She’d been here before; she knew the dangers.” Tommy was squatting beside a rock staring at the lopsided circle, short neck and slanted eyes that Edwina Rosenberg had sketched before dying.
Ben shook his head. He didn’t have any answers. A Park Ranger found Edwina’s body around five. Ben was at the hospital when the call came in for an ambulance. A routine call, a tragedy but nothing out of the ordinary—a ranger fell from some cliff dwellings and was killed in the line of duty. He volunteered to help them bring the body down. He’d met Tommy at the site.
“What do you think she was trying to communicate, if not give us some clue about what happened?”
Ben didn’t have an answer. She’d struck her head on a rock. How could anyone assume she was lucid after that? That the sketch even had to mean something? Couldn’t it just be the aberration of a confused mind suffering from a tremendous concussion?
“How did she fall?”
Tommy had turned to question the young tribal policeman who was taking pictures of the rock with the drawing. Ben had helped two rangers and an ambulance attendant carry the body to the van equipped to save lives and transport the injured back to Crownpoint. Only there had been no question about saving the woman. Estimates put her death at sometime before noon.
“Hard to say. Looks like she just backed up and slipped over the edge, tried to hang on but lost her grip and broke her neck.”
“I saw a ladder. Do you think she fell off?”
“Ummm, not exactly. I’m not an expert but a couple things looked funny.”
“Such as?”
“Judging by the bruising to the right hand—I asked one of the attendants and he agreed with me—the hand had been broken, not just the fingers, the bones of the hand had been smashed.”
“How could that have happened?” Navajos would say she’d pointed at a rainbow, Tommy mused. But he didn’t believe that way.
The cop shrugged. “I guess to my way of thinking, it don’t rule out foul play.”
“Someone crushed her hand? Maybe as she grasped the edge about to go over? Then you’re saying she was murdered?”
“Nothing conclusive. But it’s something we gotta look at.” The young man paused. “There were buttons ripped from the front of her blouse that couldn’t have happened in the fall.”
“So you think she was struggling to get away from someone?”
“Looks like it. Someone surprised her while she was investigating up here and rushed her before she could reach the ladder safely. She had some kind of open-weave sack on her arm, like she was prepared to carry something away. And, we found this.” The man held out a clear plastic bag that contained a hunting knife. “Don’t know who it belongs to but if it’s hers, she was frightened of something enough to want to be armed.”
“What do you make of the drawing?” Ben asked.
The cop seemed hesitant. “Hard to say. I don’t much believe in aliens. Maybe it’s a mudhead.”
“A kachina?” Now Ben’s interest was piqued.
“Yeah. Only mudheads are supposed to bring good luck.” Not this one, Ben thought. A murder. On top of everything else. Cattle mutilations, a downed aircraft, death of a pilot, a disappearance, now a possible sighting and murder … this would play into the hands of those fanatics who had been ranting and raving about a cover-up—the government refusing to acknowledge a visit from cosmic neighbors. So far their rhetoric had garnered the front page of both the Farmington and Crownpoint papers. It was like having the Enquirer delivered to his door on a daily basis.
Tommy was pensive when he joined Ben to take another look at the strange drawing.
“Something terrible happened up here. I can feel it. This is the part of the job I hate.”
Ben knew he didn’t have to comment.
“Are you in any rush to get back?”
Ben shook his head. He had some filing to catch up on but it could wait.
“I want to go up to the cave and look around. Want to come with me?”
They were by themselves; the tribal police had left but the rangers would be back. They would conduct an investigation of their own. The park would be closed until further notice. Someone had marked off the scene with yellow tape, winding it around boulders and scrubby brush, but the meaning was clear—don’t snoop beyond this marker. Of course, Tommy was part of the investigation and Ben was curious.
“Sure.”
He steadied the ladder and Tommy climbed up ahead of him. The ladder felt secure when he followed him, maybe a wobble on the third rung, but it was in surprisingly good shape, only a little messy from having
been dusted for prints. They stood a moment at the top letting their eyes adjust. It was cool up here in the shadows, pleasant even, if one didn’t think about what had just happened, Ben thought.
“This is interesting.” Tommy knelt by a bunch of wrappers stuffed under a large rock to the right of the entrance to the cave.
“How did that much litter get up here?”
“Good question. Someone sure had a thing for corn chips and ham sandwiches. This is almost fresh.” Tommy held up a plastic bag with a piece of someone’s lunch, being careful to hold the corner with a Kleenex and then put it back where he’d found it.
“Any history of aliens coming to earth for a little ham and Swiss on whole wheat, hold the mayo?”
Ben laughed and watched as Tommy continued to sort through the thirty-odd candy and chip wrappers.
“Looks like someone hit a vending machine. There’s a small fortune here in empty bags. Where would the closest machines be?”
“The Information Center, probably,” Ben guessed. Tommy sat back on his heels. “Do you think this Edwina knew her assailant?”
“I don’t think they were friends. She wouldn’t condone camping in a restricted area. Her fellow rangers seemed to think she came up this way to chase away illegal campers. I guess it’s a problem every year.”
“I’m betting she knew who was up here. And I’d also put money on the fact that it was male.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Did you see the way she was dressed?”
“What about it?”
“Short shorts, silk shirt, a beaded belt that matched her earrings? You can’t tell me those are Park Ranger staples.”
Ben thought a moment. He’d viewed the body and didn’t think a thing about the way she was dressed. Must be Tommy’s training. “Well, it’s a warm day, the shorts were a good choice.”
“Trust me. That was an outfit worn to impress somebody. And not another woman. I’m going to take a look around the cave. Maybe there’s evidence of this mystery man.”
Tommy paused at the five foot high opening at the back of the flat area where they were standing, then disappeared into the darkness.
“Hey, take a look at this.” Tommy played the flashlight above their heads and stopped on each petroglyph. Stick figures of antelope and deer being chased by men with spears raced in place across the walls.
“It’s grand. Think of the work to leave this history.”
“I don’t see anything with a round head and slanted eyes,” Ben said.
“I’m convinced that woman was trying to tell us who her killer was.” Tommy walked forward and moved the stream of light to the floor, then around and up and down, into crevices, past, then back to illuminate yet another wad of candy wrappers. “Someone spent a couple days up here, maybe longer. And lived on Snickers and corn chips. Tough diet. Must have been kids.”
“Hard to say.”
Ben moved toward the back of the cave. Another fire pit proved to be cold, unused for some time. Sustenance, if it could be called that, seemed to have come from the packages. But there was no reason to conclude that kids were the ones who pushed the woman to her death or attacked her.
Even teenagers hiding out from their parents wouldn’t have had a reason to be that vicious.
But maybe he was being naïve—hadn’t he read recently that murder was rising rapidly among that age group?
“What do you think this is?” Ben leaned over to inspect something spotlighted by Tommy’s flashlight.
“It’s a short piece of hose, looks like some kind of flexible rubber. Something off a vacuum cleaner, I’d guess,” Tommy said.
“Well, I don’t think she cornered an Electrolux salesman up here.”
Tommy laughed. “I don’t think we can rule anything out. I’ve seen some amazing things junked out on the Rez. I’ve found false teeth, plastic limbs, enough furniture and appliances to fill a dozen houses—human beings just discard things, collect and throw away. But I’ve never understood how trash gets to such out of the way places, weird stuff like this. A person wouldn’t take a vacuum camping.” Tommy dropped to all fours and peered into an adjoining cave at the back, half the size of the one that they were in, and empty. Two other small rock rooms had entryways too narrow to squeeze through.
“Only a child could get in there. They must have been used for storage.” He took two loops with the flashlight over the ceiling and a cursory glance at the walls. “No decoration back here.” He stood and joined Ben by the opening to the large cave.
Ben could sense Tommy’s frustration.
“You know I halfheartedly expected to find evidence that Brenda had been here.”
“Brenda? What gave you that idea?”
“Maybe wishful thinking. I guess it’s pretty silly to even connect the two incidents at this point. But something about the pilot being Ronnie … her finding him dead that way, maybe she’d go away for a few days, mourn privately.”
“Are there any Indian ceremonies that dictate that?”
“No. I know it’s stupid. She wouldn’t have left Mariah.”
Tommy switched off the flashlight and walked outside. “Let’s go back to the Information Center. Someone must have seen something, someone maybe, who didn’t belong around here.”
+ + +
The Center was closed and the Park Ranger who opened the door was reluctant to let them in until he saw Tommy’s badge.
“I have a few questions concerning Ms. Rosenberg.” The ranger led them back toward the wrap-around counter.
“Don’t think I can be of much help.”
“Could you tell me what she was like?” Tommy took out a notebook from his shirt pocket.
“A little odd, stayed to herself.—but she was a good worker.”
“Did she have a family?”
“A mother over in Farmington. Controlling old lady. I think Edwina liked to get away as much as she could.”
“Now, you don’t know that for a fact.” A heavy-set man came out of what looked to be an office to the right. “It’s gonna be hard on her mom. Edweener was all she had.”
“Do either of you have any idea what she was doing up at the caves?” Tommy asked.
“I asked her to ride the rim and check the signage,” the large man answered. “We had some information posts down to the south. I don’t know how she ended up where she did. She must have seen something.”
“Had she had any visitors here? Someone she spent some extra time with recently?”
“Naw. Not Edweener. Now I’m not saying she wasn’t personable, she was—and attractive. Had a body that wouldn’t stop, once you got past that horsey face—if you’ll pardon me. But she was kinda ditsy. Read that romance trash every chance she got. You know, the kind with some half-naked body builder on the cover. There’s a stack of twenty or so of those books in the bottom drawer of her desk.” He gestured over his shoulder.
The officer who had opened the door stepped forward. “There was something—maybe you should know about. Took place the last three days or so. Could be something, could be nothing but two mornings in a row I see this man leave the Center just as I’m making the turn to go into the parking lot in back. It was early, a little after six thirty both times. Edwina had obviously let him into the Center. When I questioned her, she just said it was someone who wanted to use the facilities. Said he’d been camping up on the rim.”
“So it wasn’t someone you recognized?” Tommy asked.
“No. Never seen him before. And at that I didn’t get a very good look—mostly from the back. When Joe here mentioned the hunks on the front of her books, well, it reminded me of the guy. He was built pretty good. He could have posed for those covers.”
“And she didn’t mention a name?”
“Not that I remember. She did start bringing in sandwiches, though. There’s a bread wrapper full of ham and Swiss on whole wheat in the fridge right now, ’bout six to eight of ‘em. I can’t say I know who they’re for, bu
t she didn’t offer them to us.”
“She must have expected to see him today.” Ben turned from examining the rack of literature on the wall by the door.
“Yeah. But with the sandwiches still here, he must not have shown up.”
“Surely she would have taken them with her if she’d planned on meeting him,” Tommy said.
“Whoever she did meet up with out there did her dirty. What happened to her was despicable—shouldn’t have happened in a park like this. And I overheard one of the cops say it could have been kids. That really makes me sick.”
Tommy nodded but he wasn’t eager to discuss the kid theory. So she had supplied someone with sandwiches, ham and Swiss exactly like the one he found. Was there a rendezvous planned? He needed time to sort through everything. He consulted his notes. “What do you make of the drawing?”
Both men seemed reluctant to comment. Finally the large one who seemed in charge offered, “Overactive imagination, I guess.”
“Yeah, she read all the time. Not that she shirked her duties or anything, but when we weren’t busy she’d have her nose buried in a book. Next to that romance scuff, she read a lot of science-fiction. I used to trade off sci-fi with her once in awhile.”
“It’s going to fuel the controversy about alien sightings, that’s for sure. But I don’t think it meant anything,” the second ranger said, leaning against the counter. “I got a feeling that whoever did it is long gone. And they didn’t go up in the sky in a little silver disk.”
I’m inclined to agree, Tommy thought. “How long will the park be closed?”
“As long as the investigation takes. My guess is we’ll open in three or four days. ‘Course if there’s anything else you might need, give us a whistle.”
+ + +
The road into the ruins was one extended ribbon of washboard relentlessly jarring and bouncing the car across the shallow ruts. Tommy held the Bronco to twenty-five miles an hour—top out considering the conditions—and chafed at the time it was taking to go a mere nineteen miles. Patience. Wasn’t that the virtue he most needed to work on? He hadn’t planned on coming back the very next morning, but he couldn’t help but think there was some clue out here to Edwina’s death. He’d go out to the site—take another look, if he ever got there.
