One o’clock in the afternoon. Today was the feast of Saint Anne, patron saint of women. At nearby Santa Ana Pueblo, the event would be celebrated with food, music and dancing. More important, they would beat the drums for the Harvest Dance, which gave life to forces that provided sustenance. Women wore brightly painted tablitas around their heads and men with colorful gourd rattles in their hands chanted to the accompaniment of native drums. Detective Romero was fairly certain the rest of the celebration would be called off as soon as they got news of this latest discovery.
As he closed the door of his vehicle, Jemimah ran up to him. She looked pale and deprived of her usual aplomb. He gave her a quick hug, walked her back to her car, and asked her to wait while he talked to McCabe. After offering McCabe a quick handshake, he got down to business.
“What did you find, Tim?” Romero said.
“Come with me.” McCabe led him to the entrance of the tunnel and handed him a light. They descended the ladder.
“Just up ahead here,” McCabe said, after they were in the tunnel for some time. “Keep your head down as we go around the bend here. The ceiling drops a bit.”
The odor was noticeable after the next turn in the cave and grew steadily stronger before Romero saw the first body. He pulled a handkerchief out and held it to his nose.
“Ahead.” McCabe pointed his flashlight at the dark hole before them. “There’s two on the floor and two more lined up against the wall.”
“Jesus Christ Almighty.” Romero coughed into his handkerchief. The odor was so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat. “What the hell went on here?” He knelt and took a closer look at the first body, shining his flashlight around the torso and then the legs. A young woman, maybe in her twenties. He moved the light to her face and hair. Blue lapis and silver earrings dangled from pierced ears. A matching pendant on a silver chain circled what was left of her neck. The murder weapon had cut right above it.
“Let’s get out of here. The rest of the team should have arrived by now. I’d like to take a statement from you while it’s fresh in your mind, Sheriff.” Romero was referring to McCabe’s long career in law enforcement.
When they reached the exit to the tunnel, the crime scene unit was approaching the gate. Chacon was already out of his vehicle and coming toward them. There had been no need for his siren to wail on the trip from Santa Fe, but he liked the sound of it and the respect it garnered from motorists and onlookers as they watched him rush by, expertly weaving in and out of traffic. He knew only what Romero had said on the phone. Now, he listened intently as Romero related what lay below. Told the victims were all young women in their prime, Chacon whistled.
“Won’t be easy to bring those bodies up,” Romero said. “The tunnel is barely wide enough for one person, let alone two techs and a gurney. You got any ideas how to handle this?”
“Need a makeshift stretcher of some sort,” Chacon said. “Had some experience with situations like this in Iraq.” He turned to his team. “You guys get your latex on.”
Never in the history of Santa Fe County had there been such a gruesome discovery. The bodies were dressed only in bras and panties, which hung loosely from the skeletal remains. A yellow silicone wristband imprinted with the word ‘LiveStrong’ encircled the wrist of one victim. One of the techs said sarcastically, “It sure didn’t work for her.”
Emotionally drained, Jemimah walked toward the men as they stood around waiting for the bodies to be removed. The silence was unnerving. Cigarette smoke permeated the area. Jemimah walked back to her car and turned on the radio to see if she could find some soothing music. Static. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the headrest.
Frozen in time, infinidad. Each woman’s hands and arms were staged in a different position. One neatly folded on her lap, another as if praying, the next with both hands behind her head relaxing against the wall. The arm on the last was raised, fingers tied in a “V” sign of victory. The techs carefully placed each one on the plastic covered stretcher and wheeled them out into the sunlight, where a large canvas tarp covered the ground.
Two bodies had badly decomposed, skeletons showing through the skin. They had been dead for a while. The other two were bloated and swollen, their underwear popping at the seams. They had been there anywhere from six weeks to six months, Romero figured, but that critical information had to come from the ME’s office.
The bodies were brought out one by one, a tedious task which took several hours. Each body was laid on a strip of plastic sheeting. It was a grim scene, even for seasoned detectives. They watched as each of the bodies was placed in a dark body bag. The sound of the zipper was amplified in the utter quiet around them.
Chacon’s generally cavalier attitude had turned somber. “I’ll get on this as soon as we get the ME’s reports, Boss. What kind of psycho bastard would do this to a woman?”
Chapter 27
Standing a short distance from the tunnel, Detective Romero motioned for McCabe to come over.
“Tim, bring me up to speed on what you saw after Jemimah left the tunnel to call me.”
“Well, I kept going for maybe another couple of hundred feet until I reached the end of the tunnel. The bodies were closer to that side than to this one, but it’s narrower and you probably couldn’t get a gurney through that end. Toward the exit, there’s a about a forty-five percent incline and a metal grate above. I could hear voices that seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. When they stopped talking, I moved closer and saw daylight coming through. It looked like I was right under what appeared to be the barn.
Above, I could see hay bales and the ceiling. It was light enough to make out what it was,” McCabe said as he pointed to the Crawford Ranch across the way. “See, from this point where we’re standing, I figure the tunnel ends over there at the corner of the barn.”
“Did you recognize any of the voices?”
“Sounded to me like Charlie Cooper. I’ve talked to him on and off over the past nine months. His voice has a bit of a southern drawl to it.”
“The ranch hand,” Romero said.
“Yes, and it seemed like he was talking to a woman. The voices were muffled. I couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but he kept saying ‘no’ about something.”
”How long were you down there?”
“I waited about ten minutes after they left before I pushed up the grate, but there was something holding it shut and it wouldn’t budge. Finally I heard a vehicle drive away and figured I’d better get back to Jemimah.”
“Damn, we probably passed whoever it was as we were coming in.” Romero grabbed his phone from the cruiser. He dialed the State Police asking for Police Chief John Suazo.
A gruff voice answered. “Suazo, here.”
“John, this is Lieutenant Romero, SFCSD. How you doing?”
“Not bad, Rick. What’s up?”
“We’re putting out a BOLO on one Charlie Cooper, but I need you to check whether the State Police helicopter can take a cruise up Highway 14 toward Albuquerque and see if they can spot his car, a white SUV, New Mexico License plate number KRX-061. Last seen heading south on Highway 14, destination very possibly the Albuquerque airport.”
“Is the guy a suspect?” said Suazo.
“He’s a person of interest in what appears to be multiple murders just discovered at the Crawford Ranch on Highway 14,” said Romero. “One of your people is here, and he can fill you in later.”
“Will do,” said Suazo. “We’ve got a ’copter in that area. I’ll get right back to you.”
Romero stood next to McCabe, looking at the corpses.
“Fairly small women; I doubt if any of them weighed much over 100 pounds.”
“You think one person could have done this?”
McCabe asked.
“Kind of early to make a judgment like that,” Romero said. “That’s Jemimah’s bailiwick, but she’s too unnerved right now to give us an opinion.”
“Processing the scene
will take time,”
McCabe said. “Why don’t you go over and check on her?”
Romero glanced over at Jemimah’s car. She sat huddled up behind the wheel. He strolled over and knocked on her window, startling her. She rolled down the window.
“Listen, Jemimah. This is going to take awhile. It’s probably best you go home and try to unwind,” he said as he reached over to touch her face.
“Okay,” she whispered. It was still difficult for her to speak. He could see that the color hadn’t yet returned to her face.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right. Come on, get yourself together.”
Chapter 28
Another cloud of dust signaled the arrival of the Sheriff’s cruiser. Sheriff Bobby Medrano pulled up in his brand new Ford Cherokee, climbed out, and sauntered over to Romero, cupping a cigarette so he could light it. He had dressed hurriedly, his shirt wrinkled and half-buttoned, and did not appear to be happy. He nodded his head toward McCabe and turned back to Romero.
“Talk about getting put on the map,” he said. “This crime is already all over the news. A reporter from CNN is flying in tonight. Any idea who the victims are yet?”
“No IDs on the bodies.” Romero pulled out a cigarette. McCabe looked at him and Medrano with disdain and made a comment about littering in a historical area. Romero ignored him and went on,
“Techs haven’t had a chance to sift the scene. We need to get the bodies out of here before the media converges on the area. I’ll have someone throw up a barrier on the main road to keep spectators away. It’s private property, but who pays attention to those signs anyway?”
“Hell making the identifications without no more than we have right now,” added Chacon. “We did take DNA samples of some family members of women missing in the County. We can compare those if the ME can provide us with DNA from the bodies.”
“One step at a time. We’ll get that when the time comes,” Romero said.
“Yeah, and my wife’s going nuts right about now,” McCabe said. “If you don’t need me, I’m out of here.”
“Okay, Tim. Thanks for your help. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
McCabe waved to Jemimah and yelled, “Let’s go home.”
As he drove slowly up the hill away from the gate, Jemimah pulled in behind him. She could see gray clouds clustering over the mountains. There was a smell of moisture in the air. It would take more than a gully-washer to sweep away what they had just been through.
Chapter 29
At seven that evening, Romero slid into the front seat of his cruiser. He needed a drink. Maybe he should drop by Jemimah’s first and see if she was doing all right. Hell, he knew she wasn’t all right. Even a seasoned veteran never got used to seeing the victims of gruesome murders.
He walked up to the door. Before he had a chance to knock, the dog greeted him, barking, spinning around, and licking his face. Jemimah came to the door wearing a yellow sweat suit and sandals. She wasn’t her usual talkative self.
“Hey, doggie,” Romero said. “There’s a pecking order here.” He reached across and hugged Jemimah, holding her for a long time. He pushed a wisp of hair from her forehead.
“How are you doing?” he said.
“I’m okay, I think. I don’t know which is worse, the pounding headache or the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
“You never get used to these things,” he said. “You’re still in shock. I’m still stunned, myself. Discovering four bodies—nothing can prepare you for that.”
They walked over to the couch, which had a red and black wool Navajo blanket thrown over it. The living room was a mishmash of ethnic collectibles, interspersed with folk art whimsy and paintings of horses. Jem sat down with her knees tucked under her, then reached for the blanket and wrapped it around herself. She closed her eyes for a moment.
“I’m all right, really,” she said. “I’ve seen dead people before, but never like that. I can’t imagine what their families are going through. Missing for all that time, and now their hope has run out.”
“Mind if I make some coffee?” He started toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
“Bottle of Scotch in the cupboard,” she hollered after him. “I’ll take a double.”
“That’s a better idea.” He retrieved ice from the dispenser, put the drinks on a tray and carried them to the coffee table.
“Take your shoes off,” she said. “Stay awhile?”
“Sure?” he said.
“Yeah, why not?” Jemimah said.
Since New Mexico was on Daylight Savings Time, it seemed to take forever to get dark. They sat close on the couch, sipping their drinks. Around nine-thirty, darkness spread around the house. Neither of them got up to turn on the lights. They still huddled together, sipping replenished Scotches.
Jemimah finally spoke. “Gosh, Rick, if I’m going to react this way every time I see a dead body, what good am I going to be at my job?”
“Don’t beat yourself up about this, Jem. The odds of something like this happening again are pretty slim,” he said.
“I know, but it knocked me for a loop. I started feeling a sense of inadequacy about everything. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.”
“Jeez, Jemimah,” he said. “You’re a psychologist. You ought to know that everyone reacts differently. Cut yourself a break.”
“What does that mean? That just because I’m a trained professional I shouldn’t have a reaction?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Well, just what do you mean? I hate your condescending attitude when it comes to what I should know or do or even think. That’s so much bullshit.” She got up and poured the remainder of her drink in the sink.
“Hey, I was just trying to make a point that you’re being too hard on yourself,” he said. “Give me some slack. I just went through the same thing you did.”
Molly started barking. Romero thought it was because he had raised his voice, but she was clawing at the door. “Expecting company at this hour?”
“Oh yeah,” Jemimah said. “Run a 24-hour escort service here. Men always showing up looking for a hot date. She flicked the light on in the living room and stood up to answer the door.
Jeff Whitney stood outside, carrying an armful of field flowers.
“On my way back from Albuquerque. Heard it on the radio, called Chief Suazo. Said you had quite a day. Thought you might need some cheering up.”
Romero stood. Whitney threw him a look.
“Sorry,” Whitney said. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
Romero figured he had to be blind not to see the cruiser parked out front.
“No, no. It’s all right,” Jemimah said. “Come in. Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.” Whitney ignored Romero’s glaring stare. “No ice, please. Neat.”
While she was in the kitchen, she heard the door bang shut. Someone had left. She would bet her bottom dollar it was Rick.
Chapter 30
Jemimah reached out to grab the rope dangling from the cliff. She struggled to keep her footing, but found herself free-falling down the ledge. Her arms flailed as she catapulted down the rocky slope. She looked around for anything that might stop her fall. She continued to tumble, feeling the pain as the jagged edges of the rocks dug into her body. She attempted to scream but found herself voiceless. The bottom of the canyon was fast approaching. She landed on the ground next to four corpses, each pointing their fingers at her.
She awoke with a start. Jemimah often had nightmares, but this one left her gasping for air. The clock on the nightstand said four thirty. Three hours before her usual wake-up time. Still disoriented, she had a feeling she was not alone in the house. She got up and wandered into the living room. Whitney was asleep on the sofa. Son of a bitch. Was he protecting her or making sure that Romero didn’t return?
She felt like shaking him, but decided to let him be. She went back to bed, fluffed her pillows and tried to fall as
leep. The dream had been far too realistic. She knew it was related to the gruesome discovery of the bodies of those poor women. She couldn’t get the images out of her mind. Maybe she needed to see a shrink; she didn’t have the tools to treat herself. Dr. Cade would probably not be surprised to see her.
She curled up on her side and pulled the covers over her head in an attempt to block everything out. It worked. She awoke again at eight-thirty, feeling more rested than she thought possible. The house was quiet. She turned on the hot water in the shower and luxuriated in its warmth for ten minutes. The phone rang as she dried off. It was Rick.
“Why did you leave in such a huff last night?” Jemimah said.
“Three’s a crowd. Did that bastard spend the night?” He bit his lip. Serves me right for jumping on her, he thought, but she brings the worst out in me.
“That’s none of your business.” She slammed down the phone, only to find it ringing again.
“Don’t you ever give up?”
“Not when the lady is so pretty.”
Whitney.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Whitney. I thought you were still on the couch.” She peered around the corner to make sure he wasn’t calling from her living room.
“Not anymore,” he said. “I took off around seven this morning. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You’re a real gentleman.”
“I let the dog out—”
“Did you feed her?”
“Sure did,” he said.
“I never can tell when she needs to eat. Always keeps coming back to her bowl, even after she’s put a good-sized portion of Kibbles away.” Jemimah wondered what it was about Whitney that caused her to babble on like a teenage girl.
“Everything all right with you?” Whitney said.
“Just got out of the shower. Standing here dripping wet,” she said.
He had a mental picture of her. ”Can we have lunch together?”
Shadows among the Ruins Page 9
