Black Sun Descending

by Stephen Legault

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t Edward Abbey hanging from that log back there, and I seriously doubt he hanged himself.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t think he killed himself. I think he was killed.”

  “That’s fucking crazy. There’s no evidence to support that. The dude is swinging from a rope. What makes you think this is murder?”

  Silas was silent for a long time. They were walking fast and Hayduke was winded. Hayduke started again: “What makes you think—”

  “I don’t dream about suicides, Josh.”

  “Don’t call me—”

  “I dream about murder. That’s it. I dream about people who have been killed. Not people who have killed themselves.”

  “You call the cops and you’re suspect number one. We’re suspect number one. I got a record. I don’t want to get involved in this.”

  Silas ignored him. “You’re just along for a hike. It was me who found the body.”

  “The fuzz has a funny way of overlooking facts like that when they get a look at a guy like me.” Hayduke was scowling.

  “Maybe you’ll have time for a haircut when we get back to the campground.”

  “Funny. I don’t think so.”

  It took them an hour and a half to reach Silas’s vehicle. They didn’t have to look far for the authorities. The Coconino County Sheriff’s Department had a patrol car waiting when they stepped up the bank from the wash.

  “Are you Silas Pearson?” the sheriff’s deputy asked. He was a tall man, middle-aged, with a bushy gray mustache. He wore aviator sunglasses and a broad-brimmed hat.

  “Yes.”

  “And who are you?”

  Hayduke cleared this throat. “Josh Charleston.”

  “Sir,” the deputy was addressing Silas. “We have a complaint against you made by one Paul Love.”

  “Due respect, Officer, Mr. Love is full of crap,” said Silas. “And I have more important business.”

  The deputy straightened up. “You’ll have to come with me to explain yourself.”

  “I’m sorry, Officer. I don’t mean to be contrary, but about four miles up the Paria River there is a body hanging from a log, slowly being consumed by turkey vultures. I’m pretty sure that trumps whatever delusions Mr. Love has been complaining to your boss about.”

  IT TOOK TWO hours for a team to assemble at the mouth of the Paria River. It was late in the afternoon, the sun already starting to sink toward the plateau. Coconino County Patrol Sergeant Dave Ricks stood in for the sheriff, who was flying in from Flagstaff along with the county’s medical examiner. A member of the Coconino County Sheriff’s Criminal Investigation Division who had been in Page was on hand along with two officers from the Bureau of Land Management that oversaw the Paria Wilderness.

  While the team was getting prepared for the hike, Dave Ricks took Silas aside.

  “We’ve got a couple of things we need to talk about, Mr. Pearson.”

  “I had nothing to do with Love’s truck. I was in my tent and asleep twenty minutes after talking with him.”

  “He says you did it.”

  “And I say I didn’t.”

  “Well, it appears we got bigger fish to fry at the present moment. We’ll have to come back to this.”

  “Come back to it all you want, but the next time we talk about it my lawyer will be present.”

  Ricks regarded him. He pushed the corners of his mustache down and nodded, more to himself than Silas. “Alright, suit yourself. Now, tell me about this body you’ve found.”

  “Looks like a man, but frankly it’s pretty hard to tell. It’s been out in the sun, and the birds have gotten at it, so it’s a real mess.”

  “How’d you know it was there?”

  Silas and Hayduke, on their long hike back to Lee’s Ferry, had conferred on this. “My friend and I were out on a hike. We saw the turkey vultures circling. We investigated and found the body. It’s hanging from a log. It looks like suicide.”

  “Well, we’ll figure that out. Did you touch him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you approach the body?”

  “We got within maybe fifty feet.”

  “So you didn’t track up the sand?”

  “I can show you were we stopped. I puked, so it’s a pretty easy to find.”

  BEFORE THE GROUP set out again, Silas was allowed to make a phone call. There was a pay phone near the put-in for river trips. Cell coverage was spotty at best, and his didn’t work. He told Sergeant Ricks that he was calling a friend to let them know he’d be longer than expected, but instead dialed the familiar Salt Lake City exchange.

  “Rain.”

  “It’s Silas.”

  “Where are you? Taylor thinks that you’ve done a flyer and I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m in Lee’s Ferry. Just outside of Page, Arizona. Where they put in for river trips on the Colorado.”

  “What’s happened, Silas?”

  “I found another body. I’m pretty sure it’s of a river guide named Kiel Pearce, but it’s hard to tell. He’s been missing for ten days, and I think he’s been out in the sun all that time. Vultures have gotten to him. It’s not pretty.”

  “Another dream?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who is Kiel Pearce?”

  “He works for an outfit called Grand Canyon Boatmen. He was a friend of my wife’s. I found his name along with hers and Darcy McFarland’s in the register of a fire lookout on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon two days ago.”

  “What does this have to do with Jane Vaughn?”

  “I have no idea, Katie. And I’m not usually one to suggest this, but I think the FBI should get its ass over to Lee’s Ferry, and right away.”

  THEY ARRIVED AT THE GROTTO in the side of the Paria wash with enough light to allow the sheriff’s department to make a preliminary assessment. Hayduke had stayed at Lee’s Ferry under strict orders not to leave the campground. He had complained that he needed to get his sleeping bag and trail mix and had been given half an hour to do so, but was under the watchful eye of a sheriff’s deputy during that time. Silas wondered if he would ever see the young man again, but decided it was more than likely. Hayduke seemed as invested in the events surrounding his search for Penelope as Silas was.

  Once Silas had shown them where the body was and where he and Hayduke had approached to, his part in the recovery was over. The law enforcement personnel swarmed over the site. As the afternoon light faded and the wash was cast in darkness Silas caught a glimpse one more time of the corpse dangling from its log, the putrid stench drifting down the narrow cleft in the wash. He had seen some grisly things in the last year but had never seen anything like this. Before the light failed completely a helicopter from the State Department of Public Safety landed and unloaded lights and a large tent like those used at garden parties, as well as the lone member of the Coconino County Crime Scene Investigation Unit. Once the tent and lights were set up, Silas no longer had a view of the corpse.

  Silas turned away from the scene and sat next to the Paria while the deputies went about their work. First he felt on edge just sitting; he wanted to take advantage of this time to search the surrounding landscape for some sign of Penelope. But fatigue and despair set in and he simply sat, motionless, watching the light slowly disappear from the narrow river as the sun sank behind a band of dense clouds near the horizon.

  The sound of the river filled his ears and Silas closed his eyes. Somewhere a canyon wren was beginning its evening incantations, bookending his day with its mesmerizing song. When he opened his eyes the walls of the wash were splashed with an auburn light that was reflected on the waters of the shallow river before him, the sun finding a narrow opening in the strata of clouds to shine through before being eclipsed by the spinning planet.

  Penelope’s log book entry at the North Rim Fire Lookout had been signed by Darcy McFarland and Kiel Pearce. Darcy was dead, and Silas knew, long before being told, that the bod
y hanging in the Paria was Kiel Pearce.

  THE CITY OF Page, Arizona, was carved out of the Navajo Reservation in 1957 to serve as a labor camp for the construction of the Glen Canyon Dam. The town of nearly seven thousand souls was now a major tourism town for those wishing to visit the reservoir created by the flooding of Glen Canyon and a home for those working on the Navajo Generating Station, a massive 2,200-kilowatt coal power plant next to the city. Silas was escorted to a hotel on the outskirts of Page by a sheriff’s deputy. It was a hundred-mile drive and the entire time Silas felt a growing sense of dread.

  When they arrived in Page the deputy instructed Silas that there was a room booked under his name and that a meal voucher for a nearby “family” restaurant had been arranged. He was to report to the Patrol Office of the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department at eight the next morning.

  Silas checked into the room and picked up the phone.

  “Ken, its Silas. I’m sorry to call so late.”

  “What’s going on? I saw on the news that there was a body found in some godforsaken stretch of canyon out near the Glen Canyon Dam. Silas, for the love of Christ, please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “I need you to fly to Page tomorrow morning.”

  HE SKIPPED DINNER and ate cereal out of a cardboard bowl for breakfast before driving to the Patrol Office of the sheriff’s department. He recognized several familiar vehicles in the parking lot: Josh Charleston’s Jeep was parked in the lot, as were three black, hulking GMC Yukons. His call to Katie Rain had woken up the Bureau.

  Silas entered the Patrol Office, introduced himself to the clerk, and was directed to a plastic chair to wait for the sheriff. When the door behind the clerk opened a tall woman with broad shoulders and blond hair tied back in a tight ponytail emerged. “I’m Sheriff Hilary Cross.” She extended her hand.

  “Silas Pearson.”

  “Yes, I recall your time in Flagstaff, at least the last few months of it.”

  “I don’t think we ever met then.”

  “No, but I was with the Detective Bureau before running for sheriff. I was never on your wife’s missing person’s file, but I read it. I’m sorry we weren’t able to help you more.” Silas was momentarily taken aback by the woman’s admission. He swallowed and she continued. “Do you want some coffee? We have some half-decent stuff in the back. Come on. All your friends are here.” She winked at him.

  Silas followed Sheriff Cross back into the bullpen of the Patrol Office. It wasn’t a large building and Silas could immediately see the cloister of FBI agents, including Eugene Nielsen, Dwight Taylor, and Manuel Ortiz, hovering around a table piled with maps and papers. They looked up when he entered and he got an uncomfortable feeling in his chest once more.

  “Sheriff, am I under arrest?”

  “Nope. But I do have some questions for you, and some information. Do you mind if we have a seat and just chat?”

  “I don’t mind, but I think my lawyer should be here.”

  “Ken Hollyoak? What time is he going to arrive?”

  “I think his flight gets in at nine.”

  “Well, that gives us an hour or so to kill. Do you want to wait?”

  Silas thought a moment. “Let’s talk and if I don’t like the direction things are going, I’ll stop.”

  “Agreed.” She poured him a coffee and he followed her to an office. “This is my patrol sergeant’s office, but he’s still out at the scene, so I’ve seconded it for the time being.”

  The office was cramped. There were plastic-covered chairs with metal arms pulled in close to the desk. Sheriff Cross sat on the corner of the desk and offered Silas one of the chairs. There was a knock at the open door and Silas turned to see Katie Rain there. He suppressed a smile.

  “You know Dr. Rain, don’t you?”

  Silas nodded.

  “Good morning Silas.”

  “The FBI got involved in this shortly after you left Paria Canyon last night. Someone tipped them off to what was going on and, while I’m not usually much on the Bureau getting involved in a murder investigation, it makes sense for them to be here. I guess because this thing spans the border with Utah, they fit into the picture.”

  “What do you mean spans the border with Utah?” Silas was perplexed.

  “Well, I guess, to be more accurate, you span the border with Utah, Dr. Pearson, and you seem to be the thing that connected this investigation with that of Jane Vaughn. We always have to eliminate the person who finds the body first. That’s just good policing. But what Dr. Rain has to say should help with that. Doctor?”

  “Silas, the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department and the Arizona Medical Examiner asked me to get involved because of the relationship between this case and that of Jane Vaughn. They needed someone who could help determine cause of death and work out the identity of this person with facial reconstruction software.”

  “It’s Kiel Pearce.” Silas was looking down at his feet.

  “We don’t know that for certain. These things take time. But yes, evidence is pointing in that direction,” said Rain.

  “Did you know this man?” The sheriff crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell my sergeant—”

  Silas explained.

  “Tell me what happened to this Pearce. It looks as if he hanged himself, but that’s not the real story, is it?”

  Katie spoke: “No, he didn’t. Someone went out of their way to make it look like he did. There are two things we’re working on to confirm this. We’ve found some preliminary evidence to suggest that chloroform was used to render Mr. Pearce unconscious. It’s going to take a while to make a comprehensive determination on this matter, but I believe we’ve found chemical burns on the inside of Mr. Pearce’s nostrils. I expect that we’ll find chloroform in tissue taken from Mr. Pearce’s lungs.”

  “That’s pretty old-school, isn’t it?” asked Silas.

  “Yes, it is. Chloroform has been around for more than a hundred and fifty years. It’s a reliable anesthetic and has been used by criminals consistently for much of the last century. In this case, we believe it was used to render Mr. Pearce unconscious and more manageable.”

  “And then whoever killed him was able to hang him from that log? How long ago?”

  The sheriff answered. “We think he was there for about a week, maybe as long as eight days.”

  “That’s why you’re telling me all this. Because I was sitting in the Grand County Sheriff’s Office when all of this happened.”

  “We need your help,” said Cross. “You seem to have some kind of connection with the victim. Agents Taylor and Nielsen have told me about your past experiences, and I’ve read about you in the papers.”

  Silas sipped at his coffee, now cold. “Are you saying you’re a believer?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me.”

  “Dr. Pearson, I frankly don’t know what to believe, but in the last two weeks you’ve led authorities to two of my county’s citizens and that makes you key to understanding what, if any, connection exists between these two murders.”

  “I really should wait for my lawyer to advise me on this.” Silas shook his head.

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  Rain said, “Silas, wait for Ken if you like, but tell us one thing first. You had already driven to Lee’s Ferry before you dreamt about Kiel. Why?”

  “You said two things tipped you off that Pearce didn’t hang himself. You tell me what the second one is and I’ll tell you why I was in Lee’s Ferry.”

  “Special Agent Nielsen said you like to play games,” said Cross. “Fine. The second thing is that he was stabbed, repeatedly, in the guts, likely while he was hanging from the tree. He wasn’t dead when he was strung up, and he wasn’t dead when whoever killed him left him hanging in that canyon. The birds likely got to him before he was dead. Now, what the hell were you doing in Lee’s Ferry?”

  HOLLYOAK ARRIVED AT ten. “Thanks for coming, Ken,” said Si
las, shaking his hand. Ken’s hand felt clammy and his face was flushed. “Are you alright?”

  “It was a rough flight,” said Ken, wiping his brow with a silk handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

  “I’ve spent the last two hours talking with Katie Rain and Sheriff Cross.”

  “Two beautiful women, they’ve played you perfectly. I worry where this trail of bodies is going to end up. If you’re not careful, you’re going to find yourself behind bars. Your lady friend there, that beautiful girl with the Glock on her hip and the medical bag full of interesting tools? She might believe you, but …” Ken looked over Silas’s shoulder to where Agent Dwight Taylor was looking at a map with the sheriff, “…that son of a bitch sure as hell doesn’t.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Just tell them to jump in Lake Powell and try to solve this myself? I’m in over my head, Ken. I have no idea what any of the connections are.”

  As if on cue, Hayduke appeared at the door of what Silas took to be an interview room, Agents Nielsen and Ortiz behind him. Hayduke didn’t look at Silas but walked straight to the door and left the building.

  “Who was that?” asked Ken. “Someone picked up for vagrancy?”

  “Maybe,” said Silas. “He was with me when I found Pearce. You remember the incident on Comb Ridge last year?”

  “That’s him? What does he call himself?”

  “Hayduke—”

  “That’s right. Another Abbey disciple. Like your Penelope.”

  “Not quite like Penelope.”

  KEN INSISTED ON sitting in on Silas’s interviews. “I’m here. I may as well earn my generous fee.”

  “Ken, you won’t even let me pay for your flight,” protested Silas.

  “Sometime I’ll get around to billing you. In the meantime, don’t say anything that will land us in court. I’m not sure Trish would allow me to endure the stress of facing a judge.” Silas looked at him with concern stitched across his brow. “I’m fine. Let’s just worry about keeping you out of the clink.”

  This time they met in a conference room that doubled as a storage space for the Patrol Office. Agents Taylor, Nielsen, and Ortiz sat with the sheriff on one side of the table, with Katie Rain at one end, and Ken and Silas on the far side.