Fatal Divide

Fatal

Divide

Jamie Jeffries

Title: Fatal Exposure

Edited By: Debbie Rosier
Cover Art and Design by Erin Dameron-Hill, EDHGraphics

Copyright © 2015 by Jamie Jeffries

Mad for Romance Publishing
P.O. Box 740472
Arvada, CO 80006-0472
www.madaboutromancepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of Americ
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deDICATION

Fatal Exposure is dedicated to the Tohono O’odham Nation, who face terrible social  problems as a result of past wrongs and present border issues. I wish I knew the answers.

one

11:30 a.m.

National Park Service Ranger Dylan Chaves eased the Silverado over a washout on Ajo Mountain Drive, within the boundaries of Organ Pipe National Monument, wringing a grunt from his passenger, fellow ranger Rick Anson. “Sorry,” he said. “When are they going to repave this road?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Rick. “Budget’s been tight for years.”

Neither man said what he was thinking, that the government had been far more interested in building a fence than preserving existing resources. Something had to be done all right, but neither was certain the fence was the right thing. They rode on in silence for a few minutes before Dylan noticed the birds.

“Look,” he said, pointing. Several large black buzzards circled just below the arch. “Should we check that out?”

Rick shrugged. “Might as well. Probably a deer, though.” If that were true, the short hike into Arch Canyon would be a waste of time, but Dylan was ready to get out and stretch his legs after patrolling the one-way road for the second sweep of the day. At least the temperature had cooled in the past few days, to a pleasant average in the high seventies. Perfect for a walk, even in the November mid-day sun. Then they’d drive around the rest of the loop and back to the office for lunch.

Dylan swung into the trailhead parking lot, surprised to find no other cars. This was the best time to visit the park, in his opinion. Why anyone would want to be here in the summer escaped him, but the snowbirds had begun to arrive and soon there’d be crowds. Rick led the way up the trail, with Dylan only a yard behind. Dylan couldn’t see around him as he stopped abruptly, holding his hand out to stop Dylan from coming around.

“Shit,” he said. That’s when Dylan knew it wasn’t a deer. He moved up slowly, watching where he put his feet to avoid disturbing evidence.

Lying face-up in a pool of his own blood, the elderly Native man sported a surprisingly neat bullet wound in the center of his chest. Judging from the amount of blood and the size of the hole, Dylan was certain the exit wound wouldn’t be so neat. “Shit,” he echoed. Dylan looked up, staring at the rugged Ajo Range that separated Organ Pipe National Monument from the Tohono O’odham Nation. Why had this old man come to his death here? The most inexperienced amateur could look at this scene and know that the murder had occurred right here. Murder, because there was no sign of the weapon; someone had carried it away, and it definitely wasn’t the victim.

For the second time in only a few months, murder had come to this remote desert region and shoved itself in Dylan’s face. His responsibility to investigate, this time, although local authorities would be involved. He and Rick, as reporting witnesses along with their law enforcement responsibilities, would be in it up to their necks.

“This is gonna be a problem,” Dylan remarked, conscious of the understatement, as he looked more closely at the dead man’s face. His jaw clenched.

“Do you know him?” Rick asked.
Good guess
.

“Yeah. He’s on the tribal committee that’s considering the adoption,” Dylan said, his face now carefully neutral and his tone flat.

“Shit,” Rick said. He could say that again. Dylan had just become a suspect as well. Again.

With an effort, Dylan pulled his thoughts from the rapidly escalating ripples he knew would be caused by this death. Not only was his adoption of his younger brothers at stake. The man was a respected member of the tribe, an elder. Without a doubt, he lived on the reservation.

The condition of the corpse, and the fact that they hadn’t seen the buzzards the first time they passed this spot today, meant that the murder was recent. Perhaps between the time of the first sweep and this one, though it was more likely several hours ago.  That gave them a fighting chance at an accurate time of death, if they could get Tucson’s medical examiner here stat.

Rick was the senior officer, but it was Dylan who understood what had to happen next.

“You stay here with him. I’ll call it in from the vehicle and have them get the ME here as fast as possible. Do you think we need to clear the road?”

“No,” Rick replied, “But stay at the trailhead and turn any hikers away. Any crime scene tape in the glove box?”

“I’ll check. I’ll get backup here ASAP, buddy.”

“Good. And Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope the timeline works out.” Nothing more needed to be said. Dylan could be cleared, or not, by time of death. He’d been on the job, and with someone, since seven a.m., four and a half hours. God willing, Herman Alvarez had been dead for less time than that.

two

12:30 p.m.

Deputy Sheriff Kevin Thurston supervised as a couple of his men strung crime scene tape across the trail that Dylan had been guarding for the past hour. Considering the thirty-mile distance from Dodge and the slow progress up Ajo Mountain Drive, where the one-lane, one-way highway had little in the way of shoulder to get around the tourists, they had made good time. The CSI unit and medical examiner from Tucson would be at least another hour, despite Dylan’s request that they make it a priority.

Dylan munched on his sandwich, brought by a volunteer who had a bit of a crush on him. She was kind enough to bring Rick’s lunch as well, so the two made use of a picnic table, not far from the trailhead, to take a break. Thurston didn’t give them any time to talk, before he came over and put his foot up on the bench, leaning on his bent knee with his other leg supporting him.

“You boys ready to give me a statement?” he asked.

Dylan looked away. If he were smart, he wouldn’t do that without an attorney present. But if he asked for one, he’d be at the top of the suspect list. Stick to the facts that Rick could verify, that would be best. Only if Thurston knew enough about tribal business would it come up. Of course, everyone in town knew he was trying to adopt his little brothers before his mother succumbed to her cancer. No chance that Thurston wouldn’t know. Would he know of Alvarez’ connection?

Rick was already nodding, but his eyes were on Dylan, a question in them. Dylan gave an almost imperceptible nod, then looked up at Thurston. “Yeah, why not?”

Thurston whipped a small notepad out of his uniform shirt pocket and flipped it open, easing a small pen from the loop on the side of the notepad. “Okay, how did you happen on the body?”

Happen? What kind of question was that? Dylan sorted it out, then answered. “I saw the buzzards. We stopped to investigate.”

“Aren’t there a lot of buzzards out here all the time? Do you stop and investigate every time you see one?” Thurston’s seemingly innocuous question had a different meaning with the heavy sarcasm dripping from his tone. Dylan fixed him with a stare.

“Look, Chaves, unless you’re going to try to shut me out again, you’re going to have to answer my questions,” Thurston said.

Dylan had history with Thurston. He’d be glad to shut him out again, just because of the animosity. But, unfortunately, this time there were no grounds. Unlike the previous homicide investigation, which had endangered his girlfriend, Alex Ward, this one had no dirty cop involved; none that he had any reason to suspect, anyway. Just because Thurston was a pompous ass, and just because Dylan had reason to dislike him, was not enough to keep him from leading the local investigation effort.

“When we see more than one circling, we assume the carrion is larger than the usual snake or rabbit. With all the border problems, you know we have to investigate, even if we suspect it’s just a deer.”

Thurston grunted. “All right. So, you saw the buzzards. Then what?”

“They appeared to be interested in something close to Arch Canyon, so we stopped here and took the trail. Rick was in the lead.”

Thurston turned to Rick. “So, you were the first to see the body?”

“Yes.”

Dylan suppressed a small smile. Rick was definitely not going to give Thurston any more than he asked for. It was a gesture of solidarity, but in the end wouldn’t mean a lot. As soon as Thurston knew that Dylan was acquainted with the old man, and why, he was going to shut Dylan out of the investigation. Once again, Dylan could be forced to interfere in order to clear his own name. This was getting old.

Just then, screeching tires drew the attention of all three men as Alex’s beater careened into the parking lot. In unison, both Thurston and Dylan sighed, “Oh, shit.” Looking at each other in surprise, it was Thurston who dropped his eyes first. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Good luck,” Dylan muttered under his breath as the deputy strode toward Alex. He couldn’t hear what Thurston said first, but Alex’s higher voice carried just fine.

“This is public land, and I don’t see a corpse, Kevin. You can’t stop me from reporting, and I’m going to do it from here, so stand aside.” Alex turned her back on Thurston as she opened the rear doors of the Sentra and pulled out a tripod. Next came a fancy-looking camera with a telephoto lens attached. She proceeded to set it up a few feet closer to the picnic table.

“You’re interfering with an ongoing investigation, Alex. I’m warning you,” Thurston said, now audible because he had turned around to address Alex when she swept past him.

“I am not. I’m standing in a public place taking pictures of an area that is clearly not part of the crime scene. If you don’t want me to print your picture, I won’t, but these gentlemen have a right to decide for themselves.” She gave him a smug smile and waited for him to tell her not to take his picture. Of course, Thurston would never turn down the opportunity to make an appearance in the paper that Alex’s dad owned and she reported for. He gave up remonstrating with Alex and approached Dylan and Rick again.

“What did you observe that prompted you to call local authorities, rather than have the park handle it?” he asked, speaking a little stiffly and formally, now that he had a reporter watching him.

Rick took point on this question, to Dylan’s relief. “A big-ass hole in his chest, and what looked like half the blood in his body underneath him,” he said. “We need a time of death for our investigation. That meant calling you guys.”

Thurston nodded. “Sounds right. Chaves, do you agree with Anson’s report?”

“Yep,” Dylan answered. Thurston didn’t ask if either of them knew the victim, and if he didn’t ask, Dylan wasn’t going to tell. Let him find that out on his own. Maybe the victim had a wallet on him.

Thurston walked off toward the trailhead, and Alex left her photo equipment to walk over to the picnic table. Dylan stood and gave her a brief hug. “You shouldn’t twist his nose like that.”

“What’s he going to do, kidnap me and try to smother me with a pillow?” she responded. Dylan shivered at her gallows humor. She reacted differently to reminders of her near-death experiences last summer than he did. He put his arms around her and hugged her more closely, but she wriggled away.

“So, what’s the scoop?” she asked.

“Male Tohono O’odham, elderly, shot in the chest. Most likely with a large-caliber handgun at close range. We didn’t turn the body over, but the entry wound looked like a .45 or larger. Don’t quote me, I shouldn’t be making a statement to the press.”

Her eyes grew round. “Cartel?”

“God, I hope not. Haven’t we had enough of them for a while?” said Rick, his question rhetorical.

“Forever,” Alex said. Her fervent answer came out almost like a prayer. The relatively minor Gila cartel had been behind the series of events that almost led to her death only a few months ago. Neither she nor Dylan were looking for a repeat performance.

Dylan was less optimistic. “I wouldn’t bet against it. Listen, baby, they’re not going to let you anywhere near the body, and NPS regulations forbid us from making a statement to the press on our own. You may as well go on home. I’ll let you know what I can when I’m off-duty.”

Alex frowned, almost pouting, for a moment, but then gave in. “All right. But you’d better call me when you get home.” Placing a quick kiss on his jawbone, she headed back toward her car.

“Are you going to tell her?” Rick asked.

“Who it is? Probably. She has a right to know, because it affects her, too.” Dylan wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, but he was going to be in enough trouble with Alex when she learned he’d held out on her just now. Hearing that Dylan knew the victim from the Sheriff’s department would send her ballistic. Better he fess-up on his own.

three

1:30 p.m.

Alex walked into her dad’s office after driving back from Organ Pipe.

“It was a bust. I couldn’t get past the trailhead for pictures. All I have is Keven Thurston acting like he’s questioning suspects. It was just the rangers who found the victim.”

Something in her tone made Paul look up. “And they were...?”