Starlight Dunes (24 page)

“Meet your new ride, courtesy of the
entire town. But I have to say it was Jordan, Hayden, Kinsey, and Keegan who got it all started. All of us kicked in a few bucks after that and before we knew what was happening we had enough to get you a replacement for that sad road menace you commonly refer to as a truck.”

“But
this is brand-new.”

“
Not quite. One of those returned leases where the person didn’t like the color.”

“I love the color,” Troy said,
rubbing his hand over the waxed sheen of the metal, elated at the idea he had a gorgeous new truck.

“
Good,” Brent said. “Because it’s all yours.”

Later back at
Brent’s house, he and River stretched out in front of a cozy fire.

“The look on Troy’s face was priceless.”

“He must be a super nice guy to leave his own birthday party thinking he was going across the street to help me measure for a scaffold in the dark.”

“Where’d you come up with that idea anyway? For a minute there I didn’t think he’d buy it.”

“It just came to me. It got him outside, didn’t it?”

“Hell,
I’d’ve followed you outside,” he said, nibbling his way down her throat. “Right now, I’m pretty sure I’d follow you anywhere.”

“That’s
because you want to get me naked.”

“Oh yeah.
And then I’d do this.” He began to move his fingers back and forth between her legs through the fabric of her panties.

In response, s
he lifted her hips, so he could slide the tiny scrap of silk off from under her dress. “Then you’d better show me whatcha got, Sheriff.”

R
iver couldn’t have ordered up more perfect weather for the dig if she’d tried. November’s days were warm and sunny, the nights cool and crisp.

Confined in the narrow hole, River
worked the opposite square of the grid from where Walker and Sandra rubbed elbows. Sitting back on her heels, she beaded the sweat that formed on her brow. She glanced over at the interns as they went through the same steps she did—first brushing the top layer of dirt before using the dental pick to breach another level. Each took turns dumping their take into a bucket for sieving.

Up top, Julian and Laura manned the sieve.
No fragment or clod of dirt got past the screen without one of them inspecting the contents.

The process was painstakingly slow and methodical. It required patience and a strong back along with a will to sift through mud to find
treasures, like the pipe she’d located in the shape of a fish. River studied the blue and brown quartz piece inlaid with shell beads before taking it into her hands. She ran her fingers over the stone.

The vision came fast and vivid. Planked canoes lined the beach. She saw t
he village dotted with its dome-shaped huts and their thatched willow roofs.

While plentiful pots of acorn soup simmered over the fire, their main course tonight would be the clams and abalone they’d caught that day.

She watched as the tribe danced in celebration, the occasion, the fall harvest. While the fire blazed and sparks flew up and into the night, River could tell the hierarchy of the tribe by their dress.

T
he elders, both men and women, had wrapped themselves in fur capes and wore headdresses full of colorful bird feathers. They greeted visitors from neighboring tribes with gifts of turtle shells, carved driftwood, and beads. Their decorated heads bobbed in rhythm as the shamans circled together in song. Like rock stars of their day, their faces and bare chests painted, the medicine men took center stage. They took turns playing their flutes made from deer bones and rattling their clappersticks for the crowd, the crafters and workers. The male members of the tribe wore narrow slits of bearskin no wider than tool belts around their waists. They one-stepped to the music. The women did the same in their milkweed skirts short as aprons. They’d draped multiple strands of ornate beads around their necks down to their bare breasts. Everyone participated, keeping time to the beat. The throng listened. They cheered. They danced in perfect cadence, stepping to the tune as if moving over hot coals. This fall evening, the village would party well into the early dawn hours.

As River’s vision cleared, she lifted her head to take in the ocean breeze
—and was surprised to see Brent staring at her from above the hole.

“Where were you just now?”

“Your ancestors were party animals,” she said with a wink. But then she tilted her head to study his face and realized he had something on his mind other than his own blood ties. “What’s up?”

“The FBI has a
new lead.”

“What?
A lead to Luke?” River dropped the trowel she held. She scrambled up the ladder to look at his face, to stare into his eyes to make sure what she’d heard was real.

He held out a piece of paper for her to look at. “The agent in charge, Matt Swain, faxed me this photo. He wants you to take a look at it and tell him if it looks
anything like your ex.”

She snatched the picture out of his hand, studied the grainy snapshot. But she was
disillusioned to see a man sporting a full beard. “If that’s him, he’s gone all backwoodsman, which isn’t like Wes at all. Unless it’s to go skiing and stay in a comfy lodge, he rarely knew how to rough it. He used to give me such a hard time about living out of a tent during a dig. Wes doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. This guy looks too…outdoorsy.”

“But could it be him? Focus on the eyes or the nose and not the beard.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. The eyes do look somewhat similar but I’ve never seen Wes in a beard before. I’ve never seen him so disheveled. He was always such an immaculate dresser, so put together. This guy looks like the Unabomber.”

“River, the man fits Wes’s general description, same height and weight. Plus, he had a toddler with him. You said Wes liked to ski. This photo was taken about thirty miles from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, in a little town called Aurora. Aurora’s about the size of Pelican Pointe so a stranger
can stick out there. Not like Jackson Hole where the tourists generally land. But get this, the ski resorts got a boon a few days ago—their first heavy snowfall of the season.”

Chills ran down her arms despite the warm
th of the day. Hope soared in her chest so much that she had to sit down where she stood on the dune. Even if it was a longshot, she took a second look, then a third. “It resembles what I remember Wes looking like. But the beard is throwing me.”

“To me, the man looks like
he’s trying to pass for a ski bum.”

River grabbed Brent’s arm. “Oh my God, you’re right. He does, doesn’t he?” She so wanted to believe it. “
Didn’t you say something at your parents’ house that night about seeing a man with a beard? I know you did. This certainly doesn’t look like his other mug shot though, like the one they took back in New Mexico. It looks like someone snapped it with a camera phone.”

“That’s exactly what they did. This guy checked into a motel in Aurora, has been seen around town with a little boy
he often leaves alone in the motel while he goes across the street to the liquor store.”

“
Oh no. About how old is the baby?”

“Between two and three.”

“Tell me everything Agent Swain told you.”

“I told you the FBI sent out alerts using Patton’s New Mexico mug shot. That included faxes that went to every police department across the country. This guy’s calling himself Steven Patterson. Yester
day morning, he comes into the local dive with the kid, orders breakfast, hits on the married waitress there. Before the child finished his meal, the waitress’s husband, who happens to be a cop, comes through the door, catches this Patterson flirting with his wife. The cop is upset. Words are exchanged.” 

“
Then please tell me this guy is sitting in jail.”

“Sorry, no, at least not yet.
Mainly because before things got out of hand with the cop, Patterson paid his bill in cash and got out of there fast. Since the cop recognizes him as the newcomer in town, he decides to keep an eye on him. In the span of a few hours, the cop tails him back to the motel and snaps this photo with his cell phone of Patterson coming out of the convenience store across the street from the lodge. Later that night, the patrolman starts his shift. He sees the FBI alert, sees the mug shot of Wes Patton and immediately thinks it looks like this Patterson guy. He’s keeping the man under surveillance until he hears back from the FBI.”

Her heart leapt with faith and hope and the anticipation of it all after s
uch a long time. “Look, I need to catch a flight out of Santa Cruz to Jackson Hole tonight? Or maybe I could drive to San Jose to catch a flight from there? I better check schedules on the Internet and call Emilio, tell him I’m taking time off. I have lots of vacation built up and I intend to use it.”

When she tried
to dash past him to get to her iPhone, Brent snaked his arm around her waist. “Baby, is it Wes in the photo? Yes or no?”

She sighed. “I’m not one hundred percent certain but it looks enough like Wes to warrant checking out.”

“That’s all I needed to know. I’ll tell Swain you made a positive ID.” Before she could protest, he added, “Swain will handle it.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know what you’re going to say. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“On the contrary, I think this time it is Wes, which means it’s the best lead you’ve had in over two years.”

“That’s true. If I flew out tonight though, I could be there to ID him
and be there to pick up Luke.”

Brent kissed her forehead. “Honey,
it doesn’t work that way. If it’s Wes the local cops will detain him, count on it. They’ll fingerprint him so there is no mistake. They’ll take Luke into protective custody.”

He eyed
the concern in her eyes and added, “A social worker will be assigned to him for the duration until he gets to you. He’ll be okay.”

She shook her head.
“I can’t just sit here, Brent. During all that time, my baby could be with his mother. After all these years of missing him he could be with me right now. He’ll be scared with a stranger. He’s just a baby, Brent.” She rubbed her forehead where a headache began to pound along with stark realization. “But then I’m a stranger, too. Aren’t I? He doesn’t know his own mommy.” The bluster went out of her and she plopped into one of the canvas chairs stationed at the sieve.

Brent sighed and reached for her hand.
“Think of it this way. This is nothing more than a tough couple of days ahead until you get to the goal then everything will even out. And it will. Remember that. Swain will notify the nearest FBI field office. They’ll take care of IDing the boy and let us know as soon as they have a positive match. What I’m going to tell you is this. Be patient. I know it’s tough and not what you want to hear right now. But let the FBI do their job. The sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll get the results you want.”