Arches Enemy. Scott Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ on a pair of heavy leather work gloves.

      The other man looked well past middle age. His salt-and-pepper beard climbed his cheekbones nearly to his eyes and descended below his chin to his collar, swathing his face and neck like a wool balaclava. Gray hair poked from beneath his greasy hardhat.

      Arches National Park Chief Ranger Sanford Gibbons climbed out of his white pickup and crossed the pavement to the O&G workers. Leaving Janelle’s side, Chuck strode through the falling sleet to the ranger and workmen.

      Sanford turned to Chuck and extended his hand. The chief ranger was a head shorter than Chuck and at least thirty pounds heavier, his stomach bulging beneath his rain jacket. A gray mustache and beard covered his upper lip and jaw. Deep creases cordoned the sides of his mouth. Plastic-framed glasses encircled his wide-set green eyes, topped by bushy eyebrows. His face was pale save for small circles of red, high on his cheeks above his beard, growing brighter in the cold.

      Rather than shake Sanford’s hand, Chuck confronted the two workmen, his arms stiff at his sides. “They sent you to clean up the mess you made, did they?”

      Sanford raised his palm to Chuck. “There’s no call for that.”

      Glaring at the two men, Chuck said, “They crushed a woman. They murdered her.”

      The older of the two workmen threw back his shoulders, his eyes flaring and his facial muscles twitching beneath his beard.

      “Please, Chuck,” Sanford said. “I asked them to come. I need their help.”

      “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

      “I haven’t been to the site yet. I need these guys to get out there.” Sanford took hold of Chuck’s arm and tugged him away from the workmen. “Come with me.” Leaning close as they walked together across the parking lot, Sanford said in Chuck’s ear, “Let it go. That’s an order.”

      Chuck scowled over his shoulder at the two O&G Seismic employees. They glared back, their gloved hands twisted into fists, then set to work unfastening the chains that secured the loader to the trailer.

      Chuck turned away and drew deep breaths as he wound with Sanford through the scrum of parked emergency vehicles to Janelle, who shot him a withering look.

      “I know,” he acknowledged, hanging his head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

      “You’re absolutely right you shouldn’t have.” She held out a hand to the chief ranger. “You’re Sanford, aren’t you?” They shook. “I’m Janelle Ortega.” She aimed a thumb at Chuck. “I’m married to this hothead.”

      Sanford tipped his head at Janelle. “I knew what I was getting into when I signed the contract with him. His reputation preceded him, I’m afraid to say.”

      The chief ranger had selected Chuck’s one-person firm, Bender Archaeological, to perform the contract that had brought Chuck to Devil’s Garden two days ago with Janelle and the girls.

      Janelle admitted, “I had a pretty good sense of what I was getting into when I married him, too.”

      On the far side of the parking lot, the older of the two workmen climbed into the operator seat of the front-end loader, atop the flatbed trailer, and fired up its engine. A dark cloud of diesel exhaust belched from the stack as the engine coughed to life. The engine settled into a rattly idle and the older man backed the machine, freed of its chains, off the trailer and braked it to a stop. The younger man tossed the loosed chains into the loader’s front bucket, then clambered onto the machine and hunkered behind the driver, clutching the metal roll bar for stability. The older man threw the loader into gear with a grinding clank and drove the machine across the parking area. Leaving the pavement, the loader straddled the hiking trail, the machine’s oversized rear tires crushing bunch grass, sage, and rabbitbrush into the saturated soil on either side of the path as it trundled northward.

      Sanford turned to Chuck, his eyebrows rising behind his glasses to the sleet-speckled brim of his forest green National Park Service ball cap. “You’re the one who found her?”

      Chuck tilted his head to Janelle. “We found her.” He explained to Janelle, “As chief ranger, Sanford is in charge of law enforcement in the park.”

      “In that capacity,” Sanford said, “I’ll want to check in with both of you as soon as I can get back. But I’ve got to head out to the site first.”

      Chuck eyed the twin lines of crushed plants left by the frontend loader as it proceeded up the trail.

      Sanford followed Chuck’s gaze. “Least of my worries. I made the call. No choice. The clouds were too low to bring in a chopper for an aerial lift.”

      Chuck said, “The chunk of rock on top of her is pretty big.”

      “I’m hoping the loader can handle it. The loader can dig under and we can get the body out that way if we have to.”

      Janelle pooched her lips, studying the departing machine. “I think it’ll work.”

      Sanford dipped his chin to her. “We’ll know soon enough.” He looked at Chuck and sighed. “As if the contract wasn’t enough.”

      “Along with the collapse of the arch itself,” Chuck said, “if it turns out she’s a local—and you have to figure she most likely is, or was—then this’ll be a bigger deal with everyone around here than anything having to do with the contract.”

      “In which case I’ll be dealing with two big deals.” The chief ranger set his mouth in a hard line, his mustache hiding his upper lip. He set off across the pavement after the loader. Turning and walking backward for a few steps as he departed, he said, “Don’t go anywhere, either of you. I’ll have plenty to ask you about when I get back.”

      3

      Chuck and Janelle crossed the parking lot after Sanford disappeared up the trail.

      “I shouldn’t have gotten into it with those guys,” he said. “Sorry.”

      “I need more than just another ‘sorry’ from you. I need an attitude adjustment.” She shook her head. “Dios. It’s like I’ve got two loco teenagers in the family instead of just one.”

      “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

      “That’s the second time today you’ve said that.”

      He glanced at the sky. The sleet was letting up as the leading edge of the storm passed, but the cold wind continued out of the north, harsh and stinging. He shoved his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Ahead, a group of more than two dozen elderly campers wearing hooded rain jackets huddled together at the entrance to the campground, the wind pressing their polyester slacks against their legs.

      A tall man at the front of the group frowned at Chuck and Janelle as they approached. “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.

      The man’s jacket hood was pushed back, revealing thinning silver hair dotted with sleet. His shoulders were stooped with age. Even so, he was taller than everyone else around him by several inches. His face was bounded by a cleft jaw, jutting cheekbones, and a high aquiline forehead.

      Chuck СКАЧАТЬ