Murder In Black Canyon. Cindi Myers

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I’ve seen before were peacefully in their coffins, carefully made up and dressed in their Sunday best.”

      “Violence leaves an ugly mark on everything.”

      “Yeah, well, I guess you could say reality does that, too.”

      She turned away, staring out the side window, as unreachable as if she had walked into another room and closed the door. Dylan focused on the landscape around him—the low growth of piñon and scrub oak, and formations of red and gray rock that rose up against an achingly blue sky. He had grown up surrounded by this scenery. The country here didn’t look desolate and hostile to him, as it did to some, but free and unspoiled.

      Simon’s brake lights glowed and he stuck his arm out the open driver’s-side window, gesturing toward a gravel wash to their left. He stopped and the passenger window slid down as Dylan pulled alongside him. “That’s the south entrance to Dead Horse Canyon,” Simon said. “Where do we go from here?”

      “Turn in here,” Kayla said. “There’s a trailhead about a quarter mile farther on. I parked there, but apparently the campers have been driving right into the camp.”

      “I’ll follow you,” Simon said, and waited for Dylan to pull ahead of him.

      As camping spots went, this one lacked water, much shade or access, Dylan thought, as the FJ Cruiser bumped over the washboard gravel road into the canyon. But it did offer concealment and a good defensive position. No one would be able to approach without the campers knowing about it.

      As if to prove his point, a bearded man in camouflage pants and shirt stepped into the road and signaled for them to stop. Dylan braked and waited for the man to approach the driver’s side of the Cruiser. “You can’t drive back here,” the man said, his eyes darting nervously to the Ranger Brigade emblem on the side of the Cruiser. The words Law Enforcement were clearly visible.

      “We’re here to talk to Daniel Metwater,” Dylan said. “Officers Woolridge and Holt.”

      “I’m not supposed to let anyone drive into the camp,” the man said. He was sweating now, jittery as an addict in need of a fix.

      “What’s your name?” Dylan asked.

      “Kiram.”

      Dylan waited for more, but Kiram had pressed his lips tightly together. “Well, Kiram, we’re here on official business and you don’t have the authority to stop us. We don’t want trouble, but you need to step out of the way.”

      Kiram ducked his head and peered into the car. “Hey, what are you doing back here?” he asked Kayla.

      “I brought them to see your dead body,” she said, giving Kiram a chilly stare.

      Dylan let off the brake and the Cruiser eased forward. Kiram jumped back. The two vehicles proceeded at a crawl up the wash, around the knot of trees and into the side canyon the Family had chosen as their home in the wilderness.

      Dylan shut off the engine, but remained in the car, assessing the situation. The motley cluster of campers, tents and vehicles shimmered like a mirage in the midday heat. A child’s ball rolled a few feet, stirred by the wind, which made the only sound in the area. “The place looks deserted,” Kayla said. “Do you think they left?”

      “Not without all their stuff. Do you notice anything missing?”

      She studied the scene for a moment, then shook her head. “Only the people.”

      “Stay in the vehicle.” With one hand hovering near his weapon, Dylan eased open his door, ready to dive for cover if anyone fired on them. But the camp remained silent and still.

      “Daniel Metwater!” he called. “We need to ask you a few questions.”

      No answer came but the echo of his own words. Simon joined Dylan beside his car. “What do you think?” Dylan asked.

      “They could have all headed for the hills, or they could be lying low inside these tents and trailers,” Simon said.

      “Come out by the time I count to ten or we’ll start taking this place apart,” Dylan shouted. “One!”

      At the count of five, the door to the largest RV, a thirty-foot bus with solar panels on the roof, eased open. A slim but muscular man, naked except for a pair of white loose trousers, moved onto the steps. “I wasn’t aware we had company,” he said. “We adhere to the custom of an afternoon siesta.”

      “Are you Daniel Metwater?” Dylan asked.

      Sharp eyes scrutinized the three of them. “Yes,” he said at last.

      “Call your people out here,” Simon said. “We have some questions about an incident that happened here this afternoon.”

      Metwater shifted his gaze past the two cops. Dylan turned to see Kayla standing beside the car. “You had no cause to bring these people here,” Metwater said to her.

      “We’re here because we understand you found a dead body this morning,” Dylan said. “Why didn’t you report it to the police?”

      “We don’t have cell phones, and since nothing we could do or say could bring the man back to life, I made the decision to report the incident the next time I was in town.” Metwater spoke as if he was talking about a minor mechanical problem, not a dead man.

      “Where is the body?” Simon asked.

      “I ordered the men who brought him here to take him back where they found him,” Metwater said. “They never should have defiled our home with such violence.”

      “We’ll need to talk to these men.”

      “They are undergoing a purification ritual at the moment.”

      “Bring them out here.” Simon wasn’t a big man, but he could put a lot of menace and command in his voice. “Now.”

      Metwater said something over his shoulder to someone inside the RV. A woman with long dark hair slipped past him and hurried away. “She’ll bring the men to you,” Metwater said, and turned as if to go back inside.

      “Wait,” Dylan said. “Who was the man?”

      “I don’t know. I’d never seen him before in my life. But I believe he’s one of yours.”

      “What do you mean, one of ours?” Dylan asked.

      Metwater’s lips quirked up in a smirk. “I checked his pockets for identification. He’s a cop.”

       Chapter Three

      Kayla watched Dylan as Metwater dropped his bombshell. His was a face full of strong lines and planes, not classically handsome, but honest—the face of a man who didn’t have any patience with lies or weakness. Anger quickly replaced the brief flash of confusion in his eyes as he absorbed this new wrinkle in the case. The dead man wasn’t a stranger anymore—he was a fellow lawman. “Take me to him,” he ordered.

      “The men СКАЧАТЬ