Shadow Wolf. Jenna Kernan

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      “Damned if I know,” said the man.

      “Your names?” asked Clay.

      “I’m Bill Moody and this here is my wife, Arnette.”

      “This your place?”

      “We rent it,” he said.

      “Did you call about the break-in?” asked Kino.

      “Don’t have no phone out here.” Or electricity, since there was no power line to the house, just the constant roar of a generator somewhere round the back and the propane tank for heat. The yard was a mess, with trash littering the porch and a rusted-out pickup tucked under the carport. But beyond the residence and past the sheep pens sat a solid, clean outbuilding made of concrete with an aluminum roof. The contrast between the two buildings struck Kino as odd, as did the solid padlock on the large garage door.

      “Is that your truck?” Kino pointed to the pickup with the shattered back window and numerous bullet holes. It was sitting to the side of the outbuilding with just the front visible from where they stood.

      Arnette gave a shriek and Bill swore then headed out toward the truck.

      “What happened?” he asked, his arms out and his face a mask of shock.

      “Did you lend it to someone?” asked Clay.

      Arnette reached the tailgate and fingered a hole. “Somebody shot it up.” She turned to them, her jaw open as she panted from her exertions. “I didn’t hear no shooting.”

      “Where do you keep the keys?” asked Kino, fearing the answer.

      “Right up there on the dash,” said Bill.

      Arnette shuffled along on swollen feet. “Right there.”

      Clay was already searching the ground for sign. Kino noticed the key ring had a red metal fob inlaid with the image of a coiled silver rattlesnake. His eyes narrowed on the key ring and then on Moody.

      Kino asked a few more questions and learned that Bill worked in Pima at the auto-repair shop but had the day off. Kino also discovered that illegals were frequent visitors to this place, filling their water containers at the hose and stealing clothing from the line.

      “Them illegals even broke in here while she was at church and cooked a meal right there in our kitchen.”

      “And left a mess,” said Arnette.

      Clay returned. “Looks like a truck, newer tires. Footprint shows one single male, construction boots, weighs about two-twenty.”

      Arnette stared at Clay in wonder. “You boys are them? Part of the unit. All Indian? Right? The Shadow Wolves?”

      Clay nodded then checked the tread left by Bill Moody. Kino waited for Clay to lift his head and give a shake. But he didn’t. He merely shrugged. That meant he couldn’t eliminate Moody. Clearly he was wearing different shoes. But his size matched the prints.

      “Did you see anyone today?” asked Kino.

      “Been inside all day. Threw out my back chasing one of them rams. He got out somehow.” He pointed vaguely toward the pens.

      Kino looked at Arnette, who dropped her gaze and shook her head.

      “Will you call us if you see a guy? Big, white, wearing a cowboy hat.” Kino handed over a card.

      Moody rejected the card. “I don’t got a phone.”

      “Then find someone who does,” Kino said and then held Moody’s gaze until the man looked away.

      “He dangerous?” asked Moody.

      Kino nodded.

      Arnette made a sound of discontent in her throat. “Guess I’ll start carrying my shotgun again.”

      Unlike Lea, Mrs. Moody seemed to have no qualms about arming herself against danger.

      “That your barn?”

      “Garage,” corrected Moody. “Sheep don’t need no barn.”

      “You always keep your garage locked like that?” said Kino, pointing at the padlock.

      “Told you that migrants come through here. They steal everything that ain’t locked down. Sleep in there if they could,” said Moody.

      “Can we have a look inside?”

      Moody’s jaw bulged and he narrowed his eyes. “What’s this about?”

      “Shooting in the desert.”

      “I don’t know nothing about it. And as you can see, the garage is locked. No other way in.”

      Kino’s antenna for lies vibrated. He wanted a look in that garage. But he didn’t have cause, so he handed over a card.

      “Still, I’d like to have a look inside,” said Kino.

      Moody’s face reddened. “Well, you can’t. Now get off my property.”

      “Thought you said it was rented,” said Clay.

      “I had enough talking to the both of you. Coming in here with a lot of questions. Why don’t you catch the damned migrants instead of bothering us? They’re like damned locusts.” He hoisted up his pants. “We done here?” asked Moody.

      Kino touched his brow in salute. “All done. Thank you for your help.”

      Moody growled and folded his arms, waiting for them to leave.

      “You buy his story?” Kino asked Clay.

      “Tracks didn’t match. But he is wearing sneakers now and the size and his weight are about right. Whoever it was, he changed vehicles. Had another behind this building, judging from the tracks.”

      “Like to get a look inside there,” said Kino, thumbing over his shoulder at the building that was too new and too well kept to be on this property.

      “Think you need a warrant,” said Clay.

      “She didn’t look at us when I asked if she’d seen anyone,” Kino said. “Might want to speak to her when he’s not around. Maybe she’ll let us have a look inside.”

      “Come back in an hour,” said Clay. “The way he’s going, he’ll be passed out by then.”

      “Couldn’t she hear someone starting a truck?”

      “Not with a generator and television on,” said Clay.

      “I suppose.”

      “I saw those other tracks on the turnoff. They’re headed south. Same way we’re going.”

      “Could that car be a Ford СКАЧАТЬ