Trusting the distant police department, but knowing how messages can sometimes become entangled, the undersheriff delayed the moment. “What did the officers tell you, sir?”
“Two cops and a chaplain came to the hospital. They said Freddie had an accident on his four-wheeler.” George’s voice cracked, and Estelle could hear him taking deep breaths.
“He did, sir. I’m sorry.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jesus, how…”
“He flipped the unit into an arroyo off Bender’s Canyon Trail, sir.”
“Oh, my God. Wait…” Thumpings and voices were loud in the background, and at one point Estelle could hear an electronic voice, and a series of chimes that sounded like an elevator signal. “The cops didn’t know when,” Romero said. “When it happened.”
“We’re not sure, sir.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t want to guess, sir.”
“Look,” Romero said, and his voice trailed off. “He was lying out there all night? Is that what they’re saying?”
“It appears right now that the accident happened sometime yesterday, sir.”
“So he was out there all night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, Jesus. You mean he could have…” Romero’s voice trailed off, and then Estelle heard him try to speak to someone else, perhaps Tata. “When did you find him?” he managed finally.
“We found him about three hours ago, sir.”
“Oh, my God. Who? Who found him?”
“Bill Gastner and I, sir.”
“You were looking for him? How…”
“Yes, sir. We were following the tracks of his ATV. He parked his truck over by Borracho Springs. Then he drove over to Bender’s Canyon from there. I can’t be sure, but I think I caught sight of him yesterday around two o’clock. Driving along State 56, sir. He turned off at the saloon, and took the back trail over to Bender’s Canyon.”
“You didn’t talk to him?”
“No, sir. I didn’t have the chance.”
“He ain’t supposed to be driving along the highway, is he?”
“No, sir, he’s not. But he was on the shoulder, and just for a mile or so. By the time I passed by, he was off in the distance, off-road. I couldn’t have followed him if I had wanted to. And at the time, I didn’t know it was him.”
“I don’t know why he’d be over there,” Romero said. His voice was husky, right on the edge of a sob.
“Nor I, sir. Is there anything I can do for you or Tata?”
“Christ, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think right now. Butch is going to be all right, I guess. I mean, he’s going to be blind in that eye, but everything else is under control. But now this…”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“I just don’t know what to think. We’re in the ER right now. They had to give Tata a sedative.” Romero heaved a great, shuddering sigh. “Where is he now?”
“At the hospital, sir.” Estelle avoided the blunt, awful word morgue that would have been more specific. “Dr. Perrone is with him.”
“Okay. I guess that’s all…all I needed to know. But I want to see where it happened.”
“I can understand that, sir. Whenever it’s convenient for you. In the meantime, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate.”
“Well, right now, I guess we’re driving back down there. Tata wanted to stay here, but…”
“I understand, sir.”
“My sister lives here in the city. I’m thinking that we’ll ask her to come stay with Butch so we can break away for a little. God, I don’t know.” He sighed again. “We’ll be there in five hours, Estelle.”
She looked at her watch. Five hours would put the Romeros on the highway well after dark. “Sir, is there any way I can convince you to drive down tomorrow?”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Then travel safe, sir. And again, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well. We all…we all are, I guess.”
She rang off and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she slipped the little phone back in its holster. “What a thing,” she said to Bill Gastner. “A day starts out one way, and changes so fast there’s just no keeping up.”
“We’ve seen it too many times,” Gastner grumbled. “When it hits close to home, it kind of jerks our chains. They’re driving back tonight?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s not good, either.”
Chapter Ten
She pulled the SUV into gear and let it idle along the rough two-track. In a few moments, they reached a fork, and just beyond on the left, a closed gate.
“Herb’s back forty,” Gastner said. “Freddy didn’t go through there.” Sure enough, the four-wheeler tracks, here and there clear, but most of the time just a vague scuff on the hard ground, veered to the right, where the two-track dropped down into a shallow arroyo and then around the buttress of the mesa. “If we continue out this way, we’ll be on Miles Waddell’s property in about two miles, and then back to the county road,” he said. “So where the hell was he going?” Almost immediately, he sat up straighter, just as they reached another grove of piñon and oak scrub. Estelle slowed.
“Right there,” he said. The ATV tracks, now little more than a swath of bent and crushed dried grass and range weeds, swept to the left, off the trail. Estelle stopped the truck, staying in the two narrow ruts of the two-track. They both got out and circled around in front of the SUV.
“Now, the question is…” Gastner started to say, then shrugged. “Who knows what the goddamn question is.” He walked a few paces to the southwest, then turned and knelt down. “Joe Tracker here says that there have been enough people through this spot in the past week or so to fill a parking lot.” He pointed, sweeping his arm back and forth. “Get the light just right, and you can see that.”
Estelle walked ahead, staying on the raw dirt of the trail’s ruts. “He-or somebody-went on, that’s for sure.” She waited for Gastner to catch up. In a section no more than six feet across, merely a wash of sandy trash between two smooth, flat rocks whose crowns were now part of the trail’s paving, they could see a clear impression of the knobby tires from what looked like the big, soft tires of an ATV. And other tracks as well…truck, car, even motorcycle, perhaps a mountain bike or two.
A portion of the ATV’s prints were obscured by other tracks, too indistinct to signal anything other than that they were there.
“Useless,” Gastner said. “Nothing we can tell for sure.”
“But let’s suppose that Freddy went through here, along with everyone else. Hunters, ranchers, BLM, tourists, lost illegal immigrants, kids out partying.”
“And so? Let’s suppose that. So what? That’s what it all is, sweetheart. Supposition. We just don’t know, and we may never know. And even after the kid crashed, it’d be easy enough to miss him.” He shrugged. “Herb Torrance could have come out his gate and gone down this way. Could have gone the other way, too. Ditto anybody else you care to mention.”
Estelle sighed and rubbed her head. “I just want to know, Padrino. That’s all. I just want to know. I want to know why Freddy rode out this way, I want to know where he went.”
“Of course you do. But.” Gastner strolled down the two-track, hands in his pockets. “Oh, you got more tracks up here,” he said, stopping at the edge of another sandy wash where run-off down the flank of the mesa had carved a shallow crossing. “Several, as a matter of fact. See? That’s what I mean.”
“It won’t hurt to follow the two track out a bit farther,” Estelle said.
“You aren’t going to see anything,” Gastner offered. “I mean, so what? So he rode out this way? You know, the ride he took yesterday, when you saw him, wasn’t necessarily the only recon he’s taken in this area.” He surveyed the countryside, hands on his hips. “Probably pretty good hunting out this way. He’s got the rifle, so he’s making life miserable for the coyotes and bunnies. You know what I’ll bet?” He waited until Estelle raised an eyebrow in question. “I’ll wager lunch, which by the way we haven’t enjoyed yet, that if we walk out into the prairie here a hundred paces, we’ll cross at least one set of vehicle tracks.”