All three men looked at me.
I shook my head. “No. No. Fucking. Way.”
Turnbull spoke first. “We all know it’ll be easier for him to deal with someone he knows, and doesn’t loathe, and we all know that ain’t me or the sheriff.”
“Nothing about this will be easy, Agent Turnbull.” I looked at the scene. “Where’s Carsten?”
“On her way. She should be here any time.”
“Then I’ll wait for her.”
Turnbull shook his head. “This should be done now.”
Dammit. “Exactly what will you be doing while I’m with Rollie?”
His expression didn’t change.
I looked at Dawson. His face held the same stoicism.
Then I knew. The knot in my belly tightened. “You both intend to watch him for signs of guilt when he sees the woman he lives with, the mother of his children, carved up like a pumpkin? That’s your big professional, investigative play? Jesus.” I whirled around and took several deep uji breaths before I tracked down Rollie.
He sat in his pickup with the door open, puffing on a cigarette.
I waited in silence for him to say something.
Rollie dropped to his feet with a soft uff, shut the door, and ground out the red ember of his cigarette butt with the heel of his cowboy boot.
When our eyes met for the first time, it hit me how old he looked. The wrinkles lining his mouth became more apparent when he frowned. “So’s it true? About Verline?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I knew I shouldn’t ask the question, but I did anyway.
“Did you find her, Mercy? Since you…” He gestured vaguely.
“No. How long had she been missing?”
“She wasn’t missing.” Rollie’s tired eyes darted to the scene just beyond our line of sight, then back to mine. “I see your confusion, Mercy. Me ’n’ Verline had a fight a few days ago. She packed up the boys and took them to Nita’s. I ain’t heard from her since, but that’s the way it goes with her. She gets mad at me and takes off. Sometimes for as long as a week.”
“Who’s Nita?”
“Verline’s mom. I ain’t surprised Nita didn’t call the police neither. Woman’s got a serious distrust of tribal cops.”
“More than you?” tumbled out before I could stop it.
“Uh-huh. I doubt Nita would be worried anyway. Even when Verline is staying there, she bounces from place to place.”
“With the kids?”
Rollie shook his head. “Nope. She leaves ’em with Nita. After a couple days Nita calls me to bitch about getting stuck takin’ care of ’em again. She hasn’t called me this time.” He paused for a second. “But I did get a call about this.”
He wouldn’t reveal his source, so I didn’t ask. “I assume you’re here to identify her?”
He nodded. Then he asked, “It’s bad, huh?”
“Yeah, Rollie, it is. I’m sorry.”
Any color he’d had in his cheeks drained away. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and twisted his gnarled fingers around the beads on his horsehair necklace. His lips moved, but I couldn’t make out the words. When he looked at me again, the coldness on his face and in his eyes chilled me to the bone.
“Take me to her.”
Without a word, I led him to the scene.
All forensic activity stopped when we reached Verline’s body. Rollie walked around her until he reached her head. He stared down at her for the longest time. I suspected he assessed every body trauma. I wondered why I hadn’t stopped him from seeing this atrocity, the way I’d stopped Triscell Elk Thunder.
Because I knew Rollie could handle it?
I chanced a look at Turnbull and Dawson. Both men had donned shades.
A yelled warning had my focus zipping back to Rollie.
He’d dropped to his knees. His hand stroked Verline’s arm, and his lips brushed her forehead. I watched as he pulled out a knife and sliced off a chunk of Verline’s hair.
Officer Spotted Bear jerked Rollie to his feet.
“Let him go,” Carsten said sharply. “And back off.” She strode over to Rollie, ignoring everyone else. They spoke in low tones. Rollie nodded a lot.
Carsten patted his arm and made her way to us, her eyes flashing fire, her voice low and clipped. “He is a grieving man. Respect him in this moment.”
Color me impressed. I’d worked with Carsten before, but the petite blonde always struck me as the observant rather than the active type.
She stood on the tips of her boots and got in Turnbull’s face. “This is your scene; you’re responsible for all law enforcement agencies. You know protocol in Indian Country.”
“Always happy to have a victim specialist tell me how to do my job.”
“Do your job properly, Agent, and I won’t have to remind you.”
Awkward. But Carsten had a point. There were many superstitions and death traditions within the Indian community. Turnbull should’ve kept a tight leash on Officer Spotted Bear-and the Indian officer should’ve known better anyway. It just made me think he had it in for Rollie as much as Turnbull and Dawson did. It also reminded me of how little I knew about some of those Sioux death rites and rituals.
Rollie looked at all of us. “You think I could’ve done this to her?” Then he spoke to Officer Spotted Bear softly in Lakota, guaranteeing few would know what the hell he said.
Spotted Bear remained stoic after Rollie had said his piece.
“Are you finished so we can process the crime scene?” Turnbull asked Rollie.
I thought Carsten might punch Shay in the mouth. I’d offer to hold her coat.
Rollie’s eyes blazed at Turnbull. “Verline is not a ‘crime scene’ to me. You best remember that, boy.”
“Mr. Rondeaux, we appreciate your cooperation, and we’re sorry for your loss,” Carsten said, stepping between the two men.
“But we’ll need you at the tribal police station so we can ask a few questions,” Turnbull added.
“When?” Rollie asked Carsten.
“As soon as you’re up for it. Today.”
“I’ll be there.” Rollie pointed a shaking finger at Turnbull. “Feel free to tell Verline’s mother about this crime scene,” he said sarcastically. “It ain’t my place to overstep my bounds and let her know that another one of her daughters is dead.” He turned and shuffled off.
The crime scene techs shooed us away to finish.
Carsten’s phone rang, and she disappeared.
Turnbull, Dawson, and I gathered by Dawson’s patrol car. Dawson rested his hands on his hips. “I’ll be honest, Turnbull. We all know this body is in my county and not on the rez. The problem I have right now is lack of manpower. We’re running double shifts until I get approval of the deputy applicant’s paperwork from the county board. So I’ll hand off the case to the feds, if you can guarantee that we will not be kept out of the loop. That if I ask for a progress update on this case and the one tied to it, you’ll give me as much information as you’re able to so I can use that information to protect the residents in my county.”
That was the first I’d heard about how far Dawson had gotten in his deputy search. I knew he’d been taking applicants, but not that he was to the hiring stage. And it was a perfect example of how well we were able to keep our personal and professional lives separated.
Turnbull nodded. “That’s fair. Thank you. So far I don’t have the BIA and the DEA telling me the agencies I can share information with, which is a relief.”
They talked about the two murder cases, and I probably should’ve been listening, but I tuned them out. My mind drifted to Rollie and the upcoming changes in his life. How would he raise two small children at his age? Or would he just permanently dump them with Verline’s mother? I clicked on a comment my father had made years ago, about Rollie’s disinterest in any of his offspring, regardless of which woman had borne that child. And come to think of it, I’d met only one of Rollie’s adult progeny. Did his other kids live around here? Did I know any of them, not knowing Rollie was their father? The way Indians passed on surnames never made sense to me, so Rollie’s kids might all have different last names.