I started around the corner and hoofed it up the hill, reminding myself to ask Sheldon about the back doors and what they were used for.
At the front entrance, I took the stairs down to the first floor and rang the intercom.
“May I help you?”
“It’s Agent Gunderson.”
The buzzer went off, and I opened the door.
Sheldon greeted me. “Mercy, I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be here, either, but I’ve got a break, so I figured I might as well tie up some loose ends. Mind if I have coffee?”
“Help yourself.”
I poured a cup and let it warm my hands as I inhaled the aroma.
“So you’ve been released from your punishment and the drudgery of research?”
“No official word from the higher-ups, but I’ve been involved in fieldwork.”
“That’s what all agents want, right? To be out doing something instead of shuffling paperwork inside?”
“That’s what I thought I wanted,” I muttered.
Sheldon refilled his cup. “I heard another body was found.”
I lifted a brow. “Bad news travels fast.”
“Yes, the rumors reach into the bowels of the basement.” He blew across his cup. “Are the rumors true?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t imagine preferring finding dead bodies to sitting behind a desk, Agent Gunderson.”
“It’s worse when you know the victim.”
“I imagine it is. Sounds like your week has already started out on a sour note.”
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”
“Has the victim’s name been released?”
“Verline Dupris.”
His eyes widened beneath his thick glasses. “I knew Verline. Well, I didn’t know her, but I knew who she was. Wasn’t that long ago she’d registered her baby with the tribe.” He sipped his coffee. “Such a shame. She was so young. Do you have any suspects?”
That direct question earned him an abrupt subject change. “Not only was I unprepared for fieldwork first thing this morning, but I left my notebook with my research notes at home. I hate to be a pain, but do you have paper and a pen I could borrow?”
“Of course, I’ll set it in the police case files archive room for you.”
I gulped my coffee and poured another cup in his absence. When he returned, I said, “Thanks, Sheldon.”
“Just doing my job.” He shuffled back to his desk, his gait slow and measured, as if he was in pain.
I felt like a jerk for being so brusque. For the most part, the man worked by himself day in, day out. It wouldn’t kill me to visit with him for a bit. I wandered over to his desk. “Been a rough day all around.”
He seemed surprised I was talking to him. “I can’t imagine dealing with all you do in the FBI.”
“So far it’s not nearly as bad as what I dealt with in the army.”
“Your dad mentioned you were in the military. The man was awful proud of you.”
“How’d my military service come up in conversation?” I asked suspiciously.
“He saw my military certificates.” He pointed to his desk. “I was full time in the National Guard.”
“Oh. How long were you in?”
“Twenty. I opted out, figuring they might freeze retirement by the time my next option came around. I was a little gimped up anyway.”
“So when did you come home to Eagle River?”
“Six years ago. My uncle Harold… he’s my only living relative. He’s getting on in years, took me in after my folks died, so I owe him. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” I thought of Sophie. “I’ve got someone in my life like that, too.”
He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “Luckily, I’d been in office work in the guard for years, so I was qualified to take over this job, managing the archives. It made it easier for my uncle to retire, knowing this place was in good hands.”
Would my father have felt relief if he’d known I was on my way back to the ranch as he lay dying in a rented hospital bed?
“Mercy?”
I glanced up at Sheldon. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“I said I’m trying to get my uncle to start a hobby.”
“I’m too old to start a hobby now. I can’t imagine trying to tackle one twenty-some years from now.”
Sheldon cocked his head. “Don’t you have any hobbies?”
I doubted drinking counted as a hobby. “I run. Practice yoga. Hunt. Some people in my family call me a hobby rancher.” By the expectant look on his face, I guessed he wanted me to ask him about his hobbies. “How about you?”
“Oh, nothing too exciting. I’m a history buff. Amateur photographer. I told you I do a little hunting. I’m interested in traditional native herbal remedies. And I’m an avid ornithologist.”
I frowned. “You’re an orthodontist?”
He laughed. “You are a funny one. I said I’m an ornithologist. A bird-watcher.”
Jesus. Seriously? He was into bird-watching? That’s where I drew the conversational line. I pushed back from the desk. “I probably better stop yakking and get some work done.”
“No problem. I’m running behind schedule myself. Let me know if you need anything.”
I did an Internet search for Arlene Dupris. I found a ten-year-old obit-she had died from injuries sustained in a hit-and-run. My gaze moved to the police case files. Since the place was über-organized, it didn’t take long to find the right box with the file. I flipped though it and read it where I stood.
Ten years ago, Arlene Dupris was struck down a mile outside Eagle River. By the time she was discovered in the ditch, she was already dead. The tribal cops tried to pass the investigation to the Eagle River County Sheriff’s Department, who’d passed it right back. No investigation at all, just shoved aside by two law enforcement agencies.
No wonder the Dupris family had an issue with cops. I wondered why my dad had just filed this case. How many other times had he done that? Curiosity got the better of me, and I started looking through random case files.
My phone rang, and the caller ID read DAWSON. “Gunderson.”
“Hey, babe. How’s it going?”
Babe. So much for professionalism. “It sucks ass, cupcake.”
He laughed at my term of endearment.
“I’m wishing you would’ve pushed harder to keep the case within the purview of the Eagle River County Sheriff’s Department, Sheriff.”
He snorted. “Right. Then Fabio wouldn’t get to play tough FBI mentor to impress you.”
That sounded almost like… jealousy.
“The reason I called is because I’m getting off so I’ll pick Lex up today.”
I glanced at the computer clock. Almost two hours had passed. Crap. I probably needed to get back to the police station. “Good thing. I’ll be in interviews the rest of the day. Lex mentioned needing to go to Rapid for school supplies.”
“I’ll get him there. Since Sophie won’t be here, you want me to cook supper?”
“Depends on what you plan to cook.”
“How about antelope?”
“Didn’t we decide to turn all that meat into jerky?”
“Nope. I kept the backstraps.”
“Of my antelope meat? Or yours?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does only if you’re bragging to Lex about how studly you are in putting meat on the table.”
“Smart-ass. You want me to confess to my son you’re a better hunter than me?”
“It’d be the truth, because I am a much better hunter than you.”
He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“But you can process a kill faster.”
“Such a sweet talker, Sergeant Major. I’ll see you at home.”
I returned everything to its proper place. I deleted the history on the computer in case chatty Sheldon got snoopy. I ripped out the two pages of notes I’d jotted down and set the notebook on Sheldon’s desk. “I’ve gotta run. Thanks for your help today.”
“Happy to assist. And you’re welcome back here any time, Agent Gunderson.”
I didn’t remember to ask Sheldon about the weird doors I’d seen on the backside of the building until I was inside the tribal PD.