“No,” the clerk said. “I don’t see anything at all at that address in Tucson. No police or criminal activity, anyway. There’ve been several nine-one-one calls, but those all turned out to be medical emergencies of one kind or another. The last one was three months ago.”
While Joanna had the Records clerk on the line, she asked for any available information on Rob Evans as well. That check, too, came up empty.
After Joanna finished with Records, she sat for the better part of a minute staring at the Legacy. Although there was nothing to say that Elvira and Luther Hollenbeck were connected to the monkey wrenchers, there was nothing that said they weren’t, either.
Keeping one hand on her Colt and holding her breath, Joanna exited the Blazer and made her way to the driver’s side of the Subaru. Only when she discovered both the front and back seats to be empty did she take another breath.
She returned to the Blazer and to her radio. “Dispatch,” she said. “Try to raise Deputy Gregovich for me.”
Moments later, Terry’s voice came hiccuping through the radio. There was so much static in the transmission that he might have been in Timbuktu rather than a mile or so away. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” he asked.
“Have you been on the firebreak this morning?”
“I’ve been up and down it two or three times. Spike and I have been going around the perimeter to make sure no one tries to come in via the back door.”
“I think someone has come in that way now anyway,” Joanna said. “I drove due west from the construction shack to where the road ends. I’m about half a mile north of there now, parked behind an empty Subaru Legacy that’s sitting in the middle of the road.”
“That’s strange,” Terry said. “I didn’t see it an hour ago when I was by there last. Anyone around?”
“Not that I can see, but I’d appreciate it if you’d come down and give me some backup, just in case.”
“You bet, Sheriff,” Terry said. “Spike and I will be there just as soon as we can.”
While she waited, Joanna got back out and walked up to the Legacy once again. In the fine dust behind the vehicle she saw several sets of footprints. All the prints seemed to have been made by the same pair of shoes. It looked as though the same person had come and gone several different times.
Joanna was crouched down examining the prints when a woman walked up behind her. “Who are you?” she asked.
The woman, a spare gray-haired lady in her late sixties or early seventies, had approached in such complete silence that Joanna almost jumped out of her skin. “Elvira?” she stammered, lurching to her feet. “Elvira Hollenbeck?”
“Yes. That’s right. Who are you? What do you want?” “My name is Brady, Sheriff Joanna Brady. What are you doing here?”
“It’s a nice day,” Elvira answered. “I’m taking a walk.”
But not up in the mountains, Joanna thought, noting Elvira’s dusty hiking boots and thick leather gloves. Joanna also noticed that the woman had approached from the direction of Oak Vista rather than across the fence in the Coronado National Forest. Still, she didn’t appear to pose any threat. With her iron-gray hair pulled back in a bun and a broad-brimmed sun hat shading her face, Elvira Hollenbeck looked like the most ordinary of grandmothers. She didn’t seem to be the least bit upset or agitated.
In fact, the woman seemed so totally harmless that Joanna began to feel a little silly for having summoned Terry Gregovich. “You’re not from around here, are you?” Joanna asked.
“Tucson,” Elvira answered.
“Well, then, you may not be aware that we’re currently having some difficulties at this location. Some people object to the construction of this new subdivision. In fact, there was a near riot on this property yesterday, and there’s likely to be another one this afternoon. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“All right, then,” Elvira said. “I’ll go.”
Elvira Hollenbeck was moving toward the car door just as Terry Gregovich drove up from the opposite direction. Stopping with the front of his Bronco nose-to-nose with the Legacy, the deputy jumped out. Then he opened the Bronco’s back door and Spike bounded out after him. Terry turned and started toward Joanna and Elvira, walking along the passenger side of the Subaru.
“Everything under control?” he asked.
Joanna was just nodding yes when a sudden transformation came over Spike. He stopped dead. His long ears flattened against his head. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
Terry froze too and stared down at the dog. “What is it, boy?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Get him away from me,” Elvira yelled. “That dog is vicious. Get away! Shoo.”
But instead of going in the other direction, she charged toward the dog, screeching and flapping her arms. Spike stood his ground. In fact, the dog paid no attention to the flailing woman. His whole being seemed focused on the car-on the back of the car.
Joanna looked at the vehicle, too, and saw nothing. Just inside the window was a cloth shelf that seemed to conceal a small covered trunk space. Other than that, the backseat appeared to be totally empty. Spike, however, continued to growl.
Not knowing the dog well enough, Joanna turned to Spike’s handler. “What does it mean, Deputy Gregovich?” Joanna asked.
“I don’t know, ma’am,” he replied. “Spike’s never done this before. What is it, boy? What are you trying to tell me?”
Joanna turned to Elvira. “What’s in the vehicle?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “You can see for yourself. There’s nothing there.”
“The dog seems to think otherwise. Open the trunk.”
“I won’t,” Elvira Hollenbeck declared. “You can’t make me. You don’t have a warrant, and I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Yesterday this site was the scene of a riot, Mrs. Hollenbeck,” Joanna observed. “The dog’s unusual behavior is enough to suggest that you have something dangerous concealed in your vehicle. In other words, probable cause. Now, are you going to open that trunk, or are we?”
“I won’t.”
“All right. Fair enough. Deputy Gregovich, if you’ll check in the backseat of my Blazer, you’ll find a toolbox with a crowbar in it. Go get it, please, and then come back and pry this thing open.”
“But my car,” Elvira objected. “You’ll wreck my car.”
“Then open it yourself,” Joanna told her. “It’s your choice.”
Leaving Spike where he was, Terry walked to Joanna’s Blazer and brought back the crowbar. He was just starting to place it between the hatch and the frame when Elvira stepped forward. “Don’t,” she said. “Someone will get hurt.”
“Why?” Joanna asked. “What’s in there?”
She expected Elvira to answer “Dynamite,” or “Blasting caps.” Something explosive. Something that would blow pieces of Mark Childers’ earth-moving equipment to kingdom come. What Joanna didn’t expect was Elvira Hollenbeck’s one-word answer.
“Snakes,” she said.
“Snakes?” Joanna echoed.
Elvira nodded. “Rattlesnakes. Fifteen or so. I had another one that I was bringing back to the car, but when I saw you parked here, I had to let him go.”
Joanna was dumbfounded. “You have a earful of rattle-snakes? How come?”
“I collect them,” Elvira said. “They’re worth a lot of money these days. When a developer comes through and clears land like this, they’re here for the picking. Besides, with their habitat all torn up and with winter coming on, they’ll all die anyway.”
“You collect snakes and sell them?” Joanna asked. “Isn’t that illegal?”
Elvira looked Joanna directly in the eye. “It may be,” she said. “But it shouldn’t be. What should be against the law is this.” She gestured off across the great expanse of yellowed grassland with its wide gashes of bulldozed red earth where not a single tree or blade of grass had been left standing. “We don’t leave homeless dogs and cats to die long lingering deaths,” she continued. “The SPCA sees to that. Snakes are God’s creatures, too.”