The Scorpion's Tail (Nora Kelly #2)(12)

Nora said, “Well, that depends.”

“This isn’t about the Donner Party site, if that’s what worries you.”

Nora took immediate, and instinctual, offense. Do I look worried? But she pushed the feeling away, telling herself she was being prickly.

“We were about to have lunch,” she said instead. “Come into the shade and have some coffee.”

“Great, thanks.”

Nora led the way. She poured Corrie a cup from a large thermos and another for herself.

“Have a seat,” she said. “Cream and sugar are over there.”

Corrie eased herself into a chair, looking uncertain. Adelsky took a seat nearby and pretended to drink his coffee, while obviously waiting with his ears perked up to hear what the FBI agent might have to say. Nora thought with a certain amusement that Corrie still looked very much the rookie—she hadn’t yet developed the air of authority and self-assurance law enforcement types usually displayed. And she looked so young. It couldn’t be easy for her in an FBI office with a bunch of older guys. Nora certainly empathized with that.

So why did she feel such an urgency to speed Corrie on her way?

“How’s your arm?” she asked, making an effort to be polite.

“All healed up, thanks for asking.”

They sat in director’s chairs around a plastic worktable. Nora’s sandwich was in the cooler nearby, but she figured it would be rude to start eating in front of Corrie. Adelsky felt no such compunction, and he hauled out an overstuffed bologna sandwich and began to chow down.

Nora took a deep breath. “What brings you all the way out here, if not the Donner case?”

“I didn’t mean to drop in on you like this. I would have called, but, well, you’ve got no cell reception—and I’m in kind of a hurry.”

Nora nodded.

“I’ll get to the point,” said Corrie. “A body was found in a ghost town in the Azul Mountains. I need someone to excavate it properly.”

“Someone. You mean me?”

“Yes.”

All of a sudden, Nora realized why Corrie’s appearance made her antsy. It was because, unconsciously, she’d been afraid of a request exactly like this.

“Doesn’t the FBI have a team that does that sort of thing?” she asked.

“We do. It’s called the Evidence Response Team.”

“So why not use them?”

“The thing is,” Corrie said, “we don’t know yet if the individual represents a homicide or just an accident. In other words, it isn’t an official case yet. It’s a small job, something that could be done in a couple of hours. It doesn’t require a big forensic team and a lot of fuss.”

In other words, my time is less valuable than theirs. Nora pondered this for about one additional second. “I’m sorry, but I’m totally tied up here. Our permit expires October 15, around the time the snows start at this altitude. I have to have everything finished before then.”

“I understand,” Corrie said. “But it’s only a couple of hours’ work, and I just want to make sure it’s done right and the evidence isn’t compromised.”

“I doubt the Institute would release me, even for a day.”

“On the contrary, I’m pretty sure they would. Local institutions often lend their expertise to law enforcement. It’s considered a courtesy.”

“A courtesy.” Nora felt slightly annoyed at the way she’d framed this, implying that a refusal would be a discourtesy. Rookie or not, Special Agent Swanson was proving once again that she could be a pain in the ass.

“And,” Corrie added, “it would be good publicity for the Institute, which … could probably use it right about now.”

And whose fault is that? Nora almost replied, swallowing her words. This damned FBI agent was like a dog with a bone. A lot was riding on the smooth completion of this project—for Nora personally. She took another deep breath. “Sorry. You make a good case, Corrie, you really do. But I’m telling you the truth. We’re incredibly busy, on a short clock, and—” she fibbed—“behind schedule as it is.” She gave Corrie a long, friendly smile of refusal. Maybe if she split her sandwich with the woman, she’d leave.

“Have you ever been to the ghost town of High Lonesome?” Corrie asked after a moment.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s on a mesa, overlooking the Jornada del Muerto desert. Used to be an old gold-mining town. The buildings are fabulously preserved. There’s a hotel, saloon, church, livery stables. And those mountains are where Geronimo and Cochise used to hang out. All in all, a pretty spectacular spot.”

Nora shook her head. She was not going to take the bait.

“The body I mentioned was found by a relic hunter in the basement of a rather mysterious building, off by itself next to the edge of the mesa. It looks as if he took refuge there—or his body was dumped—maybe sixty, seventy years ago.”

“No sign of foul play?” Nora asked, despite herself.

“Hard to say. The relic hunter only had a chance to uncover the cranium and part of the right forearm before being arrested. The body is mummified and covered in windblown sand. I’m no archaeologist, but it looks like he was crouching against the wall.”