Steve Gluck sat down on the picnic bench. Everything about him was heavy: the drooping belly, the jowls, the bags under his eyes. He looked as if he carried the sins of mankind on his back and they were dragging him down.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger, the brim of his NPS baseball-style cap pushed up like the flag on Opie and Aunt Bee’s mailbox.
Regis set the cardboard box down on the table. He didn’t sit down. Jim put one foot on the bench and folded his arms over his raised knee.
“Are you going to arrest me?” Anna asked and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Steve’s hand dropped to his lap, and he squinted up into her face. “Should we?” he asked.
“No. No. Not at all,” Anna said lamely. “I was just asking to be polite.”
“Mind if we go inside out of the sun?” Steve asked.
She did. Not because she was afraid Buddy would call attention to himself. They already knew she had the kit, and she was hoping Steve could find a good place for him to live and be a proper skunk. The thought of being inside, in a small dim living room with three large men—and without Jenny—gave her an unpleasant hollow feeling.
“Sure. Come in.”
Anna’s New York instincts twitched. She ignored them. The box could probably sit out there for years and nobody would steal it.
Both windows behind the battered couch had the blinds drawn. Neither Anna nor Jenny spent much time inside, and when they did, they wanted their privacy. The single window in the side wall was blocked by a swamp cooler. Anna retreated behind the kitchen counter, wanting a barrier between herself and the men at least until her eyes adjusted and the giant killer butterflies in her stomach settled. Steve, Jim, and Regis hulked in the middle of the small living space, blinking.
“Sit,” Anna said brusquely.
“Thanks. Good to take a load off.” With a sigh, Steve lowered himself into the armchair matching the sofa in both hideousness and decrepitude. Jim perched on the edge of the couch, his belt bristling with too much law enforcement gear to allow him to sit back. Regis claimed one of the stools at the kitchen counter, crowding Anna’s space.
“You don’t happen to have any coffee on, do you?” Steve asked.
“No,” Anna said.
“Okay, then. Okay.” He took off his ball cap and arranged it neatly, using his knee as a hat stand. “Why did you think we were going to arrest you?” he asked amiably.
Anna didn’t want to talk or answer or be in this shrinking space. Breathing deeply, she reminded herself it was only a dim crowded room, not a trap. Maybe not a trap.
“Jenny said you thought maybe I knew Kay before, that maybe I killed her. I didn’t and I didn’t.”
“That did cross my mind,” Steve said with what sounded like reluctance. “Professionally speaking, it’s important to look at the ugly what-ifs. You didn’t know her?”
“No. I didn’t. I didn’t push her into the hole. I didn’t fall into the hole. Both of us were thrown down into it by three college-age men. I told you all this.”
Anger was flaring. Anna welcomed it. Like cocaine, anger was a wonderful stimulant. She needed the boost.
“I know you did,” Steve said. “I know. Frank—the sheriff you met—is a real good tracker. He said there were four sets of prints that he could find. Three big, probably the college boys, and a smaller set that might have been yours. By the way they were made, he’s sure there was a chase and the little prints were the ones being chased. So you’ve got no cause to worry on that front.” He was quiet for a minute, then asked plaintively, “You sure you don’t have any coffee? Cold from this morning would be fine.”
“No.”
The district ranger sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “Nasty habit,” as if Anna’s main concern were for the health of his digestive tract. “Did you know any of the boys?” he asked in the same conversational way he’d asked for coffee.
“No.”
“Ever seen them before?”
“No.”
“Too bad,” he said sincerely. “It would have made things easier.”
Like the high of cocaine, the fierce energy of anger didn’t last. It was hard to stay mad at Steve Gluck. Anna could feel the artificial heat draining from her belly, leaving cold dregs behind. The rangers had no idea who the monsters were. They were out and about enjoying their monstrous selves, and Anna was scared to be in the same room with three men she knew and worked with.
“Couldn’t Frontiersman Frank track them back to where they came from?” she snapped.
Steve shook his head slowly, ignoring her slight of the sheriff. “If anybody could, Frank could, but, if you remember, where the three started chasing you was in a natural swale, wind-filled with sand. Around it is bare sandstone. Even Hole-in-the-Rock Road is difficult to follow over the harder rock. Frank could follow them most of the way to where you were in the solution hole, though.
“They turned back a couple times—that or there were more than three of them, but Frank doesn’t think so. He got half a dozen fairly clear prints.”
“They turned back because, after they took care of me, they went back, got Kay, then threw her down with me,” Anna said.
“You say you buried her?” Steve asked.
“No, goddammit, I didn’t say I buried her!” Anna shouted.
Gluck held up both hands in a gesture of peace. “Just asking,” he said mildly.
On the edge of his chair, Jim watched like a devoted fan at a tennis match. Regis watched only Anna.
“I said I
Because they were not evil or stupid men didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt her.
Stoicism: She would let in only as much as she could tolerate and show only what emotions she couldn’t mask.
“I’m sorry, Steve,” she said politely. “Can I make you some coffee?”
Engaging in what actors called a “secondary activity,” and normal people called keeping busy, calmed Anna. As she made coffee and got down cups, Steve asked her questions she’d already answered in various different ways. Though she disliked being made to repeat herself, and disliked the feeling of accusation, by the time the coffee was perked and the sugar spooned, she did remember a few more details.
The boy who merely watched was sandy-haired. He wore his hair long in front in what had once been termed a surfer cut. Acne ruined what might have been a handsome face. The kid whose face she’d never seen, the one stripping off his shorts, had a tattoo on the back of his right shoulder, a round shape like a planet or a tortoise. His hair was dark and curled at the nape of his neck. The third boy—the one who killed Kay—was big, tall and big.
Steve ran out of questions. For a moment he sat staring into his coffee cup. Then he heaved a great sigh and pushed himself up off the couch. “I think you’re in the clear on this,” he said.
“Thanks,” Anna said acidly. “Can I go back to being a victim now?”
The district ranger put his ball cap on, tugging the brim down low over his eyes. “Never go back to being a victim,” he said. He stood staring at the floor, thinking. “Skunk and box,” he said as if retrieving a mental list. “Come out and take a look at the box we brought, if you would.”
Obediently Anna followed the men out onto the porch. The instant largesse of space and light allowed her to expand her lungs. Muscles she hadn’t been aware she was tensing relaxed. Her shoulders squared, her spine
