Bones

“Catch up?” Thompson said. “What if you find something? How are you going to get it out?”

“We’ll mark it and come back later,” Ben said.

But only yesterday Thompson’s mind had been filled with visions of glory for bringing in a second body, and he wasn’t going to be left out of a chance to make those visions a reality, especially not after Parrish himself had hinted that there were as many as eleven other burials. “No way,” he said. “You stay, we all stay. We’re in this together.”

“Suit yourself,” Ben said.

David had by this time put the leather working collar on Bingle. Bingle was staring at him intently, and began barking.

Andy and J.C., who had been standing near the stretcher, were deep in conversation. I saw Andy nodding. Just as David managed to quiet the dog, J.C. said to Thompson, “Let the two of us go on to the airstrip with the body.”

“That’s a lot of hiking for the two of you,” Ben said.

“True,” J.C. said, “but we can manage it. And I’ve got an idea. The plane should be back soon, if it isn’t waiting for us there already — the weather hasn’t been bad enough to keep it from landing. When we get to it, I’ll radio the ranger station for a chopper. They can pick me up at the landing strip, and I’ll show them where to find you. They won’t have any trouble landing in this meadow. And leaving by chopper won’t give your prisoner many opportunities to make a break for it — not as many as a walk through the forest might.”

The idea of skipping the hike back to the airstrip obviously appealed to Thompson, but he hesitated. “You can get one in here before nightfall?”

“No problem. Without Parrish leading us on his goofy side routes, it shouldn’t take us long to reach the airstrip. You can have him locked up before the end of the day.”

Thompson looked over to see Parrish frowning. Caught at this, Parrish gave a sugary smile to the detective. Thompson hesitated.

“The guards are looking tired,” J.C. said. “This hasn’t been easy duty. This way, they won’t have to backpack, watch the trail, and keep an eye on Parrish all at the same time.”

“Okay,” Thompson said.

Ben extracted a promise from Andy to stay with the body while J.C. came back for the others. “I don’t want anyone claiming that the body or evidence was out of our control at any time.”

David and Bingle went down into the meadow first, at a fairly fast pace. Ben and I followed not far behind them, carrying the excavation equipment. Flash carried some of this as well, along with his camera equipment. Thompson, Parrish, and the guards moved more slowly.

The wind died down, but David didn’t seem to be bothered. He used the opportunity to rest the dog, set down his backpack and equipment, and pick out a place to wait for the chopper. “J.C. was pretty optimistic about the weather,” he said, looking up at the sky. “I don’t know. It’s not bad right now, but I think we might get more rain yet.”

“I thought the same thing,” Ben said. “I have a feeling that we’ll be spending the night here. On the other hand, J.C. knows these mountains better than we do. If the plane is waiting for him when they reach the airstrip, and the chopper gets up here fast enough, we may be okay. But I don’t want to be rushed if Bingle finds something.”

“I’ll stay here with you even if Thompson and the others want to go back,” David said. He paused, took out the squeeze bottle with the powder in it and tested the air. The powder drifted slowly off toward the ridge. “Look at that. A really fine breeze. This is better for working than that wind — it could have been blowing scent from a mile away.” Bingle, standing a little apart from us, was alerting again.

“?Quieres trabajar?” he called out. Do you want to go to work?

Bingle’s tail wagged, and he gave a bark.

“Find us a good spot, Ben,” David said, moving toward the dog. “Haven’t heard any thunder yet, but if there is a storm, I sure as hell don’t want to be standing out in the middle of a meadow like a lightning rod.” To Bingle he said, “?Buscalo! ?Busca al muerto!”

Dog and handler began to move in a crisscross path down the meadow, much as they had done when I followed them the day before.

From our earlier hike through this area I remembered that the woods were denser here than those near the meadow where Julia Sayre had been buried. Farther in from this meadow, there was a stream; beyond that, a small pond.

Flash, Ben, and I set up one of the smaller tents in the woods, to give Duke and Earl a place to catch up on their sleep. If necessary, we would set up camp there. While sheltering under a single tree, or even a small stand of trees, would be extremely dangerous in a bad storm, a forest of this size would be safer than the meadow. We would no longer be the tallest objects.

It wasn’t long before we heard Bingle crooning.

We hurried to the meadow, where David was praising the dog. “?Que inteligente eres! ?Que guapo eres!”

“Yes, he’s handsome and intelligent,” I said, “but what did he find?”

David commanded Bingle to stay, and walked with us to a place another few yards away. “A little newer, I suspect.”

The plants here were shorter and sparser than growth nearby. This time, it was not so difficult to see the oval shape formed by the edges of the grave; the fill soil within the grave had settled, so that the surface of the grave was slightly concave. The edges of this depression had cracked, outlining it.

“Great!” Bob Thompson said. “You did it! We’ve got the bastard now!”

“Detective Thompson,” Ben said coldly, “there is nothing to celebrate here — on any count. We don’t yet have