Leaphorn took two steps toward the door.
'Hold it,' Denton said. 'You want me to believe you're going to get into that vault?'
Denton was holding the .45, still cocked, now pointed at the ground about halfway between him and Leaphorn.
'We'll see,' Leaphorn said, and walked to the door.
It wasn't a fast walk. Leaphorn had become belatedly aware that he had managed to make himself an ally to Denton if Denton planned to kill him and get away with it. The thunderstorm brewing over the Zunis was producing lightning now and would probably dump enough rain to erase their tracks. The rumble of thunder echoed along the rows of bunkers, and the updrafts feeding the cloud were producing gusty winds. He had brought Denton to an absolutely perfect place for Denton to shoot him. No one would be near enough to hear a pistol shot even on a quiet day. Denton could probably drive out through the main gate with no more than a wave, or if he thought the security man would be curious, he could find a way out easily enough on the Zuni Mountains side, where ranchers had been using their wire cutters for years to get their cattle into the free grazing.
Now that he was closer, Leaphorn could read the faded little sign posted over the box on the door: lock door. Bad news. He checked the small box on the door, which he now saw was like those used in prisons as containers for coded locking devices. But, good news, this box was empty.
Then he noticed at his feet a section of thick wire. He picked it up. It had been cut. Still on the wire was a circular metal tab. Leaphorn found the place where the wire had been run through a flange on the door and a matching flange on the doorjamb. This tab had been the official seal.
'Okay, Leaphorn,' Denton said. 'Enough of this screwing around. I think this is a sort of setup. You're killing time. Waiting for somebody to come.'
It was just then that Leaphorn remembered both the pliers and the crowbar. McKay had used the pliers to cut the wire. As he looked at the metal locking bar in place across the door, he understood why McKay had bought the crowbar. He needed it as a 'cheat bar,' to apply leverage to push the blocking bar up out of the slots that held it. But what had McKay done with it? He'd found the pliers in McKay's car. Once the wire was cut, he had no more need for them here. But if he'd left Linda Denton locked in this bunker, he'd need the crowbar to get her out.
Denton was standing right behind Leaphorn now, and he pressed the pistol against Leaphorn's spine.
'Back in the truck,' he said. 'Now, or I kill you here.'
As he heard that, Leaphorn saw the crowbar, lying in the weeds against the concrete wall.
He pointed to it.
'Marvin McKay bought that bar at a Gallup hardware store the day you killed him,' Leaphorn said. 'Put that damned pistol back in your pocket, and we'll pick up the crowbar and use it to find out what happened to your wife.'
Again, the pressure of the pistol against Leaphorn's back disappeared.
'What are you talking about?' Denton said.
'I'm getting the crowbar. I'll show you.'
Leaphorn picked up the heavy steel bar and examined the locking arrangement a moment. Using the flange as a fulcrum, he put the bar end under the locking bar and pulled down with his full weight. The locking bar slid upward.
'Now, pull the door open.'
Denton did.
They stood engulfed in a rush of warm, stale air, and peered into a vast, empty darkness. Nothing but a clutter of cartons against the left wall, and two black barrel-like containers that once had probably held some sort of explosive. Denton was holding the pistol down by his side now.
'You think she's in there?'
The only light in the bunker followed them through the doorway. It dimly illuminated a gray concrete floor, which stretched sixty empty feet to the great half circle of gray concrete that formed the back wall.
Leaphorn walked in just a few steps before he noticed Denton wasn't following. He was still standing, slumped, staring at the door post.
'What'd you find?' Leaphorn said, and walked back toward the door.
Denton pointed, but his eyes were closed.
Words were scrawled on the concrete. Leaphorn turned on his flashlight and illuminated: bump i am so sorry.
'You know who this 'Bump' is?'
'I'm Bump,' Denton said. 'Because of my nose.' He touched a finger to the disfigurement.
'Oh,' Leaphorn said.
'She said she loved that bump on my nose. That it reminded her of the kind of man I was.' Denton tried to laugh at that, but couldn't manage it. 'Had to be Linda who wrote it,' he said. 'Nobody else called me that.'
Leaphorn touched the scrawl. 'I think she must have written this with her lipstick,' he said.
'I'll go find her,' Denton said. 'Linda,' he shouted, and rushed off into the gloom with the shout echoing and echoing in the huge empty tomb.
They found Mrs. Linda Denton, nee Linda Verbiscar,lying primly on a sheet of heavy corrugated cardboard behind the empty drums.
She was facedown, with her head turned sideways. The cool, utterly dry, almost airless climate of the sealed
