her and the trailer. She opened the door and held her hands up.
“Come out from behind there,” he said, motioning with his weapon.
“No. You need to put down your rifle. Otherwise, you’ll be facing a lot more law enforcement than just me, and I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot.”
“I have the right to defend my property.”
The ownership of the property was doubtful, but Tess ignored that. “You have nothing to fear from me. Lay down your weapon and let’s talk.” At the same time, she slid out of the car, canting her body so that her right side was hidden. She inched her hand down to her side, unsnapped the holster, and drew her SIG Sauer. She called out, “Did you see the fire?”
“Fire?” he said again.
“A car was burned about fifteen miles down the road. You must have seen it.”
“I did not! Cease and desist! You are trespassing on my property!”
“Can’t we talk?”
“You can’t be the sheriff! I talked to the sheriff yesterday. He looked nothing like you!”
“That was my partner, Danny.”
“Danny?” He was puzzled. “Another one? How many are there of you? Why are you harassing me? Throw your weapon out. Do it now or I won’t be responsible for what I might do! A man has a right to defend his life and his property.”
“I can’t do that.”
There was a pause. “Okay. Leave your weapon in the car.”
“I will,” Tess lied. She watched as he lowered his rifle again and scratched an ear.
“Okay, then.” He took a deep breath.
“I just want to talk to you. Like the other guy, Danny. Remember? He came by and talked to you and then he drove away.”
“Okay,” he said again. He’d made a one-eighty-degree turnaround in a split second. “I don’t want any trouble. You have backup? They’re not on their way, are they?”
“No. I’m just here to ask you about the fire. Like my partner Danny was. You remember he just asked you some questions and left? Please put down your rifle.”
He lowered his rifle all the way, then walked out from under the tarp and set his rifle carefully on the ground. He stepped back.
“Thank you,” Tess said, easing her SIG Sauer P226 back into her holster but keeping her hand close. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Suddenly he looked shy. “You can’t come in, though. The place is a mess.”
“That’s fine. We can talk out here.” Tess did not move from behind the door and the engine block. “Anybody else live with you? Anyone inside the trailer?”
“No. I ride alone.”
“Did you see the fire?”
“Of course I saw the fire.” Another one-eighty.
“Do you remember what time it was, Mr.…?”
“Name’s Peter. Peter Deuteronomy. Rhymes with lobotomy.” He giggled at his own joke.
“You believe in the Bible,” Tess said. “That’s good.”
He smiled. “You a Christian?”
“Yes.” She was, and she wasn’t, depending on the things she saw on any day. But right now she was a true believer. He hadn’t shot her, for which she was thankful.
“Some of us around here, we have a Bible study. I could ask them, if you want to join.”
“Thank you, but I have my own. What night do you guys meet?”
“Tuesdays at seven o’clock p.m. Over at Matty Thompson’s house.”
“Oh. That’s when we meet, too.”
His face fell. “Too bad, but at least you’re washed in the blood of the Lamb.”
Tess nodded. “So can I ask you about the fire? You saw it? Do you remember what time that was, Peter?”
He looked down at the ground, shifted his feet on the rocks. “I think it was during
“So that would be what time?”
“It was a rerun. They had the
“Evening?”
“No. Dusk.”
“Dusk. Like around six p.m.?”
“Uh-huh. You want to hear about the shooting, too?”
“I would, yes.”
“Somebody must’ve been shot up bad. Maybe it was the guy you’re looking for. It was an automatic weapon—an AK-47, I’ll bet. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Like that!”
“How long was it between the shooting and the fire?”
“You think the same guy who was shooting set the fire?”
“Could be.”
He looked down at his own rifle. Tess hoped he didn’t have second thoughts. She eased one hand down to her own unsnapped holster.
“How long, do you think?” Tess asked again.
He frowned. “I dunno. Maybe a half hour?”
“Did you call the police?”
“Nope. People are always shooting around here. There are a lot of bad guys. That’s why I tell intruders I shoot first and ask questions later.”
Comforting. “So you think the fire was around six-thirty p.m.?”
“Sounds about right.” He was staring at his weapon again, even took a step toward it. Tess didn’t think he wanted to shoot her. She hoped it was because he just didn’t want to be away from it very long.
He said, “I heard someone start up a car and drive away after the shooting. Then I saw the fire.”
“All this happened between five and six-thirty at night?”
“Pretty sure. Can I get my rifle now?”
“Tell you what. I’m going to get into my car and drive away. Let me get back in the car, okay? And when I drive around that hill, you go pick up your rifle.”
“Sounds fair.” But she could see his hand itching. He was looking at the rifle the way a dog looks at a ball he can’t quite get to.
Tess went to three other squatter camps in the Atascosa Mountains. No one answered at two of them, and an older gentleman in a newer travel trailer invited her in for iced tea and a grilled cheese sandwich. He remembered seeing a light in the sky, but it was too far away for him to hear anything. He, too, thought the time was around sunset.
She had a time frame.
By the time Tess got back to Credo, the place was deserted.
The ghost town looked the same as it did yesterday: adobe dwellings slumping into the earth, wood shacks bent out of shape by the elements, corrugated steel roofs were a patchwork of silver and rust. In mid-April, the mesquite was just budding out in halos of bright green.
The crime scene tape was still wrapped around the falling-down cabin, strung out to include two white oaks.
The Tahoe bumped along the dirt track and she parked behind the stone foundation of the stamp mill. The oaks and mesquite grew wild there, and Tess knew the vehicle couldn’t be seen from the road. It wasn’t an overt
