“I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
“Can we talk over the phone?”
“No, this needs to be done here at St. Alban, face-to-face.”
“All right, Father. I can be in Red Hawk in an hour.”
The call had awakened Parmer. Cork told him what was up, and Parmer threw back his covers and got out of bed.
Cork was dressed and had just finished brushing his teeth when Sheriff Kosmo called.
“O’Connor, I thought you’d like to know this. The DCI team from Cheyenne started working the scene at the plane first thing this morning. They figured out why those passengers just sat there and allowed themselves to be shot. The masks that dropped and they put over their faces? The oxygen tanks that fed them had been switched for nitrogen. The DCI people tell me that would have knocked out anyone wearing a mask. Except for the pilot. His mask was fed from an oxygen tank. These people, O’Connor, they thought of everything.”
“Has the DCI team found anything else?”
“Nothing we don’t already know about, but it’s early. I still want to see you and Parmer here at the department for a formal statement.”
“We’ll be there before lunch.”
Parmer had already gone downstairs for the hotel’s complimentary continental breakfast. Cork joined him and grabbed coffee and a roll to go. As they headed out to the mission in Red Hawk, he filled Parmer in on his conversation with Kosmo.
“So, Jo was probably unconscious like the others,” Parmer said. “And if what Gully and Mike said is correct, she was also in the plane when they buried it. Did she wake up and get herself out somehow?”
“If she did, why didn’t we see any evidence of her digging?” Cork replied. “And why didn’t I hear from her?”
“Maybe she got out and got lost in the area. Out there, there’s nothing for a million miles.”
“And the pixies filled in the hole she dug?”
“I know. Nothing makes sense.”
The morning sun was behind them. Cork was at the wheel. He looked west across the empty country toward the Absarokas, where a dark bank of clouds was pushing up from the back side of the range.
“You happen to hear a weather report?” he asked Parmer.
“Yeah, a front’s moving in. Rain down here, maybe a lot. Snow at the higher elevations.” He yawned and settled back against the head-rest. “Wonder what the priest wants to talk to you about.”
“I’m thinking it has to do with Ellyn Grant. Maybe he knows something about her and Nightwind that might be useful. We’ll find out soon enough.”
As they pulled into Red Hawk, they spotted Andy No Voice coming toward them in his Blazer. Both vehicles stopped as they came abreast, and No Voice leaned out his open window.
“What are you doing here, O’Connor?”
“Business with the priest at the mission. Any word on Lame Nightwind?”
“Nothing. Kosmo and me made a visit to his place at daybreak. He wasn’t there, hadn’t slept in his bed. Possible, I suppose, that those two men who took out Ellyn Grant did the same to him and left his body for the coyotes somewhere, but I’d be surprised if anybody could get the drop on Lame Nightwind. More likely he’s lying low, trying to figure his next move.
“I’ve got most of my force out patrolling the back roads, what of ’em we can. We might get lucky. I’m headed to the hospital in Hot Springs. They got Deputy Quinn there for observation. The DCI folks are going to interview him this morning. I want to be there for that.”
“I’ll talk to Kosmo later,” Cork said, “see if Quinn gave up anything new.”
No Voice looked back at the quiet town. “This might not be the safest place for you two. There are still people in Red Hawk who think it was you killed Ellyn.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Cork promised. “And we’ll be careful.”
“All right then.” No Voice lifted his hand briefly in a parting gesture and headed away.
Cork parked in front of St. Alban, and he and Parmer got out. The mission door was open, and the priest stood just inside, out of the sun. When they approached, Father Grisham said, “Your friend needs to wait outside. This is for you alone, Mr. O’Connor.”
“I’ll be in the Jeep,” Parmer said.
Cork followed the priest into the mission. It was a small sanctuary with a lot of statuary that looked locally made. The crucifix above the altar was hewn from wood and roughly carved. The windows were opaque gold, and the light coming through had a golden hue. There were flowers everywhere, as if in preparation for a wedding, and Cork thought about all the women who’d been there the night before, decorating. Two people sat in the last pew, a woman and a boy. When they heard the men coming, they stood and turned. Cork recognized them. The Arapaho woman and the kid from Nightwind’s ranch.
After glancing into his face for a brief instant, the woman looked down.
“You know who these people are, Mr. O’Connor. They’re good people, and they have something they need to tell you.”
Cork waited. The mission was quiet, peaceful. It felt safe.
“Go ahead, Adelle,” the priest urged gently. “Tell Mr. O’Connor exactly what you’ve told me.”
The woman spoke toward the floor. “We didn’t mean any harm. We didn’t know what else to do.”
“Just tell him, Adelle.”
The woman glanced at her grandson, who also looked at the floor. “When Nick was not much more than a baby, his father killed a man in a fight and went to the prison in Rawlins. He’s still there. His mother died two years later. We’ve raised Nick. My husband is a good man, and he tries to do right for our grandson. But a boy, he wants adventure. Lame Deer Nightwind is adventure. Nick, he follows Lame everywhere. One day late last fall, Lame loaded his big machine onto a trailer and got ready to leave.”
“Big machine?” Cork asked.
“His backhoe,” the kid said.
“When Nick asked him where he was going, Lame wouldn’t say,” Adelle went on. “He was very mysterious. As soon as he was gone, Nick saddled a horse and followed. He does this kind of thing.”
“You knew where Nightwind was going?” Cork asked the boy.
Nick shook his head. “But out here there’s nobody. It was real easy to follow the tracks his truck and trailer left.”
“Did he go to the box canyon north of the ranch?”
“Yes,” Nick said. He risked a glance upward into Cork’s face. “I hid in the rocks on top of the canyon wall and watched him clear a long strip with the blade on his backhoe. I figured right away what it was, but then he did something I didn’t understand. He dug a big hole at one end. When he was finished, he left the backhoe and the trailer and drove off. I rode home. The next day he put Dominion into a trailer and headed toward the canyon again.”
“Dominion?” Cork asked.
“His favorite horse,” Adelle said.
“Go on, Nick.”
“He came back riding Dominion.”
“What did he do with the truck?”
The kid shrugged. “I wondered that, too. The next morning he flew away. He was gone for a couple of days, then the clouds came and I knew there was going to be a big storm and I worried about his truck. I saddled one of the horses and rode out to the canyon to make sure things were all right there.” He hesitated.
“And were they?”
“I could tell there was a lot of snow coming down in the mountains already, but nothing was falling here yet. Just before I got to the canyon, I heard a plane flying low over the foothills. I saw it come out of the clouds and bank for a landing on the strip that Lame had cleared. It touched down and taxied into the canyon and then I couldn’t see it anymore. I tied up my horse and climbed the canyon wall. I saw the plane in the big hole Lame had dug, and Lame was there with two other men. The two men went into the plane, but Lame didn’t go in with them. Then I heard a bunch of shots inside and they came back out. Lame got on his backhoe and buried the plane. Then
