“Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“No, sir,” she said.

They got into Morwood’s car and he drove down the highway toward the Truckee Inn. As she got out, he offered her his hand. “If I weren’t headed to the airport, I’d buy you a big steak. Good job, Agent Swanson—and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

* * *

As Corrie passed through the lobby, heading for the check-in desk, a tall, well-dressed blond woman came striding up, glasses dangling from her neck on a thin gold chain.

“Special Agent Swanson?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Dr. Fugit, president of the Santa Fe Archaeological Institute. We spoke on the phone, as you’ll recall.” She shook Corrie’s hand and then slid her glasses on, examining Corrie as if she were an archaeological specimen. “Do you have a minute?”

“Ah…” She remembered Morwood’s warning about getting along with everyone. “Yes, I do. How can I help?”

Fugit led them over to a private area at one side of the lobby. They sat down on an orange sofa and Fugit leaned toward Corrie, her voice suddenly ice cold. “It seems you think my team is harboring a murderer. Is that right?”

Corrie took a moment to ponder the best reply. Stay neutral, don’t take offense. “Nobody’s been accused of anything,” she said, “and nobody’s making allegations. We’re conducting a routine homicide investigation.”

“Routine? You shut down an entire archaeological site!”

“We’re done with our evidence gathering. As soon as I see Nora I’ll be releasing the site to her and the team.”

“Not much good now, is it, with the storm bearing down on us?”

Her tone had become bitingly sarcastic, and Corrie didn’t respond. As if dealing with Nora weren’t enough, her boss was a straight-up bitch.

“Do you have any suspects? A motive? Anything?”

“I’m sorry, we can’t share specifics.” She shifted on the couch. “What I can tell you is that the investigation is being transferred to the Sacramento Field Office.”

“And what am I supposed to infer from that?”

“That a Special Agent Chen will be taking over, and I’ll be heading back to New Mexico. You can address your concerns to him.” And he can tell you exactly where to stick your archaeological dig. Corrie smiled.

Fugit took off the glasses and let them drop. “It appears to me the handling of this investigation to date has been incompetent and inconsiderate. I’ll be filing a complaint.”

“That’s your privilege, of course,” said Corrie. “But I think you’ll find everything’s been done by the book.”

“We’ll see.”

“Let me just assure you the FBI fully expects to solve this case and apprehend the perpetrator.” Corrie struggled to keep her voice neutral as she fed the president this platitude.

Fugit stood up. “I sincerely hope you do.” She paused. “And about the gold up there. I assume you know about that?”

“I was briefed.”

“So how does it fit in? Is the murder connected in some way?”

“Again, Dr. Fugit, I can’t go into that.”

“What can you go into?”

“As I’ve repeatedly explained—nothing.”

Fugit frowned. Then, without another word, she turned and left, not offering her hand, the heels of her black slingbacks echoing on the wooden floor.

Corrie took in a shuddering breath. She had to work on not letting bullies like Fugit get under her skin. She’d been bullied as a teenager and was hypersensitive to it. This was a weakness, and if she was ever to make a good FBI agent, she’d better learn to deal with it.

45

May 21

BURLESON WAS ADAMANT: no horses, no wranglers, nothing.

“We can’t go up there,” he said, still groggy from sleep after being roused by Nora showing up on his doorstep at seven in the morning. “Not in this weather. And we sure as hell can’t be responsible for your well-being.”

He’d been saying the same thing for the past ten minutes, and no amount of begging, threatening, or wheedling could shift him. “But I’m not asking you to go—” Nora began again.

“End of discussion. Sorry, Nora—you’re just going to have to wait it out.”

* * *

Back in town and on her way to the inn for a badly needed cup of coffee, Nora came around a corner and nearly ran into Agent Swanson, headed in the other direction.

Nora frowned and looked away, hoping to dash by. But no such luck.

“Nora,” Corrie said. “Do you have a moment?”

Nora was in no mood to talk to this woman. “What now?”

“There’s one other thing I meant to tell you. The Wiggett homicide is being turned over to the Sacramento Field Office. Special Agent Chen is arriving today to take over.”

Nora gave a brusque nod, then started for the entrance to the inn. Maybe this Chen would be easier to work with.

Corrie turned to follow her. “As soon as the transition is complete, I’ll be headed back to Albuquerque.”

“I wish you the best.” And good riddance.

“Unfortunately, with the storm it may be a few days before I can show Agent Chen the campsite and dig.”

“Unfortunately, you were supposed to hand off the site to me after forty-eight hours. That meant yesterday at two PM. Instead, you didn’t live up to our agreement. You got back after dark—and now we can’t get to the dig, either.”

She walked into the inn, Corrie Swanson still following. “I was late. Sorry. But the fact is, you couldn’t have gone up yesterday afternoon anyway—not with the approaching storm.”

Nora didn’t answer. She knew this was true, given her reception from Burleson just now. But she was in no mood to admit it to this interfering FBI agent.

“I’ve got one last question,” Corrie went on. “It’s just a loose end, but I’m not sure how to write it up in my report. Do you know of anyone who might have been camping near the dig last summer or fall?”

“Nope, sorry.” Nora glanced around the lobby, looking for the urns. Damn, she needed that coffee.

“I ask because yesterday I found a fire ring dating back to last year or earlier, up a side canyon.”

“I didn’t even learn of the site’s existence until December, as you know. It must be just some random camper.”

Corrie frowned. “Okay.”

Nora located the coffee urn and began heading for it, but then something made her hesitate. She recalled her growing feeling that someone had been watching their camp. “Are you sure the fire ring wasn’t more recent?”

“A bunch of pine needles and aspen leaves were lying over the dead coals, along with a stray patch of snow, so I assumed it had to be abandoned before the leaves fell in the fall.”

Nora waited.

“Funny place to camp,” Corrie went on. “No fishing, no scenery, just a dead-end canyon and a big split tree.”

Nora hesitated. A split tree. Why did that ring a bell? “Maybe it was a hunter’s camp?”