“I’ve been working on a little paper for the Forensic Examiner. You know, just a note—nothing of any great importance.” The tone of his voice belied the self-deprecation.

“I’m sure they’d love to read a story on your findings.”

“The article just needs a bit of an edit, that’s all. Another pair of eyes.”

“I’d be happy to, ah, look it over—if you’d like.”

“I say—really? That would be first-rate! I’ll bring it in. And now, let’s continue our perusal of the gentleman and his hinnie.”

13

MORWOOD SAT ON the edge of his desk, arms crossed, his tie pulled down, top button unbuttoned—apparently, Corrie thought, his idea of Casual Friday. She noticed her report sitting on the desk beside him.

“Please, sit down.”

Corrie took a seat, hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious.

“I read through your report and found it quite interesting,” Morwood said. “After giving it some thought, and conferring with the SAC, I think we’re going to follow your recommendation and declare this an official case.” He smiled.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

“That’s two thank-yous too many,” said Morwood. “This is not a favor. Even if I am putting you in charge.”

Corrie bit off another thank you.

“We don’t know if we’re dealing with a homicide or not, but what we do know is that this gold cross is valuable, and as you point out in the report, the likelihood of it being stolen property is high.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand you’ve developed a working relationship with Sheriff Watts.”

“Yes, sir. I think he’ll be easy to work with.”

“Good, good. As I’ve repeated ad infinitum, getting along with local law enforcement is always a top priority.”

Because Corrie was still in the two-year probationary period for a new special agent, Morwood, her supervisor, was “ghosting” her as she worked her first cases. He now switched into mentoring mode, Socratic style. “What are your thoughts on how the investigation should proceed?”

“I’d like to turn the cross over to Dr. Kelly at the Santa Fe Archaeological Institute for a detailed analysis and possibly even an ID—if it was ever reported stolen.”

Morwood nodded. “Good.”

“Now that it’s a case, do you think we could do a CT scan of the corpse? As noted in the report, we found evidence of injuries sustained at the time of death—fractured skull and ribs, a bloody nose. It doesn’t seem nearly enough to be a cause of death, but there may be more injuries a scan will bring to light.”

“You have my permission to proceed.”

“And we need to identify the body. There was no ID with it, and no dental work. We could order DNA testing, although with a seventy-five-year-old corpse we’re not likely to find any on file. We might get genealogical matches, but that can take months and it’s a shot in the dark at best.”

“As you well know,” Morwood replied.

Corrie didn’t respond to this veiled reference to her last—and to date only—big case. “Fingerprints are a possibility. There are a couple of techniques I learned at John Jay, which would require amputation of the fingers.”

“Very good.”

“If all else fails, I’ll do a forensic facial reconstruction.” She added, “It was one of my specialties at John Jay.”

Another nod. “And now, what are your thoughts about the site?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t you think it needs to be further searched?”

“The whole ghost town?”

Morwood waited.

“I suppose so.” Corrie didn’t like the idea, although she wasn’t sure why.

“The man was carrying a valuable gold object. There may be more treasure hidden somewhere nearby. What would you think about calling in a field ERT?”

“Good idea, sir.”

“All right, then. And … ” Morwood’s voice lowered. “How are you doing? I mean with regard to the Sandia shooting.”

She colored. “I’m doing fine, thank you.”

“Your first shooting is always tough, even if you didn’t fire the, ah, fatal shot.”

“Actually, sir, it’s my second shooting. And that’s the problem: that I didn’t fire the fatal shot, I mean. I missed.”

She realized Morwood was looking at her curiously. “You didn’t actually miss, you know. You knocked him back with a shot to the shoulder, which allowed the other agents to rush in and take him down. His wild shot was purely random.”

“If I’d hit him where I intended, there wouldn’t have been a wild shot.”

“True,” said Morwood. “But that can be fixed by more time at the range, which I note you’re already spending.”

And then he paused. “Well?”

“Well what, sir?”

“Aren’t you going to challenge that last observation?”

Corrie frowned. “I … I don’t think I understand.”

“You’ve had a quick comeback for every other attempt I’ve just made to lighten your guilt. That tells me you’ve been thinking about it—and a lot more than you should. I’m going to give you an assignment, and you might find it a difficult one. I can summarize it in two words: don’t brood.” He looked at her, hard. “Are we clear, Agent Swanson?”