“If he is still alive, is there … well, any way of knowing where he might be?”

Eskaminzin was silent a long time before at last she spoke. “In his last years here, a young boy used to go by his cabin to bring groceries, chop wood, and help work his cattle. In return, I think Nantan would tell him stories. When Nantan left, that boy was the only one who seemed surprised—and upset.”

“Could I speak to him?”

“He’s a young man now, and you’ll find him in Albuquerque, where he’s got a job in a bank.” She jotted on a piece of paper and handed it to Nora. “His name’s Nick Espejo.”

Nora rose. “You’ve been extremely helpful. Thank you.” She gathered up the items from the medicine bag and began putting them back in the container. As she turned to leave, Eskaminzin said, “Be very respectful, please, with that medicine bundle.”

40

“DON’T HANG UP!” the voice said the moment she answered the phone. “Please, just … don’t.”

Corrie recognized the voice, of course. Normally she would have hung up, but not before giving Jesse Gower a detailed explanation of how in her history of meeting countless losers, addicts, lowlifes, scumbags, assholes, and perverts in a remarkably short span of years, he took the prize. But she reminded herself it was an active case; he was a person of interest; and, if nothing else, she would have to make a note of his contacting her.

So instead she remained silent.

“Look. I’ve apologized before. Saying sorry again isn’t going to help any. You know how … messed up I am. That’s not an excuse, it’s just an explanation. It’s really hard for me to trust anybody in authority. I got that from my dad, who got it from his dad. Anytime a cop says something to me, I have to analyze it to see if there’s some trap. You know, that was probably the longest talk I’ve had with anyone in maybe half a dozen years. That shows you what a pathetic life I lead. And, you know, the questions you asked, the interest you showed, I guess I’m not used to it. I got paranoid. When people ask me questions, it’s usually ‘Where the hell’s my money?’” He laughed mirthlessly.

Still, Corrie didn’t say anything. As apologies went, it was a pretty good one. It had the ring of truth, at least. But since he’d ordered her off the ranch, she’d done some thinking, too. He had revealed more than he realized during their conversation. It was clear that, at the very least, he’d been pawning stuff—and the off hand remark about the cameo implied he’d learned a thing or two about estimating value. She wouldn’t be surprised if he sold relics, too, and given how touchy he was about the toolshed, she imagined that’s where he kept them. And then, there was that other sentence he’d started but not finished—which led her to another suspicion entirely.

She realized he had stopped talking. “Yes?”

“I was asking, will you accept a peace offering?”

“Like what? A baggie full of crystal? I’m not into biker food.”

“That’s not fair.” He sounded genuinely hurt.

She sighed. “What kind of a peace offering did you have in mind?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone. It would spoil the surprise.”

“Look, Jesse. I’ve driven all the way over there twice, only to be run off both times. You’re going to have to do a little better than that.”

“All right.” A moment of silence. “I wasn’t exactly telling the truth about my great-grandfather’s other precious possession. When I said it was long gone, I mean.”

When Corrie didn’t reply, Jesse said: “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me? I mean, that’s a clue.”

“A clue to what? But I knew it, anyway.”

“You did?” A pause. “Do they teach you FBI agents to read minds now?”

“No. We’re just trained to pick up on certain things. Statements that don’t add up, or that strike you as wrong. Or that are interrupted in midsentence.”

“I’m a novelist. I’m careful to always finish my sentences. Except when I’m swearing, but even then I try to be grammatically correct.”

“Maybe so. But you did leave a sentence unfinished in our last conversation.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

The sentence had been “Not even if I sold …”—but Corrie was not going to tell him that. “Let’s just say that when I put it together with the fact your great-grandfather had something of value besides that gold watch, I get the feeling that maybe you were thinking of pawning something. But you didn’t. Which means it’s still in your possession. And it probably isn’t just any ‘old drawing’ but something really valuable.”

Then Jesse did something unexpected. Instead of gasping in awe at her deductive powers, he burst out laughing. Corrie, frowning to herself, did not interrupt him. Finally, the laughter subsided into infrequent eructations of amusement.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not laughing at you. I mean, you were doing so well there for a minute.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You see, you used the word ‘value’—when the actual adjective was ‘precious.’ Didn’t pick up on that, did you?” Another irruption of laughter. “The watch went missing the same time he did—but he left the other thing behind. Nobody could ever figure out why he’d made such a big deal about it. But he treated it like a holy object. Wouldn’t let anybody else touch it.