“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then go home and get some sleep. Your formal writeup on tonight’s events can wait until the morning.” And before she could say another word, he turned away and went toward the hive of activity that surrounded the toolshed of the late Jesse Gower.

43

NORA FOUND NICK Espejo in a small office in the Bank of Albuquerque building, the sign on the open door announcing him as a loan officer. He was exactly what Nora expected from a young banker: blue suit, polished shoes, crisp haircut. He looked to be in his early twenties. She knocked on the door, and he waved her inside with a big smile.

“Please have a seat, Dr. Kelly.”

She sat down. She hadn’t told him on the phone what she wanted, and she could see now that had been a mistake, as his warm greeting and fake smile announced that he assumed she was a customer.

“Now, what can I do for you? Rates are at rock bottom—”

“I’m not here as a customer,” she said. “I’m an archaeologist with the Santa Fe Archaeological Institute.”

The look of heartiness faded a little, replaced by something more wary. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were here to take out a loan.”

“I’ve come at the suggestion of Ms. Eskaminzin. She said you might be able to help me.”

At this his face softened. “Well, of course. Please go on.”

“It’s about Nantan Taza.”

This time, the transformation in his face was dramatic. An expression of mingled surprise and sorrow flickered through his black eyes. “Oh. Is he … What’s happened?”

“Nothing that I know of. Would you mind if I explained? I’ll make it as brief as possible.” With a warning that it was confidential, she gave him an abbreviated account of the discovery of Gower’s body, the Trinity test, the old campsite, and the medicine bundle belonging to Taza. The young man listened with close attention, his face registering surprise more than once.

“So,” Nora said once she’d finished, “I was hoping that you might have heard stories from him about Gower, or—well, anything, really, that might shed more light on what happened that day.”

Espejo looked down. “It’s painful just thinking about it. He told me a lot of stories, but they were Apache stories. Mescalero fables and legends. He was a good man, but he had a gloomy view of things. Not cynical—dark. He seemed to feel our species was doomed. And now I know why. My God—and you really think he actually saw the bomb go off ?”

Nora nodded. Eskaminzin had used the same word to describe the old man: dark.

Espejo thought for a moment. “I was eleven or twelve. Nantan lived outside Mescalero, up by Graveyard Spring in an old log cabin. He was self-sufficient, hunted for his meat, dried it, had a little garden watered from Graveyard Creek. I ran into him by accident—I was riding up the canyon and disturbed some of his cattle. They were half-wild anyway, but he was angry. To make up for it I chopped some wood for him, and somehow that became a regular thing. At first I was scared of him: he was so stern, never smiled and almost never talked. But gradually I got used to him and he had me run other errands. He treated me like an adult—an equal.”

“You said that he told you legends and fables. What else did you talk about?”

“Traditional Apache beliefs. How to live a good life. He talked about the importance of treating everything in the world as sacred.”

He paused. “Once in a while, as I got to know him better, he’d talk about going away, but he never said why or when. I thought it was just talk. But then, I came by one day and he was saddling his horse, tying a sack of stuff behind the cantle, rifle in a boot. I asked him where he was going. He told me the time had come to go into the mountains. I was really upset. I couldn’t understand, and when I asked more questions he refused to answer them. I cried, I pleaded, but he’d made up his mind. So I ran off to saddle my horse and go with him, but he stopped me dead in my tracks. He made me promise not to follow. And he left.”

“I’m sorry,” said Nora. “It must have been like losing a father.”

“A father—and best friend. I didn’t understand how much it all meant to me until he was gone. I still try to believe that he’s here with me, in a way—because of his teachings, you know—but it’s hard.”

Nora hesitated. “Do you know where he went?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“But … you have a sense?”

At this, Espejo paused. “Why are you asking?”

“I just wondered if he might still be alive.”

“He’d be ninety-five.”

Nora nodded.

“Ten years of surviving alone in the mountains,” Espejo said. “You think that’s possible?”

“Do you?”

Espejo didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said: “If he’s passed on, then he’s returned to the spirit land. If he’s alive, he won’t want to be found. I made a promise never to go looking for him.”

“But if he’s alive, he might be able to help us solve the mystery. Of what exactly happened that day. Of what he and Gower were looking for.”

Espejo didn’t respond for a long time. Finally, he stirred. “So if I tell you where I think he went, what will you do?”