CHAPTER ONE
1237 Words
CHAPTER ONE
Harley Cole turned the volume up on the stereo as she listened to the voicemail recording, her trained eyes scanning the desert with an unconscious vigilance that was the product of her eleven years with the Bureau. The U-Haul behind her, packed with all the worldly possessions worth taking back with her from Massachusetts (mostly criminology textbooks, clothes, and a few pieces of furniture she couldn’t bear to part with), bumped and jounced along the dirt road, kicking up a wake of dust.
“It’s about Kelly,” came the weathered voice of Luis Santiago, the sheriff of Huerta County, where Harley had been born and raised. He also happened to have served as deputy during the investigation into Kelly’s disappearance.
“There’s been a development,” he added.
Even though Harley had already listened to the message several times in the past few weeks while finalizing the divorce with Rob and planning her move to New Mexico, even though Kelly had been missing for seventeen years and Harley had realized long ago that there was a good chance she would never learn why Kelly had vanished from her tent in the middle of the night during a camping trip with friends, the mention of her sister’s name still sent a thrill through her body.
Was it fear that this might confirm the obvious? Or was it a residual hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny piece of evidence to suggest Kelly hadn’t been dead all these years?
“I debated whether or not to say anything,” the sheriff continued in a cautious voice that suggested he was trying to help manage Harley’s expectations. “Seems a cruel thing, getting your hopes up for nothing. But I promised I’d share anything I found.”
He paused, as if unsure how much to say over the phone.
“I know you’ve already flown back home,” he continued, “but if you can call me back, I’d love to discuss this in more detail with you.”
The voicemail ended, leaving Harley to wonder just what the sheriff had discovered and how significant it could be. With a case this old, the chance of turning over something new was incredibly unlikely. Still, a man like Luis Santiago didn’t reach out just to shoot the breeze. If he had something to say, Harley was ready to listen.
All she had to do was drop off her things at the new house she was renting, then swing by his office, and they could sit down for a long chat. It was a Friday, and she wasn’t scheduled to report to the Santa Fe field office until Monday, so she had time.
Harley was still thinking about the voicemail as she crested a hill and saw a row of traffic cones strung out across the road. A sign reading ROAD CLOSED stood on the yellow lines, its feet held down by sandbags. Police cars and a pair of ambulances were parked farther down the road, along with a two-toned Ford pickup that looked like it had a decade on Harley.
Harley slowed, her gaze shifting to the knot of figures gathered at the side of the road, close to the ambulances. Most of them wore the charcoal-black uniforms of local PD, but Harley noticed an undyed Stetson standing a head taller than the rest. The head swiveled, lips pressed together in a thoughtful frown as the eyes – hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses – studied Harley’s vehicle. He said something to the group of officers before detaching himself and moving toward Harley with long, slow strides.
Harley stepped out of the vehicle and felt the heat of the sunbaked asphalt begin wicking up through her tennis shoes. Vultures circled in the distance beneath tatters of cloud.
The man stopped a few feet away and planted his hands on his hips. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” he said.
She shaded her eyes against the sunlight. “What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”
The man held that hard stare a few moments longer. Then his face broke into an easy grin as he stuck out his hand. “Wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” he said as they shook. “This mean you took the job?”
“Looks like it.”
Harley studied the face of Anthony Callaway, who had been her partner on the Felix Navarro case just a few weeks earlier. They had learned to work well together, despite their differences. After the conclusion of the case, she had gone back east fully expecting to pick up the pieces of her life there. The offer of a job working out of the Santa Fe office, however, had proved too strong—not to mention Sheriff Santiago’s hint about Kelly.
“Well,” Callaway said, adjusting his Stetson, “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you took the job. We can never have enough good agents.”
“I’m looking forward to being more than just a consultant,” Harley answered. “It makes you feel n***d, walking around without that badge.”
Callaway nodded thoughtfully. “This doesn’t mean I have to start treating you like an equal, though, does it?”
“Oh, no. That would be ridiculous.”
There was a beat of uncertain silence. Though it was good to see Callaway again, Harley was not entirely sure how to pick up where they’d left off. She could talk for hours about a case, but when it came to chit-chat, she sometimes struggled to find her direction. It was part of the reason she didn’t have many friends outside the Bureau.
“Listen,” she said, “I’d better get going. I have a lot of unpacking to do this weekend.”
Callaway looked surprised. “What, are you kidding? You’re already at a crime scene, and you’re going to walk away without even seeing the body?”
Harley felt that old, familiar curiosity stirring within her, the same curiosity she had felt in the weeks and months following her sister’s disappearance. Back then she had fed her curiosity with newspaper articles, crime books, and interviews she had recorded in her little spiral notebook. Now, however, she had access to the real thing: hard evidence. And the truth could be addicting.
A knowing smile pulled at Callaway’s mouth. “Come on, just take a look. Maybe you’ll pick up on something I missed. Besides, you have all weekend to unpack.”
Before Harley could protest, Callaway was shouting to a nearby officer. “Hey, Bodie!”
The officer turned, hands resting on his belt. He gave a sharp, upward nod to show he was listening.
“Keep an eye on the U-Haul? My partner and I are going to take another look at the body.”
Partner, Harley mused as Bodie shuffled toward the vehicle. She thought of the cold way Callaway had treated her the first time they’d met. A lot had happened since then, however. There was nothing like saving one another’s lives to engender mutual respect.
“Can’t say this was the welcome I was expecting,” she said as she followed Callaway down the road. “I was planning to be a civilian until Monday.”
Callaway grunted his amusement. “And miss all the fun?”
- Writer
