“Kind of hard to believe a couple of white guys like Lewis and Paavola would worry about some Indian kid’s vision. We’re sure there’s no Native blood in them?” Daniel asked.
“Not that we know of.”
“Think Paavola’s responsible for his sister’s disappearance?”
“Could well be. These men we’re dealing with, God only knows how their brains work.”
It was late afternoon by then, the sun in their eyes as they approached the curve in the road where the pavement over a culvert had been damaged and repair was underway. The glare on the windshield was blinding when Cork hollered, “Stop!”
Daniel hit the brakes just in time to avoid slamming into the rear end of Dross’s cruiser.
“Damn sun,” Daniel said. “Couldn’t see her. What’s up?”
Cork got out of Daniel’s vehicle and walked ahead just as Dross exited her cruiser. He saw then that the orange cones, which had been there when he and Dross drove to the rez, had been removed. The two wooden barricades that had previously been next to the idle backhoe were now set across the road, effectively blocking the way.
“What’s up with that?” Cork said.
“Got me. Maybe something around the curve?”
“Let’s move them.”
Cork took one end of the first barricade and Dross took the other.
The shot came as they walked the barricade to the side of the road, a report like the explosion of a big firecracker. Cork let go of his end and Dross dropped hers. He and the sheriff both dashed behind the protection of the parked backhoe.
“It came from over there.” Cork pointed toward the west side of the road, which was edged with a mixed stand of birch and evergreen and lots of undergrowth.
Dross had drawn her sidearm and was scanning the trees. “Sun’s in my eyes. I can’t see anything. You?”
“Same here.”
Cork glanced back at the two parked vehicles. Agent Shirley was out of the cruiser, hunkered down in its lee. Daniel was out of his truck, crouched behind its protection, his service weapon in his hand.
“Can you see anything?” Cork hollered.
“Nothing,” Daniel shouted back.
“What was he shooting at?” Dross said.
“I don’t know.”
Cork heard it then, from beyond the sharp curve of the road, the growl of an engine starting up, followed almost immediately by the sound of tires spitting gravel as a vehicle sped away at high speed. They waited a minute longer to be sure, then Cork and Dross left the cover of the backhoe and returned to the vehicles, where Agent Shirley stood looking at the rear window of the cruiser. The inside of the glass dripped with a spray of blood and other matter. Daniel came from his truck and joined them. Dross opened the rear door. Lewis lay fallen across the seat in a shower of glass from the shattered window on the other side of the cruiser.
“Christ,” Dross said.
“Head shot,” Cork noted.
Daniel turned back to his vehicle. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
But it was clear to Cork that nothing could be done for Lewis now, except maybe pray for his soul.
CHAPTER 34
It was dusk when Cork stood near the idle backhoe with Dross. He felt as if that day had gone on forever. Looking at the drawn face of the sheriff, he figured she probably felt the same way.
“Three shootings in one day,” Dross said.
“Thank God only one death,” Cork said.
They watched the deputies and Bonhomme and his officers going over the area for any evidence the shooter had left behind. Photos of the scene had been taken, the county medical examiner had certified the death, and the body of Adrian Lewis had been taken away in the back of an ambulance.
A dozen yards down the road, Agent Shirley paced back and forth, talking on her cell phone. She ended her call and joined Cork and Dross.
“Just filling in my BCA colleagues. They’ve apprehended their biker and are transporting him back to Fargo for questioning. They’re sending a couple of agents our way to discuss what’s happened here.”
“They don’t sound particularly interested,” Cork said.
“Lewis wasn’t on their radar at all. At the moment, they’re not especially open to abandoning their focus on the biker. But I got something from them. The results of the Hamilton girl’s autopsy are in. Cause of death was asphyxia, the result of strangulation. There was evidence of sexual activity prior to death. And the bloodwork turned up Rohypnol. Somebody fed her roofies before she died.”
“Lewis? Paavola?” Dross said.
“Maybe both,” Cork said.
Bonhomme and Desjardins came from the trees where they’d been canvassing the area with the others. “LuJean found where our shooter was hiding,” Bonhomme said. To Desjardins, he said, “Show them what you picked up.”
Desjardins held out a gloved hand. In her palm was an expended cartridge. “Remington thirty-aught-six,” she said.
“Paavola,” Cork said.
