Merciless

At the turnoff, I slowed and hung a right over the cattle guard, where I saw the flashing beacon perched on the fence post. I wouldn’t have needed the marker since I’d been to this make-out spot many times during my high school days.

Two older-model pickups were parked, the front ends pointed toward the tree line fifty yards ahead. Three guys wearing neon-orange hunting caps and camo clothes sat on the tailgates.

As soon as I exited my truck, I heard the muffled sounds of barking. I squinted and saw a flash of golden fur inside the cab of the closest truck. At least they’d had the sense to lock up the dog.

I didn’t recognize the guys, so color me surprised when the oldest man spoke. “Hey. Aren’t you Mercy Gunderson?”

“Yeah,” I said to him. “Who are you?”

“Craig Barbour.” He pointed to the younger version of himself; the guy sitting next to him was about fifteen. “My son. Craig Junior goes by Junior.” Then he gestured to the smallish guy in the other pickup, who appeared to be the same age as Craig Junior. “That’s Junior’s friend. Erik Erickson.”

“Wish we could’ve met under different circumstances. Thanks for sticking around.”

“So what’re you doin’ here?” Craig Senior said suspiciously. “You lost the election for sheriff, right?”

“Right. Now I’m working for the FBI.” It still felt ridiculous flashing the FBI badge, but I’d get used to it. “What were you guys hunting?”

“Geese. Got permission from Terry Vash to get rid of some of them. We were on our way to that pond.” He jerked his chin to an area where cattails poked up.

“We’d hoped to get lucky right away, because we were supposed to go to school today,” Junior added, “but Duke wouldn’t stop his barking. So we locked him up, thinking maybe there was a mountain lion or a coyote close by. We moved closer to the trees, and that’s when we saw her.”

Silence.

When Craig Senior said, “Who’d do something like that to a girl?” I knew what had happened to Arlette Shooting Star was bad.

“That’s what we intend to find out. Do any of you know her?”

Erik and Craig Junior looked at each other. Then Erik said, “I’ve seen her at school.”

“Me, too, but I ain’t never talked to her or nothin’.”

“Thanks. We’ll probably need you all to stick around for a little while longer.”

I walked between the trucks toward the Eagle River tribal police patrol vehicle. The cop leaned against the driver’s-side door so he could watch both the scene and the entrance to it. He pushed to his feet at my approach.

“Hi.” I thrust out my hand. “Special Agent Mercy Gunderson. FBI.”

“Officer Robert Orson.”

Officer Orson had about as much Indian blood in his genetic makeup as I did-I was only a quarter Minneconjou Sioux, which was just enough to slightly darken my skin tone and lighten my hair color to light brown. I had at least a decade and a half on him, age-wise. But he had about a foot on me height-wise. Man. He was one tall guy.

“Wyatt Gunderson was your dad?”

I nodded.

“Didn’t work with him much since he took ill right after I signed on with the tribal PD, but he seemed like a good guy.”

“He was.” A gust of wind blew, scattering dead leaves and bringing the wet scent of decay. I faced away from him, taking in the eerie scene. “I’m surprised there aren’t more people here.”

Orson shrugged. “It’s early. And since she’s the tribal president’s niece, we’ve tried to keep it off the scanners. Brings out the gawkers, ya know?”

“What time did you get the call?”

“About an hour and a half ago. I was closest, so I drew the short straw.”

“Me, too.” I squinted at the tree line but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary from this angle. I let my backside rest against the hood.

“Aren’t you gonna go poke around the crime scene?” he asked.

“Nope. My”-I bit back the word partner-“the other FBI agent en route has more experience. I’m new enough I’d probably muck it up.”

“I hear ya there.”

“Is this your first dead body?”

He gave me a strange look. “On the rez? Hell no. Not since I’ve been a cop and not before that.”

“How long have you been a cop?”

“Four years. The first two I worked security for the jail. I got moved up after I finished the six-week training course.”

I wasn’t the type to make small talk, but something about this kid kept my gums flapping. “Is being a cop what you thought it’d be?”

“Honestly? No. I hate all the domestic calls. I spend most shifts busting up fights and arresting drunks. Seems nothing ever changes.”

“You got family around here?”

“My wife does. Or else…” His gaze hooked mine. “Never mind. I’m tired and babbling like an idiot after working a twelve.”

I leaned closer to him. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it. But the Eagle River Sheriff’s Department is looking for deputies. It might be an option if you want to change it up and stay in the area.”

Officer Orson nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up.”