Read Online Dark Reservations by John Fortunato - Free Book Online

whole different spin on this case, more than simply a congressman fleeing prosecution. Most people had assumed Edgerton had run. Others, however, including several prominent news personalities, had speculated Edgerton and his staffers had been killed to protect the people behind the corruption, but those theories never amounted to much because no bodies were ever recovered. In addition, there had been a number of alleged sightings over the intervening years, but none ever confirmed, and that folklore further cemented the idea Edgerton had simply fled. Mexico and South America had topped the list of possible destinations. The most outlandish had been a story connecting Edgerton to a secret cabal bent on world domination, operating on a Greek island in the Aegean Sea. This was supposedly the same island where John F. Kennedy had lived out the remainder of his life, confined to a wheelchair. Joe knew conspiracy theories abounded when prominent people were killed or went missing. Of course, being a New Mexican, Joe well knew the story of Edgerton and even the tales of alleged sightings, which were often discussed on the evening news programs. But he never gave them much thought. He’d had his own cases. Wasting energy on gossip and speculation was something he never did.
    And he didn’t want to squander his time now considering tabloid scuttlebutt. Joe was still waiting for the case file, which he’d requested from the archives. Without it, the only information he had access to came from the publicized corruption probe, which estimated Edgerton had made off with as much as half a million dollars, possibly more. But the investigation was able to link him directly to only one small wire transfer made to a Mexico City bank. The money had been traced back to a lobbyist representing a group of casino developers interested in influencing the new Indian Gaming Regulatory Act. The lobbyist tried to ensure his clients would profit from exorbitant casino-management fees. Today, Indian gaming revenue was twice the size of that of Las Vegas and Atlantic City combined. A $27 billion industry. Half a million dollars in 1988 was now a stingy tip tossed to a cocktail waitress. He’d probably made off with a lot more than anyone had guessed. For all Joe knew, Edgerton was sitting on a beach somewhere, sipping a mojito, watching the news, and laughing his ass off that his car had finally been found. If he had run off alone, it could explain the blood. Edgerton could have killed the driver and that girl, the one the tabloids had labeled “the tramp with the movie star name.” No witnesses. Edgerton as a killer didn’t fit. There was nothing to indicate violence in the congressman’s past. But Joe wasn’t a fool. People did crazy things when money or sex was involved. Then again, there was another possibility. Edgerton had been killed to shut him up. Or one or both of his missing staffers had killed him and made off with the money. Or—
    Mark was calling to him.
    â€œCan you grab the card stock from my backpack?”
    Joe searched the backpack and pulled out a sheet of the heavy paper.
    â€œNow stand in front of the laser,” Mark said, “and let the beam hit the center of the stock.”
    Joe moved into position and saw a bright red dot the diameter of a pencil hitting the paper. He shifted so the light rested in the center.
    â€œThe next part’s easy. You walk backward, keeping the light on the sheet. If the light hits a tree, we’ll just shoot an azimuth. It’s not as accurate, but, oh well.”
    Joe began walking backward slowly, keeping the cardboard close to his body, head lowered, looking at the red dot as it danced up and down the sheet with each step. His progress was slow. And for some reason, Mark felt it necessary to offer encouragement.
    â€œYou’re doing good. Nice and slow. Don’t lose the beam. It’s hard to find again.”
    Joe ignored