Read Online Dark Reservations by John Fortunato - Free Book Online Page A

him.
    â€œHey, watch out for the cactus.”
    Joe, a little annoyed, looked up at Mark. “I think I can—” His right foot landed on something flat and forgiving. Son of a bitch. He shifted to the side. When he looked down, the red dot was gone.
    He looked behind him. The way seemed clear. It took him several minutes to find the red dot again. Then he continued moving backward.
    Mark stayed silent.
    Sixty paces later, Joe backed against a full-grown pine.
    Joe yelled to Mark. “It stops here.”
    â€œGood work.”
    The beam was higher than the hole in the driver-side door by at least a foot, coming almost to his chest. Joe estimated the distance to the vehicle to be seventy-five yards. He checked the trunk for a questionable hole while Mark stretched yellow string along the ground from the Lincoln’s door to the pine. He then created a triangle from two more lengths of string, the tip of the triangle at the vehicle’s door, the base ending ten feet on each side of the tree.
    Bluehorse returned, and they all broke for lunch.
    S EPTEMBER 25
    S ATURDAY , 1:46 P.M.
    T HE N EW M EXICO M USEUM OF N ATURAL H ISTORY AND S CIENCE , A LBUQUERQUE , N EW M EXICO
    Sierra Hannaway knelt at the base of the Coelophysis, a dinosaur the size of a human, with a long, flat head and an impressive set of sharp carnivorous teeth. Coelophysis roamed New Mexico in the Triassic period, but several of the plants in the display were from the Carboniferous period. A major faux pas if another museum called them on it, but necessary if Sierra was to open the display on time. Paul, the director of acquisitions, had ordered an entire jungle of the wrong period, so Sierra was forced to use these plants until the correct period flora arrived, which might not be for several more weeks.
    She jammed another handful of the fake flora into the display’s painted foam base, and then started to cry. Her tears came freely. She looked around. A young couple with a little girl of maybe five paused on their way through the display room to stare at her.
    â€œWhy are you crying?” the little girl asked.
    Her mother quickly hushed her.
    Holding up the plants, Sierra said, “They’re the wrong period.”
    The mother pushed the little girl forward, not giving her time to ask another question.
    Sierra threw the plastic flora back into a cardboard box, stood, and ran to the restroom.
    She splashed water on her face and took several deep breaths. She checked under the stalls. No feet.
    She turned back and stared at herself in the mirror.
    â€œIt’s been so long, Faye. I don’t know if I can go through it again.”
    She walked into one of the empty stalls, sat down, and wept.
    S EPTEMBER 25
    S ATURDAY , 2:22 P.M.
    J ONES R ANCH R OAD , C HI C HIL T AH (N AVAJO N ATION ), N EW M EXICO
    After lunch, Mark gathered them all by the Lincoln. He passed out ground-searching metal detectors, sifter trays, and shovels. After a quick how-to on using a detector, he assigned a plot in the triangle to each of them, passed out small marking flags, and set them to work. If a metal object was detected underground, they would plant a flag on the spot. After they searched the entire triangle, they would go back and dig up the hits.
    Forty-five minutes and two planted flags later, Joe finished searching his plot. So did the others. They traded the detectors for handheld versions and took up trowels and plastic sifting trays.
    Joe went to his first flag and jammed the trowel deep into the clay soil. He removed a clump, placed it on his sifting tray, and ran the handheld metal detector over it. The detector beeped. He shook the tray, letting the loose dirt fall through the screen. Several rocks and a crushed green shotgun shell remained. Probably not related to the case, but it had to be collected.
    â€œShotgun shell.”
    Mark came over, carrying his backpack. He withdrew a camera, a GPS unit, a brown paper bag, and a black