appeared to be a gang member. But he had come at Kee’s request and that allowed her to continue to operate covertly.
Ty waved his dog toward the trail.
“Track,” he said.
Hemi put her nose to the ground and bounded away straight for the path that cut through the pasture toward the lower ruins.
Ty used Richard’s gloves to wipe away the paw prints from the Subaru. Ava’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, he suspected foul play and was removing evidence of Hemi’s contact with the vehicle. Was he just keeping his involvement secret or did he have something to hide?
They headed up the trail with Hemi darting ahead. She fell in beside Kee.
Kee asked Ty about Colt, how he was doing and if he was still talking. Ty paused to give him a long inscrutable look and then told Kee that he was but failed to mention that Colt was not on the rez. Kee didn’t seem to know that and Ty didn’t tell him.
Very odd, she thought.
“When you see him last?” asked Ty.
“The Saturday when you took him to Darabee Hospital.”
Almost two weeks ago. Kee had let his work erode his connection to family. He was right here on the rez but seemed to have little idea what was happening under his nose.
“Is he getting some help?” asked Kee.
“Yeah. Lots of help.”
Help relocating, thought Ava.
She had read in Ty’s file that he had driven a ’73 Plymouth Barracuda when he allegedly kidnapped Kacey Doka, the only girl to escape her captors. But the car was never found. No car, no physical evidence connecting Kacey Doka to Ty Redhorse. Just the statement by Kacey, who was no longer here to back it up with her physical presence during testimony in tribal court, and the tribe’s council had declined the FBI’s request for custody of Ty. That in itself was not unusual. Most tribes were exceedingly reluctant to allow outsiders to try their defendants. Considering the history between the Tonto Apache tribes and the federal government, few would blame them.
“What kind of a car does Ty drive?” Ava asked.
“I can’t keep up,” said Kee. “He changes cars like I change surgical gloves. I think he’s working on a ’67 Pontiac GTO.”
“Fast car. What color? Black?”
“No, gold.”
Gang colors, she thought. Yellow and black. Those were the colors worn by the Wolf Posse here.
So Ty was a gang member, and his brother Jake was a member of the tribal police force. Which side was Kee on?
When they reached the trailhead with the marker of regulations and the one of historical information, they paused. It delineated the rules in bullet points including no fires and no firearms.
Hemi flashed by, circling the ruins. The red stone walls still stood rising ten feet in places and in others lay as piles of rock strewn on the ground. The interior chambers of rooms that had collapsed hundreds of years ago were visible and the roof beams hung at odd angles.
Once an ancient people had lived and farmed in this place, leaving behind the remnants of these communal residences. Her people called them the ancient ones, for they were here and gone before the Apache moved into the Southwestern territory.
Funny that many Americans thought that settlement of this country began in Plymouth in 1622 when at that time this settlement of hunter-farmers was living in an ancient version of a condominium right here.
The upper ruins were even older and of a different people. The Anasazi dwelt in cliffs and the whys of that were still mysterious. A drought? A new enemy? All that was known was what they had left behind.
“How many cliff dwellings up there?” she asked.
“Four, I think. More tucked all over the ridges around here.”
Hemi was now on the move toward the winding path that led to the upper ruins.
Ava knew that the tribal museum gave guided tours to these two archeological sites twice a week or by arrangement. She had never seen either, but she had seen ones like it.
They hiked for thirty minutes up a steep trail. She saw tire tracks in the sandy places consistent with a bike tire. Her thigh muscles burned from the strenuous hike. She wondered how anyone could bike such a thing. The sweat on her body dried in the arid air, making her wish she had brought water.
Hemi disappeared and then reappeared, checking on the progress of the slow-moving humans. They found her, at last sitting beside an expensive-looking mountain bike that lay on its side.
“That’s not good,” said Ty.
“That’s his,” said Kee, studying the bike with worried eyes. He reached and then stopped himself.
She was glad because she didn’t want to talk like a cop in front of Ty.
Ty glanced at Hemi, who lay with her paws outstretched toward the bike.
“Trail ends here,” said Ty.
“Definitely?” asked Kee.
Ty glanced at Hemi, her tongue lolling as his dog looked to him for further instructions.
“It ends here or goes where Hemi can’t follow.”
They all stepped past the bike to look over the cliff. Below were rocks and trees but no obvious sign of Dr. Day.
“Might have fallen,” said Ty.
“With his bike way over there?” she asked. That didn’t seem right.
“Stopped to take in the view. Lost his footing.” Ty shrugged.
Was he trying to sell her on this scenario?
“Either way, he’s not here,” said Kee. “We should call Jake.”
Ty backed away. “If you’re calling tribal, I’m gone. They’re already trying to hang me for giving Kacey a ride. They’ll tie me up in this, too.”
A ride? Is that what he called kidnapping? Ava could not keep from gaping.
Kee stared at Ty. “What are you talking about?”
Didn’t Kee know?
Ty had been detained for questioning and released. He had not been arrested or charged. Tribal police would keep such matters private particularly if there was an ongoing investigation. She knew of Ty’s situation only because her chief had been told of a possible connection to the tribe’s gang and a known associate, Ty Redhorse. But the police here had taken steps to be certain Ty’s detention remained secret. She knew he was a suspect but Kee did not, which meant that his brother had not told him. Ty did not want Kee to know. Was Ty protecting him or hanging him out to dry?
Ty shook his head. “Just tell
