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example of her.”

O’Connor nodded and glanced at the sheriff. “That was what I had understood from Sheriff Watson.”

“Yeah. We seemed to have it in the bag. And this morning, faced with the threat of the death penalty, we had Sly pointing the finger at Coyote, and Coyote pointing the finger at Greg. The trouble is, they lied. They told me what they thought I wanted to hear in the hope of getting a deal. Neither of them was able to describe the murder correctly. Plus…” I spread my hands. “You were right, Sheriff. You were right for the wrong reasons, but you were right. She was not killed here. Her body was dumped here, and I think she was decapitated here. But she was killed somewhere else. Greg, Sly and Coyote are guilty of trafficking marijuana, of kidnapping and attempted murder, but they are not guilty of the murder of Kathleen Olvera. Somebody else did that.”

We showed her the video evidence, and signed sworn statements as to what had happened the night before, and by four o’clock we headed back toward Seven Hills to pack our bags and start home for New York. On the way, as we wound through the forested canyons, Dehan said, “The decapitation…” She turned in her seat to frown at me. “Are you sure about this? It was Coyote’s trade mark. It was on his doorstep. He had motive…”

“Motive?”

“To send a message to Pat. You said so yourself.”

I nodded. “I know. But I was wrong. It happens.” I grinned at her. “Not often, so don’t get used to it. But I was blinded by the obvious, by the details, and I didn’t see the bigger picture.”

“Show me the bigger picture.”

“For a start, suppose Coyote was so mad he decided to make an example of Kathleen. That is a totally believable scenario and it could have happened. But why not then go after Pat? He knows the Bronx. He grew up there. He has Angels he can call on who can find her and make the hit, or break her arms or whatever. Why kill her sister but leave her? What message does he send by doing that?” She made a face and nodded. I answered my own question, “Not so much ‘Wherever you hide we will find you and punish you,’ as, ‘If you take the trouble to come to the remotest corner of the United States, right to our front door, we will kill you.’”

She smiled. “I see your point.”

“As to the decapitation, it is not exactly Coyote’s trade mark,” I raised an eyebrow, “Assuming his boasts are true, he kills his victims by stabbing and decapitating them with a knife, all in one savage attack. That’s what makes him so scary. But Kathleen was beaten and strangled—not stabbed. And she was decapitated after she was killed, probably with a machete. Remember, it was a single, clean cut. By the way the head had rolled away from the body, I’m willing to bet that cut was delivered after the body was dumped.” I paused and looked at her. “Which is suggestive.”

It was, as the sheriff was fond of saying, ten miles as the crow flies, but twenty-five with all the twists and turns through the canyons. We took the short route, via Lefthand Canyon Drive, and after a long silence, as we turned left out of Gold Hill, headed finally for the Wagon Wheel, Dehan said, “Suggestive. Suggestive that whoever dumped the body knew about El Coyote’s signature, and wanted to cast suspicion on him.”

“It’s possible.”

She puffed out her cheeks and blew. “So, if that’s right, and that is a big ‘if’, it narrows our pool…”

I shrugged. “It was pretty narrow already, by the simple fact of where she was dumped. I’d say that it confirms the pool rather than narrows it.”

“OK. So we are looking at somebody who knows about Lefthand Canyon, who knows about the Shack and Coyote’s reputation, and about Kathleen’s association with this place. All of that points…”

“To her family.”

“So the question becomes, out of that small group, who benefited from her death?”

“That’s what we are going to look into as soon as we get back, but a couple of people leap out at you, don’t they?”

“Three names jump out at me, Stone. In terms of who benefits, Mo and Anne-Marie had reason to want Kathleen out of the way. And Mo’s friendship with Greg and Pat means he was very likely to know about Coyote’s signature.”

She hesitated while I pulled up and parked outside the hotel. I killed the engine and looked at her. “And the third?”

“Pat. Pat was the one with the most intimate knowledge of this place, the Shack, Sly, and Coy. But I can’t think of a motive for her.”

“I agree. But there is a lot we don’t know yet. Intimate relationships are the ones that breed the strongest and darkest motives for murder. And in my experience, relationships don’t come much closer than sisters.”

We climbed out and I stood looking around me at that mini, bucolic utopia nestled among the mountains. I muttered, “This other Eden, demi-paradise, this fortress built by Nature for herself against infection and the hand of war.”

“What’s that?”

“Shakespeare. He was talking about England, but it kind of describes this place, doesn’t it? A fortress built by Nature against infection. But you are never more at risk than when you feel safe. Betrayal, the betrayal of those who are close to us, those whom we love and believe love us. That is the greatest danger of all.”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “You want one more Bison steak and a night of rest and healing in demi-paradise before we head back to the infected lands, or you want to go home now?”

I thought about it. “Five AM gets us to the 43rd at 8

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