Rattlesnake Crossing

Everything was going fine at The Crossing until one patient, a twenty-two-year-old schizophrenic, returned home and immediately came down with severe flulike symptoms. Her mother correctly diagnosed morning sickness, and a court-ordered blood test established that Dr. Lamphere himself was most likely the father of the young woman's baby.

A subsequent investigation-one that had set the entire San Pedro Valley on its ear-had revealed that Dr. Lamphere's course of treatment had routinely included drugging and raping his female patients-with particular concentration on the younger and more attractive ones. Not only had he victimized the women, he had also managed to maintain such a high degree of mind control over them that not one of them had told. None of the other victimized patients had become pregnant, so had it not been for that single alert mother, Lamphere might never have been caught.

In the aftermath of the investigation, The Crossing was shut down. For years the geodesic domes sat empty and in danger of crumbling back into the desert. Then, surprisingly, in the early eighties, Rattlesnake Crossing had risen Phoenix-like from the ruins. Locals had scoffed at the idea of somebody ru

Off to the right, sheltered behind a lush mesquite tree, Joa

Fifty yards farther up the road, she caught sight of her first cabin, sheltered under a towering mesquite. The geodesic dome shape still remained, but it was concealed under a layer of woven ironwood and mesquite branches that gave it the look, at least, of the domed shelters the nomadic Apache had once called home. That's more like it, Joa

Up ahead, but just before a cluster of buildings that included the main house, barns, and corrals, Joa

The woman was dressed in a buckskin squaw dress and high-topped moccasins, both of which had been dyed black. Her whole body dripped with silver and turquoise, from the concha belt cinching in her narrow waist to the heavy squash-blossom necklace, the bottom of which disappeared into the shadowy crevasse of an extravagant décolletage. Her hair, black but showing telltale gray at the roots, was pulled into a heavy bun at the nape of her neck. With her tan, windblown skin and dark, smoldering eyes, the fifty-something woman might have been an Indian. Until she opened her mouth. As soon as she spoke, the accent was pure New York.

"So what's the deal here?" she demanded.

"Deal?" Joa

"Yeah. I mean, what's going on? That guy up there…" She pointed toward a group of men that included Ernie Carpenter. "The tall one, right there. He told me the woman in the next car would tell me what was up. After all, it's my sister-in-law they found up there. I want to see Katrina. I'm one of her closest relatives. Why the hell won't somebody let me through?"

Joa

"Crow Woman," was the reply.

Joa

"It's my name," Crow Woman replied. "Legally. I changed it after I got my divorce. I went to court and it cost me four hundred bucks. Now tell me, Sheriff Brady, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," Joa

Leaving Crow Woman where she stood, Joa

"The lady back there wants to know what's going on," Joa

"Yes, they did," Ernie replied.

"Where is it?"

"About two miles west of here," Ernie said, pointing. "The boys from S and R tell me that she was on a shelf of cliff on the other side of the river. According to Mike Wilson, they've cordoned off the area and left Deputy Sandoval to guard it. Mike says there's a place where the river widens out enough that we should be able to drive across in the Blazer. If we follow him, Mike'll take us to the crime scene."

"So it is Katrina Berridge, then," Joa

"Who's Crow Woman?" Ernie asked.

"Her," Joa

"I don't think so," Ernie said.

"Well, of course she is," Joa

"I don't think that's such a good idea-"

Impatiently, Joa

"It's not her," Ernie Carpenter interrupted.

Joa

Knitting his bushy eyebrows together, Ernie shifted his considerable weight back and forth. "Katrina Berridge disappeared from Rattlesnake Crossing sometime yesterday afternoon," he said. "According to Mike Wilson, the body they found today has been dead much longer than that. Several weeks, anyway."

"You're saying somebody else is dead?" Joa

Ernie nodded. ''That's right_"

Who is it, then?"

"No way to tell. No ID was found, and very little cloth lug, either. She was buried under a pile of rocks, which pretty well rules out natural causes. One of the dogs found her."

"Any idea what she died of?"

Ernie shook his head. "Not yet anyway, not without an autopsy."

Joa

"What about the Berridge woman, then?" she asked.

"'That's what I was discussing with Mike Wilson and the S and R guys just as you showed up. Finding this other body and dealing with it has pretty much put a wrench in the works. Also, the crime scene is right in the middle of the area they were searching. Between preserving evidence and the sun going down, I'd say they're pretty much out of business for tonight. Mike says they can be back here first thing in the morning and take another crack at it then."