Devil’s Claw

“It’s only a little after nine,” Joa

Leaving Jaime Carbajal to continue his investigation of this new part of the crime scene, Joa

Frank looked at her and gri

Outside the Naujokases’ RV, four people in folding camp chairs were seated around a blazing fire. “Mr. Naujokas?” Joa

“That’s me.” A smiling, slightly built man stepped out of the firelight. “Most people call me Pete,” he said.

“I’m Sheriff Joa

Frank passed him the faxed mug shot, and Pete Naujokas walked it over to the fire in order to take a closer look. “That’s her,” he said, coming back to return the paper to Frank. “Who is she-or rather, who was she? Some kind of criminal?”

“Her name is Sandra Ridder. She went to prison for manslaughter eight years ago, after the shooting death of her husband. Her mother lives a few miles away from here off Middlemarch Road.”

“But what was she doing here?” Pete asked. “At the campground?”

“We think she came looking for something, maybe something that had been hidden for years.”

“Since before she went to prison?”

“That’s right,” Joa

Pete shook his head. “Most likely not a missing ring,” he said. “The whole thing gives me the willies.” He shivered. “I guess I’m lucky she didn’t accept my offer of help. No telling what might have happened then. When you hang around campgrounds like this, you meet up with a lot of really nice people. It lulls you into believing that everyone’s pretty much the same. Know what I mean?”

Joa

“I guess I’ll be more careful after this,” he added with a rueful grin. “Being a good Samaritan is supposed to be a good thing. On the other hand, being a dead good Samaritan is downright stupid.”

“After you left the woman by the sign and came on up to the campground, did you hear anything?”

“You mean like a gunshot?” Pete Naujokas asked. “No, I didn’t. I’ve asked around. As far as I can tell, nobody else did, either.”

Frank and Joa

“That is weird,” Frank mused along the way.

“What is?”

“If Sandra’s mother lived just a few miles away, why not hide whatever it was on her mother’s property instead of someplace as public as the entrance to a national monument?”

“Because she didn’t want whatever it was she was hiding to be co

“I don’t know,” Frank replied. “I can probably find out tomorrow. It would have to be damned small to fit inside that bowl.”

“So we’re looking for something that’s small and valuable,” Joa

“My grandfather’s Purple Heart,” Frank replied with hardly a moment’s hesitation. “My birth certificate, a couple of photos, and my wallet. That way I’d have some ID and my credit cards when it came time to start over. What about you?”

Joa

By then Frank had stopped the Crown Victoria next to Joa

“Let’s hope not sooner,” she returned. “I’d like to have one whole day to myself this weekend.”

Driving back across the Sulphur Springs Valley toward home, Joa

Part of what had made selling Tupperware difficult for Joa

Joa

The same thing couldn’t be said of Joa

Taking Joa

By the time Joa