Hunting Eve

“Sure, dogs are terrible judges of character. They like almost everyone they meet. It’s probably from being away from the wild for centuries.”

“I don’t have to talk to them to realize that.”

“Of course you don’t. Unlike people, animals don’t try to hide their feelings. I think that’s one reason I’ve always felt so comfortable with them.”

Kendra studied Margaret as they proceeded up the path. She was obviously accustomed to the skepticism that greeted her, and she didn’t seem at all concerned with convincing others of her abilities. It was yet another factor that made Margaret and her eccentricities easier to accept, Kendra realized. What you saw was what you got, and she didn’t really care what you did with it. “And you don’t trust what your fellow human beings are telling you?”

“Some of them. But I instinctively want to believe people are good, and that gets in the way of my judgment.” She shrugged. “But I couldn’t live any other way, so I just have to try to be careful.”

“You appear to know yourself very well.”

“You think so? It’s kind of hard when we all change with almost every experience.” She slanted her a look. “You’re an experience that will most likely change me, Kendra. It probably has already. I wonder what—” She broke off as they came over the hill. “Is that what they call a visiting center? Tiny, very tiny.”

“Well, it appears to only serve this particular tourist area.”

It took them another couple minutes to reach the visitors’ center, which turned out to be a small one-room building staffed only by an elderly woman passing out maps and pamphlets. The “museum” consisted mainly of framed black-and-white photos taken during the gold-rush era, interspersed with a few scant displays of vintage mining tools and clothing.

Kendra pulled out her phone and once again accessed Doane’s photo. “I have a feeling we’re wasting our time here. As soon as the lady is through talking to those people, I’ll see if she recognizes Doane. I guess then we can get on the road and try to find—” She froze, her gaze caught, held by something that she’d seen out of the corner of her eye. She whirled to face the wall.

Could it be?

“Kendra?” Margaret’s glance shifted between Kendra and the sepia-toned photograph that had grabbed her attention. “What is it?”

“That picture over there.” The photograph showed a clunky mechanical contraption, perhaps four feet tall, resting on four iron legs. A long handle jutted from the top, perpendicular to the rest of the device.

“It looks like some peculiar robotic animal,” Margaret said. “What about it?”

“Trust you to see an animal in a machine,” Kendra said absently as she stepped closer to the framed photograph. “This is incredible.”

“What’s incredible?”

“This … thing. Whatever it is.”

“The little sign says it’s a nineteenth-century coin press. What’s so amazing about it?”

“Doane had one of these in his car recently.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw fresh marks in his car after it was brought up from the lake.”

Margaret shook her head. “I don’t see how one of these things could even fit.”

“It could fit. I know it.” Kendra could understand why Margaret was doubtful. She should be questioning herself. She had to figure out why she was so certain that this was the answer. Yet the minute she had caught sight of that press, something had clicked. She had visualized that machine in the trunk. From the time she had seen those indentations in the trunk at the lake, it had been there in the back of her mind. She had been working at it, trying to puzzle it out. “Okay, I see what you mean. It does seem a little too large. Let me think about it.”

Kendra concentrated, studying the contours of the press for a moment longer. Then she began replaying in her mind’s eye each scratch, dent, and impression she had observed in Doane’s car.

How had he done it …

Then it all came together. “It was disassembled and moved in three trips. The iron legs extended from the trunk all the way through the backseat. Trip one. The bottom half of the body went in the trunk for trip two. The top half of the body went into the trunk for trip three, and the handle might still have been attached to it and poked through to the backseat.”

Margaret stared at her in amazement. “You’re sure of the order?”

“I’m positive. Given the way the marks intersected with each other, it’s the only way it could have happened.” Kendra raised her phone. “I have photos of the trunk right here. Do you want me to show you?”

“No, thanks.” Margaret smiled at Kendra’s burst of intensity and excitement. “I’m not sure I’d see the same thing that you do.”

“Of course you would. Once I explained it to you. It’s very clear.”

“If I marched to your drummer, maybe.” She chuckled. “But I don’t have to see what you see to believe you. I march to kind of a different drummer myself.”

“I noticed that.” And it was enough that Margaret believed that Kendra’s deductions were valid. That faith was more than Kendra had offered Margaret.

Kendra turned to the elderly woman who had just finished her conversation with the center’s only other occupants. “Excuse me. May I ask you something?”

The woman walked over to her. “Yes, honey?”

Kendra pointed to the photograph. “This device was used to make coins?”

“Yes. Most gold-rush towns had their own coin factories. Sometimes more than one. Prospectors would bring their gold to be weighed and get gold coins in return.”

“So it was kind of like a mint,” Margaret said.

“That’s exactly what it was. Back then, not all money was made by the government. Private companies could manufacture it themselves. Believe it or not, the Denver mint began as a private coin factory.” She pointed to the photograph. “That’s where this picture was taken. This press is still there.”

“Are there others around?”

“Oh, sure. Museums have them, some belong to private collectors.”

“Any in this area?”

The woman thought for a moment. “Hmm. I don’t know of any offhand.” She glanced at a family that had just entered the center. “You’ll have to excuse me now.”

Kendra gave one last look at the photo of the coin press, raised her phone and snapped a picture of it, then jerked her head toward the door. “Let’s go, Margaret.”

Margaret was frowning as they left the center. “Okay, I accept that Doane had a coin press in his trunk. Why? And where did he get it when he was under surveillance?”

“Pretty faulty surveillance, or he would never have been permitted to leave Goldfork. As to why, that’s what we’ve got to find out. He was either transporting it from one place to another or perhaps disposing of it. Either way it’s a damn odd object to be moving when he was focused on going after Eve.” Kendra was taking her phone out of her pocket. “I think we may need a little help.” She was quickly dialing a number.

“Who are you calling?” Margaret asked.

“Hello, Venable.” Kendra spoke into the phone. “Miss me? Didn’t I tell you I’d keep in touch?”

“I don’t miss you as much as that dead police officer’s buddies. You might find yourself on the receiving end of a statewide APB if you don’t talk to them soon.”

“Don’t you think I’d do that if I could? I just don’t have time.”

“Somehow I thought that might be your answer,” he said dryly. “So what’s keeping you so busy?”

“I need information. Qui

“Of course,” he said sarcastically. “Why else does the CIA exist but to provide you with what you need?”

“I’m transmitting you a picture I just snapped of an antique coin press. It was used to make gold coins during gold-rush days. I’m positive Doane had one of these, or a similar model, in his car recently.”