Page 4 of Badlands (Nora Kelly #5)

G RADINSKI LED THE way, heading toward the prominent landmark, the spire of black rock.

The others fell in line behind and started along the hard, dry wash, weaving among the strange hoodoo rocks and sandstone spires of the badlands.

The sun cast long shadows.

It was still hot, but they made good time—better than Corrie had anticipated.

In twenty minutes, they arrived.

“All right, men, let’s get to work,” said Gradinski.

Men . Corrie felt her irritation rise again, but she kept her mouth shut and focused on the site.

The skull and assorted bones lay in a gravelly swale that extended to the base of what people were calling the witch’s finger.

There was a scattering of prickly pear cacti, shriveled from dryness, and some other desert plants Corrie couldn’t identify.

Off to one side the drone sat in the sand like a squat spider.

The skull was lying face up, hollow eyes staring into the sky, jaws wide.

Bones lay scattered around it on the gravelly ground—a pelvis, long bones, several segments of vertebrae, a partial ribcage.

Next to the skull was a mass of blonde hair.

Corrie could see signs of animal disturbance—teeth marks, gnawing—on the bones.

She could hear Gradinski in the background, issuing directions to the two technicians.

They spread out and began taking photographs, planting little flags, collecting bones, and placing them in evidence envelopes or containers.

They worked fast and, Corrie noted, professionally.

She decided to make a circuit of the site, checking the perimeter.

Almost immediately, south of the body, she discovered partially buried and much tattered what looked like a pair of lace panties.

Heading along the swale in the same direction, she spied another piece of clothing—khaki shorts.

Corrie continued south away from the rock, encountering the remains of a shirt, and then a sock, one withered running shoe, then another.

All in a line.

A strange feeling crept over her.

These clothes had not been scattered randomly by animal activity or wind; they had been intentionally discarded.

The victim, it seemed, had methodically removed her clothing as she approached the place where she died—or was killed.

She strolled back to where Gradinski was working.

He was kneeling over a femur that was partly buried, brushing sand away.

“Mr. Gradinski?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look up.

“The victim’s clothes appear to have been discarded in a line—”

He raised his head reluctantly from his work.

“Excuse me, Agent Swanson? I was distracted.”

“I was saying that the victim’s clothes appear to have been discarded down that swale, one piece at a time. In a straight line. I want to make sure you and the team map, photograph, and collect them.”

“Naturally.” He turned back to his work.

Corrie continued circling the site but found nothing more of note.

She returned to watch the ER team as they searched the ground for every little bone.

Now, scanning the site more closely, she noted how empty it was of evidence.

When dead bodies were discovered under suspicious or at least unusual circumstances, there was commonly plenty of evidence to collect: bullet casings, photos of blood spatters, indications of a struggle.

But that didn’t seem to be the case out here, in the middle of nowhere: there were just bones and discarded clothes.

Corrie believed that every scene had a story to tell—even one like this—a story that went beyond the bones and physical evidence.

In the absence of more obviously relevant items, it was better to simply collect almost everything.

Of course, most if not all might be unconnected to the victim—but they weren’t likely to come back here.

This would be their only shot.

“Mr. Gradinski?”

He was still kneeling.

“Yes?”

“There are a few things I’d like taken as evidence, in addition to the human remains and clothing.”

“Such as?”

“I’d be happy to point them out if you’d care to, uh, stand up for just a moment.”

He rose, a pained expression on his face.

“All right. What?”

“Those pieces of decayed wood, there, for starters.”

“But… they’re obviously natural to the environment.”

“Just in case.”

He rolled his eyes.

“What else?”

“There’s an old pop-top tab, there. And some of the odd-looking stones closest to the body. Like those two green pebbles near the skull, and that cluster of smooth red and yellow cobbles by the vertebrae, and there are also some flint chips over there—prehistoric, I think—near the pelvis.”

“You want us to collect rocks?”

“Uh. Yes, please.”

“Really? Rocks ?”

The supercilious tone set Corrie’s nerves on edge.

“Maybe it’s irrelevant, but I’d rather have more than less. I’m not sure they’re all natural to the area.” She drew in a breath.

“And I’d like a photographic inventory of the plants growing in the immediate vicinity—the cholla, prickly pear, and these other plants, whatever they are. Plus some environmental pictures, including that rock formation. I’m sure you understand—capturing, in essence, a record of the physical environment.”

Gradinski stared at her in disbelief.

“Agent Swanson, I’ve been leading ERTs for two decades. I pride myself on a second sense when it comes to evidence—knowing what’s relevant and what isn’t. May I respectfully ask you to let us exercise our expert judgment? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got very little time.”

She looked into that supercilious face and knew exactly what he was thinking: I’m not going to let some young, green, female agent tell me what to do .

Okay , she thought. Now she understood that little half smile on Sharp’s face.

There was a reason he’d been evasive about Gradinski—and knowing Sharp, this evidence collection was a test. Well, she was not going to do her usual thing…

which would have been to lose her temper.

“I’m aware of your excellent reputation,” she lied, trying to make her voice as agreeable as possible.

“You probably don’t know this, but the young agents talk about your work as being practically legendary. Of course, ordinarily no one would say it to your face, but the fact is, all of us hope you’ll be the one leading ERT on their cases.” She tried mightily to keep the tone of irony out of her voice.

“I hadn’t planned on telling you, but I feel fortunate you drew this case.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Is that so? I’m glad to know it.” She saw that her abject flattery was actually working, as a flush of self-admiration appeared on his cheeks.

“I know what I’m asking for is a bit unconventional,” she went on.

“All I can say in my defense is, I hope you’ll allow a new agent like me to make some of my own decisions about the evidence—even if they’re wrong. I just want to make sure nothing is missed.”

“Well, of course. We all learn by our mistakes. I’m happy to comply.”

She couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d changed his tune.

“We’ll be sure to collect those, ah, rocks. And the other things. And anything else you might suggest. Fair enough?”

“Yes, that’s much appreciated. And,” she added, “please be sure to collect that spearpoint there, next to the pelvis.”

Gradinski swung around in surprise, bending down and peering with narrowing eyes.

“Will you look at that. What a beauty! Of course we’ll collect it. Good eyes, Agent Swanson!” And, with a beaming smile, he gave her a gentle pat-pat on the shoulder.

Corrie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she managed to keep her face mild and friendly.

She also waited in silence to make sure that Gradinski did indeed collect the evidence she’d indicated.

She was pleased to see that he did so, and with the utmost professionalism: photographed, mapped, collected, sealed, tagged, and packed away.