Page 46 of Badlands (Nora Kelly #5)

A S THEY DROVE up to Nash’s house, Corrie gazed up at it with a laugh.

“They just get bigger and bigger.”

“There’s a ton of money in this town,” Nora replied.

“I grew up here, and I watched it pour in. It’s still pouring in.”

They parked and walked up to the heavy antique mesquite gates in the wall surrounding the house.

Corrie pressed the bell.

After a wait, she pressed again.

A voice crackled over an intercom.

“Who is it?”

“Special Agent Corinne Swanson, FBI.”

A silence.

“Is this joke?” came the voice.

“No, it’s not a joke.”

A few moments later, the gate was unlatched and opened, and a battle-axe of a housekeeper stood before them, arms crossed, like some medieval guard.

“You really FBI agent?” she demanded, staring at Corrie with an openly disbelieving look.

Corrie held up her badge.

The woman stared at it.

“Oh.”

“May we come in?”

“All right.”

They followed her across the inner courtyard and into the house.

Nora remembered it from her earlier visit, the walls and surfaces crowded with Native American artifacts.

“We’d like to speak to Mr. Edison Nash,” Corrie told the housekeeper.

“He not here. What this about? He in trouble?”

“No one’s in trouble,” Corrie said, speaking calmly.

“We’re just hoping he can help us with a few questions. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“When’s he due to return?”

“He was supposed to be back yesterday.”

“You have no idea where he went?”

“Camping. He got the gear and they pack it in the truck.”

“‘They’? Who was he with?”

“The tall skinny friend. I not remember his name.”

“Skip?”

“That’s it.”

Nora broke in.

“He didn’t say where they were going?”

“No. They look at maps and then they leave.”

“Which maps?”

“They in the study.”

The housekeeper led them into Edison’s grand study.

There, on a large marble coffee table, were scattered several USGS topographical maps.

Nora went over and had a look.

They were of Gallina Canyon and the badlands to the east. Squinting more closely, she made out pencil marks tracing a set of roads that led through the fracking badlands to a dead end at the eastern rim of Gallina Canyon.

“Oh boy,” said Nora.

She turned to the housekeeper.

“Did they take Edison’s car?”

“Truck.”

“What kind?” Nora asked.

“A brown F-150.”

Nora paused.

“Why did they go camping?”

“Mr. Nash often go camping. He like to see old ruins.”

Corrie glanced at Nora, who looked more worried than ever.

“What now?” she asked.

Nora checked her watch.

“It’s just one. If we leave now, we can be at the trailhead by four thirty and down into the canyon by seven.”

“You mean go get them?”

“Yes.”

Corrie said nothing, thinking this was an overreaction.

Skip wasn’t the most reliable individual—but he was an adult, and she had long felt Nora was too protective of her brother.

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow and see if they show up. Doesn’t it seem likely they just decided to stay a little longer than planned?”

“Maybe. But I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What do you think they might be doing? They’re just camping, right?”

“I don’t know. But Gallina Canyon…” She drew in a breath.

“I’m going now. If you’d like to come, I’d sure appreciate it, but I’m not going to wait.”

“Well, how can I say no? I can’t let you go alone.” Corrie made a little effort to squelch her irritation.

Nora had, after all, made the crazy trip to Mexico that broke wide open her investigation, and she owed her a big one for that.

“Thank you, Corrie, really, thank you. I appreciate it.”