No sign of movement. First impression? Male. Short. Five-foot-eight. Feet touching the floor, but just barely. Up on his toes. Suspended by his arms? Check.
Move.
I tried to vary my maneuvers to eliminate the element of predictability. Tuck and roll. Rise to one knee. Light, left to right. Exhale, slowly. Stand and ease forward. Based solely on the style of the pants and the curve of the hips, I assumed it was another woman. Not a man as I’d initially thought. The feet could have gone either way and the lightweight hoodie was black and crusted with dried blood. As with the last, a dowel had been run through the back of her sweatshirt to suspend her like a scarecrow. I could barely see the gash above her waistband. Her coyote face hung forward to hide the deep laceration across her throat. The dead animal’s tongue was still clenched between its bared teeth. One of its ears was split and withered and resembled an artichoke leaf. I raised the light to her dark eyes. Soft and brown. Barely visible beneath the half-closed lids. Definitely female.
I had to keep moving. Soon enough these victims would come down and I’d make sure they were identified and given a proper burial if I had to do it myself. And even then, they deserved so much more.
A mental picture of the maze was starting to come together in my mind. I was now in the outermost ring. I could feel a slight difference in temperature from the outside heat radiating through the rock wall to my right. I figured this passage ought to take me nearly all the way around the cave and to the opposite side of the wall to the left of the entrance. I’d pretty much navigated the rest of the periphery; a left from there ought to lead me into the heart of the maze, where the passages would become much shorter and narrower.
I walked as fast as my shooter’s stance would allow, following the leftward curve all the way around as I had expected. The wall of the cave remained to my right, although any number of side passages could have been hidden by the drop cloths and patchwork construction. The turn at the end was to the left. Again, as I had expected.
Back against the wall.
Phone out. Tilt. Reflection?
Nothing.
Come around high, leading with my light and pistol.
Clear.
It was a straight shot ahead to another left turn. Fifteen feet. Follow my sweeping light. Another left.
Phone. Reflection?
Maybe five feet to another left turn. Nothing in between. I covered the distance in two long strides. Flattened to the wall.
Phone. Angle. Reflection?
Clear.
Move through fast.
Next left.
Phone. Reflection?
Empty.
Round the corner in a crouch. Rise to shooter’s stance again.
The corridors were getting shorter and shorter. This one was maybe eight feet long and ended in an abrupt right turn. I was nearing the center. I could feel it.
There were still two bodies left to find. It reeked so badly I couldn’t have trusted my nose to guide me to either.
Still only one set of tracks, leading inward. None leading out.
Back against the right wall.
Phone. Tilt. Reflection?
No one there.
The bend was sharper and wound back to the right, out of sight. I swung around and followed it to a point on pretty much the opposite side of the cave. My heart was racing. I had to readjust my grip on my pistol. The light had begun to dim. I couldn’t help but think about how long my escape route would be from here.
Coyote is the master of deception.
As I neared the end I identified a turn to the right. I approached cautiously. I was running out of turns almost as fast as I was running out of space. He was so close I could almost feel his presence.
The Coyote.
I’itoi.
My Elder Brother.
Right-hand turn.
Phone. Reflection?
Damn it!
I yanked my arm back.
Another body.
Should be Agent Matthews.
I knelt and held my arm out again.
The bare feet were a livid purple and rested flat on the floor, causing the knees to bend. Green pants, black splotches. Green jacket. Nameplate on the breast, insignia on the shoulder. Definitively CBP. Arms out to either side, although they were too long. The dowel had been forced through the jacket over his elbows, leaving his forearms and hands to dangle like his coyote head. The lips of the mask had been peeled back and glued in place to expose the savage teeth.
I ducked back. Deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Choke back the stomach acids. I rolled around the corner and cleared the passage with my Beretta. Maybe eight feet long. Nearing the end.
I shined my beam into the coyote’s eyes. Blue irises, sclera shot through with blood. Vacant stare.
I ducked under his right arm.
Back against the wall, slide sideways.
Phone. Steeper angle. Reflection?
Another passage. Four feet long. Another right turn. Nothing in between.
I came around high and fast. Darted to the next turn.
Phone. Reflection?
Again, nothing. Another four-foot stretch. Left-hand turn.
Pulse thumping in my ears, shaking my vision.
Breathe. For God’s sake, breathe.
Coyote is the master of deception.
Crouch. Hustle. Back. Wall.
Phone. Reflection?
Six feet. Arched passage. Left turn at the end.
Go, go, go.
Phone. Reflection?
Three feet. Right turn.
The quarters were getting tight. No room to move. To make a mistake.
Duck left. Already there.
The right turn bent back in the opposite direction, one-hundred-eighty degrees.
Phone. Reflection?
Nothing.
Three feet. Right turn.
Phone. Tilt. Reflection?
Ten feet, arched passage.
Clear.
Come around low and slow.
Right turn at the end. Back against the uneven, rounded wall.
Phone. Reflection?
Three feet. Nothing. No one.
Roll and rise. Two strides. The left turn merely rounded the wall to my left.
Phone. Reflection?
Clear.
Coyote is the master of deception.
Swing around. Five feet. Left turn. Back against the wall.
Phone. Reflection?
The curved corridor bent beyond my range of sight.
It was the final long stretch and I knew it.
Round the turn, hard and fast, sweeping the light, finger tight on the trigger, pressing it into the sweet spot.
Footprints?
Still one set, continuing inward. None coming out.
My heart, jackhammering.
Respirations, shallow, jerky.
Mouth dry.
All over soon.
Swallow hard.
Reach the end. Left turn.
Coyote is the master of deception.
Back against the wall, slide down low.
Phone. Tilt upward. Try to keep from shaking. Reflection?
Body. Large.
Arm back.
Steady breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
Roll around.
Pistol up. Light up.
Black shoes, tan slacks. Universal cop special. Bloodstains. Belly holding shirt open, missing buttons, bloodstained undershirt. Glimmer from a badge on the chest, in the middle of a crimson Rorschach. Arms out. Just tall enough to remain standing roughly flat on the floor, not suspended or leaning. Doubtful dowel would have held otherwise. Antone. Without a doubt. Raise the light to the coyote mask. Jaw molded wide open, as though preparing to snap. Wrinkled skin on snout. Look up higher for the eye—
“Took you long enough to get here.”
The words came from around the corner to my left.
I froze. The voice was hollow, haunting.
It reminded me of my father’s.