Slickrock Paradox (31 page)

They finished the call and Silas looked at Hayduke. He filled him in on the developments.

“I think we had better go and have a talk with Mr. Nephi,” said Hayduke.

“And Peter Anton,” added Silas.

THEY AGREED TO SPLIT UP.
Silas had argued that Hayduke might actually prove beneficial in a confrontation with Charles Nephi. Hayduke believed otherwise, arguing that bums like him usually got thrown out of a senator's office. Instead, Hayduke would try and learn as much as he could about Darcy McFarland's work and if there was a connection with either Kelly Williams or Kayah Wisechild. He would make the seven-hour drive to Flagstaff, camp up in the Coconino National Forest, and in the morning see what he could learn. Silas warned him to exercise some sensitivity, given that it was only yesterday that she had been discovered dead. At that, Hayduke smiled and explained that he was a “fucking paragon of restraint and sensitivity.”

Hayduke departed for Flagstaff, leaving Silas to determine the best way to get both Charles Nephi and Peter Anton to come clean about their relationship with Canusa Petroleum Resources and the Canyon Rims project. Failing to think of anything better, he decided that the direct approach would be best. He would start with Nephi.

The senator's southeastern Utah offices were in what was once Blanding's post office and library. A small reception area led to offices of various government departments built into the open space that had once housed the library. An armed security guard sat behind the reception desk. He looked up as Silas entered.

“I'd like to speak with Charles Nephi, please.” The guard picked up his phone and spoke a few words. Silas signed in, producing his water-stained, sand-encrusted driver's license as
ID
.

“How can I help you?” Silas turned and saw Charles Nephi standing at the door to the senator's office.

“I'm Silas Pearson.” Silas clipped on a visitor pass.

“I have about ten minutes before my next meeting.” Nephi looked at his watch.

“Should we talk in your office?” asked Silas.

They walked through a large open room with a desk for volunteers or a receptionist, and three offices running along the eastern wall, each with a glass window looking into the common space. Each room had a window facing west onto an alley behind the government building. In one Silas could see a conference table and six chairs. The room was occupied by half a dozen people stuffing envelopes with what looked like campaign propaganda. The middle office appeared to be the senator's; it housed a desk, a flag, a nearly empty bookshelf, and a picture of the Republican Speaker of the House. Nephi stopped outside the third office. Through a large window Silas could see it was a cramped affair. A stack of papers occupied the visitor's chair and a small tower of bankers boxes sat behind his desk.

Instead of inviting him in, Nephi stood at the closed door and crossed his arms. “What can I do for you, Mr. . . . ?”

“It's Dr. Pearson. I used to teach.” Silas stood so he had a clear view into the office.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Silas Pearson.”

“And you own a bookstore?”

“That's right.”

“You're the one looking for his wife.”

“Yes, so?”

“You found the bodies, that young Hopi girl and the other one. I saw you out on the reservation a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, that's right. What of it?”

“Mr. Pearson—”

“Dr. Pearson.”

Nephi ignored him. “I don't mind talking with people about the work our senator is doing, Mr. Pearson, but I like to know who I'm dealing with.”

“It's true that I'm looking for my wife. She's been missing for three and a half years. That's not what I want to talk with you about. I wanted to ask you a few questions about the Utah Land Stewardship Fund.”

“What's your line of business?”

“I own a bookstore.”

“Dr. Pearson, I think we're wasting our time here.”

“Tell me about the projects. I heard the senator talk about Canyon Rims.”

Nephi shifted his body to block the window into his office. “Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but—”

“When did you quit working for Canusa Petroleum and come to work for the senator?”

“That's not anybody's business but my own.”

“About four years ago, right? About the same time that Canusa started making significant contributions to the senator's
PAC
.”

Nephi studied him. “You're with those environmental bloggers, aren't you?”

“I've never written a blog in my life,” admitted Silas, “but I do recognize pork-barrel politics when I see them.”

“I think this conversation is over, Mr. Pearson.”

“You're still on the payroll, aren't you?” asked Silas. “You never left. The penny drops. I bet if I did the math I'd see that the campaign contributions Canusa is making to the senator's office are a pretty close match to your highly inflated salary as a constituency assistant. They're paying you to be the inside man and open doors for them. Canyon Rims is the first project, isn't it?”

Nephi went into his office and picked up the phone. “Would you please escort Mr. Pearson out of the building?” Silas's eye roamed from Nephi to the stack of bankers boxes. Nephi hung up and came back out.

“Did Wisechild and Williams learn about your project? Did Darcy McFarland? Did my wife?”

Nephi crossed his arms and shook his head. “I heard you'd gone a little nuts. Paranoid delusions are what you are experiencing, Pearson. Look it up in a book.”

The security guard appeared. “Come with me, sir.”

Silas looked at the security guard and back at Nephi. He left the building without a fuss.

SILAS SAT FOR
an hour in his car, alternately turning it on to run the air conditioning and turning it off to save gas. It seemed likely that Charles Nephi was still being paid, albeit indirectly, by Canusa Petroleum. His job: clear away obstacles to development of oil and gas across the Canyonlands. If that was the case, how might he be tied to the deaths of Wisechild, Williams, and McFarland? How might each of their deaths be tied to the disappearance of Penelope? And what was in his office that he was hiding?

When he reached Moab, he decided to stop at the offices of Dead Horse Consulting. The receptionist told him that Jared Strom would
not
see him. Silas decided that he would go for broke and simply walked past her. She was right on his heels when he arrived at Strom's door. The man was on the phone and looked up when he saw Silas at his door, the receptionist behind him.

Strom hung up and opened the door.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Strom, he walked right by me. Do you want me to call the police?”

“I'll do it, Darlene. It's okay.” He turned to Silas. “You're making quite a fuss, aren't you?”

“People are dead, and I think you know why.”

“You're here to accuse me of murder?”

“I'm here to tell you that if you know who is responsible, this is a perfect opportunity to come clean. You might escape accessory charges.”

“Really, Pearson, please, educate me.”

“I think one of your clients has taken his greed too far. I think that it all started as a simple plan to develop a place that nobody thought was worth protecting, and has resulted in the murder of two and maybe as many as four people.”

“Canyon Rims. Hatch Wash, is that what this is about? There's nothing there worth protecting. I know myself. I reviewed the survey. I've been to the site. There's nothing there to find.”

“What have you done?”

“I haven't done anything, Pearson. It's what you've done that I'd be worried about.”

HE DIALED RAIN'S
number as he was making his way into town. When she answered he said, “You fed types still up for a field trip?”

THE CLOSEST HELICOPTER
landing pad was at Moab Regional Hospital, so that's there they converged. Eugene Nielsen, Dwight Taylor, Katie Rain, the two evidence recovery experts, and Silas were crammed in the back of a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter. They flew low over Moab and out across the Spanish Valley to where it broadened and opened into the Canyon Rims area.

Silas sat with his eyes turned to the landscape beyond. He'd never seen the canyon country from the air and the unfolding view of the cracked and fractured landscape fascinated him. At Bridger Jack Mesa the helicopter veered west and started following the defile of Kane Creek, flying five hundred feet above the canyon rim.

Over his headset he heard Taylor speaking. “Dr. Pearson, tell me again exactly what Jared Strom said.” Silas told him. “Did he say if he or anybody else had been into this canyon in the last few days or even weeks?”

“No, but he didn't have to.” Silas's eyes caught Rain's and she smiled at him. He nodded and looked back out the window. The helicopter banked up and over Kane Creek lookout and the point of land that separated it from Hatch Wash. They flew south and east again, just along the elevation of Flat Iron Mesa.

The helicopter pilot's voice came over his headset. “We're going to fly over your coordinates, Dr. Pearson, and see if we can't find a place to touch down.”

They flew up Hatch Wash and at the box canyon banked east and flew over the tiny entrance of the canyon. From above Silas couldn't see anything that would indicate there were ruins there, the overhanging cliff protecting the site not only from rain but from aerial observation. He pressed his face against the window to try and spot the opening in the kiva but could see nothing.

“We're going to circle and do a soft-touch landing back in the main wash,” said the pilot. A moment later the Black Hawk was descending perpendicular to the canyon walls, dropping straight down into a wide point in Hatch. Silas looked away from the canyon walls just a few hundred feet on either side of the helicopter and noticed Taylor watching him with practiced nonchalance. Silas forced himself to look back at the vertical landscape outside.

“Okay,” the pilot said over the din. “When we touch, Agent Nielsen is on the door and everybody moves to the west of the Black Hawk, heads down. We'll dust off and stay on station on Flat Iron Mesa. We're only two minutes away if you need us.”

“Roger that.” Nielsen hunched down and grasped the handle of the door. The helicopter touched down and Nielsen threw the door open with experienced ease. Taylor jumped out first and reached back to offer Silas a hand. Heads down, they moved away from the helicopter. A hundred yards up the wash, toward the box canyon, they stood up and watched the others join them. The helicopter lifted off, straight up, and out of sight over the rim of the canyon. The world was silent once more.

“Lead the way, Doc.” Rain adjusted her backpack. Silas led them up Hatch Wash five hundred yards and then found, amid the tangles of tamarisk, the side canyon that contained the ruins. The afternoon sun bore down on the small group of hikers as they picked their way up and over the rocks. Silas noticed that Nielsen and Rain handled the terrain well, while the others seemed to struggle with the difficult ground.

“If you don't mind my saying,” Silas said to Taylor, “you're looking a little out of place.”

Taylor looked up at him, a pearl of sweat caught in one eyebrow. “Why is that, Dr. Pearson? Because I'm black?”

Silas laughed. “No, because you're clumsy.” Nielsen and Rain both grinned.

“I left Special Forces so I wouldn't have to tramp around in the desert anymore, and what happens? I get assigned to a jurisdiction that's nothing but desert . . .”

“We're almost there.” Silas pointed to the amphitheater where the canyon boxed up, protecting the ancient settlement.

Katie took a few quick steps and walked next to Silas, her eyes up and alert. “Let's stop here,” she said. Taylor came up beside them. “Let's treat this whole location like a crime scene.” They made arrangements for Janet Unger to begin to document while John Huston started the laborious hunt for physical evidence.

“Alright, Dr. Pearson, let's see these ruins.”

They moved forward slowly, Taylor searching the cobbled canyon floor for footing as much as for evidence. They stepped out of the tiny wash and followed Silas up the talus slope and came out onto the small plateau. Silas stopped dead in his tracks. The canyon was silent in the midday heat. The ruins were not there.

“YOU SURE THIS
is the right canyon?” asked Taylor, looking around.

“I'm sure.”

“There's nothing here.”

Silas walked along the floor of the canyon where the kiva had been; where a week before he'd been left for dead.

“This is the place.” Where the floor had once been a smooth terrace, it was now jumbled with talus. He looked above at the alcove where the three tiers of ruins had once been nestled into the sandstone, but the walls were now vacant. “Someone's demolished the ruins.”