The Serpent and the Crow

Book 1: Chapter Three

The sunrise rose over police officers, local hunters, and Navajo in high-visibility vests with cadaver dogs. Derringer smoked a Marlboro as he scowled at the Natives.

Tension was high with working with local Indians. Indians were leeches to Wade; he felt annoyed and obliged to burn them off his back with a cigarette.

Douglas mounted the back of a pickup truck that housed a few chicken coops, judging from the loose chicken feathers floating in the air.

"Listen up," Douglas shouted, "this is not a search and rescue. Evidence found yesterday, at Coyote Hills, by the Desert Creek Hunting Club shows a forensic match to Katie Harding."

Derringer stubbed out his cigarette, launched on to the pickup truck's tire, and on to the flatbed.

Wade said, "thanks to Dale from the Desert Creek Hunters for finding crucial evidence amidst the ponderosa pines in Coyote Hills, and for being among those volunteering to search for this poor girl."

Derringer's gaze avoided the Navajo gathered behind Dale, waiting for the acknowledgement that would never come.

Derringer said. "The SAR, Search and Rescue, and local trackers will form a search north. The child may still be alive. Now, let's move out."

The volunteers formed a shoulder to shoulder line. A significant gap was present between White Americans and American Indians. Organisers called for the group to close the gap. But no one wanted to do that on either side.

"The Harding family received a letter and that's why it's a criminal investigation. No prints. No, nothing. So, don't ask."

"Every crack-jack must come out of the ponderosa pines to send a letter to the Harding family."

"Yeah, but the letter details where and when, the child was kidnapped, which follows the real-time of 7 pm-7.30 pm the child, and not what Chief said at the town meeting last night."

"Lucky guess?"

"The letter included parts of the victim's underwear that the Desert Creek Hunting Club members found in this area. A forensic match. Heather even confirmed the stencilled name on the briefs were printed by her hand. The letter also names the location where Dale and the good old boys found it. If we are to believe that they are innocent."

"What does he want? The fucker that sent the letter. Not Dale because I know he didn't do it,"

"He asked the Harding Family for forgiveness. And, how are you so sure Dale, or the other folks, didn't have a hand in this?"

"Dale has been in some real trouble, but he wouldn't steal a Kid he helped raise, dumb-ass. Dale and William Harding go back a bit in the construction business. Now, what about the Fed's?"

"Solemn Pines has jurisdiction, as long as it doesn't spill out into Colorado or New Mexico. But I let Armadillo County Sheriff's Office and Colorado State Patrol know."

"Armadillo Police, Department, and New Mexico State Police now know too."

"Good, the last thing we need is for this fucker to leave, and especially if the girl is still alive."

Wade flicked his cigarette at Douglas. The burning ash bounced off his chest like fireflies. Wade gritted his teeth, "I fucking told you this was a serial case."

"There was no evidence showing anything but a missing child, Wade."

"Yeah, but I was right. I should've listened to my gut instead of trusting a no-good..."

"Say it, Wade. I know you want to say it."

"Son-of-a-bitch! Is that what you were expecting to hear? Not everything is about you being a fucking Navajo Joe, okay. You should've backed me up. Now, we're looking for a girl that could be dead by now."

Douglas walked off towards the search party, nearing the tree line farther ahead.

Wade felt this was the end of all hope for the Harding family. It frustrated him being a witness, a collector of information, rather than a pursuer of justice. But that was the reality of Coyote Hills.

Wade took a water bottle and noticed his foot crushing something odd. He lifted his boot and picked up dry snakeskin. The ornate pattern was unlike anything Wade had ever seen. He was no snake expert, but he knew snakes growing up in Corpus Christi. He threw it away, disgusted and fucked off that he stood on it with his cowboy boots.