Cave of Bones

by Anne Hillerman

  Bernie knew El Malpais as Yeiitssoh Bidil Niniyeezhi, Navajo that translated to something like “Where Big God’s Blood Coagulated.” The name came from one of the legendary adventures of the Hero Twins as they made the world safe for the People. The families of the Laguna, Acoma, and Zuni pueblos had their own names and stories for the supernatural way in which this landscape came to be, wisdom that predated both the Spanish encounters and the American geological surveys. She’d read that scientists traced the lava to several different eruptions, including one of the most recent. The river of melted stone stretched forty miles long and from five to fifteen miles across, a landscape of craters, cones, lava falls, and ice caves. The lava also created what geologists called “tubes.” As the molten lava flowed, the top layer started to harden, but the stone underneath remained liquid and flowed on. Over time the unsupported top layers collapsed in places, creating access to underground caves.

  Bernie found this landscape both foreboding and beautiful, in the same way that she appreciated the good looks of a fearsomely strong bull in the chute at a rodeo.

  The Narrows campsite sat at the spot where the lava and the sandstone might have met if it hadn’t been for the ribbon of pavement. Bernie climbed out of her unit. As Cooper had suggested, it felt good just to stand in this expansive landscape, and the promise of hamburgers sweetened the morning. The early December sun shared the blue sky with a few clouds. She’d heard a snow storm was on the way, but she and the girls would be home before it hit.

  She approached the red tent, which, from Cooper’s description, served as headquarters for the Wings and Roots camp. Two girls sitting at a picnic table focused on her now instead of whatever they’d been talking about. Beyond them, a woman with reddish-brown braids was sitting in a camping chair with a book in her hands, next to a pile of backpacks, an orange water jug the size of a small barrel, and cloth bags stuffed with enough of whatever to let them stand straight.

  The scene resembled a typical campsite in the process of closing down, but the vibe was wrong. The girls looked worried as she approached, different from the typical expressions of civilians interacting with a cop.

  “Hi,” Bernie said. “Can you tell me where to find Mrs. Cooper?”

  “She’s on the mesa, at the group campsite up there,” said one of the girls at the picnic table, whose dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Are you here because of Annie and Mr. Cruz?”

  “I’m here because Mrs. Cooper invited me to talk to you guys.”

  The girl looked disappointed. A great way to start off with her audience, Bernie thought.

  The woman with the book approached her. “Are you the officer who was giving the lecture?”

  “That’s me. Bernie Manuelito.” A lecture? “Will I be speaking to the girls down here?”

  “You better talk to Cooper about that.” The woman had a touch of an accent, and there was a bit of attitude in her voice. “She’s the one in charge of everything. I’ll let her tell you what’s going on. That’s the way she likes it. I’m only the assistant. Lacy Mayfair.”

  “So Mrs. Cooper is up on the mesa?” Bernie looked up at the sandstone cliffs that provided a backdrop to the campsite.

  “Yes. That’s right. You’ll see the tent, our headquarters.” Mayfair turned to the girls. “You two show her the way, then get back down here to help me. Understood?”

  They nodded and headed off, Bernie following.

  The trail started at the edge of the parking lot and, after a rather steep ascent, became a flat, sandy, serpentine path, sometimes meandering close enough to the mesa’s edge to offer a fine view of the lava field just across the highway. The girls walked single file, and Bernie trailed behind. A raven soared, a glistening dark shape against the vivid blue sky. The cool morning air was invigorating. Too bad all speaking requests didn’t include a half hour of walking on a brilliant December day. The hike calmed her, pushing aside the anxiety of the pending talk.

  A woman with gray hair clustered in short, tight curls was pacing outside a tent as they approached the campsite. Bernie saw piles of equipment, neatly stacked, and the ring of rocks that surrounded a few pieces of blackened wood where a campfire had blazed. The woman glanced up and waved Bernie over. “Officer Manuelito? Rose Cooper. Good to see you. Thanks for coming.” Cooper looked at the girls. “Get a drink and a snack if you’d like, and then wait up here for the closing circle.”

  “But Ms. Mayfair said—”

  Cooper put a finger to her lips. “I’m in charge, remember?”

  The girls smiled and bounced away to join the other campers.

  The area seemed naturally intended for small group gatherings. A few girls stood in clusters or sat on rocks. Bernie counted nine, plus the two who had come up with her. All looked to be Navajo and in their early teens.

  Cooper had dark half-moons beneath her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here, Officer. We’ve got a big problem.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “A girl and the assistant program director are lost out there in the lava somewhere.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “A girl, Annie Rainsong, wasn’t where she should have stayed for her solo. Mr. Cruz brought the other three girls he was responsible for to base camp and then went out for Annie. They haven’t come back.” Cooper’s right hand made a pass through her curls. “He knows this area, and he’s had a lot of experience outdoors, as a hiker and a guide. At first I didn’t think much about it. But now I’m worried that something has happened to them.”

  “Tell me more about the girl and the solo.”

  “Each camper has a designated spot for her solo, her time alone to reflect on her life. We tell them to stay at that spot overnight, and at dawn Mr. Cruz, Ms. Mayfair, or I come to bring them back to base camp.” Cooper shook her head. “Mr. Cruz saved Annie’s spot for last, since she was closest to base camp.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Two hours.” Cooper glanced toward the lava again, and when she turned back, Bernie saw the tears.

  “Have you looked for them?”

  “Yes. I sent Mayfair and the two girls you just saw—they are a bit older, more responsible—out to search. I told them to stay along the trail from here to Annie’s solo site, the place she was supposed to wait. They saw Annie’s tent and sleeping bag right where they should be, but they didn’t find any trace of her, and no clue as to where she or Dom might have gone.”

  “Dom?”

  “Domingo Cruz, the missing man.” Cooper looked at her watch, then back at Bernie. “Annie has been trouble from the start of the trip. Her mother leaned on me to accept her as a camper, and I should have said no.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No. I knew you were coming, and I figured . . . I should have called already, shouldn’t I? But I know Dom can find his way out there. He’s had so much experience. He’d be embarrassed if we made a big fuss for nothing. He’s always taking pictures out there. I’m hoping he just got distracted, lost track of time.”

  “How far was Annie’s solo site from the base camp?”

  “You mean, how long would it take to get there?” Cooper didn’t wait for Bernie to respond. “Maybe a twenty-minute hike. Mr. Cruz mapped it out so each of our girls would get a flat place for her tent. We wanted Annie to have some solitude without being too far from help if she needed it, like all the girls.”

  Bernie did the math. Considering Cruz’s experience, it wasn’t too soon to notify the New Mexico State Police, the agency that activated operations to find people lost in the wilderness and bring then out safely. “You’ve done everything you can, Mrs. Cooper. It’s time to put search and rescue on alert.”

  “Whatever you think, Officer.”

  “Call me Bernie.”

  “OK. Call me Rose.”

  “Rose, hike down with me to my unit, and we’ll use the radio to call this in. The police will need information from you.”

  “O
f course.” She turned to where the girls were clustered, motioned them over, and explained the situation. “While Officer Bernie and I talk to the police, you all gather up your belongings, and make sure the campsite is spotless. Then finish your expedition journals. Any questions?”

  The girls looked at her in stunned silence.

  Cooper led the way, setting a rapid pace. The trail didn’t seem quite as beautiful now, even though the sun warmed Bernie’s face and the air smelled subtly of the vanilla essence of ponderosa pine.

  The older woman spoke first. “What kind of information will they need to start the search? I figure they’ll want a physical description, age, height, weight, what they both were wearing.”

  “That’s right. They will need the location of the girl’s campsite and where Mr. Cruz was last seen. They’ll ask if either of them had any medical conditions, seizure disorders, things like that.”

  Cooper made a sound that resembled a laugh, but without the happiness. “Annie is disorder on two legs. That girl demanded more attention than the rest of the group put together. But no medical issues. Of course, she’s also a chronic liar.”

  “Could she have disappeared on purpose?”

  Cooper took a moment to respond. “I guess so, but Annie had the most fear about doing the solo of any of the girls in the group. I can’t imagine her trotting out in the lava by herself. She and her mother don’t get along, but that’s true of a lot of these girls. Annie doesn’t have a history of running away; that’s one of the questions we always ask.”

  “You said Mr. Cruz is experienced out here.”

  “He knows this place better than Mayfair or I do. And he understands our protocol. He should have hiked in by now, even if he wasn’t able to find her. I’m worried that he might be hurt.”

  “What did he have with him? Cell phone, water, food, first aid supplies?”

  “Of course. I’m not sure about the phone. They don’t work very well out in areas of the lava fields.”

  Bernie thought about how to best ask the next question and couldn’t come up with a graceful way. “Do you have any reason to suspect that the two of them may have had a physical relationship? Some reason to run off, disappear together?”

  “Never. Not at all.” Bernie heard the flare of anger in Cooper’s voice. “Dom is not that kind of man. He’s not a pedophile, if that’s what you’re implying. I’d swear to that on my mother’s grave. Some of these girls have been molested, traumatized, abused, you name it. How could you imply that I’d hire a person like that to work with them?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m just asking a question.”

  They walked in silence.

  Bernie had explored a little in the Malpais, and she knew that the lava could be treacherous. This time of year, the area might be hit by blizzards that buried the trails and their markers under snow. In the summer, the temperatures ratcheted to over a hundred degrees. In all seasons, the dark rock was slippery, sharp, and filled with crevices and unexpected challenges. What looked like solid footing could turn out to be the thin dome of a lava bubble.

  As she followed the trail off the mesa top, Bernie was glad she had stowed her hiking boots in the unit. Her work shoes had been fine so far, but she expected to be walking this route several more times and possibly climbing into the lava before the day was done. She would change after she radioed state police to tell them about the lost ones.

  Bernie had worked with searches on the reservation, and she thought about them as she hiked. On Navajo land, she had searched for competent adults who had been gathering piñon nuts in the mountains or searching for missing livestock and lost their bearings. She had helped find older people with memory problems and children who had wandered away from home and disappeared. The Nation’s four million acres on the Colorado Plateau encompassed terrain from the ponderosa-dotted slopes of the Lukachukai Mountains to the sprawling shale and sandstone emptiness of Monument Valley. It offered an abundance of places to get lost in.

  The Navajo Nation’s own search and rescue unit sometimes requested help from the states of New Mexico or Arizona, depending on where the problem originated. Diné searchers reciprocated, working with teams in areas bordering the Navajo Nation.

  In the parking lot, Mayfair stood when Bernie and Cooper approached. Bernie unlocked her unit and opened the door.

  “Wait.” Cooper touched her arm. “I see something.”

  3

  Bernie followed Cooper’s gaze and spotted a figure running toward them, long hair swaying back and forth as she moved.

  “Annie!” The director’s voice rang out, and she sprinted to meet the girl, enclosing her in outstretched arms. The embrace continued for a while, and then the sobbing stopped. Cooper led the girl toward the police car.

  Annie looked pale and distraught, but she seemed uninjured.

  Cooper had her arm over Annie’s shoulders, but the girl shrugged it off. “Did you call the police on me?”

  Cooper stepped back, and Bernie took charge.

  “Mrs. Cooper invited me to talk to your group, and when I got here, I learned that you and Mr. Cruz hadn’t come back from the lava. You aren’t in any trouble with me.”

  “Where’s Mr. Cruz? He’s not here? Oh my god. I thought . . .”

  “You thought what?” Bernie held the girl’s gaze until Annie looked away.

  “I thought he would be here. This is terrible.” Annie leaned against the hood of Bernie’s unit and closed her eyes.

  Cooper moved next to the girl. She unhooked her water bottle, pressed it into Annie’s hand. “Drink some of this now.”

  After the girl drank, Mayfair helped Annie off with her pack and made her sit down. Cooper gave her assistant a faint smile. “Keep an eye on this one while we notify the police about Mr. Cruz. When she feels better, walk up to base camp with her, and stay with the girls until I get done, and we can do our closing circle. They will be relieved to see that she is back and safe.”

  “I’m OK,” Annie said. “I wanna go now.”

  Bernie took a step toward the girl. “Annie, do you know where Mr. Cruz is?”

  “No. Why would I?” The girl stared at the ground.

  “Because he went to look for you.” Bernie kept her voice gentle. “We need to talk about what happened, but first, Mrs. Cooper and I need to get the search going.”

  Mayfair looked at Annie. “Let’s go. We can stop whenever you need to, if you’re tired.”

  “I’m not tired. I wanna see my friends.”

  After they left, Bernie made notes based on Cooper’s description of Domingo Cruz: Navajo, six feet tall, about two hundred pounds, forty-two years old, black hair with a touch of gray at the temples, dark brown eyes, wearing a blue jacket with reflective trim.

  “Anything else?”

  Cooper straightened her shoulders. “Well, he has a black backpack with a bear bell he bought in Alaska to keep from surprising a grizzly, and hiking boots. He might have his red knit cap. It was below freezing this morning when he went out after Annie.”

  Bernie turned to Cooper and stared directly into the older woman’s face, something she’d had to train herself to do in dealing with white people. “Was Mr. Cruz depressed, upset, worried about something?”

  “Worried? Who doesn’t worry?” She ran a hand through her curls. “We’ve got some budget issues, some staff changes in the works. He might have been a little preoccupied, you know? That’s just part of life around here.”

  “Is there any reason you can think of he would have chosen not to return?”

  Cooper’s eyes widened. “He would never kill himself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Bernie knew that many times lost ones came back on their own as Annie had; she hoped this would be true with Mr. Cruz. Sometimes the people being sought failed to return on purpose, the weight of responsibility and unhappiness pushing them into a place of despair so deep and lonely they forgot that their relatives still cared about them.

&nb
sp; “Did he have a weapon?”

  “Yes. A knife and a gun.”

  Bernie felt her cell phone vibrate she approached her unit. Sandra, the Shiprock substation dispatcher and her friend, was on the line.

  “Are you done out there? Captain Largo has something for you.”

  “Not yet. There’s a new development.” She explained.

  Sandra’s voice came in clear and strong. “Wow. I’m glad that girl is safe. I’ll tell the captain. Will you be somewhere with phone reception for a few minutes so he can talk to you?”

  “Sure. I’m calling for search and rescue now, and I’ll give Largo an update after that.”

  In New Mexico, the state police resource officer, based in Albuquerque, is the person with whom official search and rescue operations begin. Bernie described the situation to the coordinator, gave directions to the group campsite, and asked him to inform law enforcement assigned to the Malpais National Monument and the BLM, who managed the conservation area.

  “How long do you think it will be before the team gets here?” Bernie asked.

  The voice on the phone was calm. “I think the quickest will be two or three hours. Can you or someone stay at the youth camp until the state police officer comes? Officer Manzanares will be dispatched from Grants.”

  Bernie repeated the question to Cooper. The director shook her head. “I’ll stay as long as I can, but I have to get the other campers back to their families.”