“And Native American artists depend on that for their livelihood,” he said.
“The art they produce is contemporary and obviously completely legal to buy and sell, and there are even legal artifacts to be possessed too, but this is where it gets murky because of provenance.”
“You mean, where did the items originate from?”
“Yes. And was it from public or private land? Was it taken from a gravesite? Or created from an endangered species?”
“Things have changed in the last two decades. Aunt Nadine used to take me out to collect arrowheads.”
“And that’s perfectly fine if the arrowheads are found on private land, and again, they aren’t pilfered from a gravesite or a site of historic significance. But she would know that.” Aunt Nadine probably wasn’t breaking the law, Terra hoped, but many broke the laws without realizing they were doing so, especially since those laws had changed.
“There’s even a law, NAGPRA—the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—that outlines how museums and federal agencies should return Native American objects to the original tribes. Again, complicated.”
Jack chugged from his bottled water.
“There’s also NHPA—the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966—but that’s mostly to do with someone trying to bulldoze land or build a pipeline that comes across an archaeological site. As for my job as a forest service special agent, I’m more concerned about ARPA, the Archaeological Resources Protection Act.”
“My head is spinning already. Dumb it down for me, okay? I’m only a meager county detective.” He grinned.
“ARPA basically says you can’t loot on historic sites or dig up graves, collect or deface historic sites. This is what the forest service special agents investigate. Forest service law enforcement officers protect the resources, and if there are violations and no one has been apprehended, those cases are then reported to criminal investigators—special agents like me so we can dig deeper. So far on my job here, I haven’t had an archaeological case, but with my past experience, that’s more my specialty.”
Jack’s eyes filled with appreciation when she’d expected them to glaze over like most people’s did. Terra averted her eyes, hoping he didn’t see her blush under his stare. The two of them had come a long way. They were both different people now, yet so much about her remained the same. It seemed that was true for Jack as well.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s say we get the warrant and get into the cabin. You’re calling the items artifacts, but they could be made by contemporary Native Americans and not artifacts at all.”
The pots still had dirt on them, as if someone had recently dug them up. “Maybe, but what I saw . . . I’m leaning artifact. The Montana tribes, the Crow tribe for instance, followed the bison. They were considered Plains tribes and didn’t spend much time making pottery. These pots look more Hopi anyway.” Even stranger.
“Hopi?”
“A nonmigratory tribe in the four corners. The Hopi are the descendants of the Anasazi.” What were you up to, Jim Raymond?
“How do we find out what we’re dealing with—stolen or illegal or perfectly fine?”
“A museum or a qualified appraiser could assess them. In our case, a forest service archaeologist could make the determination, and if the items are illegal, they would be held in a repository until they could be returned to the rightful tribe.”
“If they are determined to be illegal items, they would be held as evidence.” He crossed his arms.
“Or repatriated to the tribe they belong to. So, you see, it gets complicated.”
He sighed. “First, we need to get into the cabin.”
His cell rang. “Speak of the—” He answered, “Tanner here . . . Yep. We’ll go in first. Send an evidence tech.”
“You got it?”
He nodded. “We’re good to go.”
They each donned latex gloves. Jack held the door for Terra.
She remained at the entrance along with Jack, taking in the room.
Shelves lined the walls, most of them empty. Jim had furnished the two-room cabin with the basics for staying in the woods. The living space had two old plush sofas and a chair. A small kitchen in the corner. A double sleeping cot in another corner. But the shelves had drawn Terra’s attention, and she peered at the two pots closely, noting the cracks.
“I don’t see any obvious footprints, but let’s limit our tracks and evidence contamination.”
“Got it.” She took pictures with her phone.
On closer examination, she noticed some staining, as though someone had tried to clean at least one of the pots with regular soap, and that confirmed her suspicions. “We’ll leave these here for the evidence techs to see—maybe they can grab fingerprints, but I need them for the archaeologist.”
“Fine. What else are you thinking?”
“All these shelves. What are they for?”
“I don’t know. Books?”
She shook her head. “No. They’ve been wiped clean. But these two items were left behind, or they were added later. Recently. Maybe Jim brought them up here, and that’s why he came to the cabin. Then he was killed.”
“If that’s true, was he killed because of what lined these shelves? And why keep what we’re assuming is contraband here? It would be a chore to hike up here and stash the artifacts. And also risky if someone hiking in the woods decided to break in,” Jack said.
Terra continued walking the cabin, looking for anything else that could give them more information.
“Honestly, I think if he was moving illegal artifacts, then this isolated cabin that only he had legitimate access to is a brilliant idea. And if someone were to break in, they would most likely do so to get out of the elements because they were lost. They probably wouldn’t think twice about the Native American art on the shelves. Jim could have come often enough to check the cabin.”
She held his gaze.
He nodded. “I’ll have them look deeper into the tracking data to see how often he came here. We only looked at the week surrounding his death. We’ll expand that. Still, Terra, I think this is a stretch. We need to find something more than conjecture.”
“That he was killed for the items, you mean.”
“Yes. It’s a theory.”
“Agreed.”
She shined a small flashlight around the shelves, behind them, and on the floor while Jack perused the cabin. Then she moved to the wall without shelves and noticed hooks for hanging decorations. “The cabin has been cleared out of more than what was on the shelves. I’ll be interested to learn what your techs come up with.”
She found a keyed lock in the wall. “Hey, there’s something here. A cabinet. But it’s locked.”
Jack approached. “Here, let me.” He tried the small key he had used to open the main door. “Doesn’t work.”
“Let me try something.” Terra retrieved her pocketknife and began picking at the lock. “I know . . . I’m messing with this. We should wait for evidence techs.”
“And I’m going to let you do it. I really want to see what’s inside.”
The cabinet door swung open.
Terra gasped. “Looks like we hit pay dirt.”
FOURTEEN
Terra stared at the headdress created from eagle feathers. The warbonnet was as long as Terra was tall. “Now, this is definitely Crow. And behind the headdress, deeper in the cabinet, I see more things. Some pottery shards, tools, and the like.”
She reached to touch the beautiful features but held back. “This could potentially violate several acts, including the Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act.”
“Don’t tell me, eagle feathers are illegal.”
“You didn’t know?” She couldn’t take her eyes from the headdress. “Eagle feathers and body parts are illegal to sell. I think this is a stash of Native American relics. Regarding this headdress, unless Jim had certifiable American Indian ancestry, even having the feathers in his possession is a hug
e fine. And in this case, I don’t think there’s any doubt he knew what he was doing was illegal.”
She tugged out her phone again and took more pictures.
“How huge is the fine?”
“Why do you ask? Got some eagle feathers?” She continued taking pictures. “A hundred grand or more. That’s down from two hundred and fifty million a few years ago. Maybe jail time. That is, if this headdress is of cultural and religious significance.”
“I get it. More violations. Where do you think he got the pots? Public or private lands?”
“The pots on the shelf and in the cabinet I believe were pilfered from an archaeological site, just not local. Some of the tools in the cabinet could be local. The archaeologist will have to identify the tribe. This headdress didn’t come from a dig, but it’s in good condition. If we find items actually taken from a gravesite, the penalties are much steeper. I would say that Jim has some explaining to do.” Except Jim was dead.
“Maybe that’s our answer—someone didn’t want Jim explaining. He could have been a middleman. Fencing the items. I think that sounds more like Jim to me. He wasn’t the type to literally get his hands dirty, but he was a businessman. Had a lot of connections.”
“Or he kept secret this private collection that he came here to enjoy or share with other enthusiasts.” She stepped back from the cabinet to catch her breath. “Someone could have killed him for his collection and plans to come back and get the rest. Or planned to.”
“So, which is it then? Collector or fence?” Jack asked.
“In my previous investigation, no one was murdered. We have to consider that this might not be connected to his murder at all.” Terra skimmed through the pictures she’d taken on her phone. “Between you and me—because, again, we’re only theorizing here—I think he was fencing, buying and selling. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” And depending on which direction this investigation took, other agencies might want to weigh in. When she’d worked the sting before, the BLM—Bureau of Land Management—and FBI were also involved.
Terra finished taking pictures. As soon as the county evidence collection team finished here, she would transfer the artifacts to a secure room at the forest service supervisor’s office in Goode’s Pass.
She sighed. They could only be touching the surface of what was going on. Others, locals, friends even could be involved in a trafficking ring. She’d seen this before, and it could be devastating. God, please don’t let it be a repeat of the past. The last sting she was involved in had devastated an entire community.
Terra wanted fresh air and fled the cabin, leaving Jack inside. Thoughts of her past job reminded her of so many things gone wrong. A man bent on going out in a blaze had driven into the national park and, using an assault weapon, had taken out a park ranger who was sitting in his vehicle minding his own business. As the man held off law enforcement, the ranger bled out before help could arrive. He was Terra’s friend, who she’d gotten to know through a joint task force. Had a wife and a child. His death was a huge blow to them all and drove Terra into someone’s arms and down the wrong road.
And now here she was, back in the same space with Jack. Another mistake?
Seriously. Sometimes she had to wonder about God’s plans for her life.
So . . . yeah. She needed air, and she needed it now.
She walked a few paces away and soaked in the forest—the evergreens and rust-colored needles carpeting the ground. She drew in the scent of pine and clean mountain air. In mid-September, when summer shifted to autumn, the breeze held a hint of the cold winter to come. She listened to birdsong. A squirrel chattered in the trees and shook smaller branches as it jumped between them.
Had Jim been killed here at the cabin? Or in these woods? Or at the cliff?
Jack joined her outside. “We’ll have company soon. I got a text that they’re at the trailhead.”
“Good.” She needed to touch base with her ASAC and others in her district about possible looting at local sites, though she didn’t think the pottery she’d seen was local. She wouldn’t make that call. But she’d have to wait for a stronger cell signal. She would remain here until the evidence techs arrived so she could speak to them about the artifacts. They could collect evidence surrounding the pots, but she was taking the items.
She’d need assistance with that, especially the headdress.
“Bad enough he was murdered,” Jack said, “but to find out he was involved in something illegal is a shock.”
“At least we have a possible motive.” Terra soaked in everything she had always loved about the outdoors, at the same time loathing the horrors of the crimes that were committed against nature and man alike in remote places such as this.
Would the forest give up its secret? Who had killed Jim?
Jack peered at the ground, the bushes and trees, like any good tracker looking for signs. Then he caught her watching him. “We should set up surveillance cameras near the road to see who drives by to watch, as well as cameras near this cabin to see if someone attempts to come back.”
“Good idea.” All of it required funding, resources, and time. She hated that feeling in her gut that told her they were already too late.
Through the trees, county deputies arrived with evidence techs. Jack instructed the crew to carefully look for evidence, including from around the cabin. In particular, the murder weapon. He then told them, after processing the cabin, to assist Terra in retrieving the artifact evidence.
As the day wore on, Terra and Jack waited while techs finished dusting the cabin for prints and searched for other evidence, including blood.
“With my experience in cases involving archaeological crimes,” she said, “I have a few connections.” Unfortunately, Dr. Jeremy Brand was the first to come to mind. “Maybe I can use those to see if I can get a lead on who Jim was working with. Where he was getting the artifacts.”
“What else, Terra? What more is bugging you?”
“You can read me that well, can you?”
He shrugged. “My job description requires that I read people well. So what else is on your mind?”
“I was just thinking”—about how much she didn’t want to contact Dr. Brand—“that these crimes come with a fine and prison time. Most of the time it isn’t enough to deter the activities because there’s significant money to be made.”
He nodded. “Murder changes everything.”
“Right. Was Jim’s collection worth murder? Not what little I’ve seen. However, people have murdered for much less.”
Thunder rumbled. So far, the scattered storms had passed them by. But this time, lightning struck dangerously close. This part of the mountain was a tinderbox, and lightning could ignite a fire, even though fire season was coming to a close.
“Let’s go.” Jack touched her arm. “The bottom is about to fall out.”
“But I need to get the artifacts transferred. It’s not like I’ve never been caught in the rain.”
“I always miss the rain.” He sent her a wry grin. “No point in ruining my reputation.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“And that’s not today. Don’t worry. They’ll retrieve everything for you. I promise we’ll get the items transferred to the forest service since you insist.”
“All right,” she said. “We can arrange for transfer this evening or in the morning.”
Terra hiked down with him. “About the murder weapon, Jack. If someone went to the trouble to throw Jim off that cliff so he might not ever be found, they probably didn’t leave the murder weapon laying around.”
“Well, we’ve searched the area where his body was found, both the top and the bottom of the ridge, and still nothing. It can’t hurt to look.”
Dark clouds hung directly above them as the wind tossed the trees around. They picked up the pace, but Terra might just get to see Jack doused in a rainstorm despite his proclamation to the contrary. At the trailhead, county vehicles almost pinned their veh
icles in.
“See you later.” She waved and ran to safety before she, too, was doused. After climbing inside and buckling, she spotted Jack on his cell as he climbed into his SUV.
He made her smile.
Then a big raindrop plopped on her windshield. And another, until rain pounded against her car. She couldn’t believe they’d made it before the rain started—maybe there was something to Jack’s claim. Regardless, she hoped the rain got the whole mountain and not just this patch. The thunderstorms weren’t called scattered for nothing.
Her cell chimed. ASAC Daniel Murphy.
“Connors here.”
“I want a rundown.”
She’d sent him an email yesterday and relayed the information regarding the cabin and artifacts. Dan blew out a low whistle.
“You’ve got the experience, Terra, so I trust you to work through this, though I’m happy to assist if needed.”
Relieved to hear he had confidence in her, she allowed a slow exhale. She was in this now and wanted to find Jim’s killer.
And work with Jack . . .
She ignored the errant thought.
“Got a report on a meth lab,” Dan said.
“Can’t the locals handle that?”
“Forest service officers have shut it down, but you need to look into it.”
She bit her lower lip. “I think this murder and the apparent stash of artifacts is complicated, Dan. I’d like to stay focused on this.” They were all spread far too thin.
“Because of the murder, the archaeological crime is a priority. I trust you know how to juggle your caseload. But let me know if that becomes an issue.” He ended the call.
Terra slammed the steering wheel. One moment he complimented her, the next he challenged her abilities. She suspected that Dan hadn’t liked that she’d gotten the job as a special agent. She’d heard that he had a friend he’d wanted for the position. She half-suspected that Gramps had put in a good word for her. If he had, she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Her heart rate calmed, and she realized that Jack was still sitting in his vehicle. Was he waiting on her to leave? She steered away from the trailhead, and he followed her into Big Rapids. She wasn’t sure where he was going. They hadn’t discussed doing more today, but lunch and dinner had come and gone, and she was starving.
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