Chapter 29
Sitting roughly at the centre of the Mojave National Preserve, it was fair to say that Cima was a ghost town; a couple of buildings, what looked like an impromptu wrecker’s yard and some elevated storage tanks that lay behind its real gem, the town store.
Made of wood, it sat under a tin roof next to a large dirt-sand car park that waited for passing trade like a spider’s web. Alongside it, the highway, a still used railway line and the junction of three roads which, these days, led to isolated habitation, the occasional utilities compound and the Eden that was a gas station, just off the Barstow Freeway, about twenty miles away. Tracks radiated out into the desert, some heading towards other ghost towns where there was absolutely nothing to see apart from the dust; their past existence marked only on a map. Others went nowhere for no apparent reason.
Axl flipped the top off the ice-cold cola bottle, took a long slow mouthful then placed some money on the counter, smiled and made for the door; his footsteps resounding in his ears as he walked.
Back in the sanctuary of his Chevrolet Trailblazer he drove the short distance to the start of the Morning Star Mine Road and threw the vehicle right, over the rails. Leaving tarmac behind, he headed for the low hills in the distance. A plume of dust marked his progress like a world record speed attempt in slow motion.
On arrival, he wiped his shades as the dust settled, said goodbye to the aircon and stepped out, once more, into the scorching heat.
A Sheriff’s Deputy checked his ID. “Keep walking, they’re in the dead ground just after the rise. No pun intended.”
He reached the top of a small hill, paused whilst he wiped his face then semi-stumbled his way down. His shoes filled with sand and stones making him swear under his breath. At the bottom, on firmer ground, FBI Special Agent Travis Lacy greeted him.
“Glad you could make it, Axl. I told you you’d need boots.”
“I know, but I didn’t have time to go back home,” he groaned as he emptied a shoe. “What have we got?”
“Two graves about fifty feet apart. The first one was almost where our informant said it would be. The body dog found it practically straight away. This second one, over there, we came across by accident. The most obvious feature with that at the moment is the arm. It’s missing, below the elbow. Looks like an old injury to me.”
“How long does Jeb think it’s been there?” He returned the wave of the Coroner’s Investigator.
“He thinks our John Doe’s been there anything from six to nine months.”
He nodded and emptied his other shoe. “Ok, we’ll have to get back to it later. For now, Travis, show me the other guy. Is it him?”
“I’m pretty damn sure it is but we’ll have to check the dental records to be certain.”
Axl slipped his foot back into his shoe, loosened his tie, wiped the sweat from his brow then followed Travis up and out of the gully.