"Maybe." Kerney looked around the empty mesa.
"But from where?"
"Good point."
"Think you can fetch that dog for me?" Kerney asked.
"Sure thing," Dale said, reaching for his rope.
"Bring the shoe back with you."
"What are you going to do?"
"Check out that stand of trees."
"Don't you ever stop thinking like a cop?" Dale asked as he broke Pancho into a trot.
"Probably not."
Kerney walked Soldier to a lone juniper at the edge of the grove, tied him off, looked into the shadows, and saw nothing. He pushed his way through some low branches, and knelt down on a thick mound of needles, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The dog had dug out a small hollow at the base of a pifion tree. Kerney's eye caught a touch of color in the loose dirt. Using a twig, he brushed away the dirt and uncovered a comb.
He backed away and scanned the ground of the surrounding trees. He saw a scrap of fabric that looked like denim. Next to it was a half-buried bone, with a human foot still attached.
Kerney had seen enough. Whatever else there was to be found, he would leave to a crime scene unit and the District State Police Office in Las Vegas. He came out of the grove as Dale rode up, carrying the dog over his saddle.
"Find anything?" Dale asked, as he handed Kerney the shoe. It matched the first one.
"The shoes were left here," Kerney replied, "with some human bones."
"No joke?"
"No joke."
"What are you going to do?"
"I left my cell phone in your truck. We'll head back and call the district office."
"What about the dog? It's a neutered male. I make him to be about five or six years old. He needs a meal bad and he has a gimpy hip."
Kerney looked at the mutt. Mostly black, with brown markings around the eyes that matched his stockings, he had flecks of gray on his chest and a salt-and-pepper tail.
He was hairy, filthy, skinny, and scared.
"I'll keep him," Kerney said impulsively.
"You need to give him water, food, and a name," Dale said.
"I'll call him Shoe, for now," Kerney said, as he opened his saddlebags and reached for one of the sandwiches he had packed for lunch.
He handed it to Dale and the dog wolfed it down. Dale cupped his hands and Kerney poured water from his canteen into them. Shoe lapped it up and Kerney gave him more.
He untied Soldier's reins and mounted up.
Dale held Shoe out to him.
"He's your dog. You might as well get used to his smell."
Kerney sided Soldier over to Dale, took the dog, put him across the saddle, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose.
"We'll head to that stock tank and clean him up a bit before we turn back."
"Good idea," Dale said.
"We should still have part of the day to explore after things settle down."
"What happens next?"
"Officers and a crime scene unit will come out and search the area."
"Damn, I'd like to see that."
"I'm sure you will."
"You sound grumpy."
"This is not the way I wanted to spend my weekend."
"Do you think you've got a murder on your hands?"
"I always think the worst when people turn up dead."
"Maybe you should call this place Skeleton Mesa."
"That's cute. Dale."
Dale shrugged his shoulders.
"Just a suggestion. I think that dog likes you."
Shivers ran through the dog as it laid across the saddle. Kerney could feel it breathing heavily. He ran his hand over the dog's back to calm him and scratched his ears. The dog looked at him with serious eyes.
"Not yet.
But I think he will."
Kerney spent more time than he liked briefing the two officers who showed up at the old cabin. Russell Thorpe, the rookie patrolman who responded to Kerney's phone call, had brought along his field training supervisor.