“Good,” Fran said. “No next-of-kin notification for one of them then. Who are the others?”

“Two of them appear to be an Anglo couple from Tucson, tentatively identified as Jack and Abigail Tennant.”

“And the Indian woman?”

“She’s believed to be Donald’s girlfriend, Delphina Enos. She was currently living in Sells, but she’s originally from a village called Nolic. A child we believe to be Delphina’s daughter was found wandering barefoot around the crime scene. She’s being transported to the hospital at Sells.”

“Life-threatening injuries?” Fran asked.

Brian shook his head. “Minor injuries,” he replied. “Traumatized by what happened, of course, but she doesn’t appear to be physically hurt. Instead of calling for an ambulance, we got the booster seat out of the Blazer and put it in the back of Dan Pardee’s Expedition. He’s the guy who’s taking her to the hospital.”

“Who’s Dan Pardee, a member of the tribal police?”

“Pardee’s Border Patrol, a member of the Shadow Wolves unit,” Brian explained. “He’s the one who initially located the crime scene. It appears that the assailant or assailants went through the victims’ purses and wallets and dumped everything they didn’t want out on the ground. Dan looked through what was there and found a couple of ID cards in case he needed some kind of identification in order to have the little girl treated at the hospital in Sells. Cash and jewelry appear to be missing, but everything else was still here.”

“You said the Indian woman was from somewhere called Nolic?” Fran asked. “Never heard of it. I’m not sure how I’ll manage her next-of-kin notice.”

“That probably won’t be necessary,” Brian said. “One of the guys from Law and Order went to get Delia Ortiz.”

“The tribal chairman?” Fran asked.

Brian nodded. “According to Mr. Rios, Delphina worked for the tribe. Ms. Ortiz should be able to give us a positive ID and some idea about her next of kin. I’m reasonably certain Law and Order will take care of notifying her relatives.”

“What about the Anglo couple?”

“As I said, I’ve got their names and a tentative address in Tucson, but that’s about all.”

“It’s a start,” Fran said.

Running the beam from a flashlight over the dead woman’s body, she shook her head. “The shooter took this woman down with a single shot,” Fran said. “If he’s that serious about killing people, how come the little kid isn’t dead?”

“Good question,” Detective Fellows said with a rueful smile. “Maybe they just aren’t making crooks the way they used to.”

Sells, Tohono O’odham Nation, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 12:45 a.m.

70º Fahrenheit

D an had learned that the Tohono O’odham call June Hashani Bahithag Mashath, or Saguaro-Ripening Month. That’s also the month when the Sonoran Desert routinely bakes in an unrelenting dry heat during the day that can turn to a comparatively icy chill at night. That had already happened by the time he turned into the hospital parking lot at Sells. The seventy-degree external temperature reading seemed downright chilly compared to what it had been earlier in the afternoon.

An ambulance with its lights still flashing was parked in the portico outside the emergency room. Dan steered his Expedition into an almost empty parking lot where his oversize vehicle took up most of what was striped off to be two compact spaces. Then, after rolling down the windows and ordering Bozo to stay, Dan unbelted Angie and carried the sleeping child inside the building.

She was still wearing her bloodied clothing. He set her down carefully on a bench next to the wall. He had rescued a toy-a pink-and-yellow pinwheel-from the backseat of the Blazer. After placing that near her hand, Dan stepped forward for what he expected to be a protracted battle with the emergency-room clerk. The woman glanced at Angie’s sleeping, bloodstained form and then eyed Dan speculatively, as though she was convinced that Dan was responsible for the little girl’s injuries.

“What happened to her?” the clerk wanted to know.

“She was running around out in the desert without any shoes,” Dan explained. “She has cuts on her face, feet, and legs.”

The clerk shrugged and sighed as if this didn’t seem to be something serious enough to merit an emergency-room visit. “All right, then,” she said. “I’ll need to see proof of enrollment.”

Dan slipped both Delphina’s and Angie’s ID cards out of his shirt pocket and handed them over to the clerk. She studied them carefully for some time. When she finally started typing information into her computer, Dan watched her flying fingers and thought about what else he had found there on the ground, the one item he hadn’t shared with the Pima County investigator-a wallet-size photo of Delphina Enos holding Angie.

In the picture a smiling Delphina had beamed proudly down at her baby daughter while Angie, dressed in a lacy white dress, smiled back. It was a peaceful photo, a loving photo.

She’s wearing a baptism dress, Dan had thought the moment he saw the photo. After studying it briefly, he had slipped it into his pocket right along with the two ID cards.

The clerk finished typing and cleared her throat. “Who are you?” she asked. “Are you the father?”

Dan shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m just the guy who found her.”

“You’re not a relative, then?”

“No relation.”

The clerk stiffened. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid we can’t treat her,” she said, shaking her head dismissively. “This isn’t a life-or-death emergency. She isn’t even bleeding anymore. Have her mother bring her in tomorrow morning. A doctor can look at her then.”

The woman was only doing her job, but Dan felt an unreasoning rage growing inside him. He recognized his anger for what it was. Eye color wasn’t the only thing he had inherited from his biological father. He also had Adam Pardee’s hot temper. It was one of the things about his grandson that Micah Duarte had done his best to counter.

Dan’s grandfather had taught him when to fight and how to fight and when to back off and walk away. As a teenager, Dan had been astonished to learn that Gramps knew karate. Micah saw to it that his grandson was one of the few black belts on the San Carlos.

Calling on those lessons now, Dan forced himself to take several deep breaths.

“Her mother can’t come in tomorrow morning because she’s dead,” he explained to the clerk, keeping his voice low and steady but forceful. “Somebody murdered her earlier tonight out in the desert. They shot and killed the mother and left this little girl alone in the desert. As an Indian she qualifies for treatment at this facility. I want her checked out. If you can’t help me, then let me talk to someone who can.”

Dan knew what Adam Pardee would have done about then. He would have slammed both fists on the counter or knocked something off it onto the floor, preferably something breakable. Dan did what Micah Duarte had trained him to do. While the clerk was thinking about what Dan had said, he walked away from her. He went back over to where Angie lay sleeping, sat down on the bench beside her, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited. He didn’t look at the clerk, but finally he heard her sigh, get up, and walk away from her desk. She went through a swinging door and disappeared.

Sitting there, Dan could still feel the stiff paper from the photo inside his shirt pocket. He, more than anyone in the world, knew what the future most likely held in store for this unfortunate little girl. Yes, Angie had lost her mother. Since Donald Rios had been Delphina’s boyfriend, that most likely meant Angie’s father was no longer a presence in her life, either, making her an orphan twice over.

At the tender age of four she would have few conscious memories of her mother, but Dan understood that in terms of physical remembrances she would probably have even less.