The library itself wouldn’t rival most public branches I’ve been in. The law library at DU was probably at least twice the size of this one by itself, but I only needed to look at one thing, and I would have wagered a vital organ that they had it.
The librarian greeted me with a smile, despite the fact that I was a stranger creeping up behind her with the stench of death seeping from my pores. She had one of those faces that was a fulfillment of her aging process, not merely the result of it. She was warm and open and her smile was the kind I associated with freshly baked cookies. She was large, but wore the weight well. And for some ungodly reason, wore a shawl even though it had to be in the mid-nineties already. I believed in making snap judgments about people. They’d saved my life on more than one occasion. This was one of those rare people who reminded me why I do some of the horrible things I do. Right about now, that was exactly what I needed.
And she was helpful to boot. She could have led me straight to any number of geological surveys and topical maps, the kind bound in musty binders like carpet samples or rolled up in long dusty tubes. Instead, she took me down an aisle lined with books on archeology and anthropology that smelled of field use and to the reference room through the back door. She sat in front of one of the Gateway computers, which must have come as part of the donated set in the police station, and blew through a series of prompts and menus with the speed of a teenage hacker on Mountain Dew and methamphetamines.
“I have to be able to keep up with the kids these days,” she said in answer to the question I hadn’t posed. That way of thinking obviously didn’t extend to her wardrobe, but, then again, mine was starting to date me as well. She glanced back at me and smiled. “Can’t let them think they can do all of their learning on Wikipedia, you know.” She winked. “Here’s what you’re looking for. Kind of a popular subject lately.”
She rose from the chair with the grace of a woman half her size and gestured for me to take it.
“How so?”
“You aren’t the first to come looking for these maps. How do you think I knew exactly where to go?” She patted me on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see so many people taking an interest in their heritage. Won’t be long before it’s entirely assimilated. Did you know only ten percent of our youth can speak our native O’odham language?”
“What’s that about our heritage?”
“The Hohokam, of course. They are our roots. They are the ones Elder Brother brought up from the underworld with him.”
“Elder Brother?”
“I’itoi. Elder Brother. The Pima call him Se:he. He also graced us with the gift of the Himdag, the guidelines that allow us to remain in balance with nature and the world around us. He is the Man in the Maze. You see his design throughout the southwest. You even walked right underneath it when you entered the library.” She winked again. She was one of those few people who could pull it off. “It seems to me you have a whole lot more research to do before you even begin looking for the mystical underworld of lore.”
“Who else has been looking?”
“A good number of people. Mostly students, although I suspect they’re looking for some things the smugglers might have hidden. You know…” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “…drugs.”
I nodded sagely to let her know that I appreciated the gravity of her statement.
“I’m hunting for something altogether different.”
“Oh, I understand. A handsome, clean-shaven young man like you? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a criminal. I’m sure you’re looking for the same thing as Chief Antone, aren’t you?”
“The chief looked at these maps, too?”
I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice, but she caught it. She now appraised me with a skeptical eye. Her smile dimmed and the deep lines of age advanced in its stead.
“I knew your father, you know,” she said, and turned away. “Trouble followed that boy like a coyote. Always nipping at his heels. You’re just like him, aren’t you? You’ve got that good in you—I can see it—but you’ve got that coyote following you too. Kindly don’t bring it in here with you. We have enough coyotes of our own. A whole nation full of them anymore.”
And just like that, her smile returned.
“Rafael was always one of my favorites. He was curious about every little thing. Always wanted to learn what was out there beyond the desert. He and that brother of his. Roman. Two peas in a pod they were. Shame they let something so silly get between them. I cried when I heard he’d moved on from this world. I always knew he’d end up dancing in the sky.” She dispelled the sadness from her voice with a sigh. “I’m just glad you finally decided to investigate your roots.”
I smiled at her. I didn’t know what to say. Obviously, telling her that I had little interest in a culture that seemed strange and alien to me was the wrong thing. I was simply on information overload. The chief already investigating the sub-Sonoran geology. My father and trouble nipping at his heels. Students looking for buried cartel caches. An obscure creator god who kept cropping up out of the blue. Elder Brother. It was my father’s elder brother whose son was out there right now, killing people on the open desert and absconding with their bodies.
And here I had thought I was the one nipping at the Coyote’s heels.
I heard voices from the front of the library.
“Let me know if you need any more help.” She placed her hand on my arm and I had the urge to place mine on top of it. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I nodded. The sincerity in her voice rendered me speechless. Maybe there was a part of me that felt as though something was missing from my life, a void I had attempted to fill with my work. Friedrich Nietzsche said that if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. Every time I turned my eyes inward, I found the Coyote looking back at me.
She was nearly out the door before I found my voice.
“How did you know who I was?”
She smiled and winked.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
And then she was gone, leaving me alone with the computer and a maelstrom of thoughts that positively made my head spin. I had to focus on the task at hand, though. And right now that task was tracking down a serial killer who was lurking somewhere out there in the mythical underworld of the Hohokam.
I plugged my USB drive into the computer and began downloading the information as I scrolled through it. There were several different types of map. From the simple two-dimensional topographical to the three-dimensional digital elevation models and everything in between. While both would undoubtedly help in my search, it was the ancillary material that was of the utmost importance. Landsat 7, a polar, sun-synchronously orbiting satellite controlled by a joint effort between the USGS and NASA, was equipped with specialized instrumentation that allowed it to provide more than mere superficial imaging. The ground-penetrating radar was capable of mapping up to sixty feet beneath the surface with surprising accuracy, while the magnetometer analyzed and mapped the composition of the strata based on discrete magnetic properties distinct to every kind of soil and rock. In essence, one showed you where to find the underground cave you were looking for; the other showed you where to dig in order to reach your destination via the route of least resistance.
A cursory glance essentially proved my theory. The mountains were pretty much riddled with subterranean formations, while the open desert was essentially solid earth beneath the sand. It wasn’t much, but it was nice to finally be right about something.
I pulled the storage device and slipped it back into my pocket. I could download the maps onto my laptop without arousing any suspicion and further evaluate them away from prying eyes.