“About three-hundred degrees below zero.”
Carlo said, “That should do it.”
“Do I send the bill to the Sheriff’s Office?”
“That would be best.”
“I’ll do it when I get back to the office. You all stay frosty.”
Hunter looked at the others as he drove away, “Was he being funny?”
“Uh-huh, a natural born comedian.” Carlo said. “Just not good at it.”
Brandi said, “How about I go to the store and get some five-gallon buckets so you can get the chunks out and see what you’ve got.”
“That would help. Thanks, Brandi,” Carlo said.
Brandi said, “I’ll be back.”
She hopped in the Jeep and zipped down the road, disappearing around the curve in a pale rooster cloud of dust. She returned in ten minutes with buckets and pails. Buddy unloaded the items and Hunter and Carlo carefully broke up the frozen mess and scooped out the chunks, careful not to remove anything else. As each bucket melted, they emptied the fluid through the dip net in case something slipped by them, and then plucked out the bones, pieces of clothing, and other paraphernalia.
They filled up the first tarp with the bones from at least two people, then started on the second. By the time they reached the bottom third of the car trunk, the sun was down and the frozen mixture seemed as solid as an iceberg. They left what was in the trunk and checked the bones they’d fished out of the mess.
The soupy mixture was still so thick that it coated the bones and material in a slick, gummy layer, obliterating small details on the bones. Buddy, who worked for the volunteer fire department made another call. Ten minutes later, two men drove up in the department’s water buffalo and parked by the tarps. Santino Robles and Bobby Sotomayor got out and surveyed the bones on the tarps. “What are you guys working on here?” Bobby turned to Hunter and said, “I’d expect a deputy to be around here, but not the famous woman from the narco-corrida.”
Santino said, “Oh yes, El Lobo Y la Tejana. It’s a classic.”
Hunter said, “You two rounders aren’t in jail today?”
“Rounders?”
“I heard it on an old western movie last night. Seemed to fit when I saw you two.”
Bobby said, “The one with Henry Fonda and Glen Ford? That’s a good one, but its old.”
Santino grinned and held up his big hands “We’re the good guys, Hunter. Remember who took turns pity dancing with you at the last baíle when you came solo.”
Bobby nodded and said, “That’s what we do, save damsels in distress like you.” Hunter grinned
and bumped him with her shoulder.
Santino said, “So, what do we have here?”
The deputy said, “Bones in the trunk by that green Ford. We’d like to clean them off, but there’s no water around here.”
Buddy reached into the utility box by the water tank and said, “At your service,” as he unrolled a sturdy water hose and attached it to the tank. He turned on the engine, flipped a small lever at the rear of the tank and said, “For extra water pressure.”
Bobby took the hose and sprayed the bones with a fine stream at first, then two more times with a stronger flow of water, and held the hose closer to the individual bones. The water ran off the tarp and made muddy snail tracks across the caliche lot until the fluid soaked into the thirsty earth within twenty feet. Small white and yellow butterflies lined up on the damp earth and sucked at the moisture.
“A bullet hole,” Hunter said.
Carlo said, “Where?”
“Under the edge of that one,” she pointed at the largest skull. “I can barely see it.”
Carlo used a stick and turned the skull to reveal the hole in the forehead. “Well, shit.” He moved the other skulls and found no holes in the other adults, and none in the child’s skull.
He said, “This gets worse as we go. Now it’s a kid.”