Chapter 4

Greg led the horse through the gate to get around the cattle guard that protected the house and buildings from the cows. He turned to the horse, smiling. He was proud he'd managed to saddle and bridle the horse correctly – according to the book. And the bridle looked right. He'd found a canteen in a box in the closet and filled it with ice and water. He'd shortened it as much as he could and swung it over the saddle horn. He'd wrapped up some chicken in a plastic bag and tied it onto the back.

Greg gathered the reins at the saddle horn and put his foot into the stirrup. The horse started prancing, dancing away from him.

"Whoa. Whoa. Easy." Greg stepped down.

Truth be told, he was really nervous about this. This quarter ton animal had it in its power to kill him, so he wasn't exactly comfortable with this decision.

Greg tried again, with the same result.

"Look, horse, I have to ride you. You can cover a lot more ground than I can, so just… Chill. Chill."

He tried again and the dancing started again. Greg took a deep breath and swung himself into the saddle. The horse did a little bucking dance before shooting off like a bullet across the desert.

Greg wanted to scream, but he forgot how. The books had contradictions about what to do in a moment like this, but one thing they all agreed on, he had to get the horse under control or he could end up with a broken neck or worse. Greg bounced around until he got the reins gathered up and using both hands, yanked back as hard as he could.

The horse nearly flipped over as it turned and stopped at the same time. Greg grabbed the saddle horn. The inertia of the stop threw him hard against the saddle horn, ramming it into his stomach and against his diaphragm. He didn't have time to worry about air he couldn't get. The horse started bucking and running.

Greg closed his eyes and held on. This was worse than the books even came close to describing. The horse bolted at a dead run again. Greg clenched the reins in one hand, the saddle horn in the other, and held on for dear life!

#

Nick and Sara met a state patrolman on the highway. Nick flagged him down with his Denali's lights and the two slowed to a stop across from one another. They weren't too worried about stopping in the middle of the road, since this highway was lucky to see a rush hour of two cars every hour.

"We haven't heard anything but the radio signal is bad out here," Nick told him.

"No one has seen him," the state patrolman said.

Nick looked down the road. "Where are you coming from?"

The officer picked up a map and pointed at a road. "I covered 121 between County Road 45 up to the highway. No sign of him, but there's a lot of houses in that stretch I can't get to in my car. You might try with your truck."

Nick heard paper rustling. Sara was already plotting their search.

"Okay. Thanks."

"You'll be seeing two others out here. I have to go back north to a call. Good luck finding him, guys."

The two drove away from each other.

Nick's phone began ringing and he fumbled for it before it stopped ringing. "Hello?" he anxiously said. "Greg?"

"No. Henry. You haven't found him either, I take it."

"No. What's up Henry?"

"I got the test finished before I headed out. The carpet was positive for LSD, but I think I found what killed the guy. His pants and shirt had been soaked in LSD."

"So when he started sweating, even a little, he was getting a dose of LSD."

"And he was wearing those clothes when you found him. He overdosed on LSD – hard to do, but with this much in his system, it's what killed him."

"Thanks, Henry."

"Yeah."

Nick hung up. He

"Let's check some of the places he couldn't get to," Sara suggested. "It looks like there should be twelve houses in that twenty-two mile stretch."

"Fine," Nick answered.

Sara looked at him. "Are you beating yourself up about this again?"

"He really didn't want to flip, Sara. I shouldn't have made him."

"I'm sure he's fine. He probably just got a flat or something."

"It has been four days, Sara. Nothing good comes out of people missing out here for four days."

"Be optimistic, Nick."

"The last time he disappeared in the desert Sara, he barely made it back alive. My optimism is M.I.A. right now."

"But he did, and that's what we have to focus on. Greg is smart and he gets out of trouble as easy as he gets in it. We'll find him, okay? We will find him."

Nick didn't respond.

"I heard you're suspended. Is it that true?"

"Yeah. And demoted. I screwed up pretty bad this time."

She shook her head. "Not really. You're not fired. That's proof right there that you didn't mess up too terribly bad."

Nick chuckled. "You should package that optimism and sell it."

"When I figure out how, you'll get a free sample."

That made Nick smile.

#

Morgan walked along the road, looking for anything that looked like it would whack someone's head clean off at the neck. So far, nothing was obvious. And she only had another hour before the State Patrol had to open the road again. Morgan walked to the edge of the road and stared down the hill at the landfill. She wondered if the land would ever recover from the ugly scars man made across it. She looked to her left, into the light hot breeze coming up the road. Her eyes were drawn to a mailbox next to a road. It led down the hill to a house nestled neatly between the bottom of the embankment and the landfill fence. She turned, seeing two more mailboxes for houses like it down the road. Morgan walked back to the mailbox and pulled out a UV light. She went over it with her light, but nothing showed up. She reached out to open the lid and the mailbox tipped over.

"That wouldn't kill anyone," she told the mailbox.

She sat it up and went to the next. It took a little more force, but she easily pushed it over. She walked to the third and before she got there, she could see she was on to something. On the road in front of it was a dark patch that looked suspiciously like blood. She walked around it and found the other side of the mailbox was covered in a black substance. She pulled on a glove and tried to tip the mailbox. It didn't budge. The post it was on must have been set a foot or two down. She pulled a luminal swap from a vest pocket and ran it along the substance. The swab turned pink.

Morgan turned, looking up the road. The events of the fateful night that Peter Bennett died became clear. He was driving his drunken friend home, and was probably even drunker. He didn't stop to vomit. Instead he hung his head out the window to vomit, veering the car to the side of the road. His head smashed against the mailbox, decapitating him. Meanwhile the pickup with the passed out friend and headless body, rolled down the road and off the edge into the ravine.

"Wow. That's a new reason not to drink and drive," Morgan said to herself.

#

The horse's race against nothing didn't come to an abrupt halt. It ground to a halt. At first Greg didn't notice. He was too busy leaning over the saddle horn and holding on for his life. He opened his eyes slowly, staring at the ground that had stopped moving under him. His breath came out as shaky and his body quivered. Very slowly and cautiously Greg sat up, but kept his hand tightly clamped around the saddle horn.

Then he noticed the horse was shaking and stood with its legs spread eagle. Greg hurried to get off; afraid it was going to fall over on him. He dropped one rein and moved back to the end of the other rein, staring at the horse. The horse was frothy with sweat and it snorted as it drew in gasps of air. It turned its head to look at Greg but did nothing else.

"Are you going to die?" Greg asked it.

The horse let out a heavy breath and very slowly got its legs under it. The gasping breaths began to subside until it was breathing normal. Greg took a step just as it shook. He stepped back, watching it shake and shake and shake. It stopped and put a leg out, then rubbed the side of its face against its leg. Then it was time for the other side. Another shake came and finally it stood still again.

"Call me strange, horse, but… I don't think horses are supposed to run like that for so long. In the desert… And… Such."

The horse just looked at him.

Greg cautiously approached it and took the canteen off the saddle horn. The chicken had been lost somewhere in the run through the desert. Greg took several deep swallows and then put it back on the saddle horn. He really didn't want to get back on and be taken for another run, but the books said it was best to get back on and show dominance or the horse would never obey. He sure as hell hoped those writers had actually ridden a horse and knew what they were talking about.

Greg tossed the opposite rein up over the horse's neck, joined it with the one in his hand, and put his foot in the stirrup. He waited for the dance like before, but it didn't come this time. He swung himself into the saddle and grabbed the saddle horn, expecting another sprint. The horse didn't even move. Greg put his foot in the other stirrup and gathered the reins, then immediately put his hand back on the saddle horn. He looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He knew the fence for the place was somewhere to the west. The best bet was to ride to it and then head back south where the cattle guard and gate was.

"Okay, horse, let's try this without racing your damned shadow. It's less work for you."

Greg pulled the reins to turn the horse but the animal didn't budge. He pulled a little harder. Nothing. Greg gave it a slight yank. Nothing. Then he remembered a slight nudge or kick of his heels in the horse's side with the pull, and the horse obeyed. Greg remembered how to encourage the horse to walk faster, but he was in no mood to go faster. He'd gone fast enough on his the first day he'd ever ridden one of these beasts.

#

Nick slowed to a stop, staring at the mailbox by the road. Sara watched it.

"What is it?"

Nick stared hard at the mailbox. "What was the other address? The right one?"

"14643 County Road 112. Oh. Hey. That's the same house number. What road are we on?"

Nick shook his head as he sighed. "Country Road 211. What do you wanna bet Greg's somewhere down this road?"

"For four days?"

Nick gave her a level look. She shook her head.

"Maybe."

Nick turned the vehicle onto the rutted road, crossed the cattle guard and started across the desert. He swerved around the occasional cow lying in, standing on, or strolling down the road. They came down into a valley and spotted buildings.

Before they even reached the second cattle guard, Nick sensed something was wrong. He could see horses lying in the corral and as bloated as they were they weren't alive. He slowed as he came around the barn and found two burnt out vehicles in the yard – one that looked a lot like Greg's Denali. Nick parked, turned off the engine, and the two got out. For a moment there was silence.

A dog came out from under the porch barking at them.

"Hey there. Hey there buddy. Hey there," Nick called out.

The dog stopped barking and started wagging his tail. Nick crouched to pet him.

"Good boy. Good old boy. Have you seen Greg?"

"Nick… Take a look at this place, the wall on the house and… are those dead pigs?"

Nick looked where she pointed. He walked over but stopped when he was able to catch a whiff of death. He backed up.

"Yeah." He looked up at the holes in the walls of the pig's shed. "Someone was shooting a lot."

"There are a couple of 9 millimeters guns over here and a .45. I think this is blood."

Nick circled around the vehicles to the driver's side of the larger vehicle. He leaned in to see if he could see the VIN, but it was covered in soot. A charred gun sat on the seat springs.

"Got another gun inside here, on the passenger side."

Nick opened the back door and stared at a very black box that looked very much like a field kit.

"Sara. I found something. Grab some gloves."

He didn't look at Sara when she stopped beside him. She pulled on a pair of gloves and opened the kit. The aluminum box had protected enough of the contents to reveal it was a field kit.

"Maybe it wasn't Greg's."

"You know it was. Stop trying to paint a rosy picture out of this."

"Then where are the bodies?"

"I'll take the house if you want the outer buildings."

"Sure." She walked away.

He walked on to the front porch. The windows and side of the house showed more signs of a gun fight. He spotted a rifle at the end of the porch. Near the door were two revolvers and a box of bullets. Near each of the weapons was a pool of dried blood. Nick pulled on gloves and then walked inside. The front where bullets had come through the walls was damaged, but the back had not been damage. He walked through the bedrooms. A collection of horse care and riding books were lying on the bed in one. He walked into the kitchen, noticing dishes in the drying rack.

He was about to walk out the back door when he froze. He'd seen something in his peripheral vision that was out of the ordinary.

He turned back around, staring at a folded paper on the refrigerator. TO: LVPD CSI was scrawled across the front in a very familiar handwriting. Nick pulled the note off and unfolded it. As he read it a wash of relief made him smile.

"Nick."

He turned, smiling at Sara. She hesitated.

"What?" she asked.

"He's okay. He said he was sent to the wrong address, the couple here mistook him for their daughter's gangster boyfriend, and then the daughter and her boyfriend and his friends showed up. There was a shootout and he ran. He fell in a gulch and thinks he was knocked out. When he got back, the vehicles were on fire. He waited a day, couldn't find a working vehicle, so the next day he took the last horse and is riding it back to Las Vegas. And he said he had to eat something, drank some water, and slept in the hay loft, but he was careful to leave the rest of the crime scene untouched. He also moved the bodies to the barn so scavengers couldn't easily get to them."

"That explains the bodies with tarps over them. Should… Wait. Greg rode a horse? Greg hates horses. I don't even think he knows how to ride."

"That's what he wrote."

"So he's somewhere in the desert on a horse with no name?"

The two hesitated, realizing the joke at the same time. Knowing that Greg was okay, they were both able to laugh about it.

"Let me go radio this in," Sara said, "And then you can take the Denali and keep looking for him."

"We checked all the houses from the highway to here. No one's seen him."

"That was before we knew he was on a horse – with no name."

"That's just not as funny a second time."

"Sorry. Look, if he's on a horse, he'd have to get out of that fence we came through. So stop again and ask if they've seen a guy riding a horse."

Nick nodded. Sara went back outside, but Nick stayed behind, re-reading the note. He smiled. He knew Greg was ingenious, but there were times he still managed to surprise Nick.

"Horse with no name," Nick chuckled as he walked out of the house.