agreed.
"I take it you didn't find what you were lookin' for."
The stranger's face, and everything else, flashed through my mind. I'd found something better, but I wasn't going to tell Zee that. As she informed anyone who would listen, she was old; she wasn't dead.
She'd want more details about the man than I could comfortably give.
"The wolf is gone," I answered. "Why wasn't this scene secured like I asked?"
"Things got a little busy here. Domestic dispute, bar fight."
"The usual."
"Damn straight. I didn't have anyone free to secure anything but their own ass. What difference does it make anyway? You don't have a major crime scene being contaminated. It's an accident plain and simple."
I'd learned early on that nothing was plain or simple. My gaze swept over the glass and skid marks. Not even this.
"Have you talked to Brad about the victim?" I asked.
"Yeah. He stayed with her until she left, but - "
"Left?"
"You don't have to shout."
"How could she leave? She was bitten by a wild animal. She needs rabies shots."
"Only if she'll take them. And she wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"The clinic didn't have the serum. They could get it from Clearwater, but it would have taken several hours. She refused."
"That makes no sense."
"Since when does anything make sense?"
Zee had a point. I tried to raise Brad on the radio and got no response. I dialed his cell phone, but he didn't answer. A glance at my watch revealed the shift had changed ten minutes ago. Brad was nothing if not prompt. My opinions on that would have done Zee proud.
The sun was up; I was tired. Working third shift had made me a vampire of sorts, unable to sleep when everyone else did, unable to stay awake when the world was alive.
Despite my exhaustion, and the fact that overtime was a no-no, I vowed to hunt down Brad later and find out what he'd learned from Miss Larson. Right now I'd head to the clinic and talk to the doctor. See if I could find Miss Larson and have a word with her - if she wasn't foaming at the mouth yet.
But first... I glanced from my squad car to the glass and plastic still on the pavement. First I got to clean up the mess.
I sketched the scene, measured the skid marks, then swept the remains of the accident into a transparent bag and carried my prize to the side of the road. Holding it up, I jiggled the sack. Something caught my eye.
I reached inside and withdrew a thin rawhide strip. I'd seen them used as necklaces, usually on men, sometimes teenage girls. If there'd been a jewel or a charm threaded onto this one, it could be anywhere.
I jiggled the bag again but saw nothing else unusual. So I walked the center line and found what I was searching for several feet ahead of where the SUV had skidded to a stop.
Leaning down, I picked up a carved onyx figure of a wolf, what the Ojibwe referred to as a totem. As I stared at it the image wavered and shifted. Cool air shot down my sweaty back, making me shiver. I shook my head. For a moment, the wolf's face had appeared almost human. I definitely needed some sleep.
Had the totem been here last night? Or for weeks, perhaps months? What did it mean? To whom did the icon belong? Did it even matter?
I shrugged and dropped the evidence into the bag. I had enough questions to keep me busy most of the morning. Any more could wait for tonight.
My visit to the Miniwa Clinic was not very enlightening. The on-call doctor was young, earnest, and as exhausted as I was. He'd been on duty for forty-eight hours. I was glad I hadn't been brought in bleeding at hour number forty-seven.
"I cleaned the wound, though the officer who brought the victim in had done a decent job of it."
I made a mental note that Brad had been listening in first-aid class. Good boy.
The doctor rested his forehead on one palm and closed his eyes. When he swayed, I grabbed his arm, afraid he was going to tumble face-first onto the floor. "Doc? Hey! You okay?"
"Sorry. It's been a long night - or three."
I made sympathetic noises. Why the medical community insisted on pushing physicians to their physical, emotional, and mental limits was beyond me. Did they believe the doctors who survived the training could then survive anything? Probably.
"Miss Larson," I reminded him.
"Oh, yeah. I