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Judge Valerio’s every word. At the end of the brief ceremony, the clerk and I stepped to a table to sign the certificate as witnesses.
    Without warning, the bride yelled, “Get ready!” I looked up just as she tossed her bouquet directly toward me. I failed to react for an instant, then hastened to grasp for the small spray out of some vague sense of propriety. But my fingers only managed to touch the tips of a few fragile petals, and the bouquet tumbled to the floor at my feet. Mountain dodged the incoming object with a start, then sniffed at the little bunch suspiciously. Satisfied that the bundle was harmless, he dropped to the floor with a plumpf and yawned.
    The newlyweds rushed away to their honeymoon supper while Judge Valerio and I exchanged a few parting pleasantries. It was dark when the wolf and I stepped out into the cold night, and the judge’s clerk locked the glass door of the courthouse lobby behind us. My Jeep was the only car in the unlit visitors’ parking lot at the back of the justice center. Colonies of mammoth cottonwoods bordered the lot on either side, their wrinkled limbs lifted up toward the stars. Remnants of last night’s windblown snow lay piled against the giant trunks at their bases. As I was loading Mountain into the cargo area in the back of the car, a white pickup swerved into the lot at too-high speed and drove around the perimeter of the parking area, bass notes booming from blown speakers in the back of the cab. I watched the truck as I lowered the hatch on the Jeep, then slowly turned to follow the vehicle as it circled me. When the pickup started its second circuit around the lot, I opened my coat and unsnapped the snug on my sidearm. The truck stopped in the next parking lane over, and the thundering bass notes ceased, too. The passenger-side window lowered. I stepped back so that I was protected by the rear corner of the Jeep, one hand on my automatic. A man waving an open, quart-sized bottle of beer yelled, “Hey, is the wedding over?”
    Â 
    I sat in the driver’s seat for a few minutes with my forehead against the cold steering wheel, reminding myself I hadn’t had any sleep the night before, and that anyone might have gone on the defensive in the same situation. Just as I was beginning to feel some of the adrenaline subside, a shrill, piercing peal sent a shock wave up my spine. I jumped in my seat, then froze, unable to process the meaning of this unfamiliar alert. In a moment, the sharp sound repeated and I located its source. I picked up the offender, stared into its one large eye, and registered what I saw. I inhaled, pushed the green dot, and spoke. “Resource Protection, this is Agent Wild . . .”

6
    Aunties
    â€œWe’ve identified the body.” Diane’s voice sounded clipped through the cell phone’s speaker. “Agent Sterling’s going to release the name of the victim to the media. We missed the five o’clock news, but they’ll pick it up for the six in Albuquerque. The deceased was a woman named Cassie Morgan, apparently an unmarried seventy-seven-year-old with no known kin.”
    â€œThat didn’t take long.”
    â€œNo, we got lucky. Morgan’s housekeeper reported her missing just today. When we went to check for missing persons reports on an elderly white female, it was right there, a perfect match. Evidently the cleaning lady comes once a week, and Morgan’s bed had not been slept in since the last time she was there; everything was exactly as it was on the previous weekly visit. We went out to Morgan’s house, talked to the housekeeper. She was unwilling to go to the morgue and identify the body, so we obtained dental records. There was a bill from a Taos dentist in Morgan’s files.
    â€œAnd listen to this: Cassie Morgan was a former matron at the Indian boarding school. The housekeeper told us that much, but she wouldn’t say more. So I called that guy at