“That’s okay. He backed off.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t just have Ubie swing by to get me. It would have been much less traumatic. Not to mention the fact that it just isn’t as easy not to look at gen**als as one might think. Uncle Bob was standing by the open door of his gray SUV, hands on hips, looking very worried.

The bridge was one of those old railroad bridges, all rusted metal bracings and rivets. I had no idea it was even out here. It was gorgeous against the stark landscape of New Mexico.

“Did you get anything else?” he asked when I climbed out, trying not to crumple to the ground.

“Besides lost? Freaking Yoda.” Blaming Yoda seemed like the right thing to do. “That guy could’ve killed me. And there’s a na**d man in my car. He’s elderly.”

I tried to play it cool, but Ubie saw right through my bravado. I decided to name my bravado Saran Wrap. Then again, my uncontrollable shaking could’ve given me away. He pulled me into his arms.

“No one has driven by here since the faded red Pinto with a chicken coop strapped to the top.”

“What is my stepmother doing out here? Her and her chickens.”

Uncle Bob tried not to grin. He failed.

“No, the guy turned around and headed back to town.”

“Nothing,” a voice from beyond said.

I peeked over an incline into the dry ravine. Ubie had brought Taft, the cop who gave Reyes such a hard time the night before.

“Hey,” I said to him when he looked up. He’d climbed down and was scouting the area.

He nodded in greeting. “I haven’t found anything.”

Taft was kind of good to have around. Because of his little sister who died when he was a kid, he knew about my ability to see the departed. Thankfully he didn’t ask questions beyond that. It took him a while to swallow the small amount of what he did know. I couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he were to find out the whole truth. I didn’t figure him for a grim reaper advocate.

“Any tracks or disturbances in the area down there?” Ubie asked.

“Nope, not a single one that I can find.”

“I don’t know, hon, are you sure this is the place?”

“It’s the place she told me about. She was Hispanic, dressed in nurse’s scrubs.”

“And she said her body was here?”

“Yes, did you find any missing women matching her description?”

“There was one from a couple of years ago, but that’s about it. You said she came to you this morning?”

“The very one.”

He went back to his SUV and took out a file. “Is this her?”

I took a quick look. “No, this girl is much more Asian than my visitor. Who was Hispanic,” I reminded him. He never listened.

“Okay, look through these and let me know. I’m going to call in the SUV. We might get lucky and find another officer on this road.”

“Sounds good.”

He called the station while I perused. After a few minutes, he strolled back to me. “Anything?”

“No. And no missing Nicoles or Nickys today?” I asked him as I thumbed through the pictures of missing women. I had also hoped to recognize one of the women in my apartment, but nothing popped out at me. Of course, it was hard to make out their faces from beneath the tangled masses of hair and mud.

“Not that I found, but she may not be from here.”

“Can you widen the search?”

“I can try now that I have a description.”

Taft climbed back to the top, his breathing only slightly labored from the effort. “Not a thing, boss.”

“I love it when you call me boss,” I said.

He frowned.

“I was really hoping to find her,” I said. “She was so worried about her family.”

“Did you get anything else that might lead us to her identity?” Taft asked.

“She was wearing scrubs and a name tag on a lanyard. I saw the letters N-i-c. I’m really just guessing on the name Nicole.”

He dusted off his uniform and squinted as he surveyed the area again. “What hospital?”

“Presbyterian, I think. I’ll go there and see what I can dig up later today.”

When Uncle Bob went to answer a call, Taft stepped closer to me. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked out over the desert. “Have you seen my sister?”

I closed the file folder. “Not in a few days. She’s still hanging at the old asylum.”

“But she has friends now?” he asked.

“Yeah, she has friends.” Taft was an okay guy. He almost died trying to save his sister and still looked out for her. But he needed to know the truth about her. “And she’s still as psychotic as ever, in case you’re wondering. Did she have a fondness for scissors when she was little?”

He chuckled. “She cut the hair off all her dolls, if that’s what you mean.”

“I knew it. I would have left that place completely bald if she’d gotten a hold of me. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”

“Okay, I guess I’m heading back.”

“Follow Charley back into town,” Ubie said.

“Uncle Bob!” I said, my voice a nasally whine, the kind I knew he hated. “Wait, that’s a great idea. SUV Guy could come back.” I looked at Taft. “Just shoot any black SUV you see coming our way.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. But he was lying. I could tell.