The number of remains of Undocumented Border Crossers was increasing to alarming levels. Didn’t matter how vilified migrants might be in today’s geo-political landscape, their bones spoke of their humanity and their desperation. They didn’t deserve a death sentence for their actions, no matter their legal status.

The wave of sadness nearly overwhelmed her as she gently laid the crucifix in the box.

This was the end of an era for her. Her last body recovery in this part of the world.

She’d accepted an academic position that forced her to move far away from Arizona. A part of her felt as if she’d given up, failed. But the issue was bigger than one person, bigger than her small group of fellow volunteers who were always at the wrong end of the search. It was a global problem and needed to be dealt with on an international level. Zoe had a lot of opinions on what might help and was determined to do whatever she could to get the message out.

She wasn’t giving up, but it sure as hell felt like it when she looked at the bones of what had been, until relatively recently, a living and breathing human being—a person very like the one she stared at in the mirror every morning.

“Zoe!” Her name echoed over the rocky landscape.

“Coming!” she shouted back.

For old time’s sake, and the fact they couldn’t help themselves, she and her friends had decided to spend their last Saturday together in the desert before Zoe began her long solo trek to her new home in Richmond. This was her last victim and Zoe would show them the respect that they deserved.

A Phainopepla called out with a distinctive “wurp” on the evening air. She looked around for the handsome, red-eyed, black bird that nested in the Sonoran Desert in the spring, but she didn’t see the individual who’d made the call.

She’d walked farther than she’d intended. They’d decided to search one of the ribbons of washes, west of the main migrant trail that cut across the 500-square-mile preserve. The area was thick with towering forests of saguaro cactus, magnificent organ pipes, and desert grasses. The ground was covered in spiky cholla pods and prickly pear cacti that pierced the footwear of the unwary.

The sun was setting behind the nearby mountains, painting the landscape with vivid reds and golds, so beautiful it almost hurt to look at. As the shadows elongated, the heat was already, thankfully, starting to ease off.

“Zoe!” Karen’s voice once again carried on the breeze and a shiver skittered over Zoe’s flesh. She looked around, the sensation of someone watching her filling her with unease.

The dead did not scare her.

This area was considered one of the most dangerous National Parks in the country and it wasn’t only because of the harsh conditions or threats from wildlife.