“You still don’t like backing down, particularly if you think you’re right.”

“In this case, I am right. There’s a serial killer in this area.”

He said nothing, mulling everything over, trying to decide exactly what—if anything—he should do.

“Remember what you taught me about restoring balance and harmony,” Laura said.

He looked at her, surprised. “You remember?”

“I remember a lot more than you realize.” She traced his lips with her fingertips and gazed into his eyes.

He knew that she was recalling the first time he’d kissed her. Neither of them had been prepared for the rush of pleasure or the heat that had followed.

“We knew each other as kids, that’s true, but what you’re asking…”

“Is dangerous and maybe a little crazy, but it’s part of what you and I do,” she said, finishing his thought. “We catch the bad guys.”

AIMÉE THURLO

TWILIGHT WARRIOR

To Trudy Stevenson,
who shares our love for the four-footed ones.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s the winner of a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews, a New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction and a Willa Cather Award in the same category. She’s published in twenty countries worldwide.

She also cowrites the bestselling Ella Clah mainstream mystery series praised in the New York Times Book Review.

Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of thirty-nine years in Corrales, New Mexico. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Reservation.

Books by Aimée Thurlo

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

988—COUNCIL OF FIRE[*]

1011—RESTLESS WIND[*]

1064—STARGAZER’S WOMAN[*]

1154—NAVAJO COURAGE[*]

1181—THE SHADOW[*]

1225—ALPHA WARRIOR[†]

1253—TWILIGHT WARRIOR[*]

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Detective Travis Blacksheep—His high school pal has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, but she’s come back into his life with baggage from the past and a killer on her trail.

Laura Perry—A P.I. now, she knows she needs help to catch a serial killer. She and Travis had depended on each other as kids, but unless they learn to work together again, lives will be lost.

Barbara Malloy—She has one last shot at grabbing a major TV network job. All she’s ever needed is the story of a lifetime, and nothing’s going to stop her—no matter what it takes or whom she puts in danger.

Lester Crosley—He services nearly every computer system in town, including the police network. Is his clumsy charm just an act meant to conceal something much more sinister, or is he for real?

Harry Roberts—The martial arts instructor has a reputation for being aggressive, but he really slipped up when he got rough with the sister of a police sergeant.

Chief Wright—He’s new at the top job, and likes doing things his way, but Laura has her own playbook.

Nick Blacksheep—He has a new family of his own, but if his younger brother needs him, he’ll be there.

Daniel Rice—The IRS is after him and his wife, Marilyn, for tax evasion, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What other dark secrets does the couple share that might turn the city upside down?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Prologue

Laura Perry loved her life. The uncertainty and challenges of her career suited her perfectly. And leaving the FBI to become a private investigator for the largest and most prestigious firm in New Mexico allowed her to work alone and unencumbered. Just the way she liked.

Today, however, she was off the clock and on the way to visit with her childhood best friend, Nancy. They’d been as close as sisters during junior high, but had drifted apart in high school after Nancy had become the softball team’s leading pitcher. As playing and practicing began taking most of Nancy’s time, Laura had watched their friendship end, not with a bang but with a whimper.

Yet life, via the internet, had brought them together again. As they’d exchanged emails, the closeness they’d once shared had reappeared as quickly as a patch of clover on a warm spring morning. Their friendship had blossomed as a result.

Although they hadn’t seen each other in years, Laura had been looking forward to seeing Nancy again for weeks. Tonight, she’d spend the night at Nancy’s home outside Flagstaff, Arizona. They’d talk about old times and the new man in her friend’s life. Nancy had sounded head over heels in love in her emails.

Laura sighed. In that one way, she envied her friend. Love sure wasn’t in the cards for her.

Laura turned up a dirt road covered with dusty red gravel and pulled up to the chalet-style home. She removed her handgun from the glove compartment and quickly stuck it inside her jacket pocket. Even out here in this rural area she didn’t want to risk leaving it in the car.

“Hey, Nan! Anyone home?” Laura called out as she walked up the flagstone path leading to the half-open front door.

As Laura stepped across the threshold into the narrow foyer, the door suddenly swung toward her, slamming into her left shoulder. Thrown hard against the foyer wall, she hit her head and fell to her knees, dazed.

Laura heard footsteps coming up behind her and looked back. Backlighted by the glow of the moonlit sky beyond stood the dark outline of a man, his features covered in shadows.

“Nancy spoke a lot about you. That’s why I hung around. I was hoping to meet you. Too bad that you’re too late to help her—or yourself.”

As he raised his arm Laura saw the gleam of a nickel-plated revolver. She ducked left, yanking out her own revolver and firing.

The figure groaned and stumbled back onto the porch holding his shoulder. As he limped away into the night, he muttered, “We’ll meet again soon, Laura.”

The door slammed shut as she struggled to her feet. On the floor were fresh drops of blood, not hers. She’d hit the suspect but it hadn’t been enough to take him down.

She hurried back outside, but by then all she could see were taillights disappearing into the distance.

Taking a breath, she gathered her thoughts. Nancy! Laura ran back into the house, turning on lights as she went. A struggle had clearly taken place in the living room but she didn’t see any more blood.

“Nan?” she called out. There was no answer.

Laura noticed an acrid scent in the air. Alcohol? No, ether. Pistol out, she hurried into the bedroom, where the smell seemed most concentrated. There, she found her friend.

Laura stumbled back a step, senses reeling. Nancy was lying naked on the bed, a cord wrapped around her neck and a hand towel that reeked of ether beside her head.

Chapter One

Six Weeks Later

August, usually the hottest month of the year in the New Mexican desert, made former U.S. Marine Travis Blacksheep appreciate the cool predawn temperatures. The steel-blue skies were glowing now, and soon it would be time. Honoring the customs of the Diné, the Navajo People, had helped him leave the memories of war behind him after his deployment to Afghanistan had ended.

As the sun peered over the horizon, Travis took a pinch of pollen from the leather pouch tied to his belt. He touched the powder to the tip of his tongue and the top of his head, then threw it up into the air, chanting as he did. The blessing would clear his path today and allow him to walk in beauty.

Once the prayer was finished, Travis adjusted the hawk fetish he wore on a leather band around his neck, then smiled at the large black mutt lying on the ground beside him, sniffing the air.

“Hey, Crusher, ready for breakfast?”

The dog barked enthusiastically.

Travis petted the dog’s massive head. He’d rescued the abandoned mastiff mix from the side of the road several years ago and they’d formed a strong bond. Crusher had even undergone some police-service dog training. Although he excelled at tracking, he’d failed to qualify for normal K-9 duty. Crusher refused to respond to staged threats and wouldn’t attack on command.

There was no denying that he was a skilled tracker, however, and very protective of his master. The few times Travis had encountered real danger, the dog hadn’t hesitated to respond.

Crusher was aptly named. At one hundred and fifty pounds, he wasn’t known for speed, but he could knock an assailant to the ground and keep him pinned without expending much effort. That’s why he was allowed to ride with Travis on occasion. The dog’s bulk alone was usually enough to ensure a suspect’s cooperation. If not, one low-throated snarl was guaranteed to do the job.

They were heading back to the house when Crusher suddenly stopped in his tracks. His nose lifted high up in the air, he growled softly, looking off to the west—the direction of the road.

Travis stood still, listening. After a moment, he heard faint footsteps coming in their direction. It was too early for company and the station would have called if they were sending someone out. It wouldn’t be a surprise visit from his police-officer brother, either. Nick worked evenings these days and didn’t get home until after midnight. He was undoubtedly curled up in bed beside his wife.

On his own property and off duty, Travis hadn’t bothered to clip his pistol to his belt. The training and skills he’d developed as a marine took over now. He remained motionless behind the juniper, trying to identify the number of people approaching and get an exact location. He’d had some trouble with poachers earlier in the summer.

After a moment Travis determined only one person was out there, but the guy crunched through the woods like a water buffalo. If he was here to hunt, the only thing he’d bag was a deaf deer.

Crusher growled again and Travis placed his hand on the big dog’s head, a signal for him to remain quiet. The dog obeyed instantly.

Moving around the juniper, Travis crouched and waited, Crusher beside him. As the figure moved past him, Travis reached out and grabbed the subject from behind.

Travis caught the soft scent of roses and immediately realized that the trespasser was a woman. Distant memories suddenly crowded his mind.

Taking advantage of that split second of hesitancy, the woman rammed her elbow directly into his gut.

Travis doubled up and couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the inevitable takedown. The horizon stood on its head as she flipped him over her shoulder.

As he looked up from the ground, he found himself staring at the muzzle of a big bore pistol, then at the familiar face beyond.

Crusher suddenly came crashing out of the brush. Before he could leap, Travis yelled out a command. “Stay!”

The dog froze and stood his ground, growling menacingly.

Travis’s gaze traveled back to the beautiful woman who held him at gunpoint. “It’s you….”

“Can’t remember my name? They say that memory’s the second thing to go when you get old,” she said, putting her gun away slowly. “Can I trust your dog?”

“He’s fine,” Travis said, petting the dog, who relaxed, sensing that there was no imminent danger.

Travis’s gaze drifted down her body slowly. Even the loose-fitting T-shirt couldn’t hide those curves. The rest of her wasn’t bad either. He noted sexy slim hips clad in plain jeans and those long legs. He hadn’t seen Laura in years, but in that time she’d sure filled out in all the right places. Only the laughing eyes were the same—and that smile that could challenge and tease all at the same time.

Laura offered him a hand-up. “Do you always greet early-morning guests this way? I mean, it’s an interesting way to say hello and all, but I imagine it can get hard on your back when you meet someone who’s more than a match for you,” she said, grinning.

“Skinny…you’ve sure changed,” he said.

She laughed. “No one’s called me that since high school.”

“I can see why.” His gaze remained on her. She’d turned into a knockout with black hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders and light brown eyes that sparkled with mischief. Most of all she had Attitude—with a capital A.

“So, you’re a cop now?” he asked, recognizing her skills.

“I was with the FBI for four years but I’ve moved into the private sector. I work for New Standards Investigations out of the Albuquerque office.”

His eyebrows rose. NSI was well-known among law-enforcement officers. A former FBI assistant director had started the company. They specialized in high-profile cases—and their success rate only enhanced the firm’s stellar reputation.

As she moved closer to him, Crusher blocked her, preventing her from reaching Travis.

“It’s okay, Crusher. Stand down. She’s a friend,” he said.

“It’s okay, big guy,” Laura said softly. Crusher’s tail began to wag. Laura looked back at Travis. “Is he a pet or your backup?” Before he could answer, she continued, “I hope he’s backup because you can’t fight your way out of a paper bag.” She shot him a totally outrageous smile.

Although he would normally have taken a jab like that as a direct challenge, her playful tone and those sparkling eyes made him laugh along with her. “I see you’ve finally come out of your shell, Skinny.”

“Back in high school, things were sure different, weren’t they?” she asked softly. “Do you remember Nancy? In comparison to her, I came across as shy. But that was only because she was so outgoing—star athlete and all that.”

“Yeah, you two hung out together until she got completely wrapped up in sports. She always wanted to be center stage and you were the quiet, mysterious one. So what brings you back here from the big city?”

“Nancy’s dead—murdered—and I have reason to believe her killer’s living in this area.”

“Sounds like we should go to the house and talk,” he said, leading the way up the rocky path. Constructed of pine logs and a green metal roof, his home fit into the hillside as naturally as the trees around it.

Travis walked inside ahead of her, in accordance with Navajo customs. Although Anglo men were taught to let the women pass first, Navajo men preferred to take the lead. If there was trouble, they’d be the first to face it. Laura didn’t comment, so he didn’t offer to explain.

“You’ve got a personal stake in this case. I’m surprised NSI is allowing you to work on it,” he commented.

“They’re not. I’m on my own time.”

Travis led her into the large modern kitchen. “It’s still early. Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

Laura shook her head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

He stepped over to the fridge. “Let me fix us something and while I’m working, you can fill me in.”

“You cook?”

“Yeah. I hate eating takeout all the time,” he said, bringing some eggs and cheddar cheese out of the fridge.

She didn’t speak right away and he didn’t push. Long pauses were common when Navajos spoke. Waiting was second nature to him.

“My friend was murdered six weeks ago,” she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. “I won’t mention her name again. I remember what you taught me a long time ago about the chindi.”

“Thanks.” He appreciated the courtesy. Although he embraced the modern way of life, as a New Traditionalist he still lived by his Navajo beliefs. To use the name of the dead was said to call back their chindi, the evil in a person that survived death but remained earthbound, unable to merge with Universal Harmony.

“What happened to her?” he asked as he worked.

Laura gave him the details, pausing a few times to keep her voice steady. “The detectives didn’t find any semen. He obviously used protection. But they were able to collect blood samples from the hit he took in the shoulder. There wasn’t a DNA match in any of their databases.”

“So he’s not on any sex-offender lists,” he said thoughtfully.

“And you checked hospital records, right?” he asked. She nodded. “So he must have treated himself, and has probably recovered by now. We’re assuming, of course, that we’re only dealing with one suspect.”

“I’ve got reason to believe we are.”

“What led you here, specifically?”

“I’ve investigated this case from every possible angle. I also searched through RMIN and national databases like NCIC for similar crimes.”

Travis nodded, familiar with the names she’d mentioned. RMIN was the Rocky Mountain Information Network—pronounced rim-in by law enforcement—and the National Crime Information Center, with its FBI origins, was a national database. Computer searches allowed officers to compare a crime under investigation to ones committed by known criminals. Similar M.O.’s could then be used to narrow down suspects.

“And you got a hit?”

“Yes. Five months prior to my friend’s murder, a young high-school basketball star was found assaulted and strangled in her home in Bloomfield. That’s less than fifteen miles east of Three Rivers. Since that crime was committed prior to the attack on my friend, I’d first assumed that the suspect had left this area and was working his way west, into Arizona. Then, just a week ago, a reservation women’s softball coach was murdered in Shiprock. That’s less than an hour’s drive from the Bloomfield scene and the Shiprock M.O. matched the two previous homicides.”

“So you’re thinking since two of three similar crimes have occurred in this area, the suspect either lives here or in one of the Four Corners communities.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Since Three Rivers is the largest city in this part of the state, I’ve decided to make it my base of operations.” She paused, then after a beat, continued, “You and I were good friends once. You knew me and Nan—” she stopped herself short. “And my friend,” she corrected. “That’s why I was hoping you’d agree to work with me after hours.”

“I know about the coach’s murder—all of our officers were briefed—but the crime occurred outside my jurisdiction. Cases on the Rez are handled by the tribal police and the feds,” Travis said.

“I know, but you’ll still have access to much of the information. Intelligence on open cases is shared by local departments.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Back in high school, you and I always had each other’s backs. That’s why I came to find you when I learned that you were a police officer here in Three Rivers.”

He stared at an indefinite point on the wall, lost in thought. Back then they’d lived day-to-day. Poverty had been an ever-present shadow neither of them could outrun. Their friendship had been forged through adversity. He’d always known he could trust Laura not to betray his secrets. She had too many of her own.

“I need your help,” she said at last.

Something in her voice told him how hard it had been for her to admit that. She’d always taken pride in her independence—as had he. In that way, neither of them had changed. “You’ve got a personal connection to this case,” he said, shaking his head. “You should back away and let local detectives handle it. Or take it to the FBI and point out the connections you’ve uncovered.”

“I can’t back away. The killer swore he’d come after me. I’m a threat to him. He’s probably worried that I’ll be able to identify him if we cross paths,” she said. “The problem is, I can’t. When I hit my head, it took me a while to get everything working again, and he was hidden in shadows.”

He added a handful of grated cheese and green chili to the mix of scrambled eggs. “Tell me more about your plan.”

“He obviously targets female athletes, so I thought I’d join a local softball team. There are summer leagues here, I’ve already checked.”

“If I recall, you stink at softball,” he said, trying to hide a smile. “Back in P.E., the only way you could hit a ball was by coincidence.”

She laughed. “In those days I preferred to be inside, trying to get my old computer to cooperate. But I’ve undergone a lot of physical training since then. I can coordinate my movements more effectively now, as you’ve seen.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve changed a lot in some ways, I’ll admit,” he said, giving her an appreciative look. “But inside you’re as headstrong as ever. You still don’t like backing down, particularly if you think you’re right.”

“In this case, I am right. There’s a serial killer in this area.”

He said nothing, mulling everything over, trying to decide exactly what—if anything—he should do.

“Remember what you taught me about restoring balance and harmony,” Laura said.

He looked at her, surprised. “You remember?”

“I remember a lot more than you realize.” She traced his lips with her fingertips and gazed into his eyes.

He knew that she was recalling the first time he’d kissed her. Neither of them had been prepared for the rush of pleasure or the heat that had followed. The intense feelings they’d found in each other’s arms had scared them both.

“We knew each other as kids, that’s true, but what you’re asking…”

“Is dangerous and maybe a little crazy, but it’s part of what you and I do,” she said, finishing his thought. “We catch the bad guys.”

He hesitated, still considering all the options.

“Where’s the boy I knew, the one who never worried about breaking a few rules?”

“He became a man.” Almost as if to emphasize the point, he wound his hand around her hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard, forcing her lips to part for him and taking the sweetness there. He was in full control—or so he thought.

As she melted against him, a blazing fire coursed through his veins. Sensations as primitive as time pumped through him, pushing him to the edge. It didn’t surprise him at all to actually smell something burning.

As he caught the scent of smoke, reality snapped him back. “Care for an extra-crispy breakfast burrito?” he asked, then turned off the burners as the scent of egg, cheese and burnt tortillas filled the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, we’re adults, no doubt about it,” she said with a hint of a smile.

He chuckled as he opened the window to let fresh air in.

She met his gaze as he turned around. “I’m not asking you to go rogue on your department, but I can’t do it alone,” she said. “You taught me that order was part of walking in beauty. Help me find justice so I can walk in beauty, too. Will you do that?”

“I’ll take you to the station and you can make your case to Chief Wright. After that, we’ll decide what to do next.”

“Okay, but in the meantime, how about letting me see what the Navajo Tribal Police shared with your department about the latest victim? The common thread I found between two of the three victims is that they were each looking for love in their own way. That made them easy prey to a smooth talker. I’d like to see if that holds true for Coach, too.”

“Back in high school, your friend had a way of falling for every line in the book,” he said, remembering.

“Having a guy around made her feel wanted and important,” Laura said. “When you’re dirt-poor, you grasp at anything that makes you feel you matter. The real problem was that the guys our friend chose were usually creeps who played on that.”

Travis said nothing, remembering that Laura’s mother had fit that profile, too. A single mother with little education and big dreams, she’d never stopped hoping that Mr. Right would come along to save her. Her search had led to endless gossip that had also cast a shadow over Laura. She’d fought back in the only way she could—placing her emotions where no one could reach them.

This case clearly touched Laura on a variety of levels, and he was certain that, sooner or later, that was going to lead to big trouble. “You’re a pro. You know that you’re too close to this. There’s no way you’re going to stay objective.”

“I can’t back off even if I wanted to. But I’m counting on you to help me keep the proper perspective,” Laura said.

He led the way across to the living-room area, and using his laptop and passwords, logged in to the Three Rivers police-department network. “This is all we have,” he said moments later, leaning back so she could see the screen.

She read the report. “The M.O. is nearly identical. All the victims let the suspect get close. Sex was apparently consensual. That suggests they knew and trusted him. Also, he didn’t kill them immediately afterward. My guess is that he likes the feeling of power waiting gives him.” She studied the screen. “Those reports are very brief. Can you get more?”

“That’ll require the cooperation of the Navajo Tribal Police Department,” he said, turning to look at her.

“And that’s beyond your authority,” she said with a nod.

“See if you can get Chief Wright to open some doors for you.”

He got ready so they could leave, and picked up his gun and badge before heading out the door. As they walked side by side, he was aware of everything about Laura. Though her gaze was on Crusher, his eyes were on her. Laura had the perfect hourglass figure with curves that begged for a man’s touch, but what made her special went beyond that sweet package. Her directness was rooted in honesty, and her fighting spirit appealed to him even though it also spelled trouble. Laura was here on a mission, and that stubbornness and sense of determination was bound to bring a slew of problems in their wake.

“You’re so quiet. What’s up?”

“I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re here.” It was the truth, but there was a lot more to it than that. Although they’d both changed, the special kinship they’d shared once was still there. Only now it carried a powerful sexual punch that went far beyond that rush of hormones they’d experienced as kids.

Crusher, who’d gone up the path ahead of them, suddenly stopped. He began to growl, a low and menacing rumble that instantly caught their attention.

Laura looked at Travis, then at the road ahead where her rental car and his pickup were parked. “A coyote, maybe?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Crusher only growls at human strangers,” he said, hurrying along.

The gravel path led into a low drainage area that formed a half circle around the higher roadbed. Crusher stood at the crest of the embankment, looking at something off in the distance.

Travis looked at his pickup parked just ahead and at the generic sedan with a rental-agency sticker on the front bumper. “That yours?”

“Yeah. I picked it up at the Three Rivers airport,” Laura answered. “So what’s the deal?”

“Don’t know yet,” Travis whispered as the dog came to stand by his side.

Travis patted the dog on the head, then crossed the roadbed and examined his truck up close.

The big dog stayed beside him at heel but continued growling and looking off into the distance. Travis followed his gaze, searching for movement, but saw nothing.

“Maybe somebody came up the wrong road, turned and Crusher saw them driving away. There’s a trace of dust in the air,” Laura said, walking over to her car and taking her keys out of her pocket.

As Travis glanced in her direction, he noticed something strange on the ground behind the driver’s side front tire. Memories of Afghanistan, IEDs and insurgents came rushing back. His heart rate suddenly soared, adrenaline pumping through his system.

“Step away from the car,” he snapped. “There are drag marks on the ground. Did you crawl under there for any reason after you parked?”

Laura looked down at the ground. “No. What…”

Travis glanced back at the spot Crusher was watching down the road and saw a flash of light. In a heartbeat, he grabbed Laura’s arm and shoved her down the embankment into the ditch, calling Crusher as he did. Something popped and Travis felt the flash of heat that came milliseconds before the blast.

Travis rolled on top of Laura, shielding her with his body as hot metal, gravel and shards of glass rained down on them. Seconds later, everything grew silent.

Travis got up slowly, chunks of glass, rocks and dust tumbling from his neck and shoulders. Crusher also stood and shook, casting off debris from his back and head.

“You okay?” Travis asked, offering Laura a hand-up.

“Yeah. Thanks. I never saw that coming,” she said, dusting her face off carefully then brushing debris from her hair.

As she glanced up she saw columns of flame rising ten feet into the air. A thick cloud of billowing black smoke also drifted skyward; fortunately, not in their direction.

She shook her head. “I’m sure glad I bought the total insurance package,” she muttered.

“Hang on,” he said, picking off a large chunk of glass caught in a strand of hair above her left eye.

“Thanks.”

Travis then checked Crusher over to make sure he wasn’t injured. Assured that the dog was okay, he stared ahead, his expression hard and set. “This isn’t just your fight anymore. Neither one of us started this but we’re sure as hell going to finish it.”

Chapter Two

Laura followed him back to what was now a crime scene. “You knew the bomb was there, and it wasn’t just because of the marks on the ground. What tipped you off?”

“It was a combination of things. The drag marks played a part, but it was also the reflection in the distance. I knew we were being watched by someone wearing glasses or using optics—binoculars or a rifle scope. It was like that in Afghanistan. IEDs were everywhere,” he said. “Most of the time they were triggered by someone keeping watch, waiting for just the right moment.”

Travis reached for the phone he normally kept on his belt, then realized he hadn’t brought it with him. “I need to use your phone to call this in.”

After making the call, he focused on what was left of Laura’s rental. The engine compartment was still burning, but the flames had died down. Beyond the fire wall, the driver’s seat was shredded and smoking with a foul stench. The roof had been peeled back like a half-opened can of Spam. The backseat was blackened and peppered with shrapnel.

“Normally I’m aware of everything around me, but this came out of nowhere,” she said, biting her lip, then forcing herself to stop. “He obviously knew where I was going or followed me somehow. But checking for a tail is second nature to me. I don’t know how I could have missed him.”

“Maybe he didn’t physically tail you. There are plenty of other ways,” he said.

Going to his truck, Travis studied the caved-in windshield. The driver’s side had sustained the most damage, pummeled by gravel and chunks of metal. With luck, it would still run.

Travis studied the myriad of jagged holes that covered the driver’s side door. Shrapnel—that killed more marines than bullets. He’d thought he’d seen the last of it when he’d returned stateside.

He turned to Laura and held her gaze. “You wanted our P.D.’s help tracking the killer? Well, you’ve got it now.”

“I can be an asset to you. I’ve done a lot of homework on this guy and I can share observations that aren’t in most police reports. From the emails my friend sent me before she died, I have some insight on how he works, too. He’s charismatic, charming and nonthreatening. He insinuates himself into his victim’s life, becomes exactly what she’s always wanted in a man, then kills her.”

“No photo?”

“No, she never sent me one. She said she wanted me to see in person first, that there was just something about him. What that told me was that although the guy wasn’t classically handsome, he had presence.”

They backed away from the site, not wanting to risk contaminating the crime scene in any way. Nearly twenty minutes passed before Travis spotted a dust trail in the distance where the road turned from asphalt to gravel.

“Here comes the crime-scene team,” Travis said, pointing.

“Once they secure things here and examine my vehicle for evidence, we’ll go to the station. I’ll have to get rid of the smashed windshield before we travel, but my truck looks operable.”

“What about Crusher?” she asked, glancing down at the dog, who was also being kept from the scene.

“He rides in with us. I’ll leave him in the bullpen. Chief Wright likes Crusher—better than he does me, I think.”

She was glad the dog would go with them. Somehow she didn’t think anyone, including Crusher, would be safe alone here anymore.

AN HOUR LATER LAURA entered Police Chief Wright’s office. Travis had been instructed to wait outside.

Laura made her case, answering several questions along the way, then waited for Wright’s response.

“I know you want in on this, Ms. Perry, and your credentials speak for themselves. I ran a quick check on you and know you specialized in crimes against women back in your days with the Bureau. You broke several high-profile cases. Now you’re with a top agency. But you’re off the clock. This isn’t part of an NSI assignment, right?”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

“Which means they refused to let you work the case,” Wright observed shrewdly.

“I’d have had to have been my own client. But no matter, I never asked.”

“There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” Wright pressed. “The Arizona victim was an old friend of yours, and you let her killer get away. Now you want to settle a score. Am I right?”

“No, sir, not in the way you mean,” she answered without hesitation. “What’s at stake goes beyond any personal connection. This guy’s not going to stop killing until he’s caught. What he did this morning is just his way of thumbing his nose at me. He allowed Travis and me to escape that blast. We’re not his targets. His real victims will continue to fit the profile he prefers.”

“And you’re sure he’s a local?”

“The fact that two of the three victims came from this area of New Mexico indicates that this is his comfort zone. He’s familiar with the Four Corners. He’ll kill again. To catch him, you’re going to need an edge—someone who knows exactly what you’re dealing with. Let me help—officially. I can be a strong asset to your investigation.”

“The way I see it, you brought him to Three Rivers and now you want field support so you can cowboy up. Tell me I’m wrong,” Wright said.

“He didn’t follow me here. He was probably here already. Yet the fact that he knew where I was opens up all kinds of possibilities. This guy has evaded other departments before. I can help you make sure that doesn’t happen here.”

“And you say you saw him?”

“The circumstances were in his favor and I wasn’t able to make out his face, but I heard his voice.” She swallowed hard.

“There was no guilt there just…an absence of humanity.” She took a deep breath. “The man is evil, and he enjoys what he’s doing. To catch him, you’ll have to be able to predict his moves.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Since I joined NSI, I’ve been called in as a consultant to help departments all over the Southwest solve cold cases. I’ve continued to specialize in crimes against women and my success rate is second to none. This killer is now focused on me, at least for the moment. Let’s use that to reel him in.”

“My people have to follow procedure,” Wright said flatly.

“You went into private investigations to get away from the restrictions of police work. Convince me that you’ll follow our protocols now.”

“I don’t like playing by the rules, that’s true, but my cases always hold up in court,” she said. “I won’t do anything to jeopardize this case, sir. There’s too much at stake.”

Laura could see the chief still wasn’t convinced. “You’ve got trouble brewing here. If it turns out that the suspect has been operating right under your nose for months and you’ve failed to use every resource you have to close the case…” She allowed the sentence to trail off and waited.

Wright regarded her thoughtfully. “I want to check out some things first. Then I’ll make my decision.”

Laura reached into her wallet and pulled out a card. “That’s my supervisor at NSI. He was the Special-Agent-in-Charge of the D.C. Bureau office for seven years before leaving the FBI. He’s got more commendations than most of us get in a lifetime of service. His name is Charles Westin.”

“I know who he is.”

“He’ll vouch for me. My methods aren’t conventional, Chief Wright, but that’s exactly what you’ll need to catch this creep. He’s around here, whether you like it or not, and may even consider Three Rivers his home.”

“Wait in the bullpen,” Wright snapped. He stepped into the hall and called Travis.

Travis came into the office, sat down and waited.

Wright rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “Let’s say I accept her offer. Is there anything between you and Laura Perry that could compromise the case or this department?”

Travis met his boss’s gaze. “We were friends once, but I haven’t seen her since high school. Our lives haven’t intersected since—not until she showed up at my home this morning.”

Wright leaned back, his expression revealing nothing. “All right. I’m going to do some more checking on Ms. Perry, then we’ll talk.”

Travis met Laura in the bullpen and saw that she’d struck up a conversation with their computer tech, Lester Crosley. The man came in periodically to update their security and backup systems. Despite the heat outside, the guy was impeccably dressed in a white shirt and tie and his company’s bright yellow jacket.

Travis walked over and joined them. “What’s up, guys?”

“Ms. Perry speaks my language,” Lester said.

“I love computers, and I’m always interested in security features. These days a good firewall is an absolute necessity. The problem is finding the best one for each system,” she said.

Travis glanced at Crosley. His head was shaved bald, a tough-guy look Travis had seen a lot in the marines, and he looked fit, as if he worked out. Only the paleness of his skin marked him as the proverbial computer geek.

Although Lester had been servicing the city’s computer networks for months, this was the first time Travis had seen him do more than grunt when spoken to. Laura had worked her usual magic. The woman had a way about her, not to mention a smile that could melt an iceberg.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here,” Crosley said, giving Laura a wide smile.

“I’m new in town,” she answered. “I’m here on business.”

“Computer related? IT consultant, maybe?”

“No, don’t worry. I’m not competition,” she said, chuckling.

“I can hold my own when it comes to computers but I’m no programmer.”

“If you’re going to be here for a few days, how about letting me show you around, and maybe take you to dinner?” he asked.

Laura smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but my schedule’s pretty tight. I’ll be putting in long hours before I head back home.”

“Maybe on your next trip then,” he said, rolling his shoulder and bending his neck to the left then to the right, as if working out the cricks. “Just in case you find a break in your schedule,” he added, handing her his business card.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the card and putting it in her pocket.

Travis gave her a nudge. “Come on. It’s time for us to put our heads together and get some work done on this case.”

As they moved over to his desk, she glanced around. “Where’s Crusher?”

“My guess is that he’s in the break room with Sergeant Miller. She buys him tortilla chips—baked, not fried. He loves those—and her.”

As Travis finished speaking, Laura saw the big dog walking down the hall in their direction. Next to him was a sturdy-looking uniformed officer with a touch of gray in her cropped hair.

“I borrowed your dog, Detective Blacksheep. I needed him to help me track down some missing chips.”

Travis laughed as the sergeant walked away. “Crusher, down,” he ordered, pointing beneath the desk. The dog, still licking his chops, lay down with a contented sigh.

Laura waited for Travis to tell her what aspect of the case he wanted to discuss, but Travis didn’t say anything.

“I thought you wanted to compare notes,” she said. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Or were you just jealous?”

Travis looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I think you’re having a high-school flashback. Did somebody slip a note into your locker after homeroom?”

“Nice deflection, but you didn’t answer the question, did you?” she challenged with a tiny smile.

“Chief Wright’s instincts are right on target. You’re trouble,” he grumbled.

“Let’s focus on our suspect,” she said, growing somber. “When it comes to bad guys, he’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Just between you and me,” he asked in quiet voice, “how sure are you that you weren’t followed to my place?”

“From Albuquerque, a hundred percent. Think about it. The guy would have had to follow me to the airport, get a ticket on my flight at the last minute, deplane, rent a car and keep up—all without me knowing about it.”

“Maybe he found out when you were arriving, then followed you from the airport, or your motel, over to my place. Think hard. Did anyone know you were coming to see me?” Travis asked. Then, eyes narrowing, he added, “Come to think about it, how did you know where I live?”

“I confess,” she answered with a tiny smile, “I used NSI’s assets. That type of information is out there if you know where to look.”

He nodded, lost in thought. “Okay, let’s get back to the problem. The suspect knew your whereabouts, but you’re pretty sure he didn’t tail you. Maybe he planted a tracking device in your vehicle.”

“Unlikely. My car was a rental, remember? He would have had to have known which car I’d be given, and considering I waited till the last second to rent, that would have been nearly impossible,” she answered. “But once he knew I was in Three Rivers, following me to your place wouldn’t have been that hard. He could have tailed me with his lights off after I turned off the main highway. There’s only one route from town to your place. Right?”

He nodded slowly. “Unless you’re on foot or take a helicopter. We’ll just have to wait and see what the crime-scene team finds in the wreckage before we go any further.”

“Of course, there could be other possibilities we haven’t thought of yet,” she said slowly.

He nodded, considering it silently. At long last he looked up and met her gaze.

She felt the impact of that one look all through her. She’d never met anyone who could spark her senses to life like Travis could. She looked away, knowing this wasn’t the time or place for romantic notions. Yet something inside warned her that some temptations weren’t easily dismissed or ignored.

“Blacksheep!” Wright called from down the hall. “My office.”

Laura stood, too, but Chief Wright shook his head. “I need a word with my detective first.”

Laura sat back down and gave Travis a smile of encouragement. “Looks like you’re up. Remember, don’t lead with your chin,” she said, remembering Nick’s advice to his little brother one afternoon long ago when she’d watched him teach Travis how to fight. Funny how some images from the past popped so easily into her head now that she was back.

Travis laughed, also remembering the incident. “I’ve learned a few things since then.”

She watched him walk away confidently, each stride filled with purpose. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was his own man now, and a very appealing one at that. Those shoulders—not to mention those world-class buns—could add a real spark to anyone’s daydreams.

Laura looked down at Crusher, who was watching her curiously. “Okay, busted. You caught me checking out your owner. So let me bribe you into staying silent,” she said, petting the dog, who gave her a panting grin. “Want to go outside for some fresh air?”

His ears perked up and he stood.

“Mister C., you and I need to get to know each other a little better,” she said, reaching for the leash on Travis’s desk. “I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Chapter Three

Wright sat behind his desk, staring in the general direction of the trophy case on the north wall.

Travis waited. Trying to rush the boss was never a good idea. He did things on his own time.

“I spoke to Ms. Perry’s supervisor at the agency. Overall, he speaks highly of her. She’s competent and has a very high completion rate with her job assignments. But he also warned me that she tends to be overly proactive and often puts herself in danger by confronting troublemakers without proper backup,” Wright said.

Travis nodded. None of this came as a surprise to him.

“On the other hand, she’s also the only person we know who has encountered the suspect and walked away. She also has experience dealing with these types of crimes. That might help us catch and ID this individual somewhere down the line. That’s why I’m assigning her to you, Detective. You take time to think things through and that might cancel out her impulsiveness.”

“What exactly will her job include?” he asked, not liking the sound of it already.

“Ms. Perry will accompany you as a civilian observer. She’s not a police officer with our department, so she’s not going to carry a weapon while in the company of an on-duty officer. I don’t care if she’s got the permits.”

“What’s my assignment?”

“The serial killer isn’t our business—not officially anyway. You’ll be investigating the bombing incident.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing,” Wright said. “Ms. Perry has a reputation for playing things close to her chest. You can bet she’s got other information she hasn’t shared with us. Keep that in mind while you’re working with her.” Wright walked to the door, saw Laura detaching Crusher’s leash and signaled her to come in.

After she sat down, Wright continued, “Ms. Perry, you’ll be assigned to Detective Blacksheep. You’ll ride along with him, but you’ll have no authority or jurisdiction. For that reason you will not be armed whenever you accompany Detective Blacksheep.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a level look. “I’ll expect you to follow Detective Blacksheep’s orders, and should you encounter the suspect you came here to find, Detective Blacksheep will take the lead.”

“To help you catch this killer, I’m going to need a little more leeway, sir,” she began.

“You have none,” he said flatly. “You heard my conditions.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Laura walked out of Chief Wright’s office moments later, Travis by her side. “He’s convinced that rules are everything.”

“Without rules, there’s only chaos, no progress.”

“The Travis I knew once was the patient sort but he also had his cowboy moments. I remember one night after a basketball game when some guys from Cliffside High jumped one of our pep-band members behind the gym. You ran right into the thick of it and took on six guys.”

“I wasn’t the one violating the rules—they were. I also didn’t have a choice. John was on the ground and the other guys were kicking him.”

“You could have gone for help but you chose the direct approach,” she said with a smile. “Back then, there was a limit to how closely you followed the rules. Is that still the way it is?”

He met her gaze and held it. “I was a marine. I’ve learned the importance of discipline. Now my job is to protect and serve. That’s precisely what I do.”

“As do I.”

“But for the private sector. In law enforcement the way we catch a killer determines the real outcome—whether or not he ends up convicted and behind bars.” He crossed the room and checked on Crusher, who was curled up on a pad underneath the desk next to a bone.

Travis focused back on Laura. When he spoke, his tone was all business. “As long as you respect the way our department does things, we’ll get along fine,” he said, his penetrating gaze holding hers.

His voice was soft but there was no mistaking his challenge. It was there in the tightening of his jaw and the icy glitter in his eyes.

“I’ve agreed to Chief Wright’s terms and I’ll honor my word,” she said softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. “So where do we start?”

“Let’s go meet with the lab boys and find out what they’ve learned about the bomb. That’s all we have at the moment,” he said. “Keep in mind that we can’t even be sure that the bomb was the work of the serial killer.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m not. In our line of work, we automatically make enemies. Anyone who has a grudge against you is a possible suspect.”

“This is more than a coincidence, but if you want to explore unlikely possibilities, we could say that they were aiming at you and didn’t know which vehicle you drove,” she said.

“The most dangerous criminals I’ve put away are still behind bars.”

“They’ve undoubtedly got families,” she answered. “Or maybe partners that weren’t apprehended.”

“That’s exactly my point. We don’t have enough evidence to arrive at any conclusion,” he said. “Let’s go see what the lab techs have for us.”

Leaving Crusher asleep beneath Travis’s desk, they walked to the far end of the building. As they entered the lab, they saw several techs working at various stations. Travis focused on an older woman in her late fifties who was peering into a microscope.

“Mrs. Delaney,” Travis said softly.

“One moment,” she said. After a few more minutes, she glanced up at them. “I know why you’re here, Detective,” she said, looking at Travis, “and I have some preliminaries for you.” She brushed a strand of ash-colored hair away from her face and pinned it back in place. “Whoever put this bomb together knew what he was doing. It was homemade and bulky because of the low explosive used—basically ammonium nitrate and diesel fuel. These components are difficult to trace to a source because they’re so common. The detonator, an electric blasting cap, should be a lot easier to track—if we can get the serial number. A throwaway cell phone was used to trigger the device.”

“Do you have anything I can follow up on right now?” Travis asked.

“One thing caught my attention. The ammonium nitrate is fertilizer grade and we’ve identified the brand for you,” she said, writing it down for him. “Tracking down a recent sale might give you a lead, but of course it could have been purchased several months ago. Or stolen.”

“At least it’s a place to start. Thanks,” Travis said.

“Was there a tracking device found in the vehicle or maybe out in the debris field?” Laura asked as they were about to leave.

“No, all we got was the cell phone and it was a cheap model. We can’t track back the call it received setting off the bomb, but we’re trying to find out who sells that model in this area,” Mrs. Delaney answered.

As they walked out of the lab, Laura remained silent.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after they’d picked up Crusher and were headed toward the department’s underground garage. His pickup would remain at the station where it would be double-checked for evidence. In the meantime, he’d been assigned one of the department’s SUVs.

“Bomb components can be followed up anytime, by phone or computer, usually,” she said. “So what do you say we take a ride over to the Rez and see what their cops have on the Navajo victim? Or we could check with the Bloomfield police and see what other similarities we can find between the crimes that might tell us more about the suspect.”

“You’re looking for patterns, not just victim profiles, right?” he asked, reading her correctly.

She nodded. “An organized serial killer, for example, stages a crime scene, then takes a trophy, something he can hold. I looked but I couldn’t tell if anything was missing from my friend’s place. We’d only reconnected a few months ago on the internet and I’d never been to her home,” she said, her voice wavering.

If she’d only arrived early instead of late, she might have been able to prevent Nancy’s murder. As soon as the thought formed, she pushed it back. This wasn’t her fault. Deep down she knew that. Allowing herself to shoulder additional guilt would only undermine her ability to think clearly.

What she could do for Nancy now was catch her killer and see that justice was served. It was what she did, and Laura knew it the only way she’d ever find peace again.

“What you want is tricky at best,” he said slowly. “Keep in mind that those cases don’t belong to my department and getting that information will entail my calling in favors.” They pulled out into the street. “I’ll also have to justify our interest, and we still have no conclusive proof that the murders are connected.”

“The only way we’re going to get that proof is to keep digging,” she insisted.

“First things first,” he said. “I want to follow up on those nitrates.”

She expelled her breath in a hiss. “Okay. So how many stores do you have around here that might carry something like that?”

“Five. Two are feed stores on the outskirts of town, closer to the farms and ranches,” he said. “I get Crusher’s dog food at one of them. We can go there first. It shouldn’t take us long to check out the retailers.”

“We could save time by calling ahead to see who carries the brand we’re looking for,” she said.

He shook his head. “Word of the explosion has probably gotten around, and community businessmen might be reluctant to talk to the police. They’ll want to avoid trouble and negative publicity. We’re more likely to get the information we need if we catch them off guard and question them face-to-face. Keep in mind, too, that any one of the people we talk to could be the bomber.”

“I was thinking I’d do the calling from my own cell phone. I’m not law enforcement. We could save ourselves a trip if they don’t carry the brand.”

“No, it’s still too risky. If the bomber’s also the killer, he knows your voice. He may panic and run.” He took a deep breath then let it out. “You should take my older brother’s advice about not leading with your chin.”

She smiled. “I can bide my time in an investigation but I’ve never been as patient as you are.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “We can’t afford to telegraph our moves. Surprise is one of the key elements in situations like these. It keeps witnesses off balance. Even the slowest thinker can set a plan in motion if you give them enough time.”

“In this particular instance, maybe your way’s better. But sometimes you have to cut corners. Big payoffs often come with the willingness to take a risk,” she said.

“I’m not opposed to taking risks. It all depends on what’s at stake,” he said, giving her a slow, lazy smile.

From anyone else, the gesture would have scarcely merited a second thought. Yet Travis had that indefinable something extra. It was a quality that was hard to describe. A man either had it or he didn’t. And Travis obviously had more than his share. She suppressed the shiver that shot up her spine.

“So where are we headed first?” she asked, seeing Travis turn west and go down a side street.

“Franklin’s Feed.”

“I remember that place,” she said as memories, mostly unwelcome, filled her mind.

“You worked there one summer in exchange for riding privileges. You were crazy about horses back in high school. You saved every penny you earned hoping to buy the Franklins’ old mare.”

“Mabel,” she said, nodding. “But I was never able to get enough cash together. It broke my heart when I finally realized that it just wasn’t going to happen.” She took a deep breath.

“But, in retrospect, it was a good thing. I would have had to sell her when my mom decided it was time for us to move again.”

“You got too attached to that old horse,” Travis said. “But I’ll say this. You were always happy when you were working in the barn.”

“Getting attached to things was easy for me back then,” she said.

“And now?”

It was the gentleness of his voice that somehow got past her defenses. “I don’t have horses, dogs or even a goldfish. Life is easier without emotional complications.”

“Maybe so, but I really enjoy having Crusher around,” he said, stopping at a red light. At the sound of his name, the dog stuck his head out between the front-seat backrests. “Down, Crusher,” Travis commanded. “He’s a great companion. Now that my brother’s moved out, it’s nice to know that even when I’m asleep, there’s someone watching my back.”

“So it’s a good thing for you that I’m here. Now you have two of us watching your back,” she said. “And best of all, only one of us drools.”

He looked at her, then dropped his gaze slowly, taking in the curve of her breasts, then working his way back up with equal thoroughness. When he finally met her gaze, he smiled. “Nope. You both drool.”

She burst out laughing. Travis had matured into one heck of a man. He commanded a situation without being overbearing and he was easy on the eyes. All in all, Travis was a minefield of temptations, but her instincts assured her that she’d found the right partner for what lay ahead.

“We’ll restore the balance,” he said, cutting into her thoughts. “We’ll cover each other’s back and do what has to be done.”

Chapter Four

As they rode in silence to the feed store on the southwestern edge of Three Rivers, his words echoed in her mind. Most of the high-impact men she’d known would have been reluctant to even allude to an equal partnership. Yet Travis’s brand of maleness wasn’t easily threatened because it was rooted in self-knowledge.

They soon arrived at Franklin’s Feed. To her surprise it hadn’t changed much over the years—except for a coat of paint, which was already fading. A graveled parking area still surrounded the small stucco building with the corrugated metal roof. A hitching rail stood beside the sidewalk, though she suspected it hadn’t been used in years. A store employee was currently helping a rancher load up his long-bed pickup truck with fifty-pound bags of sweet feed.

“Some things always stay the same,” she said. “Does Bob Franklin still run the place?”

“Bob’s retired. His son, Jim, our former classmate, is the one who handles the store these days. He’s a chip off the old block.”

They went inside, Crusher at heel on Travis’s left side. The store’s cat, an old gray of questionable breed, scampered out of the room and into one of the storage areas.

“Is Jim Franklin around?” Travis asked the middle-aged woman by the register.

A smiling face beneath a black baseball cap suddenly popped up from behind the main counter. “Hey, look what the cat dragged in!” Jim greeted. Well versed in the customs of the Navajo, Jim didn’t offer to shake hands. “So, what brings you here today?”

“Where can we talk in private?” Travis asked, keeping his voice low.

“Back room. Come on.” When Laura stepped up, he turned to look at her, did a double take, then smiled. “Skinny, is that you?” he drawled.

“Yeah, Jim. I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she said, shaking his hand.

“You sure grew up,” he said, giving her a long once-over.

“She’s helping the department with an investigation,” Travis said, all business now.

She looked over at Travis, surprised by his abrupt change in tone. It wasn’t jealousy…more like defining boundaries. It was one of those guy things she’d never quite figured out.

Jim cleared his throat, obviously getting the message. “What’s up, buddy?” he said, keeping his voice low as they followed him into a storage room crowded with pallets of animal feed, stock tanks and fencing.

She noticed how he avoided calling Travis by name. She’d also remembered what Travis had taught them, that Navajos believed a person’s name had power that belonged to its owner. Using it needlessly depleted an individual of an asset that was uniquely theirs to draw on in times of trouble.

“I need to know if you’ve sold any fertilizer within the past week. Ammonium-nitrate crystals, specifically, in the big bags,” Travis said.

Jim raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late in the season for that, but I don’t know for sure offhand. Three people work the cash register these days, not just me. I’d have to check.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Travis answered.

“No problem.” Jim walked out front, went behind the counter and sat by a computer on a desk against the wall.

They followed and stood behind him, watching him work. Jim fiddled with the mouse and keyboard, going from screen to screen, then cursed as the display locked up. “I hate this danged thing! New or not, it keeps crashing. I’ve had Lester out here twice already. He says it’s the user, not the interface.” He shook his head and moved the mouse around some more, going through several windows. After a few minutes, he looked up again.

“Okay, I’ve got it. The last bags I sold were back in April. The weather’s too hot to fertilize now, but we’ll sell more again in the fall. Ammonium nitrate stores well.”

“Who purchased the bags?” Travis pressed.

“Mike Petersen bought all six. He grows a lot of corn and sunflowers.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t sell that brand of ammonium nitrate to anyone else?” Travis asked.

Jim shook his head. “That’s it,” he said. “I keep track, be cause, you know, it can be used to make explosives.” He paused, then added, “But come to think about it, I had a break-in about two weeks ago. Not much was taken, not that I could tell anyway. The person cut open some bags, marked up a couple of saddles and tipped over several stacks of feed in the back room.”

“Did you report that to the department?” Travis asked him.

“Sure I did. My insurance requires it.”

“Is it possible a bag or two of fertilizer was stolen at that time?” Laura asked him.

Travis glanced her way, his eyes narrowed. “Did you ever check?” he added, turning back to Jim.

Laura bristled, but the message was loud and clear. She could ride along but it was his case.

“My inventory software has some bugs, or maybe I screwed it up. Take your pick,” Jim said, letting his breath out in a hiss. “So I can’t really tell you for sure if anything’s missing. But I do recall that several bags of ammonium nitrate were tipped over and three had split open. I had to do a lot of sweeping up and repackaging.”

“Do you have any idea who was responsible?” Travis asked.

Jim hesitated. “I think Roy Connors was behind it but I can’t prove it, so I didn’t give the police his name.”

“Connors… That name rings a bell,” Travis said.

“The guy spends a lot of time in the drunk tank since his wife left him. When I hired Roy, I told him I didn’t care what he did in his off time, just so long as he showed up to work on time—sober. I figured the man needed a break.”

“I remember him now. There was a brawl over at the Painted Pony,” Travis said. “Connors took a swing at the bartender and the bouncer had to jump in. It got out of hand fast after that. Every available officer was called to the scene. I nursed a sore jaw for days after somebody sucker punched me.”

“Roy came in with a black eye and skinned knuckles the next day,” Jim agreed with a nod. “I fired him not too long after that because he showed up to work drunk. The following week I had the break-in, the first one in years.”

They were on their way moments later. Travis got Connors’s last known address from dispatch and they headed east.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” she asked, shifting in her seat to face him.

“Crusher and I are going in to question a witness. That’s it.”

“Yes, but you can’t be sure he’ll be sober, and it looks like he’s quick with his fists,” she said. “I’m not armed but I’ve got a full canister of Mace in my pocket. If I go, too, I can help if it gets ugly.”

“No need. He’d have to be blind to even consider taking Crusher on. You might as well just stay in the car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

He expelled his breath in a hiss. “Okay, but stay back and let me handle it.”

“What do you know about Roy?” she asked, not responding directly to his request.

“Not much, but I’ll know a lot more after I run him through the Report Review,” he said, pulling over and punching out the needed codes on his mobile dispatch terminal.

Moments later, incident reports came up on the MDT monitor. “He’s ex-rodeo and has a rap sheet three miles long, mostly due to alcohol-related incidents,” Travis said.

“There’s something else you might consider,” Laura said.

“Roy may have been paid to do the job. I’m thinking along the lines of ‘wreck the place to your heart’s content. Just take a bag of fertilizer and cut the rest open to throw off the weight count.’ What do you think?”

“Interesting theory, but before we reach any conclusions, let’s see what he has to say,” Travis said.

Leaving the old highway that now served as a truck bypass, they drove down a long dirt road. Eventually they reached a single-wide trailer that looked as if it had seen better days decades ago. Travis parked just out of view of the front windows, then sat back and watched the mobile home.

“He’s not Navajo, is he? We don’t have to wait out here to be invited in.”

He smiled. “You remembered.”

“Of course I do. But that doesn’t answer my original question.”

“I want to get a better feel for things before we go charging in there.” He glanced at Crusher, who stood up, ready to go, then looked back at the trailer. “Judging from the music coming over the radio, I’d say he’s home. But no one’s looked out, so he might not know we’re here.”

“Or he’s passed out. See all those bottles at the top of his trash can?” She pointed to the gray, overflowing plastic waste bin.

“Whatever the situation, stand down unless I tell you differently. Let’s go,” he said.

He climbed out of his unit, letting Crusher out behind him. The dog remained on Travis’s left and Laura moved to the far right, making sure they didn’t line up too closely and turn themselves into easy targets.

Tension thrummed through Travis. Laura could see it in the rigid set of his spine and the lack of emotion on his face. Standing to one side of the door, he knocked loudly and identified himself. No one answered. When Travis tried a second time, they heard a low grumble from inside.

“Hold your horses,” a groggy voice said.

They heard slow footsteps coming closer. Soon the door swung open about a foot. In front of them stood a bleary-eyed man whose weathered face looked as if he’d placed last in a boxing tournament.

“I ain’t buying or praying, so scram,” he muttered.

Laura sized Roy Conners up quickly. He was wearing a T-shirt with no sleeves, and she could see the tattoo of an anchor and chain. He was navy, or at least he had been at one time. From the size of his upper arms, she was pretty sure he worked out as hard as he drank. The combination, from her point of view, wasn’t good. He obviously liked thrills and danger, judging from the rodeo-circuit trophies on the shelf directly behind him.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said, giving her a grin as he stepped out onto the wooden steps.

“I’m Detective Travis Blacksheep,” Travis snapped, forcing the man to focus on him. Crusher growled softly, ensuring it.

“I want to ask you some questions about an incident over at Franklin’s Feed.”

“I heard about that. Jim would love to pin that break-in on me, but it ain’t gonna work,” he said with a smug smile.

“I’m not after the person responsible. I just want to know what happened to some missing bags of fertilizer,” Travis said, playing a bluff.

Something flashed in Roy’s eyes, but it happened so fast, Laura wasn’t sure if Travis had noticed it, too.

For a heartbeat no one moved, then suddenly Roy threw a quick jab at Travis’s face.

Travis saw the punch coming and feinted left, simultaneously sinking his fist into the man’s hard belly.

As Roy doubled up, Crusher brushed past Travis and rose to his hind legs, knocking Roy backward onto the floor of the trailer. The entire unit rocked like a boat in a storm.

Travis, still holding on to Crusher’s leash, was pulled to his knees as Roy scrambled to his feet and ran down the interior hall of the trailer. Travis quickly released Crusher and the dog gave chase, followed by Travis then Laura.

Roy jumped out the back door, slamming it behind him. Crusher, a few feet behind, hit the metal panel full force with his paws. Something snapped and the door flew open, dangling from the top hinge.

“Stay here. Crusher will pin him in a minute or two,” Travis yelled, heading after his dog.

Laura looked out just as Roy, the dog and Travis disappeared into the brush behind the trailer. As she jumped down out of the trailer—there was no porch there—a flash of movement caught her eye.

Crusher had reached Roy, who’d tried to circle around, and using his massive bulk, knocked the cowboy to the ground. Growling deeply and resting his huge front paws on the man’s chest, Crusher kept him pinned.

“Atta way, Crusher!” she called, running over.

“Get this wild hog offa me,” Roy managed. Every time he shifted, Crusher pushed him back down. “Jeez, I’m drowning in drool.”

Travis arrived at the same time as Laura. “I’m going to order the dog to release you,” Travis said, “but he’ll knock you right back down if you try to make a run for it.”

“Yeah, okay. Just get him off me,” Roy said.

“Looks like you should have cooperated,” Laura said as the man rose to his knees. “Now you’re going to jail for assaulting a police officer.”

“Hey, the dog assaulted me.”

“Not until you attacked his partner,” Laura said.

Travis handcuffed Roy, reciting his rights as he led him back around the mobile home to the SUV.

While Travis was securing the prisoner, Laura took a quick look through the mobile home. She came out after a few minutes and met Travis, who was checking around the outside of the single-wide.

“There aren’t any fertilizer bags in there and there’s no garden, not unless you count the green stuff growing on the cheese in his refrigerator,” she said. “You might want to have the lab check for traces of nitrates or diesel fuel or request an explosives dog.”

“Let’s see if we can get anything out of him. He’ll be sharing the backseat with Crusher all the way to the station.”

She chuckled softly. “If that doesn’t work, nothing will.”

Chapter Five

They arrived at the station a short while later. After Roy was booked and placed in an interrogation room, Travis and Crusher returned to the bullpen. Laura was nowhere to be seen.

A few minutes later she came down the hallway, accompanied by Chief Wright. One look at the chief’s face told Travis the man was not in a good mood.

“Our observer will now be given consultant status,” Wright clipped in a taut voice. “She’ll also have permission to carry a weapon and sit in whenever you question a suspect,” he added in a growl, then turned and walked away.

“Consultant? And you can carry? What the heck did you do to him?” Travis asked.

“I ran into Mayor Marty Wilson. He and my mother were close for a while. We started talking and it turns out he also knows my boss at NSI,” she said. “Once he understood why I was here, he requested that Chief Wright retain me as a consultant. He also suggested that I be given a bit more leeway in the investigation.”

“That’s a full reversal of Chief Wright’s original orders, which explains his attitude.” Travis shook his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Something tells me there’s more to that story. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Later,” she said, heading down the hall to the interrogation room.

Travis gave Crusher the command to stay, then went into the room with Laura.

Ray looked surlier than ever as he eyed both of them. “I get it now. You’re both cops.”

“No. I’m a consultant working with the department. But I’ve got to tell you, Roy, you’re in one heap of trouble,” Laura said, taking a seat across the table from him.

“For what? Taking a swing at someone trying to push me around or for running away from a vicious dog?” he grumbled.

“Don’t lie to someone who knows the truth already. You’re not stupid. Talk to me,” Laura pressed.

Silence stretched out, but neither Travis nor Laura said a word.

“Okay, okay,” Roy said at last. “What can I tell you that’ll keep me out of jail?”

“Neither one of us is interested in sending you to jail. We just want to find out what happened to some bags of fertilizer,” Travis said.

“Let me get this straight,” Roy said slowly, looking at Travis then back at Laura. “You don’t care what happened to the stuff in the storeroom. You just want to know who ripped off a few sacks of cow crap?”

“Not the manure, the stuff in the big plastic sacks,” Laura said. “The white crystals—ammonium nitrate.”

“Oh. Yeah, well, I cut some bags open with a box cutter and dumped them on the floor. It sure smelled like you-know-what. But I didn’t take any of that stuff, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I ain’t no thief.”

Travis leaned over the table, getting into his face. “You better be telling us the truth.”

“I am, man,” he said without hesitation. “Sure, I trashed his place a little. He was the one who fired me and I really needed the job.” He stopped, then gave them a sheepish smile. “Guess I’m really screwed now, huh?”

After several more minutes, confident that Roy wasn’t withholding information, they concluded their questioning.

Travis followed her back out into the hall. “Nice work back there,” he said.

“That really cost you, didn’t it?” she teased.

“You’ll never know.”

AFTER COMPLETING A REPORT on the incident, they returned to Travis’s four-wheel SUV. Crusher took his usual spot in the rear.

“Okay. Now I want answers from you,” Travis said. “What’s the deal with you and the mayor?”

“My mother met him years ago when he worked as a loan officer at the First State Finance Company. They dated for a long time.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I remember now. You never liked him much.”

Laura shrugged. “Mom always thought it would work out between them and he’d marry her. She never realized until it was too late that Marty had no intention of settling down with her. She wasted years waiting for him to propose.”

“It must have hit her hard when she finally realized he’d been stringing her along.”

“It broke her heart,” she said with a nod. “She was never the same after Marty left her and married Mrs. Huntsfield, the widow of the guy who owned Huntsfield Petroleum,” Laura said. “Marty needed money and the right contacts to get into politics, and all Mom had to offer was herself.”

Travis didn’t answer. There was nothing he could say.

“Seeing me out in the hall gave Marty a jolt. I’m not sure if I brought back memories he valued or ones he was trying to run from, but he came right over to find out what I was doing back in town.”

“And out of the blue, he just decided to make you an official police consultant?” he asked, skepticism showing clearly in his tone.

“Not exactly. I brought it up after I gave him a rundown of why I was here. But it wasn’t a hard sell. He never even hesitated. He went to talk to Chief Wright right away.” She paused. “Maybe Marty wanted me in his debt. Even a casual comment here and there can do a small-town politician some serious harm. Or maybe he thought I’d be tempted to talk to his wife about his long affair with that trailer-trash woman who worked in the high-school cafeteria. That’s what they used to call her—and me. Remember?”

Travis nodded. “But nobody at school ever talked like that. It was mostly the adults outside the Rez.”

“It still stung.”

“I know,” he answered, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

His touch soothed the ache inside her, but what really drew her to him was what she saw in his eyes. Travis was all about self-control, but behind that dark, compelling gaze she could see the shimmer of passion—for his job, for those he loved and for what he knew was right.

Travis switched on the ignition. “It’s been a long day. Let me drop you off, and we’ll get an early start tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

“The Desert Sands Motel. It’s not exactly four stars but it’s cheap and I’m footing my own bill,” she said. “I’ll be getting a small stipend as a department consultant now but I’m still working on a tight budget.”

“I know the place you’re talking about,” Travis said. “It’s as basic as it comes, but the rooms are clean and you won’t be mugged the moment you step outside.”

“It seemed okay to me when I got in last night. I like the fact that the doors have a double locking mechanism, so no one’s going to be able to sneak in,” Laura said. “Now that the perp knows I’m in town, I’m going to be sleeping with one eye open and my weapon under the pillow, too.”

They soon arrived at the Sands. Travis pulled up in front of the side entry to the lobby.

“Why don’t you park in one of the guest slots and come inside for a minute?” she said.

He hesitated. Laura was a constant distraction to him and going to her room didn’t seem like a wise idea, all things considered.

“I know it’s difficult to share a case with someone who just pops in on the scene. So let me buy you dinner, and maybe that’ll ease the pain a bit. We’ll even get a doggie bag. What do you say?”

Crusher snorted as if he’d understood.

“You’ve been outvoted,” Laura said, chuckling. “Come in and let me grab a jacket, then we’ll go. We both need some downtime, and it’s always good to know your partner.”

“You’re not my partner,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Maybe that’s not my official title, but I’m the person you’re working with now. I’m not just some ride-along anymore,” she said as he parked in a guest slot.

His voice was almost a complete monotone as he answered. “You might be able to help, but if you start interfering with my case, you’ll find yourself standing on the sidewalk alone—mayor or no mayor. And let me remind you that there are very few cabs out here and no regular city buses. So, depending on where we are, the walk can be a real long one.”

She took a deep breath and with effort forced herself to stay calm. “We’re on the same side, relax.”

Travis put Crusher on the lead and, with the dog at heel, followed Laura down the hallway.

When they reached her room Laura slipped the key card out of her pocket then suddenly froze.

Travis looked down at Crusher but the dog didn’t seem alarmed. “What’s up?” he asked Laura, his gaze searching the long, narrow hall.

She stepped back, her attention focused on the gap beneath the door.

Crusher, sensing their abrupt change of mood, growled softly.

“Somebody shoved a note beneath my door,” she said, gesturing to it but not touching anything. “There’s a photo image printed on it, too. It’s a shot of my rental car.”

“Are you sure it’s not just a note from management?”

“That’s the rental car. I recognize the tag number.”

“Then don’t open the door,” he said, visually searching along the jamb for a triggering device.

“I doubt he’s rigged this door. He doesn’t want me dead. If I blow up—along with his note—he’ll lose all the fun of trying to intimidate me.” She met Travis’s gaze and held it.

“What he doesn’t realize is that I don’t scare easily. The only thing he’s going to do is tick me off,” she said loudly, hoping the suspect was still around and would hear.

“He’s not around,” Travis said, guessing what she was doing. “No one is, or Crusher would have warned us.” He crouched to study the doorknob and lock. “This hasn’t been tampered with. If it had been, there would be telltale signs. Give me your key card and then step back,” he whispered.

“You’re hoping he’s in there so you can face him square on,” she said.

“If he is, my training’s more diverse than yours and I’m stronger. That makes me the best choice to confront an opponent.”

Travis signaled Crusher and the dog stood in front of Laura, blocking her path.

“He’s not in there,” she said, handing him the key card.

“It’s not his M.O. This place is too public.”

Travis didn’t look back at her. Bracing himself, he unlocked the door, then kicked it open hard, hoping the suspect was behind it. As he stormed in, all was quiet except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning system.

When he turned around, he saw Laura picking the note up from the floor with a gloved hand. “You always carry latex gloves with you?” he asked.

“When I’m working a case, you bet,” she answered, then placed the sheet on the desk.

Printed on the upper half of the paper were two photos of her rental car taken before and after the explosion. “This didn’t come from a high-end camera,” Laura said, studying it.

“I’d guess he used a cell-phone camera, then printed it out later.”

A typed message beneath the photo read, “I told you we’d see each other again, Laura. Welcome home.”

“This sicko likes mind games,” she said in a taut voice, then shuddered.

As Travis placed a comforting arm over her shoulders, the warmth of his touch opened a yawning ache inside her. Living alone and depending on no one besides herself had taught her to be strong. She would never allow herself to need anyone. Yet that cold, hollow feeling that surrounded her heart was ample proof that love exacted an even greater price from those who chose to hide from it.

Realizing the direction her thoughts had taken, she put a sudden stop to it. Her feelings for Travis—those that went beyond a very normal sexual attraction—were just echoes from the past.

“You okay?” he asked.

She heard the dark edginess in his voice and looked up to meet his gaze. “Sure, I’m fine.”

He stepped back away from her. “We’ll turn that note over to the lab techs and see what they can get from it.”

“There won’t be any prints. Our man’s not careless. Even the paper and the toner will have come from ordinary sources.”

“We do know one thing. You were right. We’re dealing with the same person who killed your friend.”

Awareness and something else—protectiveness, maybe—were mirrored in the dark eyes that held hers.

“But this time he’s picked the wrong target,” Travis growled. “One way or another, he’s going down.”

Chapter Six

Together, they went through every inch of her motel room, checking for anything that might seem odd or out of place.

As Laura turned around to give him the all clear on the section she’d searched, she saw him bend over and pick up a pen that had rolled off the nightstand. The word mouthwatering had been coined just for him. He was broad in all the right places and narrow where it counted.

Travis wasn’t classically perfect but somehow that only added to his appeal. As he stood and moved past her, she saw ruggedness etched into his features and picked up that outdoorsy scent that always clung to him.

“Stay on target,” he said without turning to look at her.

Even the deep timbre of his voice echoed with the strength of the Navajo’s four sacred mountains. “What did you say?” she managed after a beat.

“You’re getting distracted.”

“Me? No way. I know what I’m looking at,” she answered, biting back a smile.

He chuckled softly, a rich masculine sound created to tease the imagination of any woman with a beating heart.

“He obviously didn’t come into the room,” Laura said after they finished their search.

“Agreed,” Travis said. “I don’t have a court order but let’s see if I can talk management into letting me take a look at the surveillance cameras. If we’re lucky, Frank Tso will be the one out there tonight. He won’t hesitate to help me if I ask.”

“Let’s go then.”

As they approached the main desk they saw a young Anglo woman behind the counter. “Is Frank around?” Travis asked, not waving his ID as Laura had expected.

“Hey, Specter,” a man greeted him, stepping into view from a small office behind the clerk. “You still owe me a steak dinner, dude. I hear promises but never get any action.”

Travis grinned. “I’ve been working double shifts lately, but it’ll happen.”

The Navajo man waved at them to come in. As Crusher went past, he petted the dog on the head.

Once they’d taken seats, Frank listened to what Travis had to say. “Someone like that is hanging around my motel?” He shook his head. “That’s gonna stop. I’ll work with you and give you whatever you need, bro, but I need something from you, too.”

“Name it,” Travis said.

“Would you do things low-key—no emergency lights or sirens? All that attention might cost me business.”

“I’ll make sure we keep a low profile if I need to call in a team. But I need the video from your cameras.”

“Not a problem. Follow me. That equipment runs itself from another room.”

He led them down a utility hall, then unlocked the door to a small room containing several monitors. “I can run the feedback without shutting anything down—just like those digital recorders on your cable TV.”

“Start with whatever camera covers the hall that leads to room 344,” Travis said. “After what time?” he asked, looking at Laura.

“After 5:00 a.m. this morning.” she responded.

Moments later they were watching the feed, Crusher lying down by the door. Though it appeared he was just relaxing, Laura saw that the dog’s ears were up and his eyes were wide-open.

As they watched the images, they saw motel guests passing by and then a person from room service. No one lingered by Laura’s door.

They went through several hours of feed in just a matter of minutes. Then, recorded less than an hour prior to their arrival at the motel, they saw a man wearing a bulky jacket and a baseball cap walking down the hall. He stopped by her door, bent down for a second, then continued on, keeping his head low. His face had been blocked out by the bill of his cap and it was impossible to make out his features.

“We can gauge his height from the doorjambs he passes but that’s about it. No weight or distinguishing features other than what he was wearing,” Travis said, curling his hands into fists, relaxing them, then tightening them into fists again. “I was hoping for more.”

“It’s in line with what I expected,” Laura said. “He likes to play but he’s not careless.”

“He also hasn’t killed anyone in Three Rivers yet and I want to keep it that way,” Travis said. He looked at Frank.

“Check the feed from the camera outside in the parking area—west side.”

Frank played it for them, starting just before the time registered on the feed showing the suspect walking down the hall.

Laura spotted the outline of a figure toward the rear of the parking lot. “Look at the far right corner. He’s there in the shadows, watching, trying to figure out camera angles and waiting for those people in the van to leave.”

They kept an eye on the figure. After several minutes, they saw him hurry across the parking area to the side door.

“Where was his car?” Travis said, thinking out loud.

“It’s got to be there somewhere,” Frank said.

“Not necessarily. We didn’t see him arrive, so he may have parked elsewhere and come in on foot,” Travis said.

They checked the video from the east parking lot. All they saw was the man’s back as he walked away from the camera.

“He came from across the street, out of camera range,” Laura said. “He’s playing with us but he also wants to make sure he’s not caught. It’s his way of showing us how superior he is.”

“There’s a possibility that an outside camera positioned by one of the retailers across the street caught something,” Travis said.

“You can ask for their cooperation or get a court order tomorrow,” Laura said. “But there’s something we need to do first.”

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Our man likes feeling that he’s in charge, and that means he’ll be keeping an eye on us. I say we go take a look outside. We can talk to whoever we see, but be aware that our suspect would get a kick out of volunteering his help.”

“He came here looking for you and now he’s hanging around my motel?” Frank asked, his voice rising.

“Don’t worry. I’ll move my stuff out of here tonight,” she assured him gently.

Travis’s admiration for Laura grew as he saw Frank’s reaction change from anger to acceptance in a matter of seconds. Laura had a way about her that anyone in law enforcement would envy—the ability to intimidate or be conciliatory, depending on what was needed. Although he’d never had any problem with the intimidation part, he was hopeless at appeasing anyone whose desires didn’t align with his own.

It was dark as Laura and Travis walked back outside through the rear door, Crusher beside Travis. They remained near the vehicles, working along the perimeter of the parking lot. After a while they split up, each working opposite ends of the lot toward an agreed-upon meeting place on the west side, beside a large white van.

Travis got some curious looks from motel guests, but the few comments he received all centered on Crusher’s size. Avoiding looking directly at any outside lights and nodding to any citizens who came closer, Travis’s eyes adjusted quickly to the low illumination. All his senses were on full alert and he gave a close second look to any male guest who seemed too curious.

As he worked along the west side toward their target van, he noticed a shift in one of the shadows on the hillside above the motel. A residential road led up to the top of the rise.

Crusher growled, a deep, menacing sound.

Travis stood still, hiding in the deepest shadows beside the white van and looking up. The headlights from vehicles passing by on the road above the hidden figure gave him brief glimpses of the person, but it wasn’t enough to make an ID. He couldn’t release Crusher here either. The watcher would simply run uphill and Crusher might get struck by a vehicle.

“On the rise behind us,” Travis said quietly as Laura joined them, completing her part of the search. “I can’t make out details, but the outline fits the general description of the subject.”

A few seconds later, a pickup went up the hill and headlights illuminated the figure for a heartbeat. “Bulky jacket, hat,” Laura said with a nod.

The man suddenly waved at them and ran uphill toward the road.

Laura cursed and shot after him.

Travis followed, Crusher at his side. “No, don’t go after him!” he called out.

“He’s not far,” she said, breathing hard.

“This is what he wants. He’s setting us up.”

She came to a dead stop.

Travis caught up to her. “You were rushing blindly into what could have been an ambush. He could be up there with a gun, or in a car, ready to run us over.” He forced Crusher to remain at heel. The dog’s hackles were raised and it was clear he wanted to continue racing to the top.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “But he was so close….”

“You reacted instinctively. With this guy, that’s not a good idea. Don’t let him sucker you into a trap.”

As they walked back down the slope to the parking lot, he added, “He had something in his hand. Did you see it?” When she shook her head, he continued. “It wasn’t a gun—too small. Cell phone, maybe,” he said, as he dialed the police station and called in a report.

“He wanted us to see him,” she said after Travis ended the call. “That’s why he waved.”

“He had a reason for letting us know he was around. We must be missing something.”

“Let’s take a drive around the neighborhood. Maybe he’s still in the area hoping to spring his trap.”

As they reached Travis’s vehicle, Crusher slowed down and growled.

“He may be picking up our suspect’s scent,” Travis said, stopping and studying the SUV.

“Maybe he didn’t use all his explosives last time,” she said.

Travis expelled his breath in a hiss. “Don’t touch the car. Crusher’s not a bomb-sniffing dog, but if he thinks the scent’s off, you can count on it.” He studied the vehicle without approaching it. “The suspect’s wave could have been his way of goading us into jumping into the unit and racing off after him.”

She glanced beneath the SUV at the same time he did. “Bingo,” she whispered, pointing to a dark object about the size of a shoe box, duct-taped to the underside of the frame.

Travis called their department’s bomb expert. While they waited he and Laura secured the scene, making sure no motel guests approached. Fortunately, it appeared that the dinner rush was over. The lot was all but empty.

As they waited, Travis tried to look at things from a logical standpoint. “That wave of his bothers me. Something tells me we haven’t narrowed down his message yet.”

She nodded slowly. “He placed the bomb in a place that’s real easy to spot, too, so I think he wanted us to see it. It may even be a dud. He really doesn’t want us dead—yet.”

Travis nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe so, but eventually that’ll change.”

“I agree. Once he gets bored, or feels threatened, he may try to kill me right under your nose. Or maybe he’ll go for you first, just to show me that he can take anyone he chooses from me.” She swallowed hard and suppressed the shudder that touched her spine. “I have to put this guy behind bars for good.”

“We’ll bring him down. It’s just a matter of time. Patience, coupled with vigilance, is the key to catching him, and I’ve got plenty of both.”

Silence stretched out between them as they waited for the bomb squad. At long last Laura spoke. “What’s the story behind your nickname? Specter, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “Overseas, I could move more quietly that anyone else, even in full gear. The men used to say that I was nothing more than a shadow, a ghost that passed by in twilight and disappeared into the darkness. That’s why I was regularly assigned to infiltrate enemy lines and do what had to be done.” He shook his head, preempting any further questions. “The rest is classified.”

She looked into his hooded eyes but there were no answers there. Yet in the silence of her heart she could hear the unspoken part of his story. He’d done his duty but it had come at a cost to himself. The price he’d paid wasn’t easily seen, but was there in the way he’d learned to put barriers between himself and emotions that might touch him too deeply. That gulf protected him from the darkness where nightmares still lingered.

The department’s bomb expert—and his right-hand man—arrived a short time later. Jerry Anderson didn’t want to put on the bulky protective suit unless necessary, but his aide, a safety officer from the fire department, helped him get into a protective vest equipped with ceramic armor inserts and a helmet with a visor.

As Travis briefed Officer Anderson, his gaze remained on the department’s SUV. “Did you see a timer?” Jerry asked.

Travis shook his head. “Once I saw the box, we backed off.”

“Wise move.”

Jerry lay on the ground several feet away, using a long pole with an attached mirror and light to study the container.

Other officers soon arrived and reinforced the perimeter. Fortunately, it was late so there was little activity in the parking lot. The guests inside hadn’t been alerted to the situation because no sirens or emergency lights had been deployed. The hotel staff had been briefed and ordered to keep any curious guests inside the building and out of the hotel lobby with its glass panels.

They watched as Jerry poked the device with the mirror. One of the pieces of tape holding the box came loose. Jerry pulled it down, then moved into the clear and stood.

“It’s fake,” Jerry told them, holding the shoe box in his gloved hand. “Light as a feather. I’d be surprised if there’s anything in here at all.” He pulled out a pocket knife, then slit the two pieces of tape holding the lid shut.

As he lifted the lid, all they saw inside was a printer image of Laura at the airport loading her luggage into the rental car.

“So he knew exactly when I came in. But I didn’t tell anyone about my travel plans,” she said.

“You didn’t check in with your people at NSI?” Travis asked.

“I had to tell my supervisor where I was headed when I requested a leave of absence, but NSI is more secure than Fort Knox. He had to have found out another way.”

“Getting passenger information from an airline is really tough even for those of us in law enforcement,” Travis said.

“Maybe he had an airline contact who could access the booking systems,” she said.

“Whatever the answer, one thing’s clear. You’ll need to stay at a secure location from now on,” Travis said.

Before he could say anything else, a uniformed officer came over. “Ms. Perry?”

“That’s me,” she said, turning around.

“The mayor learned about the destruction of your rental vehicle, so he wanted to offer you a loaner from the city’s motor pool,” he said, handing her the keys and pointing to a generic white sedan parked close by. “But he also wants you to understand that the loaner would be in lieu of the consulting stipend. If you prefer, you can turn down the vehicle, of course.”

“I’ll take the car. Convey my thanks to the mayor,” Laura said.

Travis rolled his eyes.

“It’s a trade—a fair one,” she said.

Travis spoke to Jerry, then returned to where she stood. “We need to move your location. You can’t stay here anymore.”

“I know. Once I get my suitcases and laptop from the room, I’ll pick a motel at random. Cover my tail to make sure I’m not followed, okay?” she asked. Seeing him nod, she added, “I’ll be taking evasive action, so don’t feel bad if I lose you for a while.”

“Give it your best. I can equal anything the Bureau taught you behind the wheel.” He grinned slowly. “And, remember, if you need my location, use your cell phone.”

“I’ll keep track of you.” She chuckled as they headed back inside the motel. “At least there’s one positive side to what happened today, besides the fact that no one was injured.”

“What’s that?”

“We now know that we won’t have to go looking for him. He’ll come to us.”

Chapter Seven

Laura had always excelled in evasive driving techniques. Yet every time she reversed directions, circled or pulled over to hide in a crowded parking lot with her lights out, Travis stuck with her.

Travis was good, but then again, he was more familiar with Three Rivers these days than she was. She’d also had enough sense not to carry out any really risky moves that might have endangered the public.

Spotting another motel in a perfect location, Laura made a hard right and pulled into its parking lot.

Travis joined her a moment later and, along with Crusher, walked her inside the lobby. “Good choice—across the street from the National Guard Armory. Soldiers on temporary duty are usually billeted here so there’ll be plenty of friendly forces in the immediate area.”

“The sign outside also said the motel had an internet connection. Add the twenty-four-hour MallMart on the corner and the fast-food joints and I’m all set.”

After checking in, Laura led the way across the interior courtyard to her room. Crusher was off leash but at heel beside Travis, who was carrying her suitcase. She’d grabbed her jumbo-size tote bag containing, among other items, her laptop computer.

As they stepped inside the room, she took a look around. “It’s adequate,” she said at last.

He nodded absently. “It’s late. Are you going to call it a night?”

“Naw, I’m still too wound up. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you stick around? I’ll buy dinner, fire up my laptop and maybe we can access some of the police computers and review the cases.”

He shook his head. “Using my password I could get access to my department’s system, but that’s all.”

“How likely is it that the Bureau’s investigating the murder that went down in Shiprock?”

“If the tribal police department requests the Bureau’s help, they get involved, but I have no idea if they were called in or not,” he said, running a hand through his hair, then rubbing his neck. “I’ll look into that tomorrow. To get that kind of information I’ll have to make some calls, and we’ve been through enough for one night. Meet me at my place tomorrow and we’ll get a fresh start.”

“Yeah, okay. And maybe this time I should consider bringing an armored car,” she said softly.

He smiled grimly. “Don’t kid about stuff like that.”

She cringed. “Sorry. I forgot. Words have power?”

He nodded. “Speaking of bad things can make them come to pass.”

As he headed to the door, she said, “So you’re really going? I’m disappointed.”

He turned around. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked slowly, his eyes on her.

His words drifted over her like a caress, but it was that intense gaze that nearly took her breath away. “I was hoping we could talk strategy and maybe do a little work,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Define work.”

She felt her cheeks burning and her body began to throb in some very predictable places. “Never mind. How early a start do you want to get tomorrow?”

“You know I’m up before dawn, so why don’t you come over for breakfast? We’ll strategize then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

LAURA WOKE UP EVERY FEW HOURS throughout the night. The details of the case wouldn’t stop replaying themselves in her mind. It was always like that whenever she was dealing with a problem or on a case. Sleep came in spurts, if at all.

When she saw the clock on the nightstand finally reach five, she tossed the covers aside, eager to get started. All she needed now was a double shot of espresso and she’d be good to go.

Less than twenty minutes later she set out. The drive helped her relax. By the time she reached Travis’s home, the sun was just peering over the horizon.

Laura parked in the wide turning circle where the private road ended, taking a spot beside Travis’s department SUV. The ground was scorched in the spot where her rental car had rested. Everything else had been taken away, except for a scattering of glass cubes—what remained of her windshield.

Trying not to think about that, Laura walked up the trail and knocked on the front door. There was no answer or bark. She stood still and listened. It was a cool morning. Maybe he’d gone for a walk to clear his thoughts.

Laura hiked uphill toward the steep cliffs of the mesa behind the reconfigured farmhouse. As she drew near the base of the cliff, she became aware of the monotone chant that stirred the stillness around her.

The Song rose, reverberating with power and the echoes of history. Even the birds were silent, knowing that their song couldn’t match the chant’s compelling beauty.

Laura moved forward quietly, walking parallel to the cliffs. Though she didn’t understand the words, the chant wrapped itself around her, filling her with a great sense of peace.

Then, as the tree line thinned around a bare knoll of hardened sandstone, she saw Travis standing in a small clearing, a leather pouch in his hand. As she watched, he lifted his hand and released a fine yellowish powder into the air. The fine granules spiraled in the gentle morning breeze as he continued the chant.

The magic of the Navajo Song and the beauty of the ritual held her mesmerized, and she remained rooted to the spot.

At long last he placed the bag back on his belt. “You don’t have to stand there in the shadows. I’m finished,” he said, never looking directly at her.

“How did you…” She sighed. “Never mind.”

Laura looked around for Crusher and saw him lying against a rock, watching her through half-closed eyes. His coloring gave him nearly perfect camouflage.

“Will you tell me more about the Song?” she asked Travis.

“It’s a prayer to the dawn.”

“It was beautiful,” she said, bending down to pet Crusher, who’d finally decided to come and say hello. “I’ve done a lot of praying too lately, asking for help finding my friend’s killer.”

He fell into step beside her as they headed back down the slope toward his home. “Navajo prayers are different than the ones you’re used to. They’re not petitions, they’re more like affirmations. The prayer to the dawn is our way of starting the day right by restoring balance and harmony. The last line, ‘now all is well,’ says it best.”

“There won’t be any balance and harmony for me until I find my friend’s killer,” she said.

He didn’t respond right away. When he spoke at last, his words were slow and thoughtful. “The balance Navajos speak about transcends the personal. Its context is universal. Catching a killer maintains the balance between good and evil, but the goal is to restore harmony so all can walk in beauty.”

“I work to see justice done. Without that, criminals would gain the upper hand. There’s no harmony for anyone then, so we share a common goal,” she said. “It’s only the way we look at the details that’s different.”

He expelled his breath loudly. “Our hataaliis—what you might call our medicine men—teach that it’s all in the details.”

“Not when the end result is the same,” she argued good-naturedly.

“It’s hard to walk in beauty with someone who has to challenge every premise,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I’m not challenging your views. We’re having a discussion, that’s all,” she said. Looking at his face, she smiled. “This is what used to pass as just talking in my family.”

Suddenly realizing that she was the last of her family—her mother had passed away and she’d never known her dad— Laura lapsed into a somber silence. Nancy, who’d also been like family once, was gone now, too.

Sensing what was bothering her, he reached for her hand. “You’ve still got me. I’m in your corner.”

Almost as if sensing he was needed, too, Crusher pressed his big muzzle into the hollow of her free hand.

She bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “If my job allowed me to stay in one place like yours does, I’d be tempted to get a companion like Crusher,” she said.

“He’s a good ole boy who certainly earns his keep,” he said as they continued walking again. “His courage can be relied on—except during thunderstorms. Then he becomes a giant wimp,” Travis added, laughing.

As they reached the house, he unlocked the back door and led the way inside. “I’ll put the cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

“That’s something else we have in common. I always keep a tube of those in my refrigerator back home. I can’t tell you how many times they’ve been my dinner,” she said laughing.

“These aren’t store-bought, I make my own. The dough’s risen, so all those need now is time in the oven.” He gestured toward a cookie sheet containing six large, delicious-looking rolls.

“I’m impressed. The only thing I’m good for in the kitchen is peeling back the corners of microwave TV dinners,” she said, sighing happily as he placed the sheet into the preheated oven.

He smiled and set a small timer. “I’ve had more time on my hands since my brother moved out, and I’ve learned that cooking helps me unwind.”

“I can’t even imagine your brother and you not living under the same roof. You two were practically inseparable in high school.”

“I’ve grown up—in case you haven’t noticed,” he said, chuckling.

She’d noticed all right. He was serious eye candy, all hard ridges and planes. Yet what attracted her most went well beyond that. He had a maturity that came from having walked through life’s underbelly, and the inner strength he’d found there had turned him into one helluva man.

“Living alone has a good side. My brother had a way of turning the house into chaos. I like things in order,” he said. “After a day of dealing with criminals, I also like to be able to wind down at my own pace and not talk to anyone. I find peace in the silence.”

She said nothing for several moments. “To me, home’s just a place to crash. I had a potted plant once, but I kept forgetting to water it so I gave it away. One of the best things about living in my condo is that they take care of all the upkeep and maintenance.”

“And you’re happy there?” The timer on the oven went off and he walked to the stove.

She shrugged. “It suits my needs.”

He brought the hot rolls to the table and gestured for her to help herself. As she sank her teeth into one, she smiled blissfully. “Wow. I think I love you.”

He laughed.

When Crusher came over, Travis halved one of the rolls and gave it to the dog, who gulped it down instantly.

“You really don’t fit anyone’s mold, do you? Everything about you screams ultramacho, yet you’re a fabulous cook and keep a great house,” she said. “You’d make somebody a great wife—well, a traditional one.”

He laughed, not the least bit threatened by her teasing. “Most of the great chefs are men. But enough about me. What about your place? Do you prefer everything in its place and orderly or are you more laid-back about the whole thing?”

“I don’t have a lot of stuff, so there’s no great mess and I can usually find whatever I’m searching for. I’m not much for a silent household though. No matter what time it is, if I’m awake either the radio or the TV is on. It’s a good thing that the condo has thick walls, since there’s nothing routine about my hours. My schedule constantly varies. That’s one of the perks that come with the job.”

“What do you consider the biggest perk?” he asked.

She considered it before answering. “What I like most about working with NSI is the freedom to call my own shots. As long as I build a case that’ll stand up in court, or that meets the needs of a client, no one cares how I get it done.”

He nodded. “When I first returned stateside, I seriously considered working as a private investigator.”

“What made you choose the police department instead?” she asked.

“I felt that I could do more good there. I didn’t want to limit myself to helping only those people who could afford to have their hózhó restored.”

“The…what?”

“It’s the state of mind that comes from achieving a proper relationship with everything around you. It requires living in harmony with your surroundings and restoring the balance that allows you to walk in beauty.”

After they finished the rolls, and a skillet full of scrambled eggs and green chili that Travis whipped up next, she helped him clean up.

“Ready to go to work?” he asked, grabbing his coffee and cocking his head toward the living room. “I’ve got a special password and permission to access at least some of the records we want.”

As they passed the sitting area, she saw Crusher lying next to several toys arranged in a little pile. One, in particular, caught her attention. “You need to give that guy a new glove to chew on. That thing looks gnarly.”

Travis glanced over. “I know. It’s stained, dirty, torn and falling apart. When I rescued him from the roadside, it was the only thing I had for him to play with and carry around. Later, when I bought him some tug toys and a rawhide, I slipped the glove into the trash but he picked it back out. He won’t play with it but every time I throw it out, he gets upset. So I quit trying.”

“Why don’t you buy him a new one and offer to trade?” she said.

“I did but he wasn’t interested.”

Travis walked to his desk and she followed, her focus back on him. Everything from Travis’s shoulders on down was hard and toned. She sighed softly and heard him chuckle.

“So I’ve got a pulse,” she muttered sourly.

“So do I, so watch it,” he answered in a quiet voice, glancing back at her.

As their gazes met, she felt that spark of raw feelings that was always there between them, kept in check only through sheer force of will. “We can’t get distracted,” she said.

“I agree,” he said, sitting down behind the small pine desk.

Focusing on the screen, he fired up the computer. “I haven’t got clearance to get the specifics of the Flagstaff case files other than what’s in RMIN, but we can access the two in state files using Report Review, a local crime database.”

Things went slow as he logged in to the various programs, so she went back to where Crusher lay. Taking the old glove, she glanced around. “Needle and thread?”

“First drawer to your left,” he gestured toward an end table.

She sat down next to the dog and sewed the cloth finger back on. “Here you go, Mister C.”

“Mister C?” Travis repeated, grinning.

“It’s a nicer name when he’s off the clock,” Laura said.

The dog sniffed the glove, then placed it exactly where it had been before.

“I told you, he won’t play with it,” Travis said.

“Maybe it brings back memories of a time when he was alone and afraid,” she said, almost in a whisper. “So it became something he can’t let go of but doesn’t want to dwell on either.”

The dog looked up at her as if sensing that, in that way, she was a kindred spirit. Then, with a sigh, he lay his head back down.

“Maybe we’ll both live long enough to forget the bad and hold on to the good,” she whispered as she got up.

“Is there anything I can do to help you with the Flagstaff P.D.?” she asked, joining Travis.

He shook his head. “I’ve put in the request. Now it’s mostly a matter of patience.” He called up Melinda Chavez’s file, the victim in Bloomfield. “She was seventeen and lived at home with her parents. She was found naked inside her own bedroom, strangled, a cloth still reeking of ether near the bed. The police determined that the perp choked her with his bare hands.”

“That’s not an identical match to the M.O. used in the two other cases but it’s close. The ether’s the link. Did the police find the source?”

He studied the file. “The biggest supplier in the area is in Three Rivers. The owner of the company allowed the Bloomfield police to take a look at his invoices and inventory. They found nothing unusual there. Shortly after that the Bloomfield P.D. got a request for information from the feds—the IRS to be specific—regarding the proprietor of the supply company. They’ve got an undercover investigation underway.”

“Crimes are often committed to cover other crimes, but I can’t see how business or tax issues would link to these murders,” Laura said.

“I’m with you on that,” he said.

“Was there any article of clothing, something personal, missing from that crime scene?”

“There’s no record of it,” he said, scrolling down.

“Serial killers like trophies. I can’t see him not taking something—even if it’s inconsequential. If we could figure out what this guy collects, that might give us some useful information about how he thinks.”

Travis skimmed the report, then finally shook his head. “I don’t see anything like that listed here.” Travis leaned back and regarded her thoughtfully. “I think you may be trying too hard to make things fit instead of just looking at the evidence dispassionately. For one, serial killers don’t usually change their M.O.”

“True, but our suspect hasn’t really changed the basics. He has consensual sex with the victim, uses the ether and then strangles the victim. If anything, I’d say the killer has altered his methods to increase efficiency.” Her voice broke on the last syllable and a tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly.

Travis pulled her into his arms and, holding her tenderly, brushed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

Burying her head against his shoulder, she gladly took the comfort he offered. “I miss her,” she said, speaking of Nancy. “I hadn’t seen her in ages, but I know she and I would have become close friends again. The last time we spoke on the phone, it was as if nothing had ever changed. We were still best buds, then in a heartbeat it all ended.”

The tenderness she found in his arms soothed the pain in her heart. Over the years, she’d grown self-sufficient, not needing anyone else, but every so often she needed…more.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, he bent down and took her mouth in a gentle kiss.

It was easy to give in to the warmth, to forget and just feel. For those precious seconds, she wasn’t a P.I. and he a cop. She was just a woman in the arms of her man.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, leaving a string of soft kisses down her neck.

That heat, so comforting at first, quickly grew in intensity, pushing them closer to the edge.

Forcing herself to do what was necessary, she stepped out of his embrace. As she did, she felt a renewed ache deep inside her.

Her heart pounding, she stood before Travis. Raw desire shimmered in his eyes.

Travis Blacksheep, the man who never acted on impulse, had a wildness hidden inside him few people had ever seen. Beneath all that control beat a heart filled with passion.

Chapter Eight

Travis returned to his desk after a moment. “I’ll help you all I can, but you’re too close to this case and you know it. The only way this’ll work is if you trust my lead all the way.”

“I will,” she said. “When I looked into what you’d done with your life since high school, I knew you were the partner for me.”

“You ran a background check on me?” Travis asked, more curious than annoyed.

She considered denying it but it seemed pointless. “Yes. I knew you’d once been a kid who liked thinking things through before acting but I had to know more. Adults usually turn out to be like the kids they were, only more so, but I was after a killer and I needed to be sure.”

“The most important thing I can offer you is balance—a counter to your bull-in-the-china-shop compulsiveness.”

She nodded. “I’m counting on it.”

He looked back at the screen. “We need to talk to the detectives who worked the local cases. We want gut feelings and theories, not just images and summaries. Let’s see what kind of cooperation I can get for us,” he said, picking up the phone.

Travis called the Bloomfield police first. A moment later he was connected to the detective in charge. It was a small department and Travis wasn’t surprised to hear a familiar voice on the other end. He put the phone on speaker so Laura could listen in.

“Hey, old son,” Detective John Sanders said. “Haven’t heard from you in ages. What’s happening?”

“I’m looking into the Melinda Chavez murder, searching for similarities between that case and two other killings. But the report I’ve got online is short on specifics,” Travis said.

“Let me see who took lead on that case.”

Travis heard the sound of strokes on a keyboard, then John spoke again.

“Jim Evans was the investigating officer, but he had a heart attack about five months ago. His wife found him at the breakfast table, dead as a doornail. I don’t think the guy ever even knew what hit him.”

“It’s not a bad way to go,” Travis commented.

“All things considered, I guess not.” John paused, typing again. “I just checked the Report Review. If you’re focusing on strangulation murders involving young women, check out the Eva Mae Yazzie case. She’s the woman recently killed outside Shiprock, on the Navajo Nation. We got a call from the tribal police a few days ago. Detective Nakai found similarities between the Chavez murder and the Shiprock crime. He suspects we’ve got a repeat killer working the area. Maybe a serial killer.”

“You think Nakai might be on to something?” Travis asked, looking up at Laura, who was nodding.

There was a long silence at the other end. “Maybe,” John said at last. “There are similarities—C.O.D. is strangulation, one’s a high-school basketball star the other’s a coach and there’s the ether, too. I’d say it’s a theory worth pursuing.”

Travis ended the call, picked up his badge and gun, then stopped to grab his Stetson on the way out. “Let’s go to the Rez and pay Detective Nakai a visit. Face-to-face we’re more likely to get what we need.”

As they stepped through the front door, Crusher picked up a braided rope and hurried to join Travis.

As they reached the vehicles, Laura pointed to her sedan. “The car’s got a more comfortable ride than the SUV. Do you want to use it instead?”

“No. The SUV’s got all-wheel drive and on the Rez that’ll come in handy, particularly during the summer monsoon season. Crusher will have more room, too,” he said. “Leave your car here and ride with me.”

The highway to Shiprock and the Navajo Nation’s police station led west, running along the San Juan River valley. Cultivated fields and orchards soon gave way to the drier, more inhospitable land of the reservation. It was there that many of the Diné, the Navajo People, lived.

“When I was younger, I wanted to put as much distance between me and the Rez as possible. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing but poverty here. But after I was shipped overseas, I found myself really missing home,” Travis said in a faraway voice.

“I wanted to get away, too, but it was because of Mom. I swore I’d never be like her.” She paused. Eventually she continued in a heavy voice, “It wasn’t until after she passed away and I went through her things that I realized how lonely she’d been all her life.”

“Don’t blame yourself for that. Loneliness isn’t linked to the number of people around you,” he said slowly. “It’s how many you choose to let in.”

She nodded slowly. “The crazy thing is that I spent most of my life trying not to be like her, but in a lot of ways, our lives aren’t that different. I have a career, but it’s one that forces me to keep people at bay, so the outcome’s the same.”

Her mother’s sudden heart attack had stolen all hope of bridging the gap that had separated them. Death was the ultimate cheat. It had cheated her out of reconnecting with Nancy. She could accept that her mother’s time had come—but Nancy’s hadn’t. She missed her friend and all the could-haves they might have shared. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to blink and let Travis see how much the memories hurt.

“In the ways that count most I’m as alone as Mom ever was.” She suddenly realized that she’d spoken the words out loud, but it was too late to take them back.

“You’re not alone,” Travis said. “You’ve got me.”

Crusher barked as if emphasizing the point, adding himself to the list.

She smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

Travis said nothing. He kept his eyes on the traffic as they dropped down into the valley from a low-lying plateau west of Hogback.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’ve had Anglo friends tell me that they’re alone before, but that’s a hard thing for any Navajo to understand. We’re part of our mother’s clan and our father’s. That’s even how we introduce ourselves.”

“I remember. The first time we met you gave me your name and told me which clans you belonged to,” she said.

“Even back then, in what, the seventh grade, I never saw myself as separate from our traditions. My brother wanted no part of the old ways, but I knew I was more than just an Anglo name. That’s why I’d always add that I was of the Living Arrow People and born for the Black Sheep People. The first is my mother’s clan, the second my father’s. That’s how we got our last name. It was those connections that helped me stay centered.”

“I hated labels of any kind, particularly back then. Labels…hurt.”

“Not all. Your friend was the school’s star female athlete, and she loved the attention,” Travis said. “Did she keep playing sports, do you know?”

“She’d joined a local softball league. She was also a semester away from getting her degree in Physical Education. She wanted to teach.”

They were just a mile east of the town of Shiprock when they heard a 10-83, “officer in trouble,” call come over the radio. Every officer in the vicinity would respond, but they were on the reservation, and the closest tribal officer could be a half hour or more away.

“I’ve got his twenty,” Travis said, referring to the officer’s location. “We’re close by, so I’m responding.”

Travis called in, then switched to a tactical frequency and spoke directly to the detective who’d put out the call.

“This is Detective Nakai of the Tribal Police,” the man said, giving Travis directions to his current location. “The subject is armed.”

“Nakai?” Laura asked after Travis signed off. “That’s the guy we were going to talk to?”

“Yeah.”

She helped him position the emergency light on the dashboard. “I heard the overall directions but I never got a street name. Did you?”

He shook his head. “There are no streets there.”

A quarter mile farther west, Travis turned off onto a dirt road. After crossing a small bridge over an irrigation ditch, the path quickly deteriorated. The bumps and deep holes in the road made her hold on tight to the door handle. Even so, she hit her head on the roof twice. Crusher, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the ride.

“I’m armed so I can help you. Once we get there, what’s the plan?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Stay in the car or behind it, depending on the situation. We’re outside my jurisdiction and this is a Tribal Police matter. I’m not sure civilian help would be welcome.”

“Do you want me to hang on to Crusher?”

“No. He knows this drill. He’ll stay with me.”

They arrived on the scene about six minutes later, pulling up beside a white, unmarked police unit. Travis saw Detective Nakai behind the engine block of his vehicle, shotgun aimed toward a dilapidated shed fifty feet beyond a six-sided, hogan-style stucco building.

“I’m not going back to jail,” a voice from the shed called out. “I don’t care if you bring in the National Guard.”

Nakai crept over. “The guy’s name is Delbert Garnenez. I need him alive,” he said as Laura and Travis slipped out of the car.

“What’s the story?” Travis asked, opening the back door for Crusher, who jumped down and sat beside him.

“I believe he’s got information on the man who murdered Coach—Ms. Yazzie.” Nakai spoke the name quietly.

Laura identified herself. “How’s Garnenez connected to the crime?” she asked, her weapon out, barrel pointed up.

“Delbert’s the vic’s old boyfriend. He decided to stalk her after the breakup, so she got a court order requiring him to keep his distance. Wearing an ankle monitor was part of the deal. But he violated the order and went to the last game she coached. That led to his arrest. He was in jail the night she was murdered, so he’s got an alibi, but I wanted to question him about the day of the game. I was trying to find out who Coach had been with that evening, when Garnenez suddenly lost it on me and split.”

“Why’d he take off?” she asked.

“It has something to do with the new guy Coach was dating. Delbert’s terrified the man’s going to come after him,” Nakai said.

“Sometimes a woman’s voice can help calm a man down. How about letting me talk to him?”

“Go for it,” Nakai said.

“Can I call him by name?” she asked.

“Sure. He’s not a Traditionalist,” Nakai answered.

Laura stayed behind the engine block. “Delbert, my name’s Laura. I’m not a cop. I’m a private investigator.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I’m hoping we can help each other out,” she answered.

“You’re in a no-win situation. You know that. Eventually you’ll have to come out. All the police have to do is wait. There’s no hope you can win a gun battle, either. You’ll just end up dead or crippled for life. Make it easy on yourself. Come out and answer a few questions.”

“And once you get the answers, I go to jail. Is that how it works?” the man yelled back. “No way.”

“Hey, Delbert, think about it. If the police had planned an arrest, Detective Nakai would have handcuffed you earlier and taken you to the station.”

Several seconds went by. “If I talk to the cops, I’m as good as dead. Go away,” Delbert said.

“We can’t. We need to know what you know about the man who killed the woman you loved. Don’t you think she’d want you to help us find her killer?”

“Drop it, I’m telling you. If I say anything, he’ll kill me—like he killed her.”

“So you do know something. That’s exactly what makes you a target, Delbert. Think about it. As long as you hold back, he’s got a reason to kill you. He wants your silence. Take some of the pressure off yourself and put it back on him. Tell us what you know. Once the authorities are on this guy’s trail, he’ll have a lot more to worry about than you. Follow?”

“Yeah, but unless the police catch him first, I’m still a dead man. He’ll know I gave him up.”

“If you don’t put down your gun, you’re liable to get shot anyway. Looks to me like you need all the help you can get, and that means siding with us, not protecting a felon. Do the smart thing.”

Silence followed. After a few minutes he called out to her. “Come over and we can talk one-on-one. I don’t trust Nakai or that other cop.”

“Nothing doing,” Nakai said. “Talk to us all or no deal.”

Laura moved closer to the detective. “Let me talk to him face-to-face. I can handle this.”

“No way. If he shoots you, I’ll have a ton of paperwork to fill out,” Nakai said, only half-jokingly.

“You’re not turning yourself into a hostage,” Travis said flatly.

“I won’t get that close. I’m going to stay out in the open where you guys can cover me, and I’m not giving up my weapon. I’m sure I can convince him that we’re the best chance he’s got of staying alive.”

“If he doesn’t shoot you first,” Travis said.

“He won’t. He’s scared, that’s all,” she insisted. “Shooting me would only get him killed and that’s the last thing he wants.”

Detective Nakai nodded. “Good point. Okay, we’ll cover you, but if he even raises that pistol…”

“He won’t,” she answered.

“Take Crusher with you,” Travis said. “If anything’s off the mark he’ll let you know.”

Laura called out to Delbert. “I’m coming out and I’m bringing the dog, but you’ll have to meet me halfway,” she said. “The officers I’m with need to keep an eye on me—and you. It’s part of the deal.”

“No way. What’s going to keep the cops from shooting me the second I step out into the clear, or the dog from tearing me to pieces?”

“You’ve got the information we need. If you’re hurt, you won’t want to talk, and if you’re dead, you won’t be able to,” she said.

“Yeah, okay,” he replied after a moment.

Laura stepped out slowly from behind the car, Crusher beside her. “I’m heading over. Now come out and meet me.”

Delbert waited until she and Crusher got closer, then came out of the shed. “That’s far enough,” he said as she got to within twenty feet of him. “And don’t say a word to the dog.”

Laura sat down on an old stump. Crusher remained standing, alert and sniffing the air as he looked around.

“Thank you for trusting me, Delbert. Now let’s talk,” Laura said in a calm, soft voice. “We know you were stalking Eva Mae Yazzie after she broke up with you—”

“Don’t use the name of the dead,” he interrupted.

“Sorry. Are you a Traditionalist?” she asked, wondering if Nakai had gotten it wrong.

“No, but it’s safer not to tempt some things.”

She understood. She didn’t consider herself superstitious, but given a choice, didn’t walk under a ladder. “Okay, so tell me what I need to know.”

“She and I had a real good thing going. Then out of the blue she tells me she’s met somebody else—an Anglo—and wants to break up. When I asked her about the guy, she wouldn’t tell me a thing. I figured that maybe he was married or she’d hooked up with the school’s principal. You get the idea. So I decided to follow her around, but she spotted me one night and went crazy. Then she filed that stalking charge. I ended up having to wear that ankle thing.”

“What happened after that?”

“I read on the internet that I could shield it with copper wire. So I did that and went to the high-school all-star game she was coaching. I figured that her new guy would be there to watch. And I was right.”

“You saw him?”

“Only from the back. He was in really good shape, big arms and shoulders, with blond hair and a cap. I saw her give him a quick kiss and tried to get closer for a look, but a cop caught me and hauled me away. The stupid ankle bracelet still worked. I made bail the next day, but the night I came home, the guy showed up here. He kicked the back door in and flashed a nickel-plated revolver.”

Her stomach suddenly tightened as she remembered her own encounter with the killer. “What did you do?”

“I grabbed my shotgun and started blasting away. Duh.”

“What happened then?”

Delbert shrugged. “He backed off. Good thing, the shotgun was empty by then. He stayed outside for a minute and yelled that if I spoke to the cops, he’d made me wish I were dead long before he killed me.”

Before she could say anything, Crusher began to growl. As she looked at the dog, she saw his hackles rising. But he wasn’t looking at Delbert. Laura followed his line of sight and spotted the gleam of something on the hillside above them.

Crusher suddenly took off, running straight uphill.

Shots from above rang out in angry succession and Laura dived to the ground.

Chapter Nine

Laura grabbed her pistol and looked over at Delbert. He sagged to his knees. Before he pitched forward to the ground, she saw the bloody hole below his eye and another on his chest. It didn’t take a medical degree to know he was dead.

Laura rose to her knees and saw Travis racing uphill, zigzagging as he ran, trailing Crusher.

Nakai came up behind her, heading for the victim.

There was no more gunfire, so Laura ran uphill, staying to the right, hoping to cover Travis’s flank. Weapon ready, she stayed low and used the few clumps of brush and rocks around for cover. Somewhere ahead she could hear Crusher barking.

Travis had stopped just below the crest of the hill and waved at her. “Hold your position and watch for movement on your flank,” he called.

“I’ll cover you,” she answered. “Keep going, then take cover at the top and protect me while I circle around.”

“No. Work your way back down and keep an eye out for a flank attack. You’re on this guy’s list, too. Don’t give him what he wants,” Travis said.

That stopped her cold. Travis was right. She couldn’t help him now. Her presence would only increase the danger he was already facing.

He continued ahead, disappearing quickly as he advanced over the crest of the hill.

Out of breath, she made her way downhill slowly. Travis was a born warrior and tactician. He didn’t wear his masculinity like a badge—up front and easily seen. He let his actions do the talking for him. She’d never met anyone quite like him and probably never would.

A few minutes later she joined Nakai, who’d seen her approach. She saw him remove one pair of latex gloves, then a second pair.

“Two sets of gloves?” she asked.

He nodded. “It keeps us from coming into contact with anything that touched the dead. It’s common Navajo practice.”

Laura didn’t have to ask about the victim. She already knew what Nakai had found out. No one could have survived those hits. “Did you call it in?” she asked.

He nodded. “We’ll have every available unit here within the hour. The crime-scene team is gearing up, too. They’ll be coming from Shiprock, so it won’t take long.”

Travis walked briskly back five minutes later, Crusher by his side, panting heavily. “The shooter had a motorcycle parked on the other side of the rise. Crusher gave chase but there wasn’t really any chance of catching up. I called it in to tribal dispatch,” he added, looking over at Nakai, who nodded in approval.

“Do you think he left anything behind—shell casings, footprints?” Laura asked.

“Maybe,” Travis said.

“Did either of you get a good look at the sniper?” Nakai asked Laura and Travis.

“What I caught were mostly impressions,” Travis said. “He was husky and had dark hair, brown or black. He was wearing a baseball cap, tan sweatshirt and jeans. The scoped rifle was on a sling, over his shoulder. Once he cleared the top of the hill, he jumped on a black motorcycle and raced away. If I’d had a rifle…”

“How about you?” Nakai turned to Laura.

She shook her head. “I never even saw him. The dog alerted me, then the shooting started.”

“How’d he know what was going down?” Nakai said, his voice thoughtful.

“Maybe he listens to radio calls and heard us,” Travis said.

“That’s not a lot of preparation time,” Nakai answered.

“He might have heard your initial report when you headed out here, Detective Nakai,” Laura said. “Or maybe the victim was being watched, with the sniper waiting for his chance to take a shot. Garnenez said the coach’s new boyfriend was after him.” She related what Delbert had told her about the break-in.

Feeling the wind picking up, Nakai looked up at the sky and saw the storm clouds rolling in. “We should start collecting evidence,” he said. “It looks like we’re in for a downpour.”

“Let me help,” Laura said. “I was with the FBI for a few years so I know the procedure,” she added for Detective Nakai’s benefit.

New Mexico summer rains had a way of washing away everything in their path. Natural arroyos became raging rivers, and any ground with more clay than sand quickly became sticky mud.

Working quickly they managed to find the sniper’s initial position, where he’d laid prone to take the shots, and found one shell casing there. By then, the crime scene team finally rolled up and they turned the work over to them.

Laura rode with Travis as they followed Nakai back to the station.

Forty minutes later, they sat in a conference room sipping coffee Detective Nakai had provided.

“The tech from the Office of the Medical Investigator is arranging for the body to be sent to the OMI facility in Albuquerque. She believes that the round that killed the subject was the one that tore through his face. The sniper was using hunting rounds, too, for maximum expansion. A 30-30 slug was recovered. It had penetrated the back of the skull and fell out when the body was moved.”

“Almost certainly a lever action, likely a Winchester or Marlin,” Travis said.

“I don’t recall many 30-30s with slings either,” Laura said.

“Maybe tracking that accessory can generate a lead, if the sling was purchased recently. From what the vic told me, we also know that the killer prefers carrying a revolver with a nickel or chrome finish for any close-up action. I can verify that, as well. The man I encountered at the scene of the crime in Arizona also used one of those,” she said, explaining.

“We’ll follow all that up, but I’m not expecting miracles,” Nakai said. “For one thing, tracking a 30-30 is going to be nearly impossible. Those rifles, even with scopes, are just too common in these parts, though the sling does narrow things down a bit.”

“What about footprints?” Travis asked.

“Our trackers found a few spots sheltered from the rain. The trail there was faint, the kind that results from covering your shoes with cloth sacks—the technique drug runners and illegals use when crossing the border. It’s effective but also common knowledge these days.”

“But we at least have definite motorcycle tire tracks, right?” Travis asked.

“Yes, and that’s being researched. We also have that one cartridge, but it was clean. We figured he used gloves and scooped up the ones he had time to locate,” Nakai said.

“Getting back to the coach’s murder,” Laura said. “Have you checked possible sources for the ether used to knock out the victim? Is the tribal hospital a possibility?”

“Our hospital doesn’t show any missing supplies. They track things like that on a computer, so there’s not a big chance of error. We also checked with area clinics out on the Rez. All their inventory is accounted for.”

“So what you’re saying is we’ve basically got nothing except for what the vic told us about the coach’s new boyfriend,” Travis said, exasperated.

“Yeah, but don’t start mixing these cases together yet. Keep in mind that we have no proof that the coach’s boyfriend is Garnenez’s killer,” Nakai warned. “And the hair color doesn’t match. According to Laura, today’s victim said the boyfriend had blond hair. You said the shooter had brown or black hair, right?” Nakai added, turning to Travis.

Travis nodded. “It wasn’t blond, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe he wears a wig or dyed his hair. The way I see it, the boyfriend’s still our best suspect, particularly in view of what today’s victim was able to tell me,” Laura said. “Hear me out?”

Nakai nodded and waited.

“The similarities in the three strangulation cases indicate we’re after a serial killer, and that’s a guy we do know something about. Our suspect’s got a strong build and is good with women. The victims all had consensual sex prior to death, but afterward he turns on them, knocks them out and kills them. The question I’ve yet to answer is why does he bother to knock them out first?”

“To make it easier to kill them. If they’re mostly undamaged, he can also arrange the body and stage the scene without getting blood all over himself,” Nakai said.

“That’s a good point,” Laura said, nodding. “These were athletic women who would have fought hard if they hadn’t been out cold at the time of death.”

“We also know he likes tanned, or dark-skinned, young-looking females with dark hair and light brown eyes,” Nakai said, studying the photos from the two regional crime scenes. “Does that description also fit your friend from Flagstaff?” he asked.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a photo of Nancy from her wallet. “She sent me this snapshot a month or so ago. It was taken after a softball game,” she said.

In the photo, a suntanned Nancy was wearing shorts and her team’s shirt. Although it had come via cell phone, Laura had cleaned it up and printed it out so she could put it in her wallet. “My friend loved the outdoors.”

“Maybe we’re dealing with a sports-equipment salesman,” Travis said.

Nakai shook his head. “Not here on the Rez. The high school where Coach taught has a tight budget. For the past few years, the girls’ equipment has come from donations and hand-me-downs from the boys’ teams. They have to have fundraisers just to pay for transportation costs.”

“And you know this without checking?” she asked, giving him a puzzled look.

Nakai smiled. “My wife is the girls’ basketball coach. She’s always complaining because they never have enough money for anything. It’s the same with the other girls’ teams.”

She nodded. “So you have a personal stake in this….”

Nakai leaned back in his chair and gazed at her. “I knew the victim through my wife, but I’m the head of the violent-crimes division. That’s the reason I’m working this case, not because I’m worried about who our killer might target next. Judging from what we know about him, this guy isn’t likely to strike in the same place twice.”

“I had a brush with the suspect at the Flagstaff crime scene and I’ve got a feel for him. Is there any way I can take a look at the crime scene where Coach was murdered?”

Nakai considered it, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s still cordoned off but the lab boys have finished going over everything. Not that anyone would go near there now, mind you.”

“Are people afraid the killer might come back?” Laura asked.

“No, it’s because of the chindi,” he said, picking up his keys. “Come on. I’ll take you over. Just follow me. Coach lived in a rural area about ten miles south of Shiprock.”

Driving his department’s SUV, Nakai led the way west over the river, then south in the direction of Gallup. As the miles stretched out she could tell from Travis’s silence that something was bothering him.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“You held out on Nakai by not letting him know that the suspect has you in his sights.”

“He doesn’t, not really. With that rifle, he hit precisely what he was aiming at. The few rounds that got close were only meant to rattle me.”

“I really wish I knew how he’s finding us. More than once now he’s managed to get the intelligence he needed to pinpoint our location.”

“That’s the reason I can’t spend two nights in a row anywhere,” Laura said. “I have to take all the precautions I can until we find answers.”

“Hole up with my dog somewhere for a few days. I’ll stay on the case,” he said.

“That’s not going to happen.” Another silence followed and she turned to look at Ship Rock, that majestic twin-peaked volcano formation that resembled a long-lost sailing vessel.

“Talk to me,” Laura pressed at last. “What’s really bugging you?”

“What do you intend to do once we catch the suspect? Will you step aside and let me take him into custody?” he said, looking directly at her then back to the road.

Now she knew what was troubling him. Travis was afraid of vigilante justice. She understood his concern. Police officers, and those who worked in the field, weren’t immune to it. A close look at a judicial system that often worried more about the letter of the law than the rights of its victims had made cynics out of many.

“I’m not going to throw my life away to exact revenge on this slimeball,” she said.

“All right,” he said with a nod. “I needed to hear you say it.”

“I also won’t betray your trust in me,” she said.

“I know. Something…binds us.”

“Yes,” she answered, but like him she refused to define it. Silencing the yearnings still inside her, she focused on a question he’d never really answered for her.

“You’ve got a steady job and a nice house. How come you haven’t found yourself a wife? I know you’ve got no shortage of candidates.”

He gave her a grin that could have stopped hearts. “I enjoy my freedom too much to be tied down, I suppose. Eventually I’ll settle down, but until then, I can usually find company when I’m in the mood for companionship.”

“I’ll bet,” she grumbled.

Their eyes met and for a brief second awareness charged the air. She fought the desire to touch him, to see if the magic was real.

With effort, she looked away and feigned great interest in the gray-green mountains to the west. If she got too close to the fire she was bound to get burned.

Chapter Ten

After ten more minutes, they arrived at an old stucco house that stood alone in the middle of a long, gently rolling slope. The victim’s screams, had she somehow managed to call for help, wouldn’t have reached her neighbors, even in the dead of night.

Travis parked beside Nakai’s vehicle. The house, with its pitched roof, was small and plain looking, but the blue paint on the wood trim was fresh.

Nakai led them into the living room, where Travis told Crusher to stay.

As Laura glanced around the interior, she began to get a better idea of who Coach had been. She might have excelled as a teacher and out on the softball field, but she sure wasn’t a nest builder. There was barely enough furniture inside the house to get by.

“How long has she lived here?” Laura asked.

“About three months,” Nakai answered after checking his notes. “It’s a rental.”

“Where was her body found and by whom?” Laura asked.

“She was in the bedroom, laid out like the bodies at the other crime scenes. One of her students found her. The boy lives in one of those homes closer to the highway. She’d hired him to help her fix the fence.”

Laura walked into the bedroom, trying to get a feel for the place. Only a mattress on a wood frame filled the room.

“There’s a small photo or painting missing from above the bed,” Travis said, standing at the bedroom door, taking in the room from there. “You can see the outline if you’re standing at just the right angle.”

She looked at the area but it wasn’t apparent at first glance. As she moved in closer, she finally saw what he meant.

Nakai checked his notes. “We never found it, but it was supposed to be a postcard of Times Square in New York City. She wanted to go there someday.”

“Trophy maybe?” Travis asked, looking at Laura.

“It’s possible,” she said. Then, letting instinct guide her, she moved to the closet and studied the shoes at the bottom. Coach hadn’t been a shoe freak. There were only two pairs, a set of pumps and a pair of Western boots. “She wasn’t big on the girlie shoe thing, but she should have at least had a pair of athletic shoes….”

“Let me check,” Nakai said. After a moment spent going over his notes, he finally answered her. “No athletic shoes of any type were found here at the scene. The victim was barefoot. I should have noticed that discrepancy before. I went through the clothes scattered on the floor and assumed that she’d been going barefoot around the house. My bad.”

Laura turned around slowly, her gaze on the floor. She then got down on her knees and looked beneath the bed, but found nothing there. “A cord was used to strangle the victim?” she asked, standing back up.

“Yes,” Nakai answered.

Travis walked around the house but Laura remained in the bedroom where the crime had gone down. She was missing something important. She could feel it in her gut.

Nakai didn’t interrupt her thoughts; he moved silently out of the room.

Lost in thought, Laura sat on the edge of the mattress and glanced around. The Tribal Police had gone through everything here. She’d find no answers in this room. What she had to do is go where they hadn’t.

“Did you search along the road leading back to the highway, just in case something was discarded by the killer?” she asked, going to the bedroom door.

Nakai checked his notes. “Yes, but only for a hundred yards or so. You think we might find the missing sneakers out there someplace?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but we should give it a try,” she said.

“I don’t see him taking both of them and that postcard.”

Travis released Crusher and let him identify the victim’s scent by showing him one of the available shoes. “He’s a good tracker. If there’s anything out there, he’ll find it.”

Travis allowed Crusher to take the lead as they searched along the left-hand side of the road—the departing driver’s side. Keeping a sharp eye out, they moved parallel to each other, concentrating on the distance they estimated a driver could have hurled a shoe out the car window.

They had walked nearly a half mile when Crusher suddenly raced out ahead of Travis, barking. He stopped beside some brush about fifty feet from the road and sat still, waiting.

“Whatcha got, guy?” Travis asked, hurrying up. He reached into the middle of the brush with a gloved hand, and brought out one high-end athletic shoe.

“It’s missing a shoelace,” Laura noted, coming up. “The suspect probably used it to strangle her and kept it as a trophy.”

Crusher ran a little farther ahead, then sat and barked.

“And there’s the second shoe, lying on its side in the dirt. It’s still laced,” Travis said.

“Getting prints from those shoes will be next to impossible, especially since it’s rained since the murder,” Nakai said as they went to retrieve it.

“Even under optimum conditions, this guy never leaves prints behind. He’s an animal, but a cunning one,” Laura said.

They checked a little farther, wanting to make sure they didn’t miss anything, then crossed the road. Under Travis’s watchful gaze, Crusher worked his way back to the house, but there was nothing new to find.

After signing the evidence packet over to Detective Nakai, Travis loaded Crusher into the backseat and, with Laura next to him, drove back to Three Rivers.

They arrived at the station forty-five minutes later and headed directly to Travis’s desk. They’d both been hoping that the Flagstaff police had finally given them full access to their files, but soon found that their request was still pending.

“More bureaucratic nonsense,” Travis grumbled.

Laura sat next to him, looking at the computer screen before them, her hand on Crusher’s massive head. Something about Mister C. always seemed to calm her. “Anything new in the crime reports?”

“One thing. Detective Koval met the owners of the medical-supply place that carries the ether sold in this area, a Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Rice. Something about the husband and wife struck him as off somehow but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Koval had planned a follow-up visit, but the IRS contacted the department and he was ordered to back off.”

“But we haven’t been warned off. So why don’t you and I pay the Rices a visit? It’s after five. They should be home by now. We can pretend to be looking into a neighborhood burglary and play it off-the-cuff.”

They rode across town into a high-end neighborhood near a private golf course.

“I used to dream of living in a place like this,” she said.

“But not anymore?” he asked, reading what she’d left unsaid.

“My priorities have changed. As you get older you realize that it’s what’s in the home that’s important, not what it looks like.”

As his eyes held hers, longings she didn’t dare acknowledge filled her. Yielding to temptation, she reached for his hand. At that instant Crusher pressed a cold nose to the back of her neck and she jumped.

Travis laughed. “He’s trying to tell you that no home’s complete without a cold nose and wagging tail.”

“Agreed,” she said, petting the dog and chuckling.

The Rices lived in an old Spanish-style mansion with a red tiled roof, high wall and a big motorized iron gate. “Looks like their business is doing great,” Laura said.

“Maybe too well. The IRS is after them, so there’s no telling what kind of scam they’re running.”

Before he could pull into the driveway, a flicker of movement among several cars parked to the side caught Travis’s eye. He pressed hard on the accelerator, speeding up and not making the turn.

“What the heck are you doing?” she asked, uncurling her fingers from the armrest.

“Chief Detective Harry Koval. I caught him signaling me from one of those sedans,” he said, gesturing to his left. As he circled the block, a sedan suddenly appeared behind them, Koval at the wheel.

Travis parked on a side street within view of the Rice home, then went out with Laura to meet Koval. A man wearing a gray suit stood beside the detective. Travis didn’t recognize him.

“What are you doing here, Blacksheep?” Koval demanded.

“My leads brought me here,” Travis said in a cool, almost detached tone. “I need to take a look at Rice—the husband—before we can rule him out as the serial killer. What’s going on?”

“I’m Agent Martin Kincaid—FBI,” the man wearing the suit said. “We’ve combined forces with the IRS and have scheduled a simultaneous raid on the Rice home and their place of business. They’ve got sensitive financial records our agencies need to access and we don’t want to give them time to destroy any documents. The Bureau has reason to believe they’re scamming Medicare with phony claims and then using the money for drug trafficking. Since the IRS has evidence of unreported income, we’re using their clout to look at their books.”

“So why haven’t you moved in? What’s the holdup?” Laura asked.

“The federal judge who was supposed to sign the warrant just had a heart attack. Our people are meeting with another judge right now.”

Laura nodded, understanding. “You’re afraid the Rices might get tipped off and bolt. That’s why you’re watching the residence.”

“We have reason to believe that the incriminating invoices are kept in a safe inside their home office. Unfortunately, we can’t stop them if they decide to shove everything in a suitcase and take off before the warrant arrives. What we can do is stay on their tail until we can move in. Our informant, their housekeeper, has told us that they’re busy packing as we speak,” Kincaid said.

“Why don’t you let Detective Blacksheep and me go in and talk to them about their sales of ether? That links to a different crime. If they think the department’s interested in them for another reason altogether, it might get them to lower their guard and buy you more time.”

Kincaid considered it, looked over at Koval and nodded to Travis. “Go for it,” Kincaid said.

Laura and Travis parked across the street, then, leaving Crusher by the SUV, crossed to the massive wooden double door.

Laura could feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. The thrill of the chase… This was one reason she’d chosen to work criminal investigations as often as possible. She needed something to keep her blood pumping. She glanced at Travis. Of course, after hours, there were other ways…

“I’m taking the lead. Remember you’re not wearing a badge,” Travis said.

“No problem.”

“Stay calm and don’t go off half-cocked if Rice happens to fit the suspect profile.”

Moments later they were ushered inside by a wary housekeeper. As they walked down a long hallway, they saw four large, leather suitcases sitting by a closed door.

“Your business?” the housekeeper asked, her eyes narrowed as they entered what looked like the den. It was obvious Kincaid hadn’t had a chance to let her know what was going on.

“We’re trying to track the theft of a container of ether,” Travis said.

A minute later, a tall man with silver hair walked into the room. His polo shirt accentuated a belly large enough to nearly conceal his silver belt buckle and snakeskin belt. One look assured Laura that he wasn’t their man—even if he had a boatload of charm. A quick glance at Travis let her know that he’d arrived at the same conclusion.

“I’m Daniel Rice. My housekeeper said something about a theft of ether? I spoke to another detective about that just yesterday,” he said, inviting them to sit down with a wave of his hand. “Don’t you officers share your information?”

Travis nodded. “We just needed to follow up on a few more details. You’re the main supplier in this area. Have you sold small amounts of ether to any new customers, say in the past six months?”

“The other detective wasn’t so specific. He only asked if we’d had any thefts at our warehouse,” he said. “To answer your question, I’m going to have to check my records. Does this have something to do with that recent murder over by Shiprock? I read about that in the Totah Times.”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Travis answered.

Rice nodded, then walked to a big rolltop desk. “It’ll take me a minute or two,” he said as he accessed a large-screen laptop computer.

“I’d like a list of your customers, too,” Travis said, “those who’ve purchased ether within the past year.”

“I won’t do that, but you’re welcome to take a look at my inventory sheet. As far as I know, we haven’t had any ether disappear from our facility.” Rice called up a file, then stood and waved for Travis to take a look. “That’s everything. We don’t stock that much nowadays, but as you can see, our sales patterns have held steady and we’ve had no thefts. There’s nothing unusual there.”

Travis took a look. “Thanks for your time.”

Laura and Travis left the house and joined Crusher at the SUV. As Travis placed the key in the ignition, two police cruisers, as well as Koval’s unmarked car, came up the street from both directions.

“I guess they got their warrant,” Travis said.

Almost simultaneously, one of the doors to the Rices’s four-car garage opened. An expensive black sedan raced out, heading for the street.

“Hang on.” Travis reacted instantly, cutting hard to the left and burning rubber as he whipped the SUV around. Swerving to the right, he blocked the gate with the front end of his unit.

The black car screeched to a stop, Marilyn Rice at the wheel. Daniel Rice leaned out the passenger-side window, handgun pointed at them. “Get out of the way!” he yelled.

“Down!” Travis shouted. Crusher obeyed, bending low in the backseat.

Laura ducked and yanked out her weapon as Koval and a dozen other officers ran up and moved into flanking positions, their weapons all aimed at the sedan.

Travis jumped out. Using his door for cover, he added his firepower to the roadblock.

“Place your weapons down on the seat and come out slowly with your hands in the air,” Kincaid ordered Rice and his wife. “You’re surrounded.”

Daniel Rice came out first, followed by Marilyn. As a plainclothes officer handcuffed the pair, Koval joined Travis and Laura.

“I don’t know how much access our department will have to the suspects, but feel free to ask Kincaid to get you whatever information you need. The fact that this went down on our turf should cut us some slack.”

“We need to know if the numbers on their stock of ether seemed doctored in any way,” Travis said. “If we can find the source of the killer’s supply, it could break this case wide-open.”

Koval walked away. Laura waited until he was completely out of earshot, then reached for her phone. Before flipping it open, she looked directly at Travis. “We both know that the feds don’t do anything fast, and going through channels could take forever. This is your turf, but if you let me, I can speed things up. My boss, Charles Westin, has a lot of clout, and his support can cut through a lot of red tape. I could give him a call. With his help, we could have top-notch forensics computer analysts look at those files and get us the information we need quickly.”

As Travis looked into her eyes, he saw respect for the badge he wore as well as for him as a man. That knowledge touched him deeply. Needing no consent from either of them, their bond had deepened and there was no turning back the clock.

Seeing that she was waiting for his answer, he nodded. “Go ahead. Make the call.”

Chapter Eleven

A half hour later they were sitting by Travis’s desk in the bullpen, waiting.

“We’ll have our shot at the suspects,” she said, mostly to reassure herself.

Before he could answer, Koval joined them. “Mr. and Mrs. Rice are one heckuva pair. Just as the feds suspected, they’ve been generating phony invoices using patient names selected from the phone book. It looks like they’ve defrauded Medicare and Medicaid of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Their tax returns are a joke, too, and that’s how they got caught. Apparently some of their deductions sent up flags over at the IRS.” He paused then added, “You can do a lot of things in this country, but if you take on the IRS, you’ll lose.”

“The IRS got Capone when no one else could,” she said, nodding. “But I doubt the Rices are involved in the murders. They aren’t the kind of crimes carried out by a couple, and Mr. Rice certainly doesn’t fit the physical description of our suspect. I just wish we could get a list of the people they’ve supplied with ether.”

Koval handed Laura a manila envelope. “Here’s a printout of those sales. The bureau was asked to give our department a hard copy. It covers everything from dentists to small clinics in our area. There’s been no theft of ether reported by anyone on that list. But an hour ago we got a call from the free clinic. One of the nurses claims that someone’s been stealing painkillers and who knows what else. The contact’s name is Janet Carpenter. Why don’t you handle the call?”

As Koval walked away, Laura studied the list. “The free clinic buys ether, too. Let’s go.”

The drive was short, just a few blocks over. Keeping Crusher by his left side at heel, Travis led the way inside the facility, located in what had once been an elementary school. Ignoring the curious stares of waiting patients, he walked up to the receptionist and flashed his badge. “We need to talk to Janet Carpenter.”

“Can I ask what this is in reference to?” the receptionist asked.

“Missing medical supplies,” Travis answered.

Laura caught a flicker of movement to her right. A woman in health-worker scrubs seated at a computer farther down the counter stood, then approached a man at another terminal. A second later, looking furtively behind them, they stepped out from behind the counter and hurried down the hall toward the rear entrance.

“Stop right where you are,” Laura said crisply, walking quickly after the duo.

The woman grabbed a wheeled cart, shoved it at Laura, then she and her companion made a break for the door.

Laura hugged the wall and the cart shot past her.

The man, who’d reached the door first, pushed frantically but it didn’t open. “It’s locked!”

Though Travis was running toward them, Laura caught up to the woman first. Twisting her arm behind her back, she pushed her against the wall and held her there. Then a flash of movement to her side caught her attention. Seeing the man reach into his pocket and whirl toward Travis, Laura reacted instinctively. She released her hold on the woman and hurled herself at the man, tackling him to the floor.

Crusher, barking furiously, shot down the hall along with Travis.

“Guard,” Travis yelled, releasing him in front of the woman.

Laura pinned the man to the floor. To her surprise, he quickly lost his strength, gasping for breath. She pulled him up roughly as Travis handcuffed the woman.

“I need my inhaler,” the man said, wheezing. “In my pocket.”

“Move slowly,” Laura said.

A moment later he extracted what appeared to be an asthma inhaler and used it.

“Why did you run?” Travis demanded.

“That crazy woman came after us!” he said.

“Nice try, Artie.” A young nurse came out of an examination room. “I see you’ve met Artie Hugo and Marta Lowell, detectives. They’re the people who’ve been ripping off our meds and supplies.”

“You knew?” Artie said.

“Shut up!” Marta bellowed, then cringed as Crusher inched closer to her, growling.

“I’m Janet Carpenter. I was the one who reported the thefts,” she said. “I’ve been keeping my own log of supplies and they didn’t match Marta’s running inventory. She’s been having Artie tweak the computer records to cover whatever she was stealing.”

Travis called for a squad car. As they waited in an empty office, he challenged Artie with a stony glare. “What did you do with the ether?”

“The whaaa?”

“The ether. Who did you sell it to?” Travis pressed.

“I don’t know nuthin’ about that. Ether’s dangerous stuff, and Marta smokes. One open bottle and kaboom!”

“A little cooperation now could go a long way for you in court,” Travis said, turning to Marta.

“I wanna lawyer,” the woman grumbled.

As two patrolmen came in, Travis gave them an almost imperceptible signal and they took the woman into custody first.

As they led Marta outside, Travis focused on Artie. “They’ll be taking you out next, Artie. It’s your call, easy or hard. What’ll it be?”

“Look, dude, I admit it. I deal painkillers on the street because I can’t make the rent with this crummy job,” Artie said. “But ether? Where’s the market for that? Not too many people out there are doing freelance surgery, you know? There’s a lot easier ways to set a fire, too.”

Laura stood next to Travis as the suspect was taken away. “I hate to say this, but I don’t think he was lying.”

Nurse Carpenter joined them. “I’ll check the rest of our inventory against the supplies on hand and let you know if anything else is missing.”

“Pay particular attention to your supply of ether,” Laura said.

“Okay, but I should tell you that we don’t use it much here.”

Travis thanked her, then walked back outside, Laura on his right and Crusher at heel on his left. “Although it didn’t turn out to be a gun, you really had my back in there,” he said.

“You’d have done the same for me,” she said softly.

“Yes, I would have.” He said nothing else until they were inside the SUV. “As far back as high school, we’ve always been there for each other. Looks like nothing’s changed—well, almost.”

She smiled at him. The deep timbre of his voice and the word almost sparked her senses.

“Your friendship saw me through some really tough times,” she said. “No matter how crazy my life got, I could always count on you. You even stuck by me after that story got out that my mom had taken money from the cafeteria’s cash box. Our school ran on a real tight budget and everyone was furious with her—and me, by association.”

“At least they didn’t file charges and gave her the chance to pay the money back.”

“We were lucky,” she said. “The school was trying to get some state grant money at the time and they didn’t want the story to make the papers. That’s why they let her keep her job until the end of the year,” she said in a barely audible voice. “But everyone avoided me after that. My best friend was supportive, but by then, her schedule was so filled with sports we barely saw each other. You were about the only friend I could talk to after that mess.”

He covered her hand and squeezed it gently. “There’s one thing you never told me. Why did your mother steal the money?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “She didn’t—I did. And I paid it back. She took the blame to protect me.”

He stared at her in surprise. “You never said a word.”

“Would it have mattered?”

“No. I would have known that you must have had a darned good reason for doing something like that,” Travis answered.

She nodded slowly. “I did.” She took a deep breath. “Remember the big sack of groceries that turned up at your door one morning? I’d overheard you talking to your brother and found out you guys hadn’t eaten anything except oatmeal for three days, and that was running out. You wanted to try and go fishing, but it was spring, the river was too high and you couldn’t catch a ride to the lake at Big Gap.”

“I should have known you’d had a hand in that. I was almost sure you’d overheard my brother and me talking but you never mentioned it. Then the groceries showed up. The timing was too perfect. I’d planned to talk to you the next day, but that was when the cash-box money was discovered missing and your mom was blamed for it. After that, I figured that it couldn’t have been you since you and your mom had needed cash, too,” Travis said. “But why didn’t you ever say anything to me? We could have paid you back later on.”

“You needed every dime you could make and I knew I’d be able to put the cash back at the end of the week when I got paid. I’d always intended on replacing what I’d taken and leaving something extra to boot.”

“My brother and I ate well for almost a month. By then, my uncle had sold some of his sheep and was in a position to help us again. Things worked out.”

“For me, too. For a little while, my mom and I became closer. I was able to see just how much courage she really had, and I grew to understand her more. I’d always thought that her search for a husband who could provide for us came from cowardice. But I was wrong. It came from a sense of helplessness. She didn’t know any other way to turn her life around. Seeing each other clearly for the first time helped us get along better than we ever had before.”

He said nothing for several moments. “No regrets?” he asked her at last.

“None.”

He smiled and, placing the key in the ignition, got under way. Once they were back on the road, Laura stretched in her seat. “Instead of going back to the station, can we call it quits for today? I’m beat. So much so, in fact, that I’m not sure I have the energy to switch locations tonight. How about if I spend one more night at the same motel, then switch again tomorrow?”

“Sounds okay,” he said. “But Crusher’ll have to stay with you.”

“No problem. I’ll even buy him dinner,” she said, glancing back at the dog, who gave her a tail wag and panting grin. “In fact, why don’t you let me order room service and we’ll all eat before you head back to the station? Paperwork is a lot easier on a full stomach.”

“You’re on,” he said.

They rode in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The scent she wore was distinctive and elusive—the very qualities he would have used to describe her. Although he’d gone through most of his adult life exercising caution and control, something about Laura continually tempted him. Life had thrown a lot at her, but she’d turned out to be an amazing woman.

He forced himself to focus on the case. “How far are you prepared to go to find this killer?”

“As far as necessary. I’m willing to put my own life on the line to draw him out if that’s what it takes.”

“Which is why you dyed your hair to match the victims? It used to be brown, not black.”

“You remember, do you?” she noted with a tiny smile. “I know that this creep prefers dark hair and I was hoping to goad him into coming after me,” she said. “But I never expected that bomb. That wasn’t part of his M.O.”

“He’s had time to figure out who you are and may realize you’re more of a threat than he’d originally thought,” Travis said. “You’re trained law enforcement.”

“Had I known I’d be turning you into a target, I wouldn’t have come here.”

“Hey, this is the kind of case I signed on for. It all comes under the job description—to protect and serve.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s what we do best—put bad guys behind bars.”

The determination he saw in her eyes told him that she shared his love for the work. “We’re two of a kind,” he said quietly. “Even way back when we never shied away from a challenge. Remember when we floated down the river in that silly boat we made in old man Begay’s workshop?”

She laughed. “Floated? More like floundered. It went down like the Titanic the moment we hit that sandbar. I had to pull you out before you drowned. I didn’t realize you couldn’t swim.”

“You were a better swimmer, but we would have frozen to death if we’d depended on you to build a fire to dry us off,” he answered, chuckling.

“I gathered all the twigs and driftwood, but those sparks from the flint and your steel belt buckle just refused to catch. So much for science class.”

“We had different strengths—then and now. Our greatest asset as partners is that we balance each other out.”

“And balance is part of the hózhó.”

He smiled. “There you go.”

Travis pulled up to the motel a short time later. As they entered the main lobby, Crusher at heel, they both heard Laura’s name mentioned on the TV in the restaurant bar just to their left.

They stopped to listen and saw Barbara Malloy, the local station’s crime reporter, on screen. Malloy was announcing that the mayor had given Laura, an NSI employee, permission to ride with Travis Blacksheep, one of the city’s lead detectives. Barbara showed their photos, then went on to reveal what she’d learned about their investigation and the similarities between the murders committed in the Four Corners area. The bombshell came last. Malloy concluded her report dramatically by raising the possibility that there was a serial killer active in their area.

“We’ve got a problem,” Laura muttered as the bar patrons turned to look at them instead of focusing on the rest of the broadcast. “With my face all over the news, I’m going to flag all but the blind,” she said as she strode down the hall. “I need to change my appearance. The fastest way to do that is to dye my hair and cut it short.”

“Go back to your natural color,” Travis said. “It fits you better anyway.”

“What do you say we skip a sit-down dinner?” she said. “I want to pick up a few things at the drugstore down the street and change my looks as soon as possible.”

“Go ahead. Crusher and I will pick up something to eat and meet you back here.”

“Deal,” she said.

They headed back out to the parking lot. As Travis went directly to his SUV with Crusher, she walked toward her sedan, parked away from the street.

Laura stopped by the driver’s side door and was fumbling for the key when a masked figure suddenly rose up from behind the front end of the car.

The man came at her instantly. Launching his entire body forward, he threw a punch aimed at her face, his own chin tucked down to protect him from a counterstrike.

Instinctively she copied his move, but bent her knees and took a step out, crouching and aiming for his midsection with her left fist.

His punch brushed her left ear, but she made full contact, his own forward motion contributing to the force of her strike. Groaning, he collected himself and launched a roundhouse, his right hand protecting his face as his left arm swung around.

Laura had brought her right arm up to protect her face and it took the blow from the punch. Though partially deflected, its force still rocked her.

She bent back and blocked a follow-up punch with both her wrists and forearms. The impact knocked her back another step. When he came at her again, she kicked up with her left foot. She caught him on his left thigh, just west of his groin, her intended target.

There was no doubt in Laura’s mind that the man wearing the nylon-stocking mask was an experienced fighter. She had better visibility than her opponent but he was stronger and had a longer reach, and he was using both to wear her down.

One thing was in her favor. Although she was trapped between two parked cars with no room to maneuver, that also meant he had to come straight at her.

His quick left jab was predictable. She counterpunched with her right, deflecting the blow. He’d kept his head low, buried into his shoulder, but she still made solid contact with his forehead. She felt the impact all the way to her elbow and knew she’d rocked him hard. Yet her opponent still managed to recover quickly.

Stepping back, he yanked something from his jacket pocket.

At that instant a massive furry object flew past her. Crusher caught the man’s right sleeve, spinning him around. A canister of Mace flew out of his hand and bounced off the side of the adjacent car.

Before Crusher could make another attempt to grab his arm, the man dived across the hood of her car to the other side. Travis raced up, but there was a vehicle between them and their assailant.

Laura suddenly saw the man raise a nickel-plated revolver and point it directly at them. “Gun!” she yelled and dived to the pavement just as he snapped off a shot that whistled high.

Crusher, snarling, tried to get at the shooter by squeezing through the gap between the bumper and thick hedge at the front of the car, but he couldn’t make any headway.

Crouching, Travis and Laura grabbed their pistols and exchanged glances.

“Now!” Travis said. They rose up together, weapons aimed.

Nobody was there.

“He’s running!” Travis said, heading out into the parking lot, Laura and Crusher at his heels. “Where’d he go?” he yelled, coming to a stop.

Pistols up, Travis and Laura circled back-to-back as they surveyed the area, trying to locate their assailant.

Crusher sniffed the ground, searching for the suspect’s scent, then ran to the six-foot wall at the far end of the lot. He jumped, trying to reach the top of the wall, and barked in frustration when he failed.

Travis raced over and scrambled onto the wall for a look. About fifty feet away, Laura’s assailant was climbing into a van. The vehicle started up, then disappeared down the alley.

Laura arrived a few seconds later. “Did you see him?”

Travis jumped down off the wall and holstered his pistol. Several people were standing at the entrance of the hotel watching them.

“White van, no license plate,” Travis clipped. “Maybe a Chevy. He’s escaped—for now.”

Chapter Twelve

An ATL—attempt to locate—was broadcast countywide, and officers quickly responded. Area streets were searched, but the man in the white van who’d appeared out of nowhere had disappeared into the same.

Fortunately, the only damage caused by the attacker’s gunshot was a ricochet off the windshield of the sedan parked next to Laura’s loaner. The round had ended up flattened against a utility pole. A Three Rivers officer was discussing the situation with the owner, a salesman from out of state.

After speaking to the other officers on the scene, Travis came back to where Laura was waiting with Crusher. He noticed her rubbing her cheek then flexing her fingers. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but he’s definitely not your regular back-alley brawler. If he hadn’t been a little out of practice he might have really clocked me,” she said.

“To me it looked like krav maga, the Israeli military system of hand-to-hand. I’ve seen it taught in a few stateside martial-arts schools. The navy SEALs include it in their training because it’s swift and effective.”

“What gets me is that I really think he was just having fun, not trying to inflict any real damage,” she said quietly. “The thought of roughing me up probably gave him a rush. Control freaks feed on things like that.”

“He must have been disappointed when you countered most of his moves,” he answered.

“We really have to figure out how he keeps finding us,” she said. “Did any part of that news report mention where I was staying?”

“I’m going to find out,” he said. “Go get your things. I’ll wait here and meet the officers responding to the call.”

Her travel often required frequent changes of plan, so she usually unpacked only what was needed for the moment. It took her just a few minutes to put the essentials back into her bag and only a few more to meet Travis, who’d remained by his SUV.

“A cruiser is patrolling the area and the officers here will continue to process the scene,” he said as he loaded her travel bag into the back of his unit. Crusher was already inside, lying down on the seat. “I doubt the guy who jumped you left anything behind, but we may get lucky. Unfortunately, there’s no camera coverage of that area of the lot.”

“Did you get anything on that TV reporter and her story?” she asked, standing beside him as he closed the door.

“She made no mention of where you were staying,” he said.

Laura looked at the yellow crime-scene tape that surrounded her loaner and the car next to it. “So where does that leave us? Do you think he followed us here from the clinic?”

“That’s one explanation. But I was keeping watch, and I’m very good at spotting a tail.”

“I was watching our back, too,” she admitted. “There was a lot of traffic but I never saw any one particular van consistently behind us. Of course there are lots of white vans on the road. They don’t exactly stick out.”

“We must have missed him. That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Travis said through clenched teeth. “He couldn’t have found you otherwise.”

“There’s got to be another explanation. We’re both good at what we do. Maybe there’s a bug in your SUV.”

“No way. I’ve got a monitor that’ll spot things like that. If there’s anything sending out a signal, I’d know.”

“Then it’ll have to remain an open question for now. But here’s something you can answer. You and Crusher were at the other end of the lot and I was too busy to yell for help. How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I didn’t. I’d opened the back door to let Crusher inside when he tensed. I released him and he ran toward your car. He must have heard you fighting.”

She bent down and petted the dog. “Thanks, Mister C. I owe you a steak dinner.”

The dog licked her face.

She laughed and stood up. “All things considered, I really think I should go back to my room and change my appearance before we leave. After that, we can find another motel. I can cancel my room here over the phone.”

“Motels may not be your best solution at this point,” he said.

“Your place then?” she asked, then after a second shook her head. “That really doesn’t seem like a good solution either.”

“I agree. I’m going to pick up some of my camping gear—a tent, sleeping bag, the works. Then we can choose our locations and remain mobile. It’s the camping season, so all we have to worry about is a brief thunderstorm.”

She considered it. “He won’t be expecting us to do that. But your plan has got pluses and minuses.”

“Like everything else in life,” he answered.

“All right,” she said with a nod. “While you finish up with the officers here, I’ll go across the street and buy what I need for a complete makeover. Meet me back in my room when you’re done.”

A full forty-five minutes passed before Travis knocked on her door. He stood back so Laura could see who it was in the door viewer.

“I’m almost done,” she said, letting him in. She was wearing a floor-length robe and her hair was still wrapped in a towel. “I need to get dressed and dry my hair, so why don’t you stand close to the bathroom door so we can talk?”

She went in and shut the door almost completely, then called out, “What’s the word on that TV reporter?”

“The increased police presence outside got the media’s attention. They have people listening in on emergency calls. So Barbara Malloy knows you’re staying here now. She and her team are outside. When we leave, we’re going to have to find a way to slip past her.”

Laura blow-dried her hair quickly, then came out of the bathroom. Her hair was now an auburn shade that was closer to her own and she’d cut it so it framed her face. Wearing an oversize football jersey and jeans, her makeup light, she looked like the girl next door—the very beautiful girl next door. “You look…amazing,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Maybe the suspect will lose interest in you now since you no longer fit the look he prefers,” he said.

Laura shook her head. “I don’t think it’ll matter to him at this point. He wants me because of who I am and the threat I represent, not because of the way I look. I’m unfinished business,” she said. “But my new look should help us get past a camera crew. Malloy knows you, so if we go out separately, we may be able to throw her off long enough for me to get to my vehicle.”

“Your loaner car is available now that the crime-scene tape is down, but you’ll need backup the minute you leave this motel. You’ve got more to worry about than a pain-in-the-butt reporter.”

“As I walk to the parking lot I’ll have my hand inside my purse and my fingers curled around my handgun,” she said. “When I drive off, the pistol will be on my lap and it’ll stay there till we make contact again.”

“Okay, just get into the car ASAP. I’ll leave as soon as possible, making sure I’m not tailed, and head straight to the turnoff leading to the river walk. Crusher and I will meet you there.”

“Any idea where I could camp out tonight?” she asked, heading to the door.

“Yeah. There’s an area on my property that’s perfect. We can spend the night there. It’s hard to find and I’ll be able to let Crusher wander at will.”

“Why don’t you stay in the house while Crusher and I go camping?” she said. “You’re bound to be more comfortable in your own bed.”

Travis shook his head. “You need two partners—one with sharp teeth and one who’s armed and used to sleeping light.”

“You don’t have to rough it just because of me. I can shoot and Crusher has the biting part covered.”

“Crusher and I will both stay with you,” he said firmly. “This isn’t about fighting fair. It’s about winning. We stack the deck. Together we stand a better chance of success.”

“We don’t have to be attached at the hip to do that,” she argued.

He met her gaze and held it. As their wills collided, he felt it—that raw undertone that reminded him that he was a man and she was a very desirable woman.

“All right,” she said, giving in at last.

“He won’t take us unaware again,” he said. “Next time we meet him it’ll be on our terms.”

THE TV CREW WAS PARKED by the front of the motel. Laura, sporting her new look, went out the side door and made it to her car unnoticed.

Moments later, she pulled out of the parking lot. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed down to the road, pistol on her lap. Long before she’d reached the rendezvous point, she saw Travis’s SUV coming up from behind her. He went around her, communicating with a thumbs-up, and took the lead.

They drove west out of Three Rivers, then north toward his home. Cautious for any sign of a tail, they took several false turns down dirt side roads. Finally they arrived at the base of a cliff a short distance southeast of the house.

The bluffs bordered his property on the north and east, so the only approach was up the crude trail they’d followed. It would be impossible for anyone to surprise them from behind, even if they could somehow manage to elude the dog. The cliff would also amplify the noise of any approaching vehicles.

“I almost got lost,” she said as they climbed out of their vehicles. “Your home’s down there somewhere, right?” she said, pointing.

“Yeah, it’s not far.”

“You said something about camping equipment?” she asked.

“I’ve got some sleeping bags and a two-man tent at the house. Why don’t you clear a level spot about ten-by-twelve for the ground cloth while I get the gear? I’ll leave Crusher with you.”

“Sounds good,” she answered. “While you’re there, pick up a special treat for him, will you? I promised him dinner but didn’t deliver.”

“I’ll bring something for us, too,” he said with a nod.

She shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. I’m too tired to eat. All I want is some sleep.”

After Travis left, Crusher watched her while she cleared a spot where they could place the tent. Finished, she went to where the dog was sitting, sniffing the air.

“We may be in for a storm, Mister C. I know you’re afraid of thunder and I’m not a big fan of it either, so you can share my sleeping bag,” she said, sitting beside the dog and placing her arm around him.

The dog nuzzled her and licked her face.

“Yeah, guy. Here we are, two toughies, but it’s the little stuff we sweat the most,” she said, chuckling, and hugged him.

There was something infinitely comforting about the mass of warmth and fur. She’d never owned a dog but maybe it was time to rethink a few things.

By the time Travis returned a half hour later, the wind had picked up and she was eager to help him pitch the tent.

“We’d better hurry,” he said. “It looks like the storm’s getting close.”

“I cleared that place over there for the tent,” she said, pointing to a spot between two trees.

“It’s not very level,” he said, looking it over with a practiced eye. “But we’ll get good drainage if we need it.” He looked up at the moon, now disappearing behind a growing storm cloud.

“It was the best spot I could find. If I’m going to have to sleep outside, I’d rather take the softer ground—that is, unless your gear includes an air mattress,” she said, looking at the SUV hopefully.

“Stuff like that’s for wimps,” he said with a grin. “If you insist having something more accommodating to rest against, I’ve got a much better suggestion….”

“Keep dreaming.”

After inserting the poles into position, they were ready to raise the tent.

“Crawl in and hold up the center while I tighten the lines outside,” he said.

As she went in, the first thing that struck her was the smell. The tent had a musty, sweaty scent that made her curl up her nose. Laura reached the far end, stood up and held the ridge and end poles in position.

“What kind of tent is this?” she asked.

“A wall tent, like those shepherd tents from the old West,” he said.

“I got news—I think the shepherd died in here,” she muttered, trying to breathe through her mouth.

Travis followed her in, then raised the tent at his end. The center was tall enough for him to almost stand straight. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but this tent’s heavier than I thought. Work fast.”

The tent suddenly drooped at her end and the ridge pole whacked her on the forehead, knocking her to her knees and covering her in fabric.

Travis crawled over and lifted the tent off her. “Lie down and let me check your head.”

She lay back and he moved over her, the tent resting on his back. “No blood,” he said, using the glow of the flashlight to see her up close. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was before,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Maybe this is a cosmic lesson—what’s going to happen to us unless we both start looking out for the unexpected.”

“The unexpected is sometimes the sweetest part of life,” he murmured. The light was strong enough for him to see her lips part slightly.

Instinctively, he lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t fight. Instead, she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her.

Her willingness added fuel to the fires raging inside him.

Needs as old as time melded with the magic of the desert night. She moaned as he deepened the kiss, and that soft sound of surrender surged through him. He needed…he wanted her. Fire centered in the pit of his belly and lower.

As she strained hungrily into his kiss, he told himself that he could draw back anytime, maybe in another moment…or two.

He suddenly felt a blast of cold air, followed by an incessant tug on his pant leg and a soft growl.

“Crusher, beat it,” Travis muttered, distracted.

The heavy thumping on the tent roof penetrated the fog that encircled his brain and he forced himself to focus.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Laura said, sitting up.

“It’s pouring outside. If we don’t fix this tent before the water comes in we’re going to get soaked.”

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who started getting…friendly.”

“I only came over to make sure you were okay,” he protested.

“Puh-leese.”

Crusher barked, then crawled into the tent to avoid the sudden deluge.

“Yeah, boy, I get you.” Laura made room next to her for the dog, then glanced back at Travis. “If we don’t move fast we may have to paddle our way out of here.”

Chapter Thirteen

By the time they got the tent secure, the intense but brief squall had passed, leaving swirls of a cool, light fog and a full moon overhead. All throughout the night they took turns standing guard. Crusher, who worked better with Travis, remained with his owner during their sleep/rest cycles.

Laura was curled up inside the lumpy sleeping bag when she heard Travis’s soft, almost magical chant as he greeted the dawn. His voice, with its rich cadence, stirred her awake, making her want to meet the new day and find beauty in the desert morning.

Laura stepped out of the tent and followed the sound. In those first soft rays of daylight, she saw Travis standing shirtless at the top of a rise, finishing his morning prayer. He looked magnificent. His copper chest glowed in the sun, his warrior’s body a canvas of hard, toned muscle, his spirit as wild as the desert that surrounded them.

She remained still, entranced by the beauty before her. As he raised his arms toward the sun, the light played upon the hawk fetish he wore on a leather cord around his neck.

Finishing the ritual, he turned to greet her and picked up his shirt from the rock he’d draped it across. “It’s still a bit damp. Let’s go to the house so I can get some dry clothes.”

As they walked back, she fell into step beside him. “Tell me about that hawk fetish,” she said.

“Hawk flies close to the sun and is a symbol of courage. It speaks of the ability to see the whole picture while paying attention to details.”

“It’s a good match for you,” she said.

“The fetish shares its qualities with the one who takes care of it,” he answered.

They stopped a moment and looked across the valley. “When my brother and I chose this parcel of land, what we liked most about it was that there was always game around. We haven’t had to hunt or fish to survive in years, but some memories die hard. This place would have seemed like heaven to us back then.”

“Those were hard times,” she said in a whisper-soft voice. “My mother and I never went hungry, but making the rent was something else. That’s why we moved so much. She’d spend most of the money she made buying stuff from catalogs. Back then, I used to think it was to impress Marty but I was wrong. After she passed away, I saw the little notes she’d made for herself beside photos of the stuff she was planning to buy. One said, ‘necklace like the First Lady’s.’ It was then that I realized that she was giving herself those things, mostly knockoffs, as a way of staying in touch with a dream.”

After breaking camp and placing everything back in Travis’s SUV, she looked around one last time. “When we camp out again tonight, we’ll have to find a new spot.”

“Agreed, but for now let’s just go back to the house,” he said.

“Do you think that’s a safe option?” she asked, glancing down at Crusher, who seemed perfectly relaxed. “The killer knows where you live.”

“I took a look around before dawn prayers. The rain last night would have made it hard, if not impossible, for someone to hide their trail. I didn’t see anything except animal tracks.”

“Good.”

They entered his house about ten minutes later. Crusher shot into the kitchen and Travis laughed. “He’s hungry, too. All he’s had is water and dog biscuits for the past twelve hours.”

Travis led the way into the kitchen and opened three cans of dog food. He then took a plastic bag from the refrigerator and added bits of chicken to the top. “Here you go, partner,” he told Crusher. “You deserve extra.”

“I know the chef,” Laura quipped. “Does that get me something special, too?”

He turned and gave her a slow, devastatingly masculine grin.

She swallowed hard. Shirtless, he was a temptation, but the impact of that incredibly steamy smile left her yearning for things she had no business wanting.

With effort, she forced herself to look away. “I’m thinking of those to-die-for cinnamon rolls of yours.”

“I knew it. All you want me for is my buns.”

She burst out laughing. As the tension between them dissipated somewhat, she went to the coffeepot. “Where do you keep the coffee?”

He pointed toward a canister on the counter. “If you handle that, I’ll take care of the rest.”

After she got the coffee brewing, she watched him work in the kitchen. He was quick and efficient, with no wasted motion, even at the stove. “I’ve really turned your life upside down by bringing this case to your doorstep, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but it came at a good time. I was starting to get restless. You know how it is after you finish a big case that’s been keeping you busy day and night. Once it’s over, you’ve still got all that adrenaline in your system. I hate the waiting—the downtime—until the next challenge comes along,” he admitted. “It makes me wonder how people who work at jobs that are the same, day in and day out, stay sane.”

“Yeah, I agree with you there,” she said. “You feel more alive when all your survival skills are in hyperdrive.”

That wasn’t the only thing she was keeping in hyperdrive. As he looked at Laura he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Maybe she thought that the sweatshirt hid that but it didn’t, not completely anyway. Then again, maybe he was just too aware of her.

Ten minutes later, he brought thick breakfast burritos to the table. Laura took a bite and sighed happily. Scrambled eggs, bacon, cheese and green chili were wrapped in golden tortillas, which practically melted in her mouth. “Did you make these tortillas from scratch?”

“Yeah, they’re a few days old, but they’re mine.”

“Marry me,” she said.

“So it’s not just my buns?”

They both laughed.

After breakfast, they cleared the table. As Laura finished her cup of coffee, Travis stood. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said. “The hot-water heater is a bit small for two showers in a row, but I’m fast. If I go first you’ll still have enough. Unless, of course, you want to share?”

She felt a thrill course up her spine. She’d seen half of him naked, but that second half…she stifled a sigh. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me go first? I won’t take that long and what’s a little cold water to a tough, macho guy?”

He gave her a long considering look. In his experience, a woman’s sense of time was different from a man’s. When they said something wouldn’t take long, it could, in fact, take hours. This was particularly so when it came to ordinary routines, like taking a shower.

“You’re my guest, so go ahead, but if I end up without hot water, I’m going to be looking for other ways to warm up when I come out.”

As he spoke he saw Laura’s gaze soften with desire. The knowledge that she wanted him made his body harden. “I’ll go get your travel bag from your car and put it outside the bathroom door for you.” If he stayed around her, things were going to get a lot hotter real fast.

By the time he returned, she was already bathing. He fought the urge to open the door and go inside. Everything that made him a man assured him that she wouldn’t throw him out.

Muttering an oath, he knocked on the door. “Your stuff’s here. I’m going back outside to take a look around.”

Travis glanced at Crusher, who was still lounging in a sunny spot in the den. “Wake up, guy. Time to go back to work.”

WHEN LAURA CAME OUT Travis was sitting behind his computer. “Okay. It’s all yours,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve got good news. We finally got the files from Flagstaff. I’ve been comparing details on all three murders.”

“Have you managed to spot anything the other detectives missed?”

“No, there’s nothing here we didn’t know already.”

“I think we should go back and take another look at the last victim’s personal effects. I just can’t get rid of the feeling that we’re missing something important.”

“All right. Let me shower, then we’ll go,” he said.

As he walked away, he could feel her gaze upon him. Many women had come in and out of his life but this time it was different. The way he felt about Laura went beyond a physical need. Like salt and pepper they brought out the best in each other.

Yet as much as he enjoyed being with her, Laura wasn’t at all the kind of woman he’d envisioned in his future. He was a New Traditionalist who had intended, eventually, to find a wife who shared his beliefs. Those who used logic to find their mates usually fared better than the ones who trusted emotions—and love was the most unreliable of all.

Yet what made him continually pull back went beyond that. He knew that Laura would never consider living in Three Rivers. She’d worked hard to leave her memories of the area behind her. She’d be gone in a hurry after the case concluded.

All things considered, Laura was a heartbreak waiting to happen. Better they should close the case quickly so they could both move on. Crusher and he would get back to life as usual—or as usual as any cop’s life could ever be.

Steam soon filled the bathroom, and, hearing her moving around in the kitchen, he cracked the door open. It would clear the mirror and he needed to give himself a quick shave. He was leaning over the sink, naked, when he heard a quick intake of breath behind him.

“Sorry!” she said, standing just outside the open door. “I brewed another batch of coffee and I thought you’d want something warm—just in case you’d run out of hot water. I assumed you’d be dressed….”

As he looked into the mirror in front of him, he saw her gaze wasn’t on his face. It was focused on the lower half of his body. He bit back a smile.

“I’m going to put the coffee on the laundry hamper behind you,” she said. “Don’t turn around.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah,” she managed.

She placed the cup down, but took one last look at his buns before edging back out. Chuckling, he finished his shave.

THEY WERE ON THE ROAD a short time later. Crusher was in his usual spot on the backseat, chewing a rawhide bone the size of Laura’s forearm.

“That was a great breakfast burrito,” she said. “Better than most I’ve found around Albuquerque, and those are top-notch.”

“Thanks. Eggs, bacon, cheese and chili, it doesn’t take long,” he said adjusting his Stetson.

“That tortilla was really fabulous, too.”

He gave her a long, belabored, mock sigh. “Here I was hoping that I was wrong about you—that you really did want me for my body, not just my cooking.”

She laughed. “You’ll never know.”

They continued the drive south for another fifteen minutes. When they reached the main highway and turned west, Travis saw her tensing up and glancing at the side mirror. “What is it?”

“There’s a dark blue pickup behind us. It was off the road near the intersection, but the driver turned onto the highway just after we did. He’s pacing us, not speeding up or slowing down. It may be nothing….”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m going the speed limit, and this is the main route west out of town. Once we cross the mesa, I’ll take the next turn south off 64 and go through Kirtland. If he’s still there, then we’ll decide what to do next.”

Eight minutes later, Travis headed into the mostly rural community of Kirtland. The pickup followed, remaining about an eighth of a mile behind, too far away to make out clearly. When Travis sped up, the pickup did likewise. When he slowed, the truck again kept pace.

“If this is our man, he wants us to know he’s there. Otherwise he’d close in when we slow down and eventually pass us,” he said.

“Maybe it’s a reporter who wants to keep us in sight,” she said.

“I’ve never seen reporters out in a pickup, and that’s no company vehicle,” Travis said. “Let’s see how good he is.”

Travis made a quick right turn, moving onto a private road leading to a farm. After going down the lane a few hundred yards, he stopped.

Laura, who’d been keeping watch in the side mirror, saw the blue pickup continue past them.

“We’ll see where he is once we get back out on the highway,” Travis said. “If he’s parked by the side of the road, waiting for us to pass him so he can follow again, then he’s playing with us.”

“Or maybe he’ll be gone altogether and this wasn’t our man.”

“We’ll know soon enough,” he said.

Travis pulled into traffic, going west again. They watched all the side roads they passed but didn’t spot the pickup. Five minutes passed.

“He’s back again,” Laura said. “He must have been hiding behind one of the gas stations along the way. The guy knows he’s been spotted, so he’s trying to show us that we’re no match for him.”

“I say we nail him,” Travis said. “Keep an eye behind us and hang on.”

Breaking hard, Travis whipped across the outside lane and raced up a narrow road leading north past a natural-gas pumping facility. A few hundred yards up, he went into a controlled slide, whipping the wheel around and skillfully deploying the brakes to carry out a moonshiner’s turn. Then he raced back south toward the highway.

“Now we’re behind him,” Laura said, turning to look as they reached the four-lane highway again.

Travis flipped on the emergency lights, then whipped into traffic, slipping in between a tractor trailer hauling well casings and a silver sedan. The blue pickup was going full tilt now, topping a low hill about a half mile ahead.

Travis stomped down on the gas pedal, laying rubber. “The race is on.”

Chapter Fourteen

Adrenaline rushing through her, Laura kept her eyes on the pickup. She wanted this guy behind bars no matter what it took. “If he holds his course, maybe the tribal cops can cut him off or set up a roadblock at the Rez border just past Hogback,” she said, as the pickup crossed from lane to lane, picking through westbound traffic.

“It won’t work now,” Travis said, gesturing ahead. The driver had hit the brakes, cut across the median and two lanes of highway and was heading down a side road.

They rapidly overtook a semi pulling a trailer stacked with bales of alfalfa. Its brake lights were on and the driver was signaling to turn left.

“He’s turning where we need to go,” Laura said.

Travis screeched nearly to a stop, forced to travel at a crawl behind the slow-turning vehicle.

The second they reached the side road, Travis whipped around the semi. “Where’s the pickup?”

Laura pointed east. “He cut left, then entered the eastbound lanes via the frontage road. He’s heading back toward Three Rivers. If we can’t make up for lost ground in a hurry, we’ll never catch him.”

“Never say never,” Travis said, did a quick three-point turn, then raced back to Highway 64, emergency lights on.

Ten minutes later, they were on the outskirts of Three Rivers, approaching the turnoff that led in the direction of Travis’s home.

“Now can I say never?” Laura said, pointing ahead. “There’s the pickup—but no driver.”

Travis took the turnoff, then saw the blue truck parked about fifty feet down an old road that led to an abandoned house.

“He must have left a second vehicle nearby,” he said, turning again and driving slowly down the road, looking for tread marks.

“He did—his motorcycle. I can see a single tire track,” she said.

“I see it, too,” Travis said. “He’s long gone so let’s go back and check out that pickup.”

“We’re just outside the city limits. Can you get county to impound it and check the truck for evidence?”

“Yeah, but county’s going to be slow responding. They got hit by budget cuts and now there’s even a hiring freeze.”

“Maybe they can ask Three Rivers P.D. for help,” she said, then shook her head. “Forget it. There’s always friction between departments, particularly when it comes to jurisdictional matters. I came across that plenty of times when I was with the Bureau.”

“It’s still that way between the FBI and local agencies. No one in local law enforcement ever wants to turn a case over to outsiders, but our P.D. works closely with county. There’s still some rivalry but it’s low-key.”

The next two hours went by slowly. County deputies helped search the pickup, which had been stolen hours earlier from a mall parking lot. The vehicle was eventually loaded onto a flatbed truck and taken to the Three Rivers station. A team there would search it for trace evidence.

Travis and Laura concentrated on questioning the few area residents, but no one had noticed the pickup or its driver. One old man admitted hearing a motorcycle roaring away but he’d never heard it arrive.

“People living in this area, adjacent to the city but still part of the county, have given up helping the sheriff’s department. They know nothing ever changes,” Travis said. “They see vagrants or teens hanging around all the time, but they’ve learned the hard way to avoid retaliation by keeping their mouths shut.”

Sometime later they were finally able to get under way and head to the reservation. As he drove, Travis noted her somber mood. “What’s bugging you?”

“It’s the suspect. He’s pushing the envelope by moving away from his M.O. That makes him less predictable and more dangerous.”

“He’s getting cocky, and that’s exactly what’ll bring him down,” Travis said.

Laura brought out her own cell phone. “I’m going to call Nakai and let him know we’re coming. What’s his number?”

Travis had Nakai’s direct line, and he picked up on the first ring. When Laura explained why they were on their way to the station, the detective took it in stride. “Good timing. I was going to take another look at her personal effects myself. We’ve recently learned that the vic had two cell phones and we’ve only found one. The problem is that everything that wasn’t taken in as evidence has been released to the vic’s father, and he’s a Traditionalist.”

“I don’t understand why that’s a problem,” Laura said.

“The vic’s father is not only grieving, he’s very old-school. That’s why he broke a hole through the north wall of the rental house with a pick,” Nakai said, then paused. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

She told Travis what he’d said.

“Traditionalist beliefs can often complicate murder investigations,” he said, nodding. “There’s no telling what the victim’s father kept—if anything. The daughter’s personal possessions are associated with the chindi, and to a Traditionalist that means they pose a very real danger.”

“Do they burn them?”

“No, the stuff is usually donated to non-Navajos, thrown away or buried somewhere. Let me talk to Nakai when we get there and see what he knows. There are ways to get around this, though it’s a sensitive issue.”

“We can’t let anything stop us from doing what we need to do.”

“We won’t, but this isn’t one of those situations where you can push hard until you get what you need. There are cultural issues that have to be dealt with.”

“I’d say it’s a matter of convincing the victim’s father that we’re on the same side. We need to make him understand why we have to take a second look at everything. He wants the suspect caught and that’s exactly what we’re trying to do.”

“Yes, but forcing the issue could seriously damage our ability to conduct the investigation,” Travis said. “Let me handle things my way when we meet the man.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll keep quiet and let you do all the talking.”

He glanced over at her. “That took a lot out of you.”

“You have no idea.”

THEY ARRIVED AT THE TRIBAL Police station a short while later. Detective Nakai was talking to an officer near the front desk, but noticed them as soon as they came inside.

“My office, guys,” Nakai said, then led the way down the hall. “Take a seat, then tell me why you wanted to see the victim’s personal effects again.”

“It’s just a feeling I have,” she said, and explained as much as she could.

“Never discount gut feelings,” Nakai said with a nod. “We have the evidence we collected from the crime scene here at the station, so let’s start there,” he continued. “But I want to remind you not to remove anything from the evidence pouches. As for the clothing, it’s already been processed for trace. If you need to examine it, remember to wear gloves and keep each item separate.”

“Not a problem,” she said.

They went to the evidence room and he brought out the box with the vic’s effects. Laura studied the contents. The clothing that had been discarded around the bed was individually wrapped in paper and needed to be rewrapped after being examined. All objects containing trace evidence, like some of the tissues in the trash can, had been air-dried then placed in paper envelopes. Everything was labeled. Whenever they opened something up, they had to indicate that with their names, the date and time.

Once she finished and everything was placed back in its container, she looked at Nakai and shook her head. “Nothing, sorry. Part of the problem is that I still don’t have a strong enough feel for the victim—who she was, what she liked, what she didn’t and so on. She hadn’t lived long in that house we saw.”

“True,” Nakai said. “So let’s pay a visit to the victim’s father. She lived with him until recently, but her room may be nothing more than four blank walls now. Our Traditionalists have their own way of doing things, and something like a murder has complications the Anglo world can’t even begin to imagine.”

“You’re right. I don’t know nearly enough about your beliefs,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t show them the respect they deserve.”

Nakai gave her an approving nod.

“The victim’s father lives north of the highway past Rattlesnake, west of Shiprock Wash. I’ll lead you there,” Nakai told Travis, then looked back at Laura. “Just keep in mind that I’m not sure how we’ll be greeted. Traditionalists don’t like being around someone who may have been in contact with the dead. I’m told that the old man is particularly afraid of the chindi. He even tore a hole through the north wall of his daughter’s rental house to make sure her chindi got out.”

“I understand,” Laura said.

“There’s a dirt road just west of the Shiprock Wash, isn’t there?” Travis asked.

Nakai nodded. “Make sure you take the first road. There’s another turnoff a little farther down that’ll lead you to the river.”

Soon they were under way. As the miles stretched out, Laura leaned back and stared ahead. “No matter what culture you come from, murders can be devastatingly hard on those left behind,” she said in a whisper. “All death ever does is take away hope and create pain. So much for harmony, huh?”

“No, harmony remains,” he replied, shaking his head. “Death is a part of life. We have a story that helps explain why it’s not the enemy it seems to be.”

“I’d like to hear it,” she said.

He nodded, then began. “The Hero Twins of old were warriors known for their courage. One day they set out to conquer the greatest evils in the world,” he said, his voice strong and clear, revealing his faith in the culture that had sustained the Diné through time.

“They faced many challenges along the way, but the worst came last. At the end of their journey, the Hero Twins came across the most fearsome of all of mankind’s enemies—death. She was an old woman, frightening to look at. The Hero Twins wanted to eliminate her immediately, but she warned them that if they destroyed her, there would be no harmony. The old would never give up their places to the young and nothing would ever be renewed. She insisted that they needed her, and though it might not seem so at first glance, she was their friend. The Heroes saw wisdom in letting her live, and that’s why we still have death.”

She nodded slowly, understanding the lesson there. “Navajo ways give you something to hold on to, particularly when everything around you goes crazy.”

“When I was growing up, our traditions were my lifeline—the one thing, besides my brother, I knew wouldn’t let me down.”

“I searched for my own lifeline back then, too. Though I came across as strong, that was mostly bluff. It wasn’t until much later that I realized the strength I’d been looking for had been there within me all along. Walking your talk is one of the most difficult things to learn.”

“But once learned, it’s priceless.”

“Like our friendship,” she answered with a gentle smile.

Travis reached for her hand and held it. No words were spoken, but none were needed.

They soon passed through the tiny settlement of Rattlesnake, southwest of Shiprock. A few miles farther, they left Highway 64, and followed Nakai’s white SUV up a dirt road alongside an arroyo. A few cattle could be seen grazing on the meager fodder.

“This is a long way from the high school,” Laura said. “Now I know why Coach wanted to move.”

Before he could answer, he heard Nakai’s voice come over the unit-to-unit channel. “He lives up ahead about a quarter mile,” he said. “I can see his old pickup, so he’s probably at home.”

“Got it. Pickup, trailer and hogan in the rear,” Travis replied, looking ahead.

“Park by the trailer,” Nakai said. “I can see the flicker of a TV going inside.”

“TV?” she asked, surprised, as Travis racked the mike.

“He’s a Traditionalist, but living in a manufactured house, driving a pickup and having a TV doesn’t mean he can’t honor who he is,” Travis said.

Nakai and Travis both parked within easy view of the front windows of the trailer on either side of an old orange pickup.

“Maybe he didn’t see us,” she said. “Honk.”

“No. And we can’t go up either. We’ll just wait,” Travis said.

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes,” he answered. “And when he comes to meet us, don’t offer to shake hands.”

“Touching between strangers…is discouraged,” she said with a nod, remembering.

It turned out to be a full twenty minutes before an elderly man opened the door of the trailer and waved at them.

“Now we can go up,” Travis said. Crusher got out, too, but Travis gave him the command to remain by the car.

They went up to the trailer door. Without using proper names, Nakai identified himself. He then introduced Travis and Laura as a neighboring police-department detective and civilian crime investigator.

“Uncle, we need to take a look at your daughter’s things, the ones that were in her house,” Travis said. The title was a traditional sign of respect. They weren’t related.

“I don’t have them anymore. I had some Anglo church people pick up everything that belonged to her and told them they could keep it all,” he said, “but they decided to bring back a few of her personal things. They said I might want some ‘keepsakes.’ I gave them an old pillowcase and told them to put whatever they’d brought in there and asked them to leave it outside the door. After they were gone, I got rid of it.”

Nakai glanced around. “Where?”

“All the things her chindi might be attracted to are far away now, out of sight. I took the pillowcase out into the desert and left it there for the wind, rain, sun and mother earth. It’s not safe to be around things like that.”

Respectfully avoiding looking directly at the old man, Laura spoke softly. “Sir, all we need is for you to tell us where you took them. You don’t need to be involved after that. Won’t you help us?”

“We have what we need to protect ourselves, and her, too,” Travis added, gesturing to Laura.

The old man fingered the pouch at his belt. “I know the Sings that can make such things safe, but sometimes it’s better to just walk away,” he whispered.

“Are you a hataalii?” Travis asked him. Usually only their medicine men knew such Sings.

Mr. Yazzie shook his head. “My father was one, and I learned from him.”

He stepped over to a narrow counter and moved a chipped white coffee mug from atop a utility-bill envelope. Removing the bill, he used a stub of a pencil to draw a map on the envelope.

“This is the way I traveled,” he said and gave it to Travis.

Laura glanced at the crude map. There was no way anyone would be able to follow that. To her surprise, Travis nodded and thanked him. The old man stepped back and closed the door.

Nakai, Travis and she walked back to the tribal vehicle.

“Why didn’t you press him for better directions?” Laura asked Travis.

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“Are you telling me that you understood his map? It’s nothing more than an arrow-shaped thing and a circled x.”

“I know where it is,” Travis answered, then pointed to the arrow shape. “Big Gap Reservoir.”

“The reservoir is arrow shaped,” Nakai said, looking at Laura.

“Since it’s a ways from here, do you want to go with us or just have us call and let you know what we found?” Travis asked.

Nakai considered it. “I have other cases I need to work on. You two go ahead. If you find something, let me know.”

As Nakai drove off, the old man came back outside. Standing on the steps of his trailer, he motioned them over. “The tribal officer won’t need these but you two might,” he said, handing Travis a flint-shaped arrowhead covered with soot. “This is ghost medicine. Keep it close, it’ll protect you.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Travis said, and slipped it into the deerskin pouch attached to his belt.

The man handed a second arrowhead to Laura. “You may not share our beliefs, but it can do nothing but help you.”

“Thank you. I’ll respect your gift and carry it with me,” she said.

The old man nodded and went back inside.

After carefully slipping the arrowhead into her inside jacket pocket, she followed Travis back to the car. Laura sat in the passenger’s seat and gazed at Ute Mountain, far to the north. As beautiful as the land was, the real beauty of the Rez went past what the eye could see. It was in the People, the Diné, whose traditions defined them.

Chapter Fifteen

“Tell me more about the arrowheads,” Laura said as they got under way. She took hers out and studied it more closely.

“They’re made out of flint. Navajo ways teach us that flint has power because of its hardness. The light it emits—you can see flashes of light reflecting off its shiny surface—is also said to scare evil spirits away.”

“It was a thoughtful and beautiful gift,” she said, wrapping it carefully in a tissue and placing it back in her pocket.

They headed east to Shiprock, then turned south toward Gallup. When they reached the turnoff and the sandstone walls of Cathedral Cliff stood behind them, they drove west down a dusty road.

Travis reached a fork in the road. As he drove over a low hill, Big Gap Reservoir appeared below them. Across the lake, on the south and east, were the steep slopes of the rocky formation, and in the center, a big gap—hence the name.

“It’s kind of lonely out here. And barren unless you count the rocks,” she said.

“The history of our people is carved into every canyon and bluff,” he said. “If you stay still and listen, you can almost hear the echo of a single heartbeat.”

“The desert has many heartbeats,” she said, trying to understand him.

He shook his head. “All life is connected. Everything needs something else to survive. Those separate heartbeats are united into one by life itself.”

“That sense of connection is what defines you,” she said. With a soft sigh, she continued, “I wish my life was as clearly laid out as yours.”

“Yours follows its own course, more so than you realize. Think about it. What guides you day to day?”

“I want to make a difference. My mother lived a life marked by dreams and days. I wanted something different for myself. I specialized in crimes against women so I could help the ones who, like my mom, didn’t know how to fight for themselves. Many of them have no way of crawling out of the holes life throws them into. I’ve walked down those roads and it’s hard to find your way through that darkness. I understand what it’s like to feel desperate and see no way out,” she said and took a shaky breath.

“What I do now changes lives, or at least equalizes the odds a bit. It gives victims, or if it’s too late for them, their families, a second chance. It’s through my work that I finally found myself. Helping the ones that life gave up on, that’s what takes me from day to day.”

“That sense of purpose is your guide,” he said, parking about fifty yards from the water.

“You’re right. I’m doing exactly the kind of work I was meant to do. If there is such a thing as destiny, this is mine,” she said, stepping out.

He reached for his hat and got out of the SUV, Crusher behind him. “Be careful out here,” he added glancing at Laura across the hood of the SUV.

“You mean because of the chindi?” she asked, her gaze sweeping the area. “There’s nothing else around.”

“Rattlesnakes will be hiding among the rocks and we’re going to have to climb up that north ridge.”

He saw her swallow hard.

“Just look before you step. Rattlers hide from the heat under the rocks during the day, and the sun is beating down right now.”

“I hate rattlers. Their poison won’t kill a healthy adult, but their bite can kill the surrounding tissue and then it’s a mess. I had a partner get bit out on Albuquerque’s west mesa and he nearly lost his foot.”

“Just remember that rattlesnakes have their place.”

“So do my bullets,” she muttered under her breath.

Travis had Crusher stay in the shade of the SUV and poured water into his bowl from a gallon jug. The dog drank eagerly, then wagged his tail and barked.

“Sorry, guy. This isn’t a good place to let you run around.”

The dog sighed loudly.

“We won’t be long,” Laura said, petting him.

They made their way toward the water, then, about a third of the way around, started to climb up the steep, rocky slope on the west side.

Travis stopped and pointed toward the top of the ridge. “There’s the pillowcase he told us about. Straight ahead, see it?” he said.

A moment later, he reached into a crevice and pulled out the threadbare burgundy pillowcase.

“Careful,” she said. “There’s a rodent hole at the bottom.” Looking to her right, she added, “He never mentioned it, but there’s also a plastic bag wedged between those rocks.”

“Go get it. It’s too close to this one to ignore.”

“Got it,” she said, pulling it out. Then she followed Travis back down.

“We’ll sort through the contents, then after we’re done we’ll put everything back where he left them,” Travis said.

“That’s a good idea. We should do all we can to respect his wishes.”

After finding a strip of flat, dry sand at the bottom, Travis whistled for Crusher, who came up and sat beside them while they worked.

“Let’s open the pillowcase first,” Travis said, pointing with his chin.

Although there was virtually no chance any of the items held trace evidence after being handled by so many people, she saw him put on his gloves before untying the cord at the top. Half of it was force of habit, she was sure. Yet the other was respect for his culture and the beliefs of the Diné.

Travis was a complex man and that was part of what drew her to him. Although eminently practical and logical, he also embraced concepts often dismissed by those outside the reservation borders. Harmony and walking in beauty were as much a part of who he was as the Stetson he wore to keep the sun out of his eyes.

As she watched him work, Travis pulled out a damaged throwaway cell phone from the pillowcase.

“It could have been damaged before the attack and discarded by the victim, but we should take that to Nakai anyway,” Laura said.

He set it aside, reached back into the pillowcase and pulled out a scarf that had been shredded by tiny teeth at the ends. That was undoubtedly the work of rodents searching for nesting material. After retrieving several other inconsequential items and finding nothing of interest, he placed everything back.

“The pillowcase’s contents were a waste of time. I doubt that phone’s going to provide us with anything new. It’s too badly damaged,” Travis said.

“Maybe we’ll have more luck with the plastic bag. I hope it’s not just somebody’s trash,” she said, moving toward it.

“That ended up almost at the same place?” Travis shook his head. “Not likely.”

Out of respect for him, Laura used latex gloves just as he’d done. There was no rope at the top, just a wire tie. “There’s a smiley face pasted on the top flap,” she said, as she crouched down to remove the tie.

Crusher suddenly stood and whined.

“Don’t move,” Travis told Laura, his gaze quickly taking in the area around them. Seeing nothing, he looked back at the dog and followed his gaze.

“What’s up?” she said softly, automatically moving her hand toward her gun.

“Your gun won’t help you. Stay still.” Travis moved toward her, slipping his gloves off.

“It’s on my neck, right?” she whispered horrified, suddenly feeling something crawling there. “What is it? Scorpion? Spider? Centipede?” Her voice rose with each suggestion. “Hurry up!”

He reached over, then with a lightning-fast swipe of his hand, brushed something off her.

A black-widow spider landed on its back, revealing the red hourglass shape on its belly.

Crusher barked, but grew still, hearing Travis’s command.

Laura went to where the spider had landed, intending to squash it with her shoe, but Travis put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

“There’s no reason to kill it,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Those spiders are really nasty. They even kill their mates after breeding. That’s why they’re called black widows.”

“Even so, they have their place. By keeping insects in check, they help maintain the balance,” he said, holding her back until it scurried into a bush.

“The way I see it, the spider lost all its rights after it landed on me,” Laura grumbled. “It goes under the header, tough luck—I’m bigger and badder.”

He laughed. “Good thing you never met Spider Woman.”

“Who’s she?”

“She taught the Navajo people how to weave blankets,” he said, pulling the plastic bag over to a big rock and inspecting it carefully for any more creatures. “Long ago, at the time of the beginning, an Anasazi woman saw smoke coming from a hole in the ground,” he said in a faraway voice reminiscent of the storytellers of old. “Spider Woman was inside and invited the woman into her den. That night Spider Woman taught her how to weave. In return, she asked that a hole be left in the center of every blanket as a way of honoring her.

“The Anasazi woman returned home the following morning, and as others watched, wove the first blanket,” he said.

“To this day our weavers follow Spiders Woman’s teachings and honor her by leaving a small hole, or imperfection, in the center of each blanket.”

“In that case, I’m glad we let the spider go,” she said.

He smiled. Then, slipping his glove back on, he turned his attention to the plastic bag. The wire tie was off now so he opened it wide. As he looked inside, his expression changed to one of pure disgust.

“What?”

“This wasn’t left here by the old man. The one we’re after must have followed him here. He obviously hoped that the victim’s belongings might be reexamined at some point and wanted tribal detectives—or maybe us—to find this. What’s inside this bag is witchery,” he said, bringing out a small pouch.

“That’s really icky looking,” she said with a grimace. “What is it, some kind of weird vinyl?”

“It’s the skin of a horned toad.”

“Ugh. And what’s that stuff over it? It looks like dirty flour,” she said.

“I’m guessing it’s corpse powder. It’s taken from the body of the dead.”

She grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s all part of Navajo witchcraft,” he said, then pulled something else out of the plastic bag. “This isn’t.”

“What is it?” she asked, leaning forward to take a closer look.

“Looks like an old photo of two kids going trick-or-treating. See how the color dyes are faded?”

Laura sucked in her breath. “No, not just two kids. Look closer. It’s me and my friend. Her mother took it when we were maybe seven or eight years old. I still have my copy. The killer must have taken that from my friend’s home after he killed her.” She swallowed hard. “He had no right to even touch that.”

Travis came toward her but she stepped back, her body shaking with outrage and frustration. “I let that walking piece of filth get away from me that day at her house. Every life he’s taken after that is on my hands.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“What my mind says and what I feel here,” she said, pointing to her heart, “are two very different things. I’ve failed my friend, the coach and myself. I won’t—can’t—rest until this guy’s rotting behind bars.”

Travis took a step closer to her. This time she didn’t step back. Before he could pull her against him, Crusher stood and growled softly.

Travis glanced at his canine partner and saw that the animal’s hackles were raised and he was looking off into the distance.

“We’re being watched,” Travis said in a whisper-soft voice.

Laura moved away from Travis slowly, making sure their watcher had two separate targets. “Over there past your vehicle, on the road,” she said, spotting the outline of a man on the crest of the rise. “He just stepped back, out of view.”

They raced back to the SUV, Travis carrying the witch bag, which was now evidence. After taking a fast look to confirm the suspect hadn’t tampered with the SUV, they climbed in and raced after the cloud of billowing dust farther down the road. A tan truck was heading away from them at high speed.

“He’s got a big lead but maybe we’ll get lucky,” Travis said.

The SUV bounced over holes as Travis drove faster than was wise on the bumpy road, fishtailing over patches of sand that intersected their route.

Dropping down into a shallow arroyo, they rattled across a bone-jarring section of washboard ripples where rainwater had dug channels. The glove-box door flew open and a flashlight fell out.

Crusher, oblivious to the rough ride that bounced him around in the backseat, barked with excitement.

“Hang on,” Travis yelled at Laura. “There’s another bad spot coming up.”

Travis swerved right to avoid a gap in the road cut by an old gully washer. As they crashed through dry brush, it scraped the passenger side like fingernails down a chalkboard.

“We’re gaining,” Travis said, accelerating on a good stretch of road. They were now almost close enough to read the license plate on the vehicle.

The road curved to the left, then back to the right in a giant S over a low hill. They could see the highway less than a mile ahead.

“Once he hits the paved road, he’ll widen the gap for a while,” she said.

“Yeah, but if I go any faster, I’ll lose it going around these curves.”

Less than two minutes later they reached the highway, but by then, the pickup had pulled out. It was now impossible for them to tell where their target had gone since traffic ran in both directions.

“There’s no chance of catching him now,” Travis said, then backed up and pulled off the road. “Let’s see if we can get a read on his tire tracks.”

They walked back on foot to a place in the road with more sand than gravel. There, Travis took several shots with his cell-phone camera.

“I’ll email copies to the tribal detective right away. Then after we put the victim’s personal effects back where her father left them, we’ll stop by the tribal station. They’ll need the damaged cell phone and the witch bag,” he said. “But first, there’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

“Name it.”

“I took my gloves off quickly and wasn’t as careful as I should have been after touching items that belonged to the victim. Both of us were also in contact with the witch bag. We need a purification rite, something that’ll free us from any danger or contamination. I know we have different beliefs but would you object to taking time for something like that?”

“No. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Let’s go behind those rocks where we’ll have privacy from curious motorists.”

As they walked over, he watched the way the sun played on her hair and felt the tug on his senses. She stirred his blood in a way no one ever had. Though she didn’t share his beliefs, she’d always shown respect for Navajo ways and that had opened a door between them. But what they’d found after that…

Laura was a mixture of tough and gentle, rational and emotional, as unpredictable as the weather. He’d never meant to get involved with her, particularly now, but he was only human.

He stopped behind the tall rocks. Hidden from the highway, he faced her and focused. “The chant’s function is to purify, so keep your thoughts centered on beauty and harmony. You won’t understand the words, but to explain everything will strip away the power of the ritual. Knowledge is a living thing that needs to be protected.”

As he opened the pouch at his belt, he asked her to take out the flint arrowhead Mr. Yazzie had given her. He then took several small pieces of turquoise from his pouch and handed them to her.

She had many questions, he could see them in her eyes, but she didn’t ask. Again he felt that stirring, that awareness of the rightness between them.

Travis took a breath, then pushed aside all other distractions. As he began the chant, his strong voice rose into the air, carrying with it the power of the ancients.

Chapter Sixteen

As the rich monotone chant danced in the air, the earth itself seemed to stand still and listen. The Song pushed back the darkness of uncertainty and fear and she felt its power with each note.

“Throw the turquoise high into the air while holding the arrow point in your hand,” he instructed her, then did the same.

After the last note was sung, he met her gaze. “It’s finished. The Song has pushed evil away and compelled it to leave us alone. Its shield won’t fail us.”

“I’m glad I could be part of that. I’ll never forget it,” she said in a hushed voice.

As they walked back to the SUV, Travis spoke. “The one we’re after isn’t a Navajo witch, judging from the other information we have on him, but he’s playing with forces he doesn’t understand. That’s going to work against him.”

“What worries me most is how the suspect has stayed one step ahead of us. Think about it,” she said. “Until we spoke to the victim’s father, we didn’t know we’d be coming out here.”

“It’s possible he just took a chance and figured the police would look for the missing cell phone sooner or later. He wasn’t worried about who would actually find the bag, figuring the information would get back to us anyway.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think there’s anything random about this. That bag was left for you and me to find. He’s profiled us well and wants to push our buttons. He knows you’re a New Traditionalist and wanted to rattle you with those items. The photo was meant to throw me off balance.” She paused, steadying herself. “The thing we need to keep in mind is that, so far, he’s just been playing. When he finally gets tired of that, he’s going to move in for the kill.”

He nodded slowly. Laura was right. Things were going to get tough. But he’d be there to protect her—no matter what it took.

NAKAI’S AVERSION TO THE ITEMS was evident in his lack of emotion as he studied the witch bag. As Laura knew, in police work, absence of emotion often indicated the exact opposite.

“We’re hoping that your lab techs will be able to find trace evidence either on it or inside it,” Travis said.

“Sooner or later, this guy’s got to make a mistake,” Laura added.

After everything was bagged and tagged, Laura and Travis left the station.

“Where to next?” Travis asked her. “Any ideas? I’m fresh out.”

“Why don’t we go talk to the reporter who spread my name and face all over the county,” Laura said. “We need to work something out with her. Otherwise, she’s going to keep undermining our investigation.”

“Getting the press to back off is nearly impossible,” he said quietly.

“I know, but maybe we can trade her an exclusive behind-the-scenes interview once the case is closed in exchange for some cooperation now.”

“Okay, let’s give it a try,” he said.

They arrived at the television station on the north side of Three Rivers a half hour later. It was early afternoon as they walked to the main entrance.

The receptionist contacted the reporter via telephone. Moments later Barbara Malloy came out to greet them. In person, Barbara didn’t seem quite so tall, but there was no mistaking the edge of granite in the blonde’s silver-blue eyes.

“I’m surprised that you’ve come to see me. You worked hard to lose me and my people last night,” she said coldly.

Barbara led Laura, Travis and Crusher down a long hallway into an empty conference room with a glass wall that faced the newsroom. A large table took up most of the space inside.

“So tell me why you’re here,” she said, sitting across from them.

Laura briefly studied the woman before answering. Barbara’s makeup had been skillfully applied to minimize the telltale signs of aging that generally signaled celebrity obsolescence. Understanding softened Laura’s approach. Barbara knew that the clock was ticking and time would eventually strip her of the work she loved. Unless she managed to climb up the proverbial ladder, her days in front of the camera were numbered. Facing something like that would change anyone’s perspective.

“By identifying us to the entire community, including the killer we’re hunting, you’re undermining what we’re trying to do,” Laura said. She held up a hand, stopping Barbara’s protests. “If your actions help drive this killer out of the community, we could lose his trail, and you, your story. No one wins—particularly his future victims. Let’s work something out so that doesn’t happen.”

“What do you have in mind?” Barbara asked, skepticism showing clearly on her face.

“How about if we agree to give you an exclusive? We could let you and your viewers in on how things unfolded behind the scenes, a full profile of our investigation—after the killer’s caught.”

“I can swing that with the station but only if I get to ask whatever I want and you agree to answer,” she said. Giving Travis a slow smile, she added, “You’d be great on camera.”

Laura forced herself not to roll her eyes. It was part of that Blacksheep legacy. Those lethal hormones were hard to resist.

“I’ll answer any questions you have or tell you why I can’t. No evasions,” Travis said.

“Deal,” Barbara said.

As they left the building, Laura glanced at him. “She nearly melted into a puddle of goo for you. It’s that killer stare of yours. No one knows what’s going on behind that dark gaze.”

He laughed. “Jealous?”

“In your dreams.”

He laughed even louder. “If we’d been speaking to the suit who runs the station, you would have charmed his pants off.”

“Scary image. I saw the guy’s photo in the lobby,” she joked. “But my idea of charm is bringing out my audio recorder, then talking criminal charges, lawsuits and restraining orders. If I were still in the Bureau, handcuffs would have been the threat du jour.”

“That’s what I like most about you. You don’t play around when you want something,” Travis said as they walked along the side of the building. “What you see is what you get.”

She fought the temptation to ask him if he ever wanted more of what he saw. Did he feel the rush of excitement and long for the comfort of her arms like she yearned for his?

She shook free of those thoughts, knowing they could only lead to trouble. They undermined her independence and allowed vulnerability to set in—and life was seldom kind to the vulnerable. It was far safer to bury that side of her deep within herself where no one could reach it.

Travis glanced at her. As if reading her mind, he said, “It’s no use ignoring what’s there between us. You feel it and so do I.”

The hunger she saw in his eyes made a wave of heat spiral around her. “Maybe we should just give in and get it out of our systems,” she whispered in a strangled voice. “No promises made—just the moment.”

“Promises or not, what would happen between us would go way beyond hot, sweaty sex.”

Her mouth went completely dry and her heart began to hammer wildly, but she refused to let him see how his words affected her. “You’re overestimating yourself just a bit, don’t you think?”

They’d just gone around the corner of the building when Travis suddenly pinned her to the wall.

Before she could take a breath, Travis’s mouth covered hers. He deepened the kiss slowly and naturally, allowing the heat that burned between them to take on a life of its own.

Laura lost herself in that stolen moment of pure pleasure. When he pressed his body against hers, letting her feel his hardness, a melting heat burned through her. She rubbed her body sensuously against his in response and felt the shudder that ripped through him.

Hearing laughter coming from across the street, Travis cursed and moved away. “Now tell me again how we’d keep it casual.”

She took a shaky breath, her body still tingling. No one had ever kissed her like that. It had been pure magic and fire.

Realizing he was waiting for an answer, she blinked. “Sorry. What did you say?” She placed a hand on Crusher’s head to steady herself.

He chuckled, a low throaty laugh that sent its vibrations racing through her.

The sound, with its implied challenge, stirred something inside her. On impulse, she grabbed him by the collar, pushed him against the wall and kissed him.

This time she was the one who was in control—that is, until he growled and pulled her even more tightly against him.

Travis devoured her mouth with a hunger that left her weak at the knees. Gripping her hips, he pressed her against him, letting her feel him as his kiss took her on an endless descent into never-ending fires.

Hearing the sound of people approaching, she forced herself to focus and moved away from him. “So much for that,” she murmured, still trying to even her breathing.

“That, and more, has been simmering between us since you showed up at my place asking for help,” he said, unlocking the SUV.

She didn’t answer. There was no arguing with the truth.

Once they reached Main Street, Travis called her attention to a martial-arts school on the left-hand side of the street. “The guy who came at you had a recognizable fighting style,” he reminded her. “Krav maga, remember?”

She nodded.

“According to that sign, that’s one of the disciplines taught there. Let me check them out first, then we’ll pay them a visit.”

“What about Crusher?” Laura asked. “He might misinterpret training fights.”

“Not likely, but taking him in would ID us as cops for sure. Let’s play it safe. We’ll leave him by the car in the shade. He knows the drill.”

Travis called the station and asked for a background check on the business owner. After getting a quick report, he signed off. “The school has only been around for about six months and there haven’t been any reported incidents. All I got was the name of the owner, Harry Roberts, and he doesn’t have a record or any outstanding warrants.”

“The individual we’re looking for didn’t develop his skills from a DVD or book of instructions,” Laura said. “Let’s go talk to the owner and see what we can find out about him as well as the instructors and students.”

“Not so fast. Let’s get an even better feel for the place before we go inside,” Travis said.

“How are you going to do that?”

As he pulled into a parking space across the street from the martial-arts school, he called her attention to a man leaning against the wall by the entrance of a local bar.

“That’s one of my informants. Wait here with Crusher and I’ll see what he’s heard about this place.”

Travis crossed the street and stepped up onto the sidewalk. Instead of making eye contact, however, Peter Sanchez turned his back on Travis and began walking away, his head down. As soon as he reached the alley, Travis’s contact ducked out of sight.

Chapter Seventeen

Travis followed. As he turned the corner, he found Peter waiting for him.

“Relax, man, it’s cool,” Peter said quickly, holding up his hands, palms out. “I just ducked away to make it look good. There are eyes up and down this street.”

Travis resisted the urge to look back. He’d already registered the presence of a dry-cleaning shop, the martial-arts dojo and a dog-grooming place. “Who are you worried about, Peter?”

“The martial-arts school is legit and all that, but the guy who runs it is a real head case.”

“How so?” Travis pressed.

“He’s really high-pressure when it comes to drumming up business. He tried to sign me up, I said no, so now he mad dogs me every time I walk by. The dude gives me the creeps.”

“What else can you tell me about him?”

“His name’s Harry something and he’s like one of those nightclub doormen. He lets the good-looking chicks in for free, or just about, so he can lure the guys in. I’ve heard the sales pitch he gives the ladies, too—free introductory lessons, or what he calls scholarship rates. He’s a real smooth talker and that’s why it works—most of the time, anyway.”

“And when it doesn’t?” Travis pressed.

“Things can blow up, big-time,” he said. “I guess you haven’t heard. Harry came on strong to one of the ladies he wanted to sign up. She was a real babe, and when he was showing her some moves he got a little too friendly. That ticked her off, and she ran straight to her big brother—Sergeant Trujillo.”

Travis knew Jerry. The man was built like a tank, and one blow from those sledgehammer fists could drop an ox. “Trujillo didn’t bust him. I would have heard about it.”

“No, they took it out back. I heard they beat the crap out of each other.”

“Tell me more about Harry,” Travis prodded.

“He’s not that big but he’s as tough as it gets. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”

“Thanks for the info.”

“Are you thinking of paying him a visit?” Seeing Travis nod, he added, “Watch out for sucker punches. He’s probably got it in for the cops right now.” Peter turned and hurried down the alley.

When Travis came back out to the sidewalk, he saw Laura going into the dojo. Cursing under his breath, he jogged to the SUV. Leaving Crusher in the shade of a tall elm, he hurried across the street to the martial-arts school.

She couldn’t have waited five more minutes? What sense did it make to go into a place like that half-cocked? Travis moved his handgun and cuffs to the small of his back to conceal them, then went inside.

Laura was halfway down the hall past the small reception area, talking to Harry Roberts. The description Peter Sanchez had given him fit to a tee. The guy was solid and his stance reeked of confidence.

“I know a little about self-defense, but I’m interested in krav maga,” Travis heard Laura say. That cinched it. She was going in blind, just to see how far she could get.

Laura smiled at Travis and waved. “That’s a friend of mine,” Travis heard her saying. “He’s not into martial arts, but he’s strong and we sometimes train together.”

Harry laughed, gave Travis a dismissive glance, then focused back on Laura. “So let’s see how well you move. I might be able to give you a free lesson or two.”

“Hey, great! Just give me a sec. I don’t want my friend to feel he has to wait around. I’ll be right back.”

Laura went over to where Travis was standing and spoke to him softly. “He’s the same height as our suspect but that’s all I can say for sure. Go take a look around while I keep him occupied.”

“I don’t have a search warrant. I can’t do much.”

“You don’t have to search, just look around closely and see if anything catches your eye. His office is down the hall.”

“You should have waited,” he growled. “I just found out that this guy can get pushy, especially with women.”

Her eyes hardened and she gave him a mirthless smile. “Go do what you need to do. I’ll handle no-neck.”

Laura walked back to where Harry waited. “I’m ready,” she said and followed him into a small gym. Laura removed her shoes, then proceeded to the center of the mats with the instructor.

Travis saw Laura bow to her opponent, then take a defensive stance. Harry rushed her, but his moves seemed much slower than that of the lightning-fast assailant they’d faced. Of course it was possible he was holding back. If this was their suspect, he knew who they were and wouldn’t reveal himself so easily.

Travis watched Laura for a moment longer, wondering if she’d really be able to handle an opponent who outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. As Harry kicked, she deflected the blow with her forearm, then spun and countered, sending him sprawling back.

“Nice move,” Harry managed, regaining his position, hands up, krav maga style, ready to block.

Travis smiled. Laura would be fine. Slipping out the door way, he made his way down the long hall. Posters of martial-arts celebrities covered the walls. There were also photos of Harry in his martial-arts uniform taken at various competitions.

Travis went past a closed door labeled Locker Room. At the far end, he could see an open doorway and a sign that read Office.

He’d almost reached it when four high-school-aged girls came inside the building and headed down the hall. Giggling, one of them smiled and waved at him before they all ducked into the locker room.

Alone again, Travis took advantage of the moment and went into the office. It was sparse, just a desk and a chair, a gray file cabinet and a big mirror on the wall.

As he walked around the desk toward the window, he heard the faint sound of female voices. Travis looked outside but the sidewalk was empty. Puzzled, but curious, he stood completely still and listened.

The voices seemed to be coming from inside the wall, not the hallway. Moving toward the sound, he took a closer look at the mirror. It was hanging from a wire and stood out an inch or more from the wall.

Standing to one side, he glanced into the gap between it and the wall. There was something else back there. Taking great care, he pulled the mirror out slightly and saw that recessed into the wallboard was a flat video camera with a rear LCD screen. The green light indicated the camera was operating.

A security camera? But aimed at what? Travis took a quick look down the hall. Seeing that it was still empty, he stepped over to the wall and lifted the mirror from the big hook.

After studying the camera for a second, Travis hit the button labeled Display. The locker room came into sharp focus, revealing the girls he’d seen before, now in various stages of undress as they changed into their martial-arts uniforms.

He turned off the screen quickly, realizing what Harry had been filming. Sexual predators came in all shapes and sizes, but this one wore a black belt.

Travis rehung the mirror on its hook, then walked back to the school’s gym. He had to do something, but without probable cause and a search warrant, what he’d found would be inadmissible.

Wording…that was the key. If his bluff worked, the pervert would damn himself.

“Harry Roberts, I’m Detective Blacksheep,” he said, pulling his badge from his belt and holding it up. “I’d like to have a word with you about your…photography.”

Harry brushed aside Laura’s kick, then took a step toward Travis. “What do you mean, photography?”

“You know precisely what I’m talking about. How do you think the parents of those underage girls who use your locker room are going to react when they hear the news?” Travis said, holding his ground. “Or see the images?”

Harry took a step back. As Laura narrowed the gap between them, he spun and raced out the emergency exit, setting off an alarm.

Laura and Travis ran down the alley after him. Hoping to slow them down, Harry knocked over every trash can he passed. Then, out of trash cans, he slipped between two buildings less than three feet apart and disappeared from view.

“Circle the building,” Travis yelled at her, racing into the gap. It was narrow and he had to sidestep and turn his body to avoid bumping the walls with his shoulders.

Travis saw the man reach the end of the gap, then duck to the right. He followed, thinking Harry was circling back to the dojo.

“No, go straight!” Laura called out to him, coming around the far corner. “He just crossed the street and is going into the next alley.”

They went after him and narrowed the gap quickly as they approached the next street.

Harry looked back and saw they were getting close. In a last-ditch effort to escape he jumped across the trunk of a parked car and ran out into the street. Brakes squealed and there was a sickening thud as a truck smashed into Harry, throwing his body high into the air.

Laura saw the martial-arts instructor fall to the pavement, his arms and legs flayed out at unnatural angles. Almost immediately, blood began pooling around his head.

Swallowing hard, she turned away. She knew death when she saw it.

Travis checked the victim for signs of life, then called for assistance. A minute later he hurried to talk to the startled truck driver. “Stay in your vehicle, please,” Travis said, holding up his badge.

Remaining in the street, Travis redirected traffic until a police cruiser pulled up. He quickly turned the scene over to the officer, than glanced around for Laura. He found her crouched down next to Crusher, her face pale.

He jogged over to her. “Are you going to be sick?”

“No, I’m okay. Crusher’s good medicine,” she said, standing.

A minute later Detective Koval pulled up in his unmarked car and stepped out to join them.

“What is it with you guys? Every time I’m on a case, you guys are right there in the middle of things.” He glanced over at the body. “We just started checking Roberts out yesterday. The mother of one of the girls he teaches filed a complaint. She told us she’d spoken to Roberts after his daughter’s class and he’d mentioned the bruise on her kid’s thigh. Later, she realized that the only way he could have known about that was if he’d seen her in her underwear. I was asked to check it out.”

“You might want to search his office wall,” Travis said.

“Did you see something there?” Koval asked, giving Travis a hard look.

“Just take a look for yourself, okay?” Travis said with a shrug. “Call it a hunch.” Koval nodded, then looked at Laura. “Ma’am, if you’re going to toss your cookies, be careful where you aim.”

Laura gave him a cold glare. Though her stomach was tied into a painful knot and her hands were clammy, she answered him in a steady voice. “I’m fine. Thanks for your empathy.”

As Koval walked off, Travis looked at her. “You still look two shades paler than pale.”

She swallowed hard, determined to keep it together. “I’ve been involved in firefights and seen my share of crime scenes, but I have a tough time dealing with traffic accidents. They’re senseless. Death is inescapable but it shouldn’t be so…random,” she said at last, shaking her head.

He started to place his arm over her shoulders but she stepped back. “No, don’t. Sympathy only makes things worse.”

He understood. Sometimes all that did was bring emotions even closer to the surface.

They waited as the body was covered with a plastic drop cloth and the scene secured. After making sure they wouldn’t be needed there, they headed back to the SUV.

“We have to go to the station,” he said. “We’ll need to debrief.”

“Let’s go then,” she answered, her voice steadier now.

They walked inside the station a short time later. According to procedure, they were taken into two separate rooms to be questioned.

For the better part of an hour Travis had to fight to keep his temper in check. The investigator pressed him hard, approaching Travis’s account of the events leading to Robert’s death from various angles to see if his story changed. It was a way to elicit truth, and Travis was well aware of the technique, but he was tired. More to the point, he was worried about Laura.

When it was finally over, Travis went to look for her. He walked to his desk first. Crusher was asleep on the floor, but no Laura. Next, he went down the hall to talk to the duty officer at the front.

“Ms. Perry didn’t stick around after she finished her interview with the detective. She left a note for you here somewhere,” he said, searching his desk.

Travis bit back his impatience. Laura’s car wasn’t at the station and taxis took forever, so unless someone had given her a ride, she couldn’t have gone far.

“Here it is,” the young officer said at last.

Travis unfolded the small sheet of notepaper. It read, “I’m going for a walk. Need time alone. I’ll be back at the station in an hour or so.”

Travis stared at the note, lost in thought. This was out of character for Laura. Everything about her was goal oriented. She didn’t just go for walks—she always had a destination in mind.

Travis walked back to his desk. Crusher was awake now, looking around, but still lying in his usual spot.

After greeting the dog, Travis sat down and tried to figure things out. As his gaze fell on the painting of the river walk hung on the opposite wall, he smiled. He knew exactly where she’d gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Travis drove three blocks down Main Street, then turned onto River Walk Drive, which led to the bosk. Leaving the SUV in the lot adjacent to the public park, he walked toward the river, Crusher at his side.

The main paths of the popular hiking trails led east and west, but he chose the third direction, across a narrow footbridge then along a dirt trail. A creek flowed into the La Plata River just west of here. He’d shown her the place many years back, long before the county had expanded the common area beyond the river trail.

It had become their special place. He remembered the gift he’d given her there and, more importantly, the reason behind it. In his gut, he knew she’d be there.

The hike took about twenty minutes. It was near sunset by the time he and Crusher entered the narrow canyon, now mostly in shadow. He’d almost reached the place he’d had in mind when he heard a faint rustle directly ahead.

“I had a feeling you’d find me,” she called out.

Laura was sitting on a patch of sandy earth staring at something in the palm of her hand. As he drew closer and saw what it was, he smiled. “You kept it after all these years?”

“Of course. It was the perfect gift and meant the world to me. It symbolized everything I’d hoped to become someday.”

He looked down at the small, crudely carved fetish and smiled. If you didn’t know it was a cougar, you wouldn’t have been able to identify it. It was easy to mistake for a cow or even some sort of misshapen buffalo. He’d never been much of a carver, but wanting to give her something special, he’d made it himself.

“You’d just turned seventeen and your whole world was upside down,” he recalled, sitting next to her. “Your mother had broken up with Marty and was packing up to move to Denver. You were fighting her every step of the way because you wanted to finish senior year here on familiar ground.”

She nodded, lost in thought. “But there was more to it than that. I didn’t want to leave you. Our friendship was everything to me. It gave me courage when I needed it most.” She looked down at the fetish. “This gift was perfect and just what I needed at the time.”

“The qualities of cougar fit you now more than ever. You go after what you want and won’t let anything stop you. Cougar, too, leads whether or not anyone follows. He has the strength and the skill to see things through to the end.” He looked down at the crude fetish. “I just wish I could have done a better job of carving.”

“That’s not what mattered. What made this gift so special was that it came from the heart. And my heart accepted it—and you.”

Laura leaned over to kiss him. The gesture had only been meant as an acknowledgment of the past but the second their lips met everything changed. Needs suppressed for far too long came crashing to the surface.

Travis pushed her back onto the sandy earth and Laura moaned softly as he pressed his lips to the base of her throat, then lower, tasting and teasing the softness above her breasts.

Surrender. It became an imperative command that drummed through her with each beat of her heart. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her, softness meeting hardness.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m going to take you right here.” His dark eyes gleamed in the shadows of twilight. “And once we do that…”

“There’ll be no turning back,” she finished for him breathlessly. Yet instead of moving away, she tugged open his shirt and caressed the hard flesh she exposed. “Over these past few months, death has been one step behind me. Help me celebrate life…here, now…with you.”

As she trailed her hands down his chest in a slow, burning caress, he knew there was no turning back. “Then let this be our time.”

Crusher, as if sensing what was needed, lay down, staring at the path they’d come down so recently.

Travis knew they’d be safe. No one would draw near without their knowledge. He lifted Laura into his arms and carried her to the soft grass beneath the old cottonwood tree. Standing over her, his eyes never leaving hers, he stripped off his shirt and unfastened his belt.

Laura rose to her knees and helped him draw down his jeans, kissing the exposed areas.

He sucked in his breath. “Slow down,” Travis said, pulling her up. “I want tonight to burn into your soul. Remember the heat…and the man who took you into that fire and kept you safe.”

He stripped off her clothing and tasted the skin he bared, building the fires smoldering inside her. He was relentless, covering her softness with intimate kisses until she cried out, wild and desperate for release.

When she couldn’t take any more, he guided her over that edge and, afterward, held her against him until her breathing evened.

“I never knew….”

“It’s just the beginning, sawe,” he murmured, pulling her up until she straddled him. Placing his hands on her hips, he arched upward, wanting to bury himself in the softness of her body, but she shifted, preventing it.

“No, not yet. I have to know that you’ll never forget me,” she murmured, moving downward.

“I could never—”

Travis sucked in his breath as her kiss burned into him, branding his flesh.

He wanted to hold back but there was too much heat. The need to lose himself in the warmth of her body overruled everything else.

Gentleness vanished, pushed aside by raw passion. He rolled her onto her back roughly. Poised over her, he captured her gaze. “Remember this night and what was meant to be.”

As he pushed inside her, the heated depths of her body drove him wild. She bucked and writhed and he met her movements with powerful thrusts that took them both over that glorious edge.

Afterward, he lay over her, feeling her heart drumming to the beat of his own. The rightness of that moment went beyond anything he’d ever known. He’d never felt a greater sense of peace, of completion. He’d found…love.

An eternity later, he lay beside her, his gaze drifting over her in a silent caress. “You’re beautiful.”

“What was that word you called me, sawe?” she asked.

“It means sweetheart.”

She smiled. “What happened tonight was…” She struggled to find the right word.

“It was life speaking to our hearts,” he answered.

THE MOON WAS HIGH IN THE SKY as they walked back down the trail slowly, tired but still enjoying the afterglow. Neither of them spoke, but there was no need for words. The peace that had settled between them was sufficient in itself.

Then both their cell phones went off at the same time and reality came crashing back.

“I’ve got a voice message from Barbara Malloy,” he said.

“I’ve got a text message from her,” she answered. “It tells me to check with you.”

He listened to the recording and swore. “The killer contacted her with proof of who he was. He told her that vic number three, Coach, was strangled with her own shoelace and encouraged her to verify it. He promised to give Barbara an exclusive if she met him at Johnson Park. Though he wouldn’t allow his face to be seen, he’d talk to her and one cameraman.”

“This is bad. He’s not interested in talking. He’s going to kill her—maybe on camera,” Laura said.

“We have to stop her,” Travis said, calling Barbara Malloy as he broke into a jog.

Crusher, now excited, raced ahead toward the SUV as they ran down the trail. Laura, close behind, pressed Travis. “She’s not picking up?”

“All I’m getting is her voice mail. I’m calling Koval,” Travis said, tossing her the keys as they arrived at the parking lot. “You drive while I talk.”

As they got under way, Travis gave Koval a quick update. “I don’t know why she’d do something this crazy,” Travis told him.

“I know precisely why she did what she did,” Laura said after Travis hung up. “It was dumb—okay, beyond dumb—but I understand it.”

“To agree to meet a killer with only a cameraman as backup…” Travis shook his head. “I know all about ambition—”

“No, you really don’t,” she said quietly. “You wanted a better life for yourself, but you never had to measure your own self-worth using someone else’s yardstick.”

“I don’t follow,” he said, tensing up as she took a corner at high speed, tires squealing.

“Your vision for the future always entailed doing something that would make things better for everyone,” she said.

“Same as you.”

Laura shook her head, then paused a moment as she whipped around a slow-moving car. “I went into law enforcement with some definite plans—personal ambition above all. I’d get experience, take more college courses and move up the ladder. The thing is, no matter what I achieved, it was never enough for me. Inside, I still felt like the kid people had labeled worthless. That’s one of the main reasons I ended up taking the job with New Standards. The perks were second to none, and for the first time, there was no arguing with what I’d achieved—both salary wise and job wise.”

“But? I can hear it in there somewhere,” he said.

“All these years, I’ve been in competition with myself. That’s a tough race to win. Until you can see that, you’ll continue to push and drive yourself right to the breaking point.”

“And you think Barbara’s the same way?”

“I ran her background after our run-in with her. She came from a small town in New Mexico. She was raised by her schoolteacher mother and a handyman father. Unless I miss my guess, she’s got her eye on a network job, but her age is catching up to her, so she’s willing to take chances.” She paused for a long moment, then added, “Barbara’s hungry, and this could be her last shot to break out.”

Laura focused on her driving as they entered a main thoroughfare, heavy with traffic from day-shift workers. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the city’s largest recreational area, located on the north side of town. Most parks, except for the river walk, were small neighborhood plots with sandboxes and swing sets for small children. This park was a former golf course dissected by a new housing development. There were low hills, graveled footpaths, stands of trees and picnic tables throughout.

“He chose well,” Travis said. “This area has plenty of cover and escape routes. The manpower we have available will have a hard time covering every exit. In the darkness, he can always slip away on foot.”

She braked to a screeching stop. “If we split up, we’ll cover twice as much ground,” she said, glancing around. Only a few vehicles were parked against the concrete barriers and nobody was in sight. The park was illuminated along the paths with several light poles, modern fixtures that focused their illumination down rather than skyward.

“Let’s stay together. It could be that Barbara’s more bait than target this evening,” he answered, grabbing a flashlight from the glove box and climbing out of the vehicle. “And keep your eye on Crusher. He’ll let you know if there’s trouble ahead.”

“Do you really think the suspect’s using Barbara to lure us in?” she asked, coming around and handing him back his keys.

“Not us—you,” Travis answered, moving through the open gate and down the path at a brisk walk.

She followed, keeping pace. “How much backup is on the way?”

“Every available unit, according to Koval. They’ll be using a silent approach. The first officers to arrive will block the major intersections leading out of the park, but they won’t be able to cover every route at once. Hopefully, the killer won’t spot the holes in our coverage.”

Laura nodded. “I heard you working that out with Koval and I agree with your tactics. We want to take the suspect down without anyone else being hurt. If this becomes a hostage situation, things are going to turn ugly fast,” she said.

They reached a junction in the main trail about two hundred yards into the grassy park. Here, the graveled path split into four smaller ones. “There’s the TV station’s van.” Laura pointed toward the north-end parking lot.

“Our suspect will want to use the cover of darkness to shield his identity. The closest cluster of trees that fits his requirements is east of the van. Let’s check that out first,” Travis said, keeping Crusher on leash and at heel.

As Laura followed she couldn’t help but notice that Travis scarcely made a sound. Even the dog was nearly silent. By contrast, she announced her presence with each step. Every time she placed her foot down, the gravel crunched as if she was walking on peanut shells.

“Can you make any more noise?” he muttered. “Eagles up in Colorado are having trouble pinpointing your exact location.”

“I’m better on city streets,” she whispered, moving off the path onto the grass.

Travis and Crusher suddenly broke out into a run. Uncertain what had prompted it, she drew her weapon and raced after them.

A moment later, she spotted a big camcorder lying on the grass, green light still on. A few yards away, a pair of boots were sticking out from below a low, sprawling juniper bush.

They rushed forward and saw the cameraman struggling to sit up, rubbing the back of his head. “Where’s Barb?” he asked anxiously.

“Don’t know yet. You okay?” Travis said softly, glancing at him for only a second before shifting his focus to the surrounding area.

“I’m sore, that’s all.” The man reached for his camera. “We were supposed to meet the creep by the east-side fountain. Barb told me to hang back until she made contact. I was watching through the viewfinder when something came crashing down on my head.”

“How long ago was that?” Travis pressed.

The man looked at his wristwatch, at the same time rising to his knees. “Five minutes, maybe? When I got coldcocked, Barb was moving in that direction,” he said, pointing east. “Let’s go find her.” He struggled to his feet and positioned his camera over his shoulder.

“Hang back and give us room to work,” Travis warned, already entering numbers on his cell phone.

Laura glanced around. At least her eyes had adjusted to the dark. “Your camera, it’s got infrared lighting, right?”

“You bet. You guys go ahead and do your thing. I won’t get in the way,” he said, checking the settings.

As Travis headed east following Crusher’s lead, a blood-curdling scream rose high into the air.

Chapter Nineteen

Travis and Crusher raced toward the sound, with Laura a few steps behind them. Running downhill was difficult—the grass was slippery—but she managed to stay on her feet.

Travis and Crusher reached the small clearing first, but Laura wasn’t far behind. As she broke through the stand of pines, she saw Barbara Malloy struggling against her assailant, who had her in a headlock. The man’s face was covered with a ski mask and his camouflage clothing made him blend into the shadows.

Crusher barked furiously, eager to jump in.

Travis, unwilling to take the chance that the dog would harm the hostage by mistake, restrained him.

Reacting to a signal Laura could only guess at, Crusher suddenly sat and grew still.

Travis dropped to one knee and trained his gun on Barbara’s assailant, hoping for a clear shot. “I’m Detective Blacksheep. Let her go,” Travis ordered.

The man, continuing to hold Barbara in a headlock, spun the reporter around so she stood between him and Travis. With his free hand, he caressed the side of her face, his gloved fingers tugging at a loose strand of hair.

Laura moved to the side, hoping to outflank their suspect, but the man suddenly pulled a handful of Barbara’s hair, making her cry out.

“Stop, Laura. I see what you’re doing. Don’t you wish you could trade places with my hostage?” The voice was altered, pitched artificially lower, the result of some electronic device placed at his neck.

“It’s me you want, we both know it. So let her go and come get me. I’m right here,” Laura said, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“Nobody has to die here today,” Travis said. “Give it up, man.”

“You’re no fun at all, Blacksheep,” the man answered, laughing. The speech-distortion device made his response sound even more menacing.

The sound infuriated Crusher, who snarled and tugged on his leash.

“Let Ms. Malloy go,” Laura said, stepping toward her attacker. “You want me, so come on. Let’s play.” She continued toward him, one slow step at a time.

“That’s what you really want, isn’t it? A little romance in your life, just like your friend in Arizona? She was hot but you’re even hotter.”

Anger boiled inside her, but she knew that to give in to it now would only give him an even greater advantage. “I’m a better match for you—a challenge you can’t resist.” She was close enough now to smell the sweat coming off his body. “You know I can make things more interesting for you.”

“I’m counting on that,” he said, his back to the cinder-block perimeter wall.

Travis took a step forward and the man instantly put one hand around Barbara’s throat. “Stay where you are, Blacksheep, or I’ll rip out her windpipe and throw it at your feet.”

Travis stopped but kept his pistol aimed at the man’s head.

Laura took another step closer. The suspect suddenly pushed Barbara right into her. Laura slipped and fell as Barbara landed on top of her.

It took only a few seconds for Laura to get back up. By then the man had vaulted over the wall and dropped out of sight.

Crusher lunged forward on the leash, yanking Travis toward the wall.

“Stop!” Travis ordered.

The dog froze, standing on his hind legs with his paws atop the wall.

Moving slowly and ready for anything, Travis came up and looked over. The wall was on top of a steep slope ending twenty feet below at the sidewalk. If Crusher had leaped the wall, he would have tumbled over. The fall alone might have killed him.

The suspect, having slid to the bottom, climbed on a motorcycle and waved as he raced off.

“Stay, boy,” Travis ordered, scaling the wall and slipping down the hill in a controlled slide. The best they could do now was to keep the suspect in view.

As Travis reached the sidewalk he grabbed his cell phone. The cycle was already a hundred yards down the street. Though he was armed, he couldn’t risk firing into the residential neighborhood.

“Crusher headed for the gate farther down,” Laura said, joining Travis after having slid down the incline. “He’s going to follow us one way or the other.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. He has a mind of his own.” Speaking in staccato sound bites as he jogged, trying to keep the motorcycle in sight, Travis called for units to block the closest intersection.

Two hundred yards ahead, beneath a streetlight, the man on the cycle made a right turn onto a side street of the housing development.

Hearing heavy breathing, Travis turned his head and saw Crusher coming up, panting.

Travis kept the phone in hand as they raced to the corner, where the motorcycle now lay abandoned on the street. A light-colored van was just disappearing around the next curve.

Travis stopped by the cycle and ordered Crusher to heel. As the dog sat by his left leg, panting hard, Travis updated dispatch.

Travis bent to take a closer look at the dirt bike, flashlight in hand. It was a light, inexpensive model several years old, judging by the wear on it. And getting dumped unceremoniously on the street had resulted in a broken headlight.

“We probably won’t have any luck tracking this thing. My guess is that it was bought used or stolen,” Laura said. “And forget fingerprints. You noticed the suspect was wearing gloves, right?”

Travis nodded and directed the beam of light onto the ground directly ahead. “It’s not a complete loss. It looks like he left us some tire tracks when he laid rubber getting out of here. We’ll have a tread pattern to compare to the ones from the other scenes.”

“Do me a favor. Shine your light on these handlebars, will you?” Laura said. “He wound something around the left one.”

Travis aimed the light.

“It’s a white shoelace with something written on it,” Laura said. She got down on her knees for a closer look. “Without touching, I can’t…no, wait. I see an L and an A, U…” Her mouth suddenly went dry.

“Laura,” they said in unison.

“Get a close-up of that, Jimmy,” Barbara Malloy said, rushing forward, mike in hand.

“I’ve got it,” Jimmy said.

Barbara stood in front of the bicycle, and faced the camera. “Just minutes ago I was viciously attacked by a serial killer—the Shoelace Strangler—who held me hostage in front of the police, threatening to rip out my throat. The killer has now fled the scene, leaving behind this motorcycle and a taunting reminder of his cruel attacks. Is this the shoelace he used to strangle his last victim?” She moved closer to the cycle, pointing, but Travis blocked her.

“Please, don’t touch anything at the crime scene, ma’am. Back away before you compromise vital evidence,” Travis ordered.

Crusher growled, emphasizing the point.

Barbara, along with her cameraman, tried to step around him, but Travis held his arms outstretched and forced them back.

Crusher backed up Travis, facing the pair and baring his teeth.

Not missing a beat, Barbara faced the camera squarely and described the events leading to the attack, calling the episode only the latest consequence of her exclusive investigation.

Even after officers began to cordon off the major crime scenes in the park and on the street, the reporter and her cameraman continued filming.

“Are you okay?” Travis asked Laura as they walked back up the street toward the park’s closest entrance.

“No,” she managed in a shaky voice. “He was right there…almost within arm’s reach. Now he’s gone. He slips through my grasp time after time.” Tears stung her eyes and an overpowering sense of frustration swept over her.

“Don’t let him get to you. There’ll be a next time.”

Crusher, at heel, growled, emphasizing his master’s words.

Laura forced herself to take a deep breath. She wouldn’t lose it now. She owed the victims more than that. Swallowing the bitterness at the back of her throat, she focused on the task at hand.

They met with the police sergeant in charge of the scene next and Travis recounted the events.

The sergeant listened, then nodded. “You’ll need to make a formal report at the station tonight, but for now you’re free to go.”

They returned to the SUV and, this time, Travis drove. On the way he took her hand and held it. “This isn’t how I’d hoped we could end this evening.”

“In our world, we take moments as they come. I have no regrets.” Laura paused as a disturbing thought crossed her mind. Although it cost her everything, she gathered her courage and added, “Do you…have regrets?”

“I only wish—” A radio call came in then interrupting him. Travis answered it and heard Koval on the other end.

“We have another lead,” Koval said. “Write up your report, then wait for me at the station.”

IT WAS CLOSE TO TWO in the morning when they finally met in Koval’s office.

“Here’s the latest,” Koval said as they took a seat. “The lab’s been trying to track the detonator that was used to set off the bomb under Laura’s rental car. Earlier this evening, they picked up a faxed report sent in by a local mining company. Three of their electrical detonators are missing. They have no video surveillance in their warehouse, so they aren’t sure how long they’ve been gone.”

“How was the theft discovered?” Laura asked.

“One of the foremen realized that his key no longer fit the padlock on the explosives locker. It seems the thief put on a new lock after cutting off the original during the break-in. Their best guess is that the theft happened sometime during the past month. That’s the last time the foreman accessed that locker.”

“That doesn’t help much,” Laura said.

“Yeah, but we’ve got something else that might. A short while ago another crime-lab report hit my desk. They’ve isolated the make and model of the cell phone used to trigger the detonator. It’s a cheap brand, but only one business around here sells those. If the store has security cameras, we may finally be able to get a look at this guy.”

Travis looked at his watch. “It’ll have to wait till morning.”

“You could wake the owner up,” Koval said.

Travis shook his head. “If we tackle this now when we’re exhausted we could end up missing something important. Morning’s better.”

“Yeah. You’ve got a point. Go home,” Koval said, motioning them out of his office.

As they headed down the hall, Laura glanced at Travis. “Maybe we should stay in town tonight. The ride to your place will cost us time, and, at best, we only have a few hours before daybreak.”

“Yeah, good thought. My brother’s house is the safest place I know, and he’s got room. Right now his wife’s down in Las Cruces at a library conference. He can use the company.”

Travis gave Nick a call. After picking up Crusher, who’d gone to sleep under Travis’s desk in the almost empty bullpen, they were under way.

“So how does your brother like living so close to the center of town?” Laura asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Though he’s closer to the station, he’s not used to living a stone’s throw away from his neighbors. He wants to build a home on our land once he’s got some money saved up.”

They arrived at a small cottage at the west end of a cul-de-sac fifteen minutes later. Remnants of an old apple orchard surrounded the house. The property butted up against a new high school, but the massive, block-long steel-and-stone structure was silent this time of night.

Nick met them at the door and waved an invitation for them to step inside. Crusher shot past Nick and went straight to the kitchen counter where Drew, Nick’s wife, kept dog biscuits for him.

Nick laughed and tossed him one. “Hey, guy.” Nick stood barefoot in jeans and T-shirt. He greeted the dog, then glanced at his brother and Laura. “Skinny—long time no see,” he said, giving her one of those grins that had melted the hearts of half the girls back in high school. Yet as far as she was concerned, it still didn’t pack half the wallop of Travis’s smile.

Nick glanced over at Travis. “How you holding up, bro?”

“Good. You?”

“Going strong,” Nick said with a shrug. “I’ve been keeping up with your case. From what I can see, you two could really use some shut-eye. I can stand guard and make sure everything’s okay while you rest.” Nick gestured down the hall. “Let me show you guys to the guest room.”

He led the way down the hall and then waved them inside a room decorated in soft blues. The handmade quilted bedspread was decorated with tiny embroidered flowers. The theme was repeated on embroidered pillows that accented an easy chair in the corner. The entire room had a wonderfully cozy feel.

“It’s beautiful,” Laura said. It was maybe just a little too girly-girl, but she still liked it.

“My wife’s work,” Nick said, his voice revealing unmistakable pride. He glanced at his brother. Giving him a quick half smile, he added, “You two can sleep here.”

“But with Crusher and your brother on the bed, there’ll be no room for me,” she joked.

Nick burst out laughing. “There’s also a couch in the den. I’ll just leave the sleeping arrangements to you, then,” he said and walked back down the hall.

“Here’s what makes the most sense to me,” Travis said. “You take the guest room and Crusher and I will sleep in the den. From there, we’ll have access to the front and the side, and Crusher will be able to protect the entry points.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn. “Fine. I just want to sleep.” As he started to leave, she added, “And for the record, you were always the better-looking Blacksheep brother.”

He gave her a slow, devastating smile. “I always thought so, too.”

She laughed. “On that note, I’m hitting the sack.”

Travis went down the hall and lay down on the couch. In a matter of minutes, he was sound asleep.

Travis wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard Crusher’s growl and felt the dog’s massive paw on his leg.

His years in a marine recon unit had made him a light sleeper, and Travis was instantly alert. After verifying the weight of the handgun still at his waist, he sat up and reached for his radio.

“Someone’s outside,” Travis whispered to his brother. “I don’t have a location yet.”

“I’m on the north side, going around the west wall to the rear,” Nick answered. “Crusher?”

“Yeah, he alerted me.”

“Then the intruder’s close,” Nick said. “I’m on it.”

Aided by the small nightlight on the other side, Travis went down the hall to check on Laura. The door was partially open and he could see her lying atop the covers.

He’d made no noise, but along the way, Crusher had grabbed a toy Nick’s wife had bought for him. Whenever he was excited, Crusher loved having something to chomp down on.

Unfortunately, the toy was squeaky and the sudden, loud, high-pitched sound woke Laura up with a start. She reached under the pillow for her weapon. Before she could bring it to bear, she saw Travis and Crusher standing by the door.

Travis held a finger to his lips, while signaling Crusher to drop the toy. The dog obeyed instantly.

Laura quickly met Travis in the hall and pointed to the back door then to the front, signaling that they should split up.

Travis shook his head.

As they passed through the den, Travis picked up his flashlight. With Nick moving around the back, it made tactical sense to cover the front, the east side, and meet his brother by going around to the south side. Hopefully that would drive the intruder ahead of them and cut off his escape route.

“Hunt!” Travis whispered to Crusher, keeping him on a loose lead as they stepped outside.

Crusher worked quickly, following a scent only he detected. He headed straight to the apple trees southeast of their current position, then stopped, head up, his gaze focused on a spot directly ahead.

Travis ordered Crusher to stay, then motioned for Laura to hold her position behind him.

Laura nodded, raising her pistol, ready to cover him if anyone came out.

Travis verified his brother’s position. Once they had eye contact, he released the dog with a one-word command. “Hunt.”

Travis aimed his flashlight into the trees, keeping the beam at arm’s length so as not to turn himself into a target.

Working as a team, Travis, Nick and Laura closed in from three different directions. They covered each other as they advanced, intending on outflanking anyone hiding in the orchard. If the intruder was nearby, he’d have to run like the wind or get caught in the trap.

Crusher dropped low to the ground and growled ferociously at something behind the stump of a felled apple tree.

Laura moved in slowly, checking the ground for any objects, traps or footprints. Without a flashlight, she was at a disadvantage, so she stopped and waited, backing up the dog but not proceeding any farther.

“He’s gone,” Travis called out seconds later. “There are fresh tracks here by the wall where he must have jumped over and I can see taillights down the street.” Travis headed back and met Laura and Nick.

“Let’s go take a look at what Crusher found. There’s something over there,” Travis said, looking at the dog who’d held his ground.

Travis approached the dog first, flashlight in hand, and illuminated the ground. “Whatcha got, guy?”

Careful not to disturb any evidence that might have been left behind, Laura stood behind Travis and Crusher.

Caught on the tough leafless branch of a dead apple tree, they could see part of a sleeve and traces of blood.

Chapter Twenty

“Looks like he caught his sleeve on that branch that’s sticking out. I’ll go get an evidence kit from my unit,” Travis said, then jogged around the side of the house.

Laura stood beside Nick, her hand on Crusher’s head, as they waited for Travis to return. “I read about what you did overseas, saving all those marines almost single-handedly,” she said. “That took an incredible amount of courage. You might not realize it, but you became an inspiration to a lot of us back home, including me,” she said. But she noticed he seemed uneasy.

“Just doing my job,” Nick mumbled.

“Travis was in the same unit, wasn’t he?”

Nick nodded.

“He’s never said a word about his tour of duty,” she said.

“He wouldn’t, but he did some really important work. Too bad he’ll never get any recognition for it,” Nick replied.

“Why is that?”

“The combat he saw, well, let’s just say it took place in an unnamed country where U.S. forces worked clandestinely. A medal would have been out of the question.”

“But you know,” Laura asked.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Nick grinned, looking over toward the house. “Here he comes. Forget we had this conversation.”

“Forget what?” Travis said, holding out a pair of gloves for each of them.

“I can’t remember,” Laura said, taking the offered latex gloves. “Want me to hold the flashlight?”

Travis took several photos of the bloody sleeve with his cell-phone camera, then studied the footprints. Without touching anything he went back and took a closer look at the torn portion of sleeve.

“That should match the blood from the Flagstaff scene,” Laura said. “If it does, we’ll finally have conclusive proof that the killer’s working this area and dogging our footsteps.”

“It’s also possible that we might be able to find out where he bought the shirt—if we can link it to a brand name, that is.”

“You think it could be high-end rather than department store off-the-rack?” she asked.

Travis nodded slowly. “I’m guessing he’s a high earner with a fancy wardrobe, the kind that would catch a woman’s eye. We know he travels and has enough time on his hands to be able to play these games with us. So he’s either got a good job with flexible hours—like a traveling sales rep—or is living off investments.”

Laura studied the ground. “Judging from those marks on the ground, he stayed here for some time, probably on his knees, watching the house.” She shook her head. “But this makes no sense. How could he have possibly known we’d be here?”

“He knew we’d be going to the station after the park incident, so maybe he stayed close by and waited for us to leave. He probably also knows where my brother lives, so when we drove in the opposite direction of my house, he passed by here and spotted the SUV.”

Laura nodded somberly.

Travis checked his watch. “It’s five in the morning. In another hour it’ll be daybreak. You could try and get a little more sleep,” he added, looking at Laura.

She shook her head. “We’ll need to debrief, and then we have a full day ahead.”

As they went back inside the house, Crusher stayed by Travis’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you done good,” Travis said, crouching to pet the huge dog.

As Laura watched man and dog, she felt a hollow ache inside her. She’d prided herself on having no attachments in her life. Yet that self-imposed isolation also meant having no one to share special moments with, no one to cry with and no one to cheer with when things went right. What had been meant to keep her safe had become a prison that didn’t protect as much as it trapped.

As her gaze fell on Travis, she slowly saw something else, a truth that had been there all along, though she’d refused to face it. Without her permission, love had made a place for itself in her heart. Travis’s name was carved there. Maybe it had always been that way. What she felt went so deep, was so strong and had stood the toughest test of all—time.

Yet his life was here in a town filled with memories she’d wanted to put behind her forever. She wouldn’t live in a community that had once branded her as trash. Those labels had left scars that would never fully heal.

The only thing she and Travis had to share was the present. Deep down, she’d known that all along. Yet, facing the fact squarely hurt more than she’d ever imagined possible. When the time came for her to go, she’d be leaving behind a piece of her heart.

Pushing back the heaviness inside her, Laura quickly gathered up the few things she’d brought with her and met Travis and Crusher by the door.

“I’m ready,” she said, then followed them to the SUV. “We didn’t get much sleep but I’m not tired. Are you?”

“We’re still charged up,” Travis said, adjusting his Stetson. “But like the Navajo Way teaches, everything’s got two sides. When the high wears off, we’ll crash.”

“I’m a great believer in strong coffee,” she said. “Let’s stop for some along the way.”

THEY ARRIVED AT THE STATION at five-thirty, and after a long meeting with Koval and Chief Wright, they filed their reports, then waited to see the crime-scene team’s preliminary findings.

Though they’d both hoped for a quick lead they could follow right away, they didn’t get lucky. The blood was the same type as the Flagstaff sample, but it couldn’t be considered a match until a DNA comparison was made, and that would take days. The sleeve was being shipped to the state crime lab for analysis.

It was shortly after nine by the time they set out to the store that sold the type of cell phone used to trigger the detonator.

“I remember the place we’re going to, Brown’s Bargain Basement,” she said. “Do you know it?”

“It’s been around for years, but I can’t recall ever going there,” he said.

“I worked at Brown’s for a few months my junior year in high school. I’d stock shelves and clean up after hours. I hated every single minute of it. Martin Brown treated me and my mom like dirt. We needed the money, so I stuck it out until I was able to get another job, then I quit.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Just another wonderful memory of my days living here.”

“Bad memories need to be released. It’s the only way you can start living again.”

“How did you deal with your memories after you came back from your combat tours?”

“I went to Long Mountain and found peace there. Members of my tribe use special ceremonies to help us let go of the past and make the most out of the present.”

“I’d like to know more about those ceremonies someday,” she said as he pulled into Brown’s parking lot.

As they went inside, a small bell over the door rang.

Laura glanced around and saw nothing much had changed except for the merchandise. In the far corner sat a small table with a coffeepot, where it always had been. Brown had probably gone through several brewers since then, but the layout was the same.

She recalled the morning she’d dropped the pot, spilling coffee onto some Chinese-made Navajo look-alike rugs. Martin had called her a clumsy loser.

It was strange how life and time often served to equalize the old injustices. Here she was now, in a position to command his respect.

Martin Brown called out from the storeroom, “Be there in a second.”

As she recognized his voice, older but still gruff and distinctive, she tensed up. For a heartbeat she felt like the girl she’d once been, trying to do her best, though hemmed in by labels and prejudice.

“What can I do for you?” Martin said, approaching them wearing the phony, pasted-on smile that had always turned her stomach. As he glanced at the dog, he stiffened, but Travis flashed his badge.

Laura stood ramrod stiff and listened to Travis introduce her as a special consultant to the department.

Martin’s gaze took in the firearm she carried at her waist just beneath her coat, and then studied her face. “Do I know you?”

“I worked for you a long time ago,” she answered, her voice as brittle as ice.

“Oh yeah! I remember. Your mother was that…”

His voice trailed off but she heard the remainder of his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them out loud. What surprised her most was that his attitude still stung.

She met his gaze with an icy look. “We need to ask you about merchandise from your store that was used in the commission of a crime.”

His expression changed instantly. Wariness and uneasiness were mirrored there and although it shouldn’t have made any difference to her, it gave her an undeniable sense of satisfaction. This time he wouldn’t be able to dismiss her.

Laura pointed to a camera in the corner. “We need to view your surveillance video.”

“I don’t know….”

“We can get a warrant,” Travis said with a shrug. “Of course, I hope you won’t mind if my dog hangs out here with us while we wait. He probably won’t slobber over your customers—not much anyway.”

“You can’t do that,” he said, glancing toward the front door.

“You’re wearing a gun and that monster of a dog is going to scare off my customers.”

“Don’t worry,” Laura said crisply. “We’ll just explain that we’re waiting for a warrant to search your records.”

The man’s jaw dropped.

“We’re after a man who has killed at least three people,” Travis said. “If you cooperate, you’d be helping the entire community.”

It was Travis’s version of good cop, and although it was the right approach, Laura swallowed her disappointment. She’d wanted old man Brown to feel uncomfortable for a while longer.

“All right. Come on,” Brown grumbled, then waved them to the back. “I’m always willing to help the police.”

He unlocked a door and they entered a small room—actually a closet, equipped with three screens and a large digital recorder. “If you give me an idea what day and time you’re searching for, it’ll help. I automatically back up the hard drive to disks, but each one contains a week’s worth of images. I keep a thirty-day record, too, before recycling.”

Travis gave him the needed information. Moments later, they began viewing the footage, Crusher lying down next to them. Minutes ticked by slowly while Martin went back and forth to the counter to greet his customers.

After a half hour, Travis stretched. Seeing that he was getting tired, Laura placed her hand on his shoulder. “Take a break. Brown has a coffeepot in the corner. Buy two cups, and make mine black, no sugar.”

“I’ll get you some, on the house,” Brown said as he stepped back into the room.

Travis and Laura switched chairs and she focused on the screen before her. When Brown came back with coffee a few minutes later, Laura reached into her wallet and insisted on paying for both cups.

After Brown left, Travis’s gaze remained on her. “I know what’s bugging you, but you need to move on.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, I get exactly where you’re coming from. You want to be treated with the respect you deserve, yet here, people only see who you used to be,” he said. “But you know how far you’ve come. They’re the ones with the problem. They deserve nothing more than, maybe, your sympathy.”

Laura considered what he said. “You’re right. Thanks.”

Her gaze shifted back to the screen and she focused on the man coming up to the counter. He was wearing a baseball cap that obscured most of his face. But it was the way he walked and held himself that caught her attention.

“This guy just bought one of those disposable phones,” she said, pointing him out to Travis. “Now look at the way he’s standing, holding it in his hand so it presents a clear image to the camera. He wants us to see it—yet his face is down so we can’t make out his features.”

“Yeah, he’s deliberately positioning himself and what he’s holding. Interesting.”

They watched him pay—in cash—and walk just under the camera so all they could see was the top of his hat. Then he stopped and brought his hand up. They could see he was holding something the size of a business card. With deliberate precision, he directed it up at the camera. After a moment he brought his hand down again and disappeared from view.

“There was some writing on what he held up to the camera, but I couldn’t make it out,” she said. “Could you?”

“Run it back,” he said.

She did, but although they both tried, the image was too blurry.

“We need to give this to our lab techs. They’ll be able to enhance and enlarge the image. If anyone can get that section cleared up, it’s them.”

Brown came in. Seeing them both looking intently at the frozen image, he said, “I take it you found what you wanted?”

“Yes, but we’ll need to take this disk back to the lab with us and make a copy,” Travis said.

They ran the recording back for Brown, but the proprietor didn’t recall the sale.

“Is that the guy—the killer?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, added, “Look, if you don’t tell anyone outside the department that he came into my store, you can keep the disk forever.”

Travis gave him a receipt for it, then placed the disk into a plastic bag and labeled the outside with his name, date and location. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

“Nicely done,” Laura said as they reached the SUV. “Of course, I would have added, ‘you old cockroach.’”

He laughed.

As Travis drove down the road, he noticed that Laura had lapsed into a long silence.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked at long last.

“I need to get inside our suspect’s head, but every time I’ve tried, I’ve come up short.”

“Giving in to frustration is only going to throw us off our game. Don’t do it.”

“I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to see this guy behind bars.”

“I know.”

Travis’s steady gaze was tempered with understanding and gentleness. That combination of strength and tenderness defined him. It was why she’d fallen in love with him. What they had was so right. But today, with all its beauty and imperfections, was all they could really share.

She pushed back the sadness that crept into her thoughts. She wouldn’t think about tomorrow. She’d take things one moment at a time.

THEY WERE BACK at the station, sitting by Travis’s computer when they were called to the lab. Hoping for a break in the case, they left Crusher on his pad beneath the desk and went down the long hall. The lab looked more like a mad scientist’s storeroom than the fancy sets TV crime shows usually had.

The tech, wearing a white lab coat, waved at the screen before him. “I’ve cleared it up as much as I can. It still isn’t sharp but at least you can read it.”

Laura stared at the screen, transfixed by the message there. “That piece of dirt.”

“He’s playing you,” Travis said as he, too, saw the note that had been intended for them. It was simple and to the point. “Never thought you’d get this far,” it read.

“That,” Laura said, pointing to the screen, “is his way of saying we’re incompetent.”

“He’s underestimating us. That arrogance will be his downfall.”

“Let’s take a walk,” Laura said. “I need to cool off.”

After thanking the lab tech, they walked slowly down the hall.

“This isn’t about going for a stroll. You have something to say you don’t want anyone to overhear. Am I right?” Travis asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got an idea. It’s complicated, and we’ll need backup from Koval and others, but if we can pull all the details together I’m sure it’ll work.”

As they passed the bullpen, they saw only one other detective, who was currently busy on the phone.

Travis glanced at Laura and she nodded, leading the way back to his desk.

Crusher looked up, sighed, then lay back down, judging rightly that they were staying awhile longer.

“I want to go back to my original plan. Let’s use what we already know about this guy against him,” she said. “He likes young female athletes and he’s got a special interest in me. I say we combine those elements and see if we can draw him out into the open.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Travis asked her.

“This is the season for summer softball leagues. I saw the sign-up sheet and schedules on the bulletin board in the hall. I need to find a team that doesn’t already have a full roster—one of the less competitive levels—and see if they’ll let me play. Then we’ll do our best to make sure he finds out.”

“Tryouts are over, and most of the teams have waiting lists because there are lots of people who want to play. But there’s one I know about that could probably accommodate a new player.” Travis stopped speaking as Lester Crosley, their computer tech, came in, set down a tool bag and began to check the network connection at an unoccupied work station.

Lester gave Laura a big smile, nodded to Travis, then focused back on his work.

“You could play with the Ad Hoc League,” Travis said, lowering his voice.

Lester glanced up at Laura. “Sorry to be eavesdropping, but I’ve heard about the Ad Hoc League on the radio sports channel. It’s made up of kids and adults who just want to play. They keep expanding every time they have enough players to form a team. No one’s ever turned away. They play in street clothes, mostly. The league sponsor has remained anonymous, so his representative runs things. I hear there’s never been a shortage of volunteer coaches or free equipment, even T-shirts and caps.”

“You’re right. It’s just regular folks,” Travis said. “Everyone has fun. That’s what it’s all about.”

Laura gave Lester a quick half smile, then looked back at Travis. “That sounds like a great idea, partner. It’ll give me something to do on my off-hours,” Laura said, knowing that Lester had only heard the very last of their conversation. “What do you say we step out and grab some breakfast? I’m starving.”

As they left the station, Travis gave her a long, speculative look. “So what’s the next part of your plan?”

“First, answer a question for me,” she said. “I heard something in your voice when you spoke about the Ad Hoc League. Back in high school you’d sit on the bleachers and watch every after-school game you could. You couldn’t play because you couldn’t risk calling attention to yourself, but you loved softball.” She paused and met his gaze. “You’re the sponsor of that league, aren’t you? You make sure no one is turned away.”

Travis smiled, cocking his head toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat. Then you can tell me the rest of your plan.”

“Nice dodge,” she answered, smiling.

They went across the street to a small café, and, while Travis stood outside with Crusher, Laura picked up two breakfast burritos to go and two slices of Texas toast for their canine partner. Then, sitting outside on one of the benches facing a small fountain, they ate, enjoying the cool morning air.

“So what’s your plan?” Travis asked. Crusher had already wolfed down his bread and now he was eyeing Travis’s burrito.

“You first,” she answered with a tiny smile. “You never answered my question about the sponsorship.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Seeing her shake her head, he expelled his breath in a hiss. “All right. Here’s the story, but I’d like you to keep it to yourself. Not even my brother knows.”

Seeing her nod, he began, “You remember right. Back in high school my brother and I didn’t go out for sports because they required parent signatures, physicals, rides home after school and fees. But we played pickup games during lunch and in P.E., and I’d often watch the teams practice after school. I would have traded anything to play.”

In a faraway voice, he continued, “Now that I’ve got a job and the means, I decided to get involved in something that makes a difference. I created a league that takes anyone, and everyone gets to play. The schedule is flexible and the coaches are volunteers from the community, mostly teachers.”

“That’s a terrific idea. Has it been difficult to keep your identity a secret?” she asked.

“No, I just say that I’m working for the sponsor so he can remain anonymous,” he said with a grin. “The league pretty much runs itself anyway. But getting back on track,” he added, uncomfortable with her praise, “we have three games coming up Friday night. I’m assistant coach for one of the six teams, which is comprised of women in the community who failed to get on a regular city-league team. I can put you out in right field where there’s less action. You can wear a small earpiece to stay in contact with the other officers and not have to worry so much about the game.”

“Unless a ball comes my way,” she said.

“That’s the beauty of it. Most of the players bat right-handed and they tend to hit the ball to center or left field. There aren’t any power hitters either, so if a ball does go out of the infield in your direction, it’ll probably be a slow-rolling grounder.”

“Sounds good to me. Now how do we let the word out? We want our suspect to get the news.”

“You won’t have to do anything. He’s into sports, so he’s bound to at least have heard about this charity game. It’s a special event certain to get a big turnout. Our team’s opponent is the local high school’s faculty women’s team. Admission is a nonperishable food item for a local homeless shelter.”

“Then we’re good to go. I’ll dress in tight jeans and pick a T-shirt that’s bound to catch his attention.”

“There should be a pretty big crowd, so one false move and things could go really wrong,” he said. “We won’t be able to use our weapons, at least not easily.”

“Yeah, but in an environment with so many potential witnesses, he’s less likely to do anything overt. He also won’t be able to wear a mask, so this is an ideal opportunity to draw him out and set him up. We can do it. All we need is a detailed plan,” she said.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes and he didn’t answer right away.

“There’s no safe way to go after a killer,” she said, knowing he was having second thoughts. “One thing working in our favor is that he won’t be able to come after me until the game’s over. He isn’t a sniper. He wants a victim he can control, then destroy.”

“All right,” Travis said at last. “Let’s go talk to the chief and see if we can set this up.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Everyone was in place.

Travis stood on the sidelines of the ballpark with his team, the Braves. Koval sat on the old metal bleachers on the opposite side, behind the home team’s bench, shooting video with a small digital camera. The Braves’s coach, Jane Butler, had been briefed and was eager to cooperate with the police.

Crusher was the team’s mascot and good-luck charm. He was sitting beside the bench on a leash being held by the team’s equipment manager, a girl with Down syndrome.

While Jane performed her coaching duties, Travis pretended to document the event with a video camera. Since a lot of family and friends were also filming the event, he and Koval blended right in.

Laura sat on the team bench with the other women, who were so excited about playing before such a large crowd they didn’t notice or care that she was a recent addition. Everyone would get their chance at bat. Laura had practiced with them earlier and had grown to like the friendly, low-pressure group of ladies, whose ages ranged from nineteen to sixty.

Considered the visiting team for this charity event, the Braves were first at bat. Their leadoff batter was walked. The next three players either struck or grounded out, so they took the field before Laura, who was hitting eighth, came up to bat.

When she trotted out to right field, glove in hand, she felt especially self-conscious. She’d poured herself into tight jeans and a spandex T-shirt, hoping to attract the killer’s attention.

Hearing a wolf whistle from someone in the bleachers, she turned to look. It had come from a man in his mid-forties, but one look at his large belly told her he wasn’t their suspect.

At least she was getting attention. Hopefully, their man was at the game and would single her out.

“You’re getting some attention,” Travis said gruffly into her earpiece, his first comment since she’d taken the field.

“Did you get a look at the guy?”

“Wrong age and body type. But our guy’s out here. I can feel him.”

“Let’s hope he makes a move,” Travis said.

“You think he suspects a trap?” she asked, thumping her right fist into her glove like she’d seen some of the other players do.

“I’m an assistant coach. I do this every summer, and this is a scheduled event. If he’s really a local, my being here won’t be unexpected.”

The faculty women weren’t that much better at softball than the Braves, but they had two or three players with some talent—probably P.E. instructors—and they managed to score three runs right away. Only one ball was hit to Laura’s side of the field, but it was a foul, and all she had to do was pick up the slow roller and throw it back to the first baseman. Her throw was weak but at least it went in the right direction. The guy with the belly cheered at her throw.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Travis commented. “In that outfit, make that two. You look hot.”

His words sent a tingle all through her. The fire between them never went away.

“Stay focused.”

“Yeah,” she said too quickly to be convincing. “Have you spotted anyone who fits our suspect’s description yet?”

“A few, but they’re with other people and our man works alone,” Travis said. “Patience.”

The game continued. Laura struck out on three straight pitches her first time at bat, but it could have been worse. At least she ticked the ball on the third strike.

As they jogged out onto the field during the fourth inning, Laura glanced over at her biggest fan. Someone was now sitting beside him. The new guy looked familiar, somehow, but she couldn’t place him.

She called Travis, making sure not to look toward the bleachers again. “You know the guy with the belly who has been cheering me on?” she asked, glancing down so no one would see her talking.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“There’s a sturdy-looking, brown-haired guy wearing a black baseball cap and sunglasses sitting next to him now. Something about him looks familiar to me, but I can’t make out his face from this far away. Check him out, will you?”

“On it.”

Laura stared toward home plate, not wanting to give herself away. Out of the corner of her eye saw Travis head toward the gate on the chain-link fence.

“He’s heading for the exit. Close in,” Travis called.

“Time-out!” Laura yelled. She raced toward the right-field foul line. Determined to keep the man in the baseball cap in sight, she jumped over the fence, off the playing field now.

Seeing her running toward him, the guy in the black cap swerved around the back of the bleachers.

“Can you see him?” Laura called over the open connection.

“He ran out the main entrance and is racing down the street, going south,” Travis answered. “I’m about fifty yards behind him.”

Laura ran around the back of the bleachers and headed toward the opening.

Travis ran through the main gate and entered the crowded parking lot. He was gaining ground on the man when their suspect suddenly cut left into an alley.

“Police officer. Stop. You’ve got no place to go,” Travis yelled. At the end of the alley was a high chain-link fence. The guy was trapped.

The man half turned, then leaped up onto a fire escape ladder.

“He’s going up the side of the old…hotel,” Travis said, reading the faded sign. “Go around to Third Street and keep watch in case he gets inside and tries to exit via the north side of the building.”

“On it. How about Koval?” Laura replied, short of breath as she raced north.

“I just saw him. He’s heading for his vehicle and calling for backup,” Travis said, reaching the ladder. The suspect was already close to the top of the four-story building.

Travis leaped onto the rusty ladder and climbed up quickly. As he reached the top, he peered over the parapet with his pistol out, expecting an ambush.

Their suspect stood on the center of the flat roof, backing away from him.

“Stop. Don’t make me shoot,” Travis said, scrambling up the last few steps and jumping onto solid footing.

The man spun around and sprinted toward the edge of the building.

“No! You won’t make it,” Travis yelled, running forward.

The guy leaped, his legs flailing in midair, then landed with a thud on the next roof over. He stumbled and nearly fell, but quickly regained his balance and raced across the roof.

Knowing he’d have to follow or lose the suspect, Travis shoved his pistol back in its holster and sprinted toward the edge. Reaching the top of the parapet, he pushed off into space. At that instant, one of the bricks crumbled beneath his boot and his foot slipped. Out of balance and control, he hurtled across the gap headfirst.

Travis knew he wasn’t going to make it. He threw his arms up, reaching out for anything solid, and slammed into the far wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him. As he smacked his forehead against the wall, his radio slipped and nearly fell off.

Travis clung to the edge of the roof, his hands gripping the bricks of the parapet. Unlike the ones on the building across the way, these held, but the pain was nearly unbearable.

“Your breathing sounds off. Where are you?”

Travis heard Laura’s voice clearly over his earpiece and suddenly remembered he hadn’t broken off the connection. “I’m dangling…off roof…building east of the hotel. Suspect jumped across. He made it—I didn’t,” he managed, struggling to hang on.

“I’ll be right there,” Laura said flatly.

Travis felt around with the tip of his boots, trying to find a foothold. After several failed attempts, he found a secure gap between the bricks and steadied himself. If he could manage a pull-up, he’d reach the roof. Just as he was about to try, he heard a loud pop—a gunshot—then silence.

Fear, then anger heated his blood. If the scumbag had hurt Laura…

Travis knew he was out of time. It was now or never. As he fought for leverage, he heard a sound above him.

“Travis, hang on,” Laura called out.

Hearing her voice, an incredible tangle of feelings welled up inside him. Relief and pure, unadulterated happiness tied for first. He wanted her in his arms—but for that, he had to get off this ledge.

“Who fired that shot?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I had to kill a padlock to get into the building,” she answered quickly. “I’m going to dangle down some telephone line tied into a loop. When you see it, grab on, then we’ll pull you up.”

“We—is Harry there?”

“Trying to find the stairs, he says. Just grab the cord. The bricks you’re holding look unstable.”

“You can’t pull me up by yourself. I outweigh you by seventy pounds. I’ll yank you off the roof.”

“The other end of the line is tied around a chimney. Stop worrying. Me and this building can hold you until Koval gets here. Here it comes.”

A heartbeat later Travis felt something on his shoulder. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed on. When his head reached roof level, he saw Laura straining at the cord. Her feet were braced against the base of the parapet on the inside, and she was hanging on for dear life. There was no chimney and no Koval. She was doing it herself.

He tumbled over the top and crawled to where she lay, gasping for air.

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” Knowing that his life had been more important to her than her own safety told him everything he needed to know. He tangled his hand through her hair and pulled her close, his mouth covering hers. He parted her lips roughly, needing her, wanting her to feel the passion inside him.

Fire burst through him and ignited his blood. Then close to the breaking point, he pulled away. “You make me crazy,” he growled, then got on his feet and offered her a hand-up.

Laura glanced over the edge. “He got away—again.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger and her eyes flashed. “He’s beaten us every time.”

“He’s used up all his luck. Next time, he’s ours,” Travis said. Yet even as he spoke, another thought intruded. Once they caught their suspect and booked him, then what? He wanted Laura to stay, but no matter what they’d shared, he was also part of her past, one filled with memories she wanted no part of. The moment they closed the case she’d leave. It was no surprise, but the knowledge still clawed into his gut.

He forced all those thoughts aside and looked away from her. They had work to do. It was their duty to find the killer and until that was done, there could be no other priority for either of them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

After a quick stop by the station, they returned to Travis’s home. There, they reviewed the footage from their video cameras.

After an hour, they’d narrowed down three sections of video. “There’s nothing distinctive about that guy except he’s in good shape,” Laura said. “He’s not too tall or too short, his hair’s brown, not blond, and medium cut. His clothes are unremarkable. He’s the definition of average.”

Travis studied the image. “Look at that mannerism of his, the way he rolls his shoulder and bends his neck as if working out the cricks.”

“We’ve seen someone who does that…” she said slowly, trying to remember.

“I know, but I can’t place it,” Travis said.

Laura sat in the chair next to him, and stared across the room, lost in thought.

Suddenly they both glanced at each other. “Lester Crosley!” they said simultaneously.

“But the image is too fuzzy for a positive ID. Plus the suspect had brown hair and Lester’s bald,” Laura said slowly.

“Different colored wigs are easy enough to come by,” Travis said.

“Lester’s profile fits. As an IT specialist, he accesses all kinds of computers and communications systems,” Laura said. “He told me when we met that he configures software for automatic backups, system protection and safe shutdowns during power outages. If he works for travel agencies, hotels or airlines, he could have accessed my travel plans while in the system pretending to be updating firewalls and antivirus programs. I booked everything, including my hotel, online. That would also explain how he managed to put a bomb in my rental car. He could have followed me from the airport, hotel or both. He knew where I’d be.”

Travis picked up the phone and called Jim Franklin of Franklin’s Feed Store. Not wasting time with pleasantries, Travis got down to business. “Who sets up your computer backup programs and takes care of your system’s security?”

“Why are you asking? Is he the dirtbag who broke into my building?”

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to follow up on a lead,” Travis said.

“It’s a bald-headed guy.” He paused. “I’m trying to think of his last name, but all I can remember offhand is his first name, Lester.”

“Crosley?”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s the local rep for IT Security Exchange, an Albuquerque firm. Lester set up those portable batteries so everything backs up automatically if the power goes out.”

“Have you seen him today?”

“No. He checks the system once a month, but he’s not due to come back for a few more weeks.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Travis called the station next and spoke to Koval.

“So you think Crosley’s been playing around with our software, too?” Koval asked. “He’s the one who protects our mainframe and the municipal network from hackers and power outages.”

“We need to find a forensics computer expert and see if Crosley’s planted a bug or created a back door into our system at the station.”

“I’ll handle it,” Koval said.

As Travis hung up, he saw Laura typing at his keyboard. “What are you looking for?”

“Similarities. I’m trying to find out what computer backup systems our victims used, and if they were purchases from the same company. The crime-scene photos taken at my friend’s home include shots of her laptop computer, but I don’t recall if she had one of those battery backup systems Lester installs.”

Laura accessed the right files, but her optimism was soon dashed. Although all the victims had computers, they were inexpensive systems. “I’m not sure Lester would even service small home computers like these,” she said, disappointed.

Travis studied the photos. “Look at the floor by the desks. The victims added on battery backup hardware, and although they’re smaller units, they appear to be the same brand as ours. See the company logo?” He pointed to one of the photos on screen.

Travis’s phone rang. It was Detective Koval. Travis put him on speaker.

“We’re hoping to get an expert from Albuquerque’s FBI crime lab here in a few hours. I also had a contact of mine with the credit bureau call Crosley’s boss. I didn’t do it directly because I didn’t want to link our department to the inquiry,” Koval said. “According to my source, Crosley’s employment record is squeaky-clean.”

Travis hung up and shook his head. “It happens every time. The dirtier the suspect, the more people will line up to tell us what a great neighbor, employee and overall person he is.”

“We’re on the right track, but we’ve still got nothing solid on him,” she said. “What do you say we check the serial numbers on the backup systems the Navajo coach and the victim in Bloomfield used? We might be able to track them back to Crosley via his company.”

“I’ll make some calls on our way to the station,” he said.

It took another ninety minutes for Nakai and Sanders to bring what was needed to the station at Three Rivers. Nakai brought the backup system itself, while Detective John Sanders brought in the photos that included the necessary information.

The lab tech studied what they’d given her, then finally looked up. “The systems aren’t identical, but they do have something in common,” she said. “All the serial numbers have been filed down.” She enlarged the photo Sanders had brought and pointed out the blank place, then showed them Coach’s unit.

“Yet he kept the manufacturer’s mark,” Travis commented.

“Sometimes there are ways to restore serial numbers, but the person who did this went out of his way to do a thorough job,” the lab tech said, looking at the coach’s unit. “I don’t think we’ll be able to help you with this.”

“Only a thief would have reason to file down the serial numbers, but there’s not much of a market for those types of devices,” Travis said. “Computers, yes, backup hard drives maybe, but not battery backups. Those small units cost, what, less than sixty bucks retail?”

“Let me check and find out more about the system my friend in Arizona used,” Laura said. She called the detective in Flagstaff and within fifteen minutes she had the information. “Her battery backup had the numbers filed off, too.”

“So there’s no way to positively trace the units back to our suspect,” Travis said. “Even if he’s got three that are missing or unaccounted for, he could claim they were stolen from his van or whatever.”

After Nakai and Sanders left, Laura and Travis went back to the bullpen where Crusher waited. Before they could discuss the case further, Koval hurried to meet them.

“I’ve got bad news,” he said. “Crosley was here at the station when you two came in. He went into the computer room, and according to the duty officer, ran a quick software check and left about ten minutes ago. Crosley apparently told the desk sergeant he’d be right back, but he never returned.”

“He may have seen Sanders and Nakai and figured something was up. We need to track Crosley down, and fast,” Laura said.

“Do you have his home address?” Travis asked Koval.

“Yeah. He owns a house north of Twentieth, 320 Baker Street. That’s about two miles from here.”

“If he’s decided to make a run for it, he may go there first to destroy evidence or pick up essentials. We have to hurry,” Laura said, heading to the door.

Five minutes later, they were in Travis’s SUV racing to the neighborhood west of the community college. Crusher sensed their tension and mirrored it, sitting up on the backseat cushion, occasionally whining softly with excitement.

“Can’t you go any faster?” she asked Travis, peering ahead as they approached an intersection.

“Not without using my emergency lights or siren, and I don’t want to tip him off.”

Travis turned the corner onto Baker Street, and soon came to a stop in front of a house with a for-sale sign on the lawn, half a block from their destination.

“We’ll walk the rest of the way. Keep your eyes open. He’s armed, jumpy and may already be expecting us,” Travis said.

The large company van in Crosley’s driveway screened their approach. Travis kept one hand on Crusher’s leash close beside him and the other on the butt of his weapon.

As they drew near, a sporty sedan pulled up by the curb of a house next door to Crosley’s. Three teenage girls climbed out, laughing.

“Nice dog,” one of them said, giving Travis a flirtatious smile.

“Thanks,” Travis muttered, not making eye contact.

Laura’s attention remained on the house. As they walked up the driveway beside the van, Crusher suddenly stopped, turned and tugged hard.

“Something’s off. Back away, fast!” Travis said, shoving Laura toward the street. “Girls, get down!” he yelled at the others.

As they raced back down the driveway, Travis saw a flash of searing heat, then an explosion rocked the ground, hurling them to the concrete with hurricane force.

The van reared up like a wild horse. It twisted in midair, falling on its side not ten feet from them, spraying cubes of glass like jagged snowflakes.

Travis rolled and threw himself over Laura, simultaneously reaching for his weapon. While Travis kept Laura pinned, Crusher crawled to Travis’s side, staying low as he’d been taught.

Just as Travis looked up, a second explosion blew out the front wall of Crosley’s house, hurling wooden beams, Sheet-rock and shingles in a tornado of debris. Again they were struck by a wave of heat and stinging pieces of wood and stone. Chunks of building, large and small, plummeted to the earth all around them.

Travis rose to his feet slowly, then gave Laura a hand-up. The half-leveled house was nothing more than burning rubble now. “I’ll get as close as I can to the house and look for Crosley’s body. The girls—”

“On it.” Laura raced down the sidewalk toward the neighbor’s yard, where fragments of debris had been thrown. Pieces of wall as big as suitcases were scattered about, some of them smoldering. The fact that the girls had been thrown to the ground had probably saved them from major injuries, but they were all badly frightened.

After making sure they were okay, Laura hurried back to Travis and Crusher, who’d been forced to keep their distance from the growing inferno.

“Where is he?” she yelled over the roar of the flames.

Travis put away his cell phone. “If he’s still in the house, it’s too late.”

“I can’t see a thing.” Coughing, she stepped back from the smoke drifting toward the street. Before she could say anything else one of the girls screamed.

Laura and Travis spun in a crouch, reaching for their guns.

Crosley emerged from the thick gray cloud of smoke to their left. He had one badly scratched arm around the neck of one of the teens. His pistol was aimed at Travis.

“Keep your hands away from your weapons,” Crosley yelled, switching his aim back and forth between Laura and Travis. “If you shoot, she dies.”

“Let her go,” Travis said, holding Crusher back with his left hand, his right hand close to the butt of his gun.

“That’s not going to happen, but if you let me drive away and don’t follow, I’ll let the girl out when I reach the highway,” he shouted back.

Travis moved closer, Crusher straining at the leash. “You’re not going anywhere, Crosley. This is the end of the line.”

“I’ll shoot the dog if you let him loose,” he said, aiming down at Crusher.

“Stay, boy,” Travis ordered, releasing the leash. Crusher stood there, growling but obeying the command.

Laura was closer to Crosley and the girl, and she sidestepped as she moved forward, screening Travis and diverting Crosley’s attention. “You’ve got the drop on us now, but when you put the girl in the car, we’ll have a clear shot. One of us will take you out. So let her go, Lester. It’s the only way you’ll get out of this alive.”

Laura turned her head to look back at Travis, then lowered her eyes and cocked her head ever so slightly, hoping he’d get the message. “We won’t shoot, will we?” she said, sending Travis the opposite message as she continued to screen him from Crosley.

Travis eased his hand down toward his gun.

“Quit blocking him, Laura, or I’ll kill the girl right now,” Crosley snapped.

“Okay,” Laura said, then dived to her left, forcing Crosley to target her.

“No!” Crosley screamed, swinging his pistol around and aiming at her.

The girl screamed, clawing at Crosley’s face and kicking his legs. As his grip loosened, she broke free.

Crusher was nothing more than a blur as he flew toward Crosley, tackling him to the grass. The big man shoved hard, throwing the dog off for a second, then swung his pistol toward Crusher.

Travis and Laura both fired and Crosley fell back, mortally wounded.

The girl, who’d rushed over to her friends, was now clinging to them, sobbing. Crusher immediately trotted over, his tail wagging furiously, and began licking them. The girls knelt down, wrapping the dog in big hugs.

Travis hurried to Laura’s side and glared at her. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll shoot you myself.”

As she looked at him, she saw remnants of fear and a love as steady as the mountains all rolled into one volatile package. “I knew you’d protect me—just as I would you. Balance,” she said.

“Love,” he said as sirens filled the air, drowning out his voice.

She drew in her breath, almost sure she’d heard him say the one word her heart had longed to hear most. As she reached for his hand, the first patrol car pulled up and he moved away.

NOT MUCH HAD SURVIVED the explosions, but hours later, new details were coming to light. Crosley had been ready to make a run for it. He’d parked a getaway car a block away. Although he’d destroyed almost all the evidence in those explosions, he’d carried one thing in his pocket—his computer flash drive.

Back in the lab, one of the techs plugged it into the mainframe and showed them the journal that appeared on the screen. “This was encrypted and it wasn’t easy to figure out a way to break it down. It’s a memoir that explains a lot about him. Crosley met his first real love in college, a softball player on scholarship who didn’t give him the time of day. He kept pushing it, and one day she got the men’s team to gang up, strip him down and duct tape him to a flagpole. The rest are mostly rantings over his need for revenge—sick stuff that suggests he had some deep psychological problems.”

“Incidents and memories that most young people learn to put aside so they can move on led him to become a monster,” Travis said. “What a waste.”

“Yes,” Laura said, the truth behind his words touching her deeply.

“This case is now closed,” Travis said.

“Not yet,” Chief Wright said. “I’ll need to speak to both of you. Ms. Perry, you first.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Debriefings were never easy, but this one had been especially difficult for her. As she came out of the chief’s office, Travis went in. She gave him a smile of encouragement, then went to find Crusher.

As she walked down the hall to the bullpen, Laura felt hollow inside. She’d found justice, but now her time at Three Rivers had come to an end. The knowledge felt like a knife to her heart.

Seeing Crusher by Travis’s desk, she hugged him and decided on impulse to take the big guy out for a walk. It would be the last time she’d be spending time with their uncomplaining partner.

Once outside and away from prying eyes, she bent down and gave him a tight hug. The dog set down the toy he’d been carrying in his mouth and licked her face.

“Thanks, Mister C. I’ll miss you, too,” she said softly.

As she looked down at the toy, Laura realized that it was the old glove Travis had given him once, the one the dog hadn’t wanted to part with but wouldn’t play with anymore. Love had worked its magic on her four-legged friend, allowing him to let go of the past.

Maybe it was time for her to do the same. Some things were just too precious to cast aside. She smiled, a new sense of purpose and rightness coming to life within her. She’d always wanted to open her own agency. What better time than here and now?

She wouldn’t bind Travis to anything he wasn’t ready for, but the thought of walking away from love, the best and truest gift life had ever given her, was clearly unthinkable.

Hearing quick footsteps, she spun around and nearly collided with Travis. He took her in his arms, pushed her against the wall and covered her mouth with his. That endless kiss sent its vibrations all the way down to her toes.

After an eternity, he pulled away but didn’t release her. “What we’ve found is worth fighting for. I can’t let you go without showing you what might be. Come with me to Long Mountain. The Navajo Way can bring us peace and restore our hózhó. We can find freedom from the past there with the help of a hataalii. Will you leave with me, today, right now?”

She started to speak, but he shook his head. “Just nod.”

She did, smiling.

After loading Crusher into the back of the SUV, they set out on the journey. They drove all night, heading west into Arizona.

Several times along the way she thought about telling him that she was planning to stay. Yet she knew they first needed to find that peace and balance that could only come at Long Mountain.

The pastel promise of a new day was forming on the desert horizon when they reached Long Mountain. Leaving Crusher to trail along behind, Travis led her to the base of the rock formation, then turned and pointed toward the dawn. “There, in the distance. Can you see the trail of dust?” Seeing her nod, he added, “That’s the hataalii. He’ll be here soon.”

As a hawk cried overhead, he pulled her into his arms. “Harmony surrounds us. Look around you. A hawk flies above us, and beneath us, down to the south, a cougar hunts. It’s a good omen,” he said. “Everything is connected and can coexist. All it requires is an open heart. Open yours and stay.”

“I left Three Rivers searching for happiness, yet everything I wanted was right here, within my reach, all along.”

He tilted her chin up and held her gaze. “I love you.”

“I’ve waited a long time to hear those words,” she said, nuzzling into him.

As the sun rose over a distant mesa, he held her tightly against him, heartbeat to heartbeat. “Get used to it. You’re going to be hearing those words the rest of our lives.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7968-5

TWILIGHT WARRIOR

Copyright © 2011 by Aimée and David Thurlo

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

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[*]Brotherhood of Warriors

†Long Mountain Heroes

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three