Читать книгу Twilight Warrior - Aimee Thurlo - Страница 10

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.”