Читать книгу Tribal Blood - Jenna Kernan, Jenna Kernan - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Kacey’s body relaxed. The contractions were not as strong now, fading as if taking a pause. How long did labor last? Hours? Days? She didn’t know. Her mother just went to the clinic and came home the next day with a brother or sister. Kacey assumed that by tomorrow at this time, she would have a baby. But exactly what happened in the meantime was vague.

She’d learned about childbirth in high-school health class. At the time, the lesson seemed theoretical. The abstract phases of birth just one more thing to be memorized and spit back on a quiz. Stage I—Early Labor. Stage II—Active Labor. Stage III—hand the baby to a nurse and take a nap.

Colt pulled off the road and up a short turnoff that was composed of two ruts in the yellow grass. A cabin came into view against the ridge, sitting up on concrete blocks. The step before the front door was clearly slag rock from a turquoise vein. She was Turquoise Canyon Apache, so she recognized what base rock surrounded a vein of the precious blue stone.

Colt barely had the car in Park before throwing himself against the driver’s-side door in his hurry to be out of the cab. He scrambled out onto all fours. It took him a moment to right himself before he straightened and returned to the car.

“Colt?”

He was sweating as if he’d run from his claim to this one. He peered in at her through the open door.

“Call him,” he whispered.

Kacey opened her door and swung her legs out, bare feet touching the long yellow grass as she inched forward on the seat. Colt retrieved his rifle and then rounded the car to stand beside her door.

She called a greeting. They were met first by a skinny white dog. The muck on his shoulder showed he’d been rolling in something, and the stench said it was something dead.

The claim holder arrived shortly afterward, dressed in coveralls coated with a fine white layer of rock dust. All claims belonged to the tribe, but families worked them and passed them along. Her family’s claim was worked by others, leased for a period of five years at a time.

David SaVala tried to shake Colt’s hand, but Colt chose to place his hand on the shoulder strap of his rifle. David greeted her instead, peering at her from beside Colt, but his smile was gone.

“Good to see you two back together.”

She smiled and nodded. That seemed easier than explaining.

David took another step toward her, moving beyond the open car door, and his step faltered.

“Oh.” He glanced from her swollen belly to Colt. “Oh, I see. Congratulations, you two.”

Kacey used the door and the frame to heave herself up. Colt rubbed his neck but said nothing. He backed toward the woods, but Kacey gripped his arm to prevent his escape.

She told David what they needed and he retreated to his cabin with his dog for the phone and handed it off to her with the pass code and instructions on where she would first find a signal. The distance and her condition required another car ride. They headed out with the dog trotting with them as far as the road. Colt was shaking by the time they reached the high point of Dead Elk Dip and the place that allowed a weak cell phone signal.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Don’t drive anymore.”

“Claustrophobic?” she asked. This was new. Ty had told her of Colt’s capture but had been short on details. She just now understood what helping her was costing him. Was it leaving his claim that upset him or the driving?

His skin was pale. He retrieved David’s phone. Colt placed the call and gripped his hair in one fist as he waited for the phone to connect.

Kacey heard a male voice issue a greeting.

Colt squeezed his eyes shut. His fist tightened in his hair.

“Who’s this?” came the voice on the other end of the line.

His jaw clamped shut and he thrust the phone at her.

“Hello?” she replied.

“This is Redhorse.” She recognized the voice of Officer Jake Redhorse, one of Colt’s older brothers. Kacey identified herself and relayed the high points. Escape. The stolen car. The gun battle. Her condition and the location of the missing girls.

“You’re with Colt?” Disbelief resonated in his voice.

“Yes. He’s the one who called you.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Where are the girls?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just drove until I figured out where I was.”

“I need the exact address,” said Jake. “And if it’s in Darabee, I need to notify their police department.”

“No. They might be connected. Like they were with that assassination in their station. Karl Hooke and the Lilac Mine Mass Shooter,” said Kacey.

“How do you know that?”

“Marta Garcia overheard our captors say so before I got there.” Kacey knew that the Darabee police were being investigated by the federal and state government for corruption. Several of the force had been suspended and charges filed.

“Can I speak to Colt?” Jake asked.

She relayed the request and was met with a firm shake of his head.

“He says no.”

“I’m calling my chief for instructions and en route to you. Head toward Turquoise Ridge. Okay?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“I’ll need you to identify the house, Kacey. Can you do that?”

That meant going back. She gripped her free hand to her throat. “I’m in labor and those killers are still out there.”

“So are your friends,” Redhorse reminded her.

That hit her harder than the contractions. Colt shook his head. Clearly he did not want her to go back.

She had promised them that she’d send help. “Yes. I’ll go.”

Jake told her to tell Colt what to expect and ended the call.

Now Kacey’s heart was pounding. “He said the FBI is coming for that car.”

Colt scowled.

She imagined they could find something in there, fingerprints at least. A clear image of Oleg smashing his hands on the hood of the car came to her. She glanced at the twin dents there as a shot of panic made her ears ring.

“Where? From Phoenix?”

“No. Your brother said that they have FBI in Piñon Forks since the explosion. Colt, what happened? What explosion? What is he talking about?”

“You must have passed through Piñon Forks on the way here. Didn’t you see it?”

“I saw construction vehicles. The station was abandoned. Some man in a uniform told me that tribal headquarters had moved to Turquoise Ridge. But I took off before he told me why.”

“Everyone has moved to Turquoise Ridge. They’re in FEMA trailers or reclaiming their mining cabins.”

“Why?”

“Come on. Let’s get David’s phone back to him.”

En route, he told her everything, and the happenings were tragic. Some eco-extremists organization had blown up Skeleton Cliff Dam in hopes of compromising the Phoenix electrical grid. The dam was upriver from their reservation. Destroying the dam meant flooding their biggest community, Piñon Forks.

Apparently, an explosives expert from the FBI had managed to make a temporary barrier on their river by demolishing a huge section of the canyon ridge. Her actions had saved everyone there. But the rubble dam was failing. Evacuations were necessary.

She thought back to her wild race through town early this morning.

“I didn’t even look at the canyon rim,” she admitted. Her focus had been internal, on her own body, and external to the men she knew would come for her. “Have you seen it?”

He shook his head. “Haven’t been off this claim since I got home. Until today. Heard about it from Ty. Only happened a couple weeks ago. Let’s see. Third week in September, so nearly three weeks ago now.”

He put his hand on the door latch and froze. He wiped a hand across his upper lip.

“I’ll drive,” she said.

“You’re in labor.”

“I know. Let me.” She held her hand out for the fob.

He hesitated, then gave it to her and stepped aside.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She jostled herself awkwardly down into the seat and waited as he rounded the hood and then paused at the passenger side. She lowered the window. “Get in.”

“I can’t.”

“Colt, please.”

“I’ll run to David’s place. Through the woods. Be there before you get there.”

“What if they’re waiting on the road?”

Colt climbed in, his expression grim. He folded his arms over his chest as if he were freezing. She didn’t even suggest the seat belt as she put them in motion. She headed back to David SaVala’s claim. On arrival, she tooted the horn, afraid if she got out, Colt would run. David’s dog was still covered in something, and David appeared shortly afterward. He approached her window and she returned the phone. The dog jumped up and placed her front paws on the door, giving Kacey a stomach-turning whiff of dead animal.

“Get down,” he said, pushing the dog off. “Sorry. She found a dead deer and keeps getting after it.”

Kacey smiled and exhaled, trying to rid her nostrils of the stench.

The miner leaned down to look through the cab to Colt.

“Good to see you out, Colt,” said David. “Been worried.”

Colt nodded but said nothing. Why wouldn’t he speak to anyone?

David glanced at Kacey, who gave him a shrug.

“My dad was in Vietnam,” said David. “Still jumps at every truck that backfires. It changes you, I guess.” He pushed himself off the car, straightened and forced a tight smile.

“Thank you for the use of the phone,” she said.

“Sure.” He scraped his knuckles over the stubble on his jaw. “Well, stop by anytime. Love company. Don’t get much, though.”

They were off a moment later with David waving after them despite the dust they kicked up. The rainy season had come and gone. They were back to hot, dry days and cold, clear nights.

Jake met them en route with three other vehicles. Colt drew his pistol and flicked the safety off.

Kacey was suffering from the end of another contraction, so she spoke through gritted teeth as she clutched the wheel. “Don’t shoot your brother.”

He nodded and holstered his weapon before leaving the vehicle. Kacey watched as he greeted Jake with a nod. Kacey knew the two men who exited the next vehicle. The first was Detective Jack Bear Den. No mistaking him because he was the biggest man she knew. From the opposite side of the SUV came tribal police chief Wallace Tinnin. He was limping, as if he’d injured his foot. The chief had come to speak to her high-school class her senior year. It had been the January awards assembly and he had shaken her hand when she made the honor roll. Had that only been ten months ago? Yes, she realized. Just months before she had been taken.

The next two cars were black sedans with tinted windows. FBI, she guessed. She didn’t recognize the man or woman who exited the first vehicle but was surprised to see they both appeared to be Native American.

From the next sedan came two white men with short military-style haircuts and dark glasses. They had the same stony expressions as the Secret Service men who guarded the president.

Jake approached her door and she leaned out the broken window.

“We’re going to transfer you to Detective Bear Den’s unit, Kacey. That be all right?”

She nodded and he opened the door.

Colt was already speeding away from the vehicle.

Jake helped Kacey rise and then looked across the hood to Colt.

“Good to see you, brother,” he said.

Colt looked away.

Jake glanced to her and she shook her head. She did not understand any better than he did why Colt would not speak.

“Did he talk to you?” Jake said, his voice low.

She nodded.

Jake released a sigh and escorted her toward the SUV. On her way, they paused for introductions. The man was FBI field agent Lieutenant Luke Forrest of the Black Mountain Apache tribe. The woman was FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas, also of the Black Mountain Apache people.

“Are you the one who saved our town?” asked Kacey.

“Well, I had some help.” She glanced at Bear Den, and Kacey sensed their relationship might be more than professional. “But I set the charges.”

“Colt says you stopped the river from destroying Piñon Forks.”

“That’s true. Why don’t you sit with me? I have a few questions.”

Kacey cast a look at Colt. She was not leaving him.

“We’re riding with Bear Den and Colt’s brother,” she said.

“All right. I’ll just come along. That be okay?”

Kacey glanced to Colt, who inclined his chin.

“All right.”

The contractions were now just an irregular flurry of spasms across her belly and back.

She walked past the last two men, who scanned her from head to toe.

Once past them, she asked Sophia Rivas who they were.

“Our guys. They’re taking possession of your vehicle.”

“Evidence?” asked Kacey.

Rivas smiled and nodded. “We sure hope so.”

Bear Den held the rear door of his SUV open for Kacey. She struggled to climb inside. She wished she had something better to wear than the ugly sheath of a dress they’d given her. But what was important was getting to her friends before something happened to them. Those men, Oleg and Anton, they couldn’t fight against all these law-enforcement officers.

Could they?

Colt slipped in beside her and she gripped his hand, fingers laced. He gave her comfort and she hoped she did the same for him. Jake took the front seat. Rivas climbed into the opposite side, so Colt slid to the middle of the broad back seat, separating her from the FBI agent.

Jake Redhorse told them that the FBI had opted not to notify the Darabee police of their presence based on the information she had given Officer Redhorse. So they sailed through town and back toward the house she had fled only four hours earlier.

Her contractions were no longer increasing in strength or frequency and they interfered little on the ride back from the rez to Darabee. What was going on? she wondered.

Still, her body concerned her less than the tic Colt displayed beneath his eye and the way he repeatedly flexed and stretched his free hand like a beating heart. His breathing was irregular, as if he were in pain.

She answered all Rivas’s questions as they rode back down the mountain and through the settlement of Turquoise Ridge. Bear Den asked a few questions as they covered the road between Turquoise Ridge and Koun’nde. Then Jake told them some things that she hadn’t known.

A classmate of hers and Colt’s, Zella Colelay, had delivered a baby girl on September 23, the Saturday before last. She’d left the infant in Jake Redhorse’s truck and he was being granted temporary custody of the baby by the tribe.

“You’re getting custody?” asked Kacey. She did not quite keep the disbelief from her voice. A single man wanting custody of a baby was unusual.

“Lori Morgan and I are back together now. She’s agreed to be my wife.”

Kacey blinked at this news. She knew that Jake and Lori had once been a couple. Rumors were that Lori had got into trouble and the teens had been encouraged to marry before the baby came. Colt had confirmed it and told her that the miscarriage had wrecked the relationship. Now it seemed a new baby had brought them back together again.

“Congratulations,” said Kacey.

Jake grinned. “Thanks. Just got married.” He lifted his left hand, showing the gleaming gold band. Jake looked to Colt. “I wanted you there, brother. Have you stand up with me.”

Colt lifted his shoulders and shuddered.

“What about Zella?” asked Kacey. “What will happen to her?”

Bear Den took that one. “She’s been relocated, faces charges for abandonment of the infant. But she’s young, and with the circumstances, I doubt she’ll receive more than community service.”

“One more thing,” said Jake. “The baby. It’s white.”

Kacey frowned and rested her hands on her belly. How could Zella deliver a white baby? Did he mean the baby was a mix of Apache and Caucasian or what some here called a mix-up? Was Zella like her and the rest of the captives? Had this happened to her but somehow she had evaded capture? “Does Zella have a boyfriend?”

“No. She told us she has never been with a boy.”

Kacey gasped. Just like her, Marta and Maggie. She needed to speak to Zella. Kacey turned to Colt to tell him that Zella might be one of them and she noticed he was trembling.

Colt’s eyes were darting about and his leg was bouncing like that of a junkie coming off a high. She pressed a hand to his knee.

“You okay?” she whispered.

He jumped at her touch and then clutched her hand so hard she winced. Colt had not even visited his family since his return from Afghanistan. Now he was surrounded by people.

“I need to get out of this car,” he said. “We’re trapped back here.”

“Pull over,” said Kacey.

Bear Den glanced back at them in his rearview mirror.

“What?” said Bear Den.

“We can’t stop,” said FBI agent Rivas.

Colt’s gaze flashed to the closed door.

“The baby. Pull over,” said Kacey.

He did and the line of cars behind them stopped, as well. The lead car drove a few yards on and then noticed the delay and also pulled over.

Kacey tried the handle and found it locked.

Bear Den was quick for a big man. He had her door open an instant later and Kacey slid sideways, legs out of the SUV. Colt bolted past her and ran a few feet. Then he stopped, facing them, panting. His complexion was gray and his eyes were wild.

“Colt?” said Jake, hands raised.

Colt had his hand on his pistol.

“Take your hand off the weapon. No one is going to hurt you.”

“I have to go back,” he said. His eyes were wild as he searched for escape.

“Colt. Kacey needs you,” said Rivas.

Colt stared at her, his expression tortured. “I’m sorry. I thought I could...”

“It’s all right, Colt. You don’t have to go,” Kacey assured him.

“Don’t get in that Humvee, Kacey,” he said, pointing at the SUV. “Don’t go. They’ll take you.”

Kacey’s blood iced. It was her greatest fear, to be taken again, by the Russians, the feds, the Darabee police. Her throat went so dry she couldn’t even swallow and she wanted to go with him.

“Not a Humvee,” said Bear Den, his words an aside to Tinnin.

“Colt,” said Rivas. “You’re scaring Kacey.”

Kacey headed toward Colt. She needed to touch him. Bring him back and save herself from the terror now crawling over her skin like scorpions.

“Don’t,” said Bear Den, clasping her arm and holding her back.

Colt made a feral sound between a snarl and a roar as his eyes were pinned on the place Bear Den touched Kacey.

“Let go,” said Kacey.

Bear Den’s hand dropped away. Kacey continued forward to Colt as he drew his pistol, holding it down and at his side. Behind her, she heard handguns leaving their plastic holsters. When she reached Colt, she took his face in her hands and pressed her forehead to his.

“I’m here, Colt. You’re safe. You’re home.”

His body relaxed and his breathing slowed. “Stay with me,” he said.

“It’ll be all right.”

“Don’t go with them.”

“I have to. I promised them, my friends, that I would send help. I have to go. Can Jake take you home?”

He nodded. The pistol slid from his fingers, thudding to the ground.

“All right. Wait for me. I’ll be right back.”

It was what he had said to her before he shipped out for boot camp. I’ll be right back. That had been nearly two years ago.

He shuddered and turned to Jake, who was already holding his brother’s abandoned handgun. The two brothers walked back along the line of cars to Jake’s police unit, which had been driven by Chief Wallace Tinnin. Jake helped Colt into the rear seat and then shut him in. Colt’s eyes darted about the closed compartment. What had happened to him? Kacey wondered. Jake hurried behind the wheel as Colt locked his fingers together behind his head and ducked like an airline passenger preparing for impact. The vehicle made a U-turn and sped away.