Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 1 of 2 (40 page)

“He might. Tribal or border patrol will handle it. Either way, you're out.”

Like hell, he thought.

CHAPTER FIVE

Kino should have let it go. But he couldn't. Lea Altaha was the key to the entire thing. He could no more leave her be than he could drop the search for his father's murderer.

“I'd like to help in the investigation. I'm a police officer.”

Rubio sighed and looked at Barrow. The border patrol captain's face reddened.

“Not here you're not,” said Barrow, looking to Kino's captain for backup.

Rubio's usually impassive face remained unchanged, but his eyes took on a hawkish quality. “BP inspects, detains, deports. ICE enforces and we look for signs.”

Barrow's expression turned smug. “Exactly.”

Captain Rubio directed his comments to Barrow. “But as a Shadow Wolf? That means he sees things others can't. And to use your own words, we're supposed to be coordinating operations. So I expect to be kept in the loop regarding Altaha.”

“Hmm,” said Barrow. “Well, I've got to check those barrels and get those Tohono O'odham Indians off the warpa—” He glanced at Rubio, Kino and Clay. “Uh, all right, then.”

Barrow walked away.

Clay watched the BP captain retreat. “Was he about to say ‘warpath'?”

“Sounded like it,” said Rubio. “Americans. Still think they run everything, including this border.”

Rubio left them to go talk to the guys from ICE.

Kino met the cold look his brother cast him, a look that said Kino had, unfortunately, acted exactly as Clay had expected. His brother's words replayed in his mind.
They say go left and you go right.

Barrow had said that Lea was now their witness. Well, Kino needed that description. And that meant he would see her again.

Barrow was already having the barrels pulled down from the Oasis truck.

Kino nudged Clay. “What do you know about their captain?”

“He took early retirement up in Tucson. Police detective, I think.” Clay watched Barrow. “Been in charge here a few years. Guys say he's a pain in the butt about procedure and, man, you better be where he tells you or else.”

So he had way more law enforcement experience than Kino did. He knew things, had seen things, but he wasn't Apache. He couldn't read sign.

Their captain returned, studying the ground as he approached. “You two think you can find that truck—the one with the missing back window?”

Kino and Clay nodded simultaneously.

“Check in if you find anything.”

Dismissed, the brothers climbed back into their SUV. From the twin-tread access road, they could see that the last vehicle leaving this way had turned south. So they turned south. Then they stopped at every turnoff on either side of the road, looking for matching treads.

One small road, that had been leveled once or so within the past six months, had a set of tracks coming from the highway and back into the desert. There had been another vehicle coming from the correct direction and the tread matched, so they followed the matching tread marks and ended up at a small ranch just inside the rez. The truck had pulled in here. A few hundred yards up, they found a squat little house, sheep pens, sheep and a pickup truck with the back window blown out. Clay covered Kino as he stepped out into the heat and examined the bullet holes. They'd found the truck. Now where was the driver?

“I'm calling Rubio.” Clay lifted his radio and spoke to their captain.

Then they headed for the modest one-story home that had the appearance of BIA housing written all over it. The bureau's Housing and Urban Development oversaw most tribal housing and Kino recognized the look from Black Mountain. The structure was one floor set on a concrete slab, built from cinder blocks and painted the same drab brown as the sand. Someone had added a porch, which lilted and sagged. The plywood roof had been left unpainted as it darkened and curled. The windows were dirty and the paint was peeling. The yellowing stain on the door had all but worn off, exposing the lower portion of wood to the harsh sun. That was what happened when you had to wait for HUD to do the maintenance. Still, if it was anything like Black Mountain, even crumby housing was scarce.

Clay and Kino hadn't reached the lopsided step when a man appeared in the half-open door. He was middle-aged, tall, slim, with a distended belly that said he liked beer more than food. He was white but the desert sun had burned him to a brownish pink, and the deep wrinkles on his work-worn face showed he didn't spend all his time drinking. Although the red spider veins that covered his cheeks and nose indicated he had an earnest commitment to that pursuit. Kino wondered if he owned a sweat-stained straw cowboy hat.

“Yeah?” asked the man by way of a greeting. He smelled like a brewery.

“We're with ICE,” said Kino. “Shadow Wolves Unit.”

The man nodded, his smile humorless. “Yeah. I figured. You working break-ins now?”

“Break-ins?” asked Clay.

He nodded again. “Yeah. Two days ago. You guys just getting here now? They're long gone. Why don't you just sit over there by the sheep pen? Bound to be another group along anytime.”

A woman appeared behind him, short, round and a Tohono O'odham from the look of her. She wore a bright pink T-shirt that was large and tight, gray sweatpants and a frown.

“What now?” she asked.

“Damned if I know,” said the man.

“Your names?” asked Clay.

“I'm Bill Moody and this here is my wife, Arnette.”

“This your place?”

“We rent it,” he said.

“Did you call about the break-in?” asked Kino.

“Don't have no phone out here.” Or electricity, since there was no power line to the house, just the constant roar of a generator somewhere round the back and the propane tank for heat. The yard was a mess, with trash littering the porch and a rusted-out pickup tucked under the carport. But beyond the residence and past the sheep pens sat a solid, clean outbuilding made of concrete with an aluminum roof. The contrast between the two buildings struck Kino as odd, as did the solid padlock on the large garage door.

“Is that your truck?” Kino pointed to the pickup with the shattered back window and numerous bullet holes. It was sitting to the side of the outbuilding with just the front visible from where they stood.

Arnette gave a shriek and Bill swore then headed out toward the truck.

“What happened?” he asked, his arms out and his face a mask of shock.

“Did you lend it to someone?” asked Clay.

Arnette reached the tailgate and fingered a hole. “Somebody shot it up.” She turned to them, her jaw open as she panted from her exertions. “I didn't hear no shooting.”

“Where do you keep the keys?” asked Kino, fearing the answer.

“Right up there on the dash,” said Bill.

Arnette shuffled along on swollen feet. “Right there.”

Clay was already searching the ground for sign. Kino noticed the key ring had a red metal fob inlaid with the image of a coiled silver rattlesnake. His eyes narrowed on the key ring and then on Moody.

Kino asked a few more questions and learned that Bill worked in Pima at the auto-repair shop but had the day off. Kino also discovered that illegals were frequent visitors to this place, filling their water containers at the hose and stealing clothing from the line.

“Them illegals even broke in here while she was at church and cooked a meal right there in our kitchen.”

“And left a mess,” said Arnette.

Clay returned. “Looks like a truck, newer tires. Footprint shows one single male, construction boots, weighs about two-twenty.”

Arnette stared at Clay in wonder. “You boys are them? Part of the unit. All Indian? Right? The Shadow Wolves?”

Clay nodded then checked the tread left by Bill Moody. Kino waited for Clay to lift his head and give a shake. But he didn't. He merely shrugged. That meant he couldn't eliminate Moody. Clearly he was wearing different shoes. But his size matched the prints.

“Did you see anyone today?” asked Kino.

“Been inside all day. Threw out my back chasing one of them rams. He got out somehow.” He pointed vaguely toward the pens.

Kino looked at Arnette, who dropped her gaze and shook her head.

“Will you call us if you see a guy? Big, white, wearing a cowboy hat.” Kino handed over a card.

Moody rejected the card. “I don't got a phone.”

“Then find someone who does,” Kino said and then held Moody's gaze until the man looked away.

“He dangerous?” asked Moody.

Kino nodded.

Arnette made a sound of discontent in her throat. “Guess I'll start carrying my shotgun again.”

Unlike Lea, Mrs. Moody seemed to have no qualms about arming herself against danger.

“That your barn?”

“Garage,” corrected Moody. “Sheep don't need no barn.”

“You always keep your garage locked like that?” said Kino, pointing at the padlock.

“Told you that migrants come through here. They steal everything that ain't locked down. Sleep in there if they could,” said Moody.

“Can we have a look inside?”

Moody's jaw bulged and he narrowed his eyes. “What's this about?”

“Shooting in the desert.”

“I don't know nothing about it. And as you can see, the garage is locked. No other way in.”

Kino's antenna for lies vibrated. He wanted a look in that garage. But he didn't have cause, so he handed over a card.

“Still, I'd like to have a look inside,” said Kino.

Moody's face reddened. “Well, you can't. Now get off my property.”

“Thought you said it was rented,” said Clay.

“I had enough talking to the both of you. Coming in here with a lot of questions. Why don't you catch the damned migrants instead of bothering us? They're like damned locusts.” He hoisted up his pants. “We done here?” asked Moody.

Kino touched his brow in salute. “All done. Thank you for your help.”

Moody growled and folded his arms, waiting for them to leave.

“You buy his story?” Kino asked Clay.

“Tracks didn't match. But he is wearing sneakers now and the size and his weight are about right. Whoever it was, he changed vehicles. Had another behind this building, judging from the tracks.”

“Like to get a look inside there,” said Kino, thumbing over his shoulder at the building that was too new and too well kept to be on this property.

“Think you need a warrant,” said Clay.

“She didn't look at us when I asked if she'd seen anyone,” Kino said. “Might want to speak to her when he's not around. Maybe she'll let us have a look inside.”

“Come back in an hour,” said Clay. “The way he's going, he'll be passed out by then.”

“Couldn't she hear someone starting a truck?”

“Not with a generator and television on,” said Clay.

“I suppose.”

“I saw those other tracks on the turnoff. They're headed south. Same way we're going.”

“Could that car be a Ford Explorer?” Kino was thinking of Anthony DeClay, Lea's boss. The one with the new truck and the key ring with the rattlesnake rattle.

“Sure or a Ram or a Toyota, Chevy or Subaru. Can't tell from the tire tread. Only shows the width and tire brand. Not the make. You know that.”

They reached their vehicle and Kino settled into the driver's seat. “Let's go talk to Altaha. See if she can give us that description.”

“Don't you think she would have mentioned if the guy who pointed a gun at her was her boss?”

“She's never seen him. He said so at the scene. She's been out in the field both times he visited. Love to have her take a look at Moody, too.”

“Yeah,” Clay said and buckled in. “But that sounds a lot like an investigation and you quit your job on Tribal.”

“Leave of absence.”

“Yeah, well, Gabe told you there were plenty of dead cases on the rez. If you want to investigate crimes, we could have stayed put.”

Kino didn't take the bait. He needed to find out all he could about Lea Altaha. “Call Rubio. Tell them we found the truck and ask what they have on Altaha.”

Clay lifted the radio and Kino turned them toward Cardon Station, where his witness would be waiting. Because no matter what Barrow said, Lea was
his
witness and he had a lot more questions.

CHAPTER SIX

Lea was tired, drained, dusty and hungry. All she wanted to do was go home, or what passed for home while she was in Pima finishing her college internship before starting as an anthropologist for the Salt River reservation's historical society.

The border patrol officer paused, looking over what he had typed on the computer monitor. A sheen of sweat made his brown skin gleam despite the churning air conditioner. The stitched name on his forest green shirt read D. Mulhay, though he had not bothered to introduce himself. Where she came from that was considered very impolite.

“Are we done?” she asked him.

“Almost.” He scanned the form. “I just need your partner's name.”

“I was alone today.”

Mulhay typed in the information and then glanced up, studying her in silence for a moment. “I don't mean to tell you your business, Miss Altaha, but you shouldn't be out there alone.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the window. “Guess you know that already.”

“Yeah.”

Mulhay glanced at the glowing screen. “I think that's everything. I got your number if I need anything else. Oh, Captain Barrow said he wants to speak to you, but he's still at the scene.”

“Fine. When?”

“We'll give you a call.”

Lea rubbed her forehead, vainly trying to push away the image of the murdered men. The memory made her flesh crawl.

She rose, hesitated and then returned to her seat. “Um, they impounded my truck, so...”

“Oh, I can get you a lift.” Mulhay made the call then replaced the handset on the cradle. “They'll let me know when the unit is out front.”

“Is it okay if I make a call?” she asked.

“Of course.” He motioned to his phone. She lifted her cellular and gave it a little wave. “Oh, fine,” he said, turning back to his computer and the report.

Lea called Margie, hoping she'd still be in the office.

Margie told her that Anthony DeClay, the regional director she had yet to meet, wanted to see her first thing in the morning.

“Yes, that's fine.”

“He's plenty mad,” said Margie. “Especially when he heard you went out there alone. I think he might fire you.”

“I'm a volunteer,” she reminded Margie.

“Fail you, then. Send you home. The tribal guys are really peeved.” She paused. “Lea, you shouldn't have done that. It's against guidelines. And the map you took. It's of the water stations we are removing, not filling.”

“We need more water stations. Not less.”

“Not up to us. The tribal council wants them out.” Margie hesitated once more then said, “Come in with Ernesta tomorrow and stick with her. She knows the rules.”

That really meant that Ernesta followed the rules. Lea knew them, as well. But rules had never stopped her from doing what she felt was right. In this case, that meant filling any blue barrel she could find. “Listen, I'm sorry about the map, Margie. It was just a mix-up. Ernesta was supposed to do the navigating.”

“Bring me that map tomorrow and you don't go out until I see Ernesta or Nita.”

“Sure.” Lea's tone flattened with her spirits. “Can I get another truck delivered to the RV park in Pima tomorrow?”

“Where's yours?”

Lea glanced at Mulhay, who quirked a brow.

“Impounded. Part of the investigation,” said Lea.

“Geez. Maybe. I'll see what I can manage,” said Margie. “Do you think Ernesta could use hers? We have magnets for the doors.”

“I'll ask her,” said Lea.

“And tell her I hope she feels better,” Margie added.

“You bet,” said Lea.

“I'll see what I can do about getting that truck back.”

“And repaired,” said Lea.

“Repaired?”

Lea described the damage and Margie uttered “Oh, geez” another four or five times.

Margie told her that she'd take care of it and to get some rest. Lea ended the call.

Mulhay watched her. “You're lucky to be alive, you know.”

That made her chin begin to quiver, a sure sign that tears were imminent.

“And it's only a truck,” he said. “You gonna be okay tonight?”

She knew she wouldn't be, but she gave him a quavering smile, nodded and swallowed back the lump growing in her throat. “I'll be okay.”

“Tribal police will be keeping an eye on you tonight.”

Lea's phone vibrated. She glanced down to see Ernesta's name and photo fill the screen. She took the call.

“Lea, you home yet?” Ernesta's voice had a definite nasal quality from her head cold.

“Not yet.”

Ernesta gave a wet cough that made Lea think the head cold had moved into her lungs. “Boy, Margie was plenty pissed when I called in. How'd it go today?”

She doesn't know.
Lea blinked as that realization sank in.

“Not so good.”

“Well, see, you need us. Nita got back this afternoon, so she and I are going out tomorrow. You can ride along until your new partner shows up. Friday, right?”

Lea wondered how to tell Ernesta about the shooting and, well, everything.

“Are you well enough to go out?” Lea asked.

“I think so. The cold medicine is helping. Listen, somebody cracked our water pipe outside the trailer, so they had to shut it off. Can we use your trailer to take a shower?”

“Sure. You know where the extra key is?”

“Yup. Thanks.”

“Ernesta?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to talk to you. Tell you what happened today.”

“Sure. Nita is out getting us tacos. Come by for dinner.”

“All right.”

Ernesta disconnected and Lea put away her phone.

The border patrol officer took a call and glanced at her as he spoke. “Good. We're on our way.” He covered the receiver. “Your ride is here.”

Lea rose and the officer followed, standing behind his desk as he returned the phone to the cradle.

“I'll walk you out.”

She trailed along beside Mulhay, through the maze of hallways and finally out the main entrance of the new Cardon Station. This was the federal government's answer to the increase in illegal immigration. Though how building a larger detention and processing center addressed the issue she didn't know, unless it was because they now had a larger morgue and an entire refrigerated tractor-trailer fleet to keep the bodies cool.

On the curb, Mulhay directed her to a patrol car and a tall, clean-cut black officer who waited beside the vehicle. But before she could get into the passenger side, a familiar dust-covered SUV pulled up.

The window glided down and Kino Cosen gave her a winning smile that should not have made her stomach tighten, but it did. The seat beside him was empty.

Cosen did not even speak to her, but directed his comments to the two officers.

“I got her.”

Mulhay and the other officer glanced at each other then back to him.

“You sure?” asked Mulhay.

“Yeah. Where's she going?”

Apparently she'd become invisible. She was about to object, but a part of her wanted very much to crawl into his car. Much as she might wish to deny it, she was relieved to see him, which made no sense at all.

“She's going to Pima.”

“Fine.” Kino leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door, then glanced at her and raised his dark brows in invitation.

She didn't know this man well. But she knew where he came from and she knew that he'd done what he'd felt was right to protect her.

Lea walked around to the passenger side with Mulhay trailing behind. She let him open the door, but her attention was already on Cosen.

He gave her a warm smile as she slipped into the cab. She smiled in return. One glance at the gun on his hip made her lose her smile and recall herself. This man's job was to hunt
people
and he clearly thought nothing of shooting at them. He was handsome and fit and he'd shown her a compassion that seemed contrary to her initial impression of him as a badass. But he wasn't like her. No, Kino Cosen was a warrior. She needed to remember that.

Mulhay stepped back. “Take care, Miss Altaha,” he said and closed the door.

A moment later they were rolling out of the station.

“Where's your sidekick?” she asked Kino.

“Clay? He had some paperwork to do.” He smiled then asked, “Miss me?”

She frowned and refused to answer that. Instead she told him where she lived. He nodded, turning onto the highway.

“So, the RV park.” He lifted his brows in speculation.

“Nothing but the best for Oasis.” She grinned. “We don't have fancy new housing like BP. Where do they have you?”

“Not in that new housing. We have a place in Pima, on Artists Road. It's Indian housing but it has a shower and the AC works.”

Cosen stepped on the accelerator. The air conditioner blew cool on her flushed skin, but it did nothing to stem the heat building between them. She needed to get out of this car because Kino Cosen was not in her future. She would make certain of that.

They rolled toward Pima, Arizona, the only city on the Tohono O'odham reservation.

She tried to keep her eyes on the road but they kept sliding over to the strong, muscular arms that held the wheel. He was still wearing the uniform of the Shadow Wolves, and only now that she was looking closer did she notice the Taser on his utility belt. Her attention quickly fixed on the knife with an antler handle.

“Why do you need a knife when you have all that?”

He touched the shaped horn lovingly. “This? Clay made it for me from one of his kills. I've got another in my moccasin.”

She scowled. The man had as many weapons as a porcupine had quills.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“I'm not used to seeing all this.” She motioned at the weapons ringing his waist.

“Really? Don't you have tribal police on Salt River?”

“Yes, but I don't know any of them.”

“Then they're not doing their jobs. Community outreach is half the battle. My brother is the chief of police in Black Mountain. Gabe is all about the community. Little League, boys and girls club, schools. He's in the schools more than he's in his squad car.”

Chief, a job keeping the peace through force. Lea shook her head in dismay. But maybe he wasn't like that. Maybe back at Kino's home he had a job that didn't involve guns and violence. She held out hope as she asked.

“What about you? What do you do back on the rez?”

“Tribal police, too. I'm a patrolman. Just started, actually. Been on the job ten months. Passed the test on the first try.”

Her heart gave a tiny ache and she rubbed her knuckles over her chest. He was a man who lived by violence. She needed to stop hoping otherwise.

Beyond the windows the desert flashed by golden in the late afternoon. She found herself searching for people walking in single file. But there was nothing, no one, that she could see.

“Is Clay on the force, too?” she asked.

He flinched and then shook his head. “No. He works for the tribe's cattle association. And he's a big-game scout for the tribe. Takes out tourists on hunts.”

More killing, only this time animals, she thought.

Kino continued. “Just Gabe and me on the force.”

“How many brothers do you have?” she asked.

“Three. The oldest, Clyne, is on the tribal council. He's only thirty-three.”

“Young for a tribal leader.”

“Yeah. Youngest on the council.”

“All boys,” she said wistfully. “Must have been a handful for your mother.”

Kino shifted in his seat and his silence made her wonder what she had said. Finally he took a deep breath as if she had startled him awake.

“My mom died in a vehicular accident in South Dakota when I was ten. Drunk driver.”

Lea's stomach tightened as she absorbed that information. Was this why he had become a police officer, to protect people from such threats as drunks behind the wheel?

“I'm so sorry,” she said.

“My mom was a barrel racer. Fast as lightning. She was up there for the big Fourth of July powwow. She also was a dancer—fancy shawl and jingle. She won a lot of contests. She died on the Fourth. I hate the Fourth. Anyway, after that my grandmother raised us.”

She wanted to ask about his father but was afraid of what he might say.

Kino wiped his mouth and then gripped the wheel with two hands. “And as for all boys, well, I have a sister. She was with my mom.”

Lea found herself gripping the armrest for support, bracing for what she expected him to say next. A child, his sister, dead beside her mother on a highway hundreds of miles from home.

“She survived the accident.”

Lea's grip on the armrest slackened and the blood returned to her fingers, but one look at Kino and she was squeezing again.

“What happened to her?”

His mouth pressed tight for a moment and his fingers flexed on the wheel. “That's the thing. We don't know. She was three when I last saw her, trying on her first jingle dress, spinning and jumping to make all those silver cones rattle. That was nine years ago. After the accident, we didn't find out for several days. When we heard, my grandma drove up there with my eldest brother, Clyne. See, my mom didn't have her ID with her. It was back in their camper. So by the time they figured it out and called us...well, my mom was buried and we thought my sister was, too. At the time, they told my grandmother that there were no survivors, but they had made a mistake. My sister survived.”

“How could they do that?”

“We don't know. Really, we only just found out that she survived the accident. My grandmother wanted to mark the tenth anniversary of their passing with a small stone lamb to be placed on their headstone. She called the cemetery and found out they only had my mother buried up there.”