Redhawk's Heart, page 5
The woman nodded, a bewildered look on her face as she turned on all the lights and saw the state the apartment was in. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell us,” Casey said. “The man who broke in here was searching for something. Do you have any idea what that may have been?”
She shook her head. “I have nothing of value to a thief, except that old TV.” She pointed toward a small portable on a wheeled cart.
“Have you heard about the murders on the Reservation?” Casey asked.
Mrs. Garwood nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “And I know Fox is missing,” she said, looking at Ashe. “Does this have something to do with her?”
“It’s a possibility,” Ashe replied. “Has she contacted you?”
“No, I would have called you if she had.” Mrs. Garwood turned back to Casey and gave her a wary look.
Casey knew she had to gain the woman’s confidence somehow, but she had no idea how to go about it. “You knew the Johnson family. Can you help us? Do you have any idea who might have wanted them dead?” Casey realized she’d made a critical mistake when she saw the expression on Mrs. Garwood’s face change. Casey had been warned about mentioning the names of the dead, but the habit wasn’t an easy one to break.
Mrs. Garwood’s eyes narrowed. “I will not talk to you. You’re a stranger to me and I’ve had enough of strangers,” she said, waving her hand around the room. “This is what I get for living off the Reservation.”
As the deputies arrived. Casey reluctantly left Mrs. Garwood for Ashe to interview. He’d have a better chance of getting answers without her there.
Casey identified herself to the officers and turned the jacket over to them for processing, warning them of the possible connection to the double murder. She also requested they send any fiber evidence to the state lab for comparison with the samples from the murder scene. As the team began to search the apartment for other physical evidence, Casey stayed close by, monitoring their progress and helping them search.
Although she’d hated turning over the duty of questioning Mrs. Garwood to Ashe, she had to admit it had been the right thing to do. A glance showed her that Mrs. Garwood was in the midst of an animated discussion with the Navajo detective.
Casey started examining the floor for anything the suspect might have dropped. As she did, she moved closer to Ashe, hoping to overhear at least some of the conversation.
“Don’t you worry about Fox,” Mrs. Garwood said. “She’s got a very good head on her shoulders. She’ll be okay.”
“I’m worried that she may be way out of her league. We’re dealing with a vicious killer.”
“I’ve been thinking about that and Fox’s disappearance ever since I heard the news on the radio. Maybe their deaths had something to do with the man who has been bothering her.”
“Who’s been bothering her?” Ashe’s voice grew sharp. “I didn’t know anything about that.”
“I don’t know his name, but I understand he’s older than she is, and wouldn’t leave her alone. She told me that he’d wait for her after classes, and then follow her around, trying to get her to talk to him.”
“Why didn’t Fox come to me?”
“She was afraid it would be awkward for you, and you might do something to get yourself in trouble. The man is a police officer from Farmington.”
“Did she tell you anything else about him?”
“No, and now I wish I’d asked.”
Seeing Mrs. Garwood glance in her direction, Casey shifted to join a pair of officers who were questioning a neighbor. The tenant with the radio that had now, thankfully, been turned off, seemed to have a lot of questions, but no answers to offer.
When Ashe came up a moment later, the tenant’s attention shifted to him. Casey didn’t blame the woman; Ashe stood quietly now, a lock of black hair over his brow, but the force of his presence made her own skin prickle with excitement.
Ashe drew Casey off to one side, letting the officers continue their questioning undisturbed. “I got a call on my cell phone. Prescott wants us to meet him in Farmington once we’re done here. He’s asking for a full report.”
“Okay. Did the officers inside the apartment find anything?”
“No. There was a screwdriver on the counter, but it was Mrs. Garwood’s.”
“Has she discovered anything missing?”
Before he could answer, Mrs. Garwood came rushing up to Ashe. “I just remembered something else. The man I told you about rode a motorcycle, but I don’t know what kind. All Fox said was that it was big and expensive looking.”
As Mrs. Garwood moved away, Ashe filled in the gaps in what Casey knew. She was amazed at how well they worked as a team. It was as if they’d been partners for years, instead of only having met the day before. What Ashe had found out, however, made Casey suspect that the murders were not connected to the business that had brought her to the Rez.
“We seem to have two bikes involved,” Casey said. “We know about the dirt bike, and now we’re talking about an expensive touring model.”
“Bikers often have more than one motorcycle. Of course it’s also possible the cycles could belong to two different people.”
Casey walked back to her vehicle, Ashe by her side. “We need to question every male friend Fox had,” she said. “Stalkers have been known to attack family members they feel are interfering with the relationship they’re trying to establish. They thrive on control.”
“Looking into the possibility of a stalker was a good hunch on your part.” Ashe took a deep breath. “Fox is clearly at the heart of what’s happened. But I don’t think we should fix exclusively on that aspect of it. I’d like you to do me a favor. Use your Bureau sources to get me everything you can on Fox. Where did she come from before my foster parents adopted her? Was the adoption legal? Who were her biological parents?”
Casey owed him one for his rescue on the balcony, and they both knew it, but there was a matter of duty and professional responsibility that she had to honor first. Some loyalties went above and beyond the personal, although this time, she truly regretted that. There was still one very important question about Ashe she needed answered before she would risk giving him her trust: Had Ashe’s curiosity about his foster sister’s past compromised Katrina in some way, and led to the Johnsons’ death? He’d admitted to having seen the file the captain had in his office.
“Getting that information could take some time,” she hedged. “In the meantime, why don’t you concentrate on Fox’s current friends? If a stalker is connected to the murders, we need hard evidence and a suspect, and that’s not something that’s going to be linked to her distant past.”
His gaze hardened. “The present does concern me, probably more than you realize. You should know that I called a friend of mine at the Bureau and it seems that they don’t have any files on you.”
“Your source is obviously out of the loop. Do you think your captain would have given me access to his department’s records, backed me up or allowed me to work with his people if my credentials were bogus?” Casey had to convince him. It was imperative that Ashe not doubt she was on the side of the law. “I am a federal agent,” she said, looking him right in the eye, and speaking with the confidence she could only muster for the truth.
“I believe you,” he said after a long, thoughtful pause.
As Ashe walked off, she realized that he’d obtained more information from her evasions than she’d ever dreamed he could. As he drove away, Casey slipped behind the wheel of her own sedan, her thoughts still on him. Ashe had a way of cutting through her pretenses and making her feel as if he could see clearly into her soul. It was bewildering—and as intoxicating as an entire bottle of brandy. He was, without a doubt, the most dangerous and exciting man she’d ever met.
ASHE FOLLOWED HER across town. Hearing his cell phone ring, he scooped it up and flicked it open with one hand. His brother Travis’s voice sounded very far away.
“Hey, little brother. I got a call from my C.O. notifying me that you’d left a message. Something about an emergency back on the Rez? What’s up? Did someone punch your lights out, and now you want me to come to the rescue?”
Ashe hated to break the bad news to his brother over the phone—it seemed too impersonal—but he had no other choice. As he recounted what had happened, the full weight of their loss hit Ashe hard. “They’re dead. I can’t change that,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm and steady. “But one way or another, I’m bringing in whoever is responsible. The killer will answer for what he did.”
The silence on the other end was long. “When’s the funeral?” Travis said at last.
“The bodies won’t be released for a while. There’s got to be an autopsy first. It’s a legal formality in this case, but a necessary one. After that, we’ll be free to set up whatever arrangements we want. But I’m not convinced a funeral would be right for them.”
“They weren’t Navajo,” Travis reminded sternly. “It’s their customs we need to honor now.”
“I’ll search for their will and see what they wanted done. I remember they spoke of being buried in their church’s cemetery.”
Another long silence followed before Travis spoke. “I’ll be home as soon as possible, but I can’t get emergency leave for a few more days. I’m on a special assignment I can’t discuss. Can you handle things there without me?”
“I’m a cop, not just your kid brother,” Ashe snapped. Travis had a way of putting him on the defensive. It had always been that way. But this was no time for competition between them. “There’s more,” Ashe said, wishing he didn’t have to deliver this bit of news, too. Travis was not likely to take it well. “Fox is gone.”
There was utter silence on the line for a moment. “What do you mean, ‘Gone’?” Travis’s voice suddenly became cold and deadly.
“Calm down. I don’t have any concrete reason to believe she’s not okay,” Ashe told him, then quickly explained.
“I’ll get there as soon as I can. If you haven’t found Little Fox by then,” Travis said, using his own pet name for her, “we’ll turn the Rez upside down and shake it, if that’s what it takes.”
“No. I’ve got things under—” The connection was abruptly severed. Ashe cursed. He loved his brother, but Travis’s ways of getting things done were not compatible with a systematic investigation that would hold up in court. On the other hand, he couldn’t have asked for stronger support. Nothing had ever stood in their way when Travis and he joined forces. And perhaps that was what Fox needed now—a damn-the-rules mentality that would annihilate anything in their way.
As he pulled into the Farmington police station behind Casey, Ashe’s thoughts shifted to her. For the first time in his life he understood his brother’s feelings for the woman he’d always called Little Fox. A woman could disrupt everything in a man’s life and still find a way to touch his heart.
FOR CASEY, THE MEETING with Prescott at the Farmington police station was more frustrating than informative. The D.A. got everything they had, and gave little in return.
An hour later, Casey drove back to the Reservation alone. Ashe had opted to stay behind—a move she was certain would pay off for him. If a Farmington cop had been harassing Katrina, she had no doubt that Ashe would discover the officer’s identity. As a man, he’d be able to tap into the good-old-boy network there far more easily than she ever could.
She arrived at the tribal police station a short while later, and went directly to Captain Todacheene’s office. Though she hadn’t called in ahead of time, he seemed to be expecting her.
He waved her to a chair, then closed the door behind them. “I heard about the incident at the apartment house. I also know Redhawk was there. How did you cover your trail?”
“I gave him as few details as possible. He still doesn’t know the real reason I was sent here.”
“Sooner or later he’s going to see right through your cover. You can only push this FBI thing so far. He’s too sharp a cop.”
“Yes, I realize that. Tell me something. Is there any way he could have read the file on Katrina that you have here?”
He hesitated. “Not the file he saw on my desk. I got it out of reach too quickly.”
“There’s a but in there somewhere. I can hear it in your voice.”
“There’s a computer file on Katrina Johnson, as well.” The captain expelled his breath in a hiss. “Ashe Redhawk was heavily involved in setting up our computer system here. He may have left himself a back door—though, frankly, I doubt it. He’s not that type of person. And if he does know what’s in the file, he certainly isn’t acting on it.”
“So what we have here is a highly motivated, honest cop with a sharp mind and a lot of questions. That means we’ll have a very big problem keeping secrets from him.”
“Maybe. But if the person who killed the Johnsons is a rejected suitor, or someone with a grievance against the family, that file doesn’t figure in at all with their murders, anyway.”
“True, but until we know for sure, we’ve got to move with caution.”
Casey left the office certain of only one thing: She had to get a better handle on what kind of man Ashe Redhawk really was.
Outside, in her car, Casey looked at the list of names her source had given her. She had to move fast. Ashe was bound to remain in her way.
As she tried to interpret the travel directions her contact had given her, Casey’s mind kept shifting to the next step of her investigation. The Navajo woman she needed to speak to lived in an isolated section of the Reservation. If this woman’s response was anything like Mrs. Garwood’s, Casey wouldn’t have much to show for the long drive after she was done, either. It would all be a waste of time. Casey muttered a curse. She’d come to the Rez with every expectation of making swift progress—something she was known for—but nothing on this case had worked out as planned.
As she pondered the situation, a plan formed in her mind. There was one way of making sure Ashe didn’t create a problem for her. If she could keep an eye on him, and monitor what he did, she could make sure he didn’t inadvertently jeopardize the work she was here to do.
Unfortunately, there was only one way Casey could think of to actually keep close tabs on him, and that had its own dangers. But it was her only option. She had made up her mind to radio the captain and ask that Ashe be assigned to work with her, when her call sign came over the radio.
Casey responded immediately. “This is Special Unit 144.” The call was coming in on the local tribal police frequency.
“Switch to channel eight,” the voice advised.
Despite the static, she knew that the speaker was Ashe. Her pulse quickened in an instinctive response to his smoky, masculine voice.
“I’m being tailed by someone on a motorcycle,” Ashe said. “Dispatch told me they can’t find another unit close enough to back me up because of a traffic accident between here and Gallup. Can you respond?”
Casey got his location and quickly checked her map. “Affirmative,” she said, giving him her own position in return. Maybe this would even things out a bit. She still owed him one. “Are you in any immediate danger?”
“No. He’s keeping his distance. I think he only wants to keep an eye on me: He’s good at surveillance, too. It’s only luck that I spotted him at all. My guess is that he’s the cop I was trying to find today.”
“How do you want to handle this?” Casey asked.
“I’m going to head west until I reach the canyon up ahead. If you’ll go about a half-mile farther on the road you’re on now, then turn left onto the dirt road past the boulders, we might be able to trap him between us,” Ashe replied.
“Ten-four.”
As she sped down the highway toward the rendezvous, Casey pictured Ashe growing up here in this land of mesas, sand and sagebrush. It was only then that she began to understand him. Ashe was a man who had chosen to embrace the secrets of his tribe and the desert that surrounded them. In that lay his strength. To him, the past was an integral part of who and what he was. It was little wonder that he was driven to learn about Katrina’s background, as well.
“He’s still following me,” Ashe said. “It’s up to us now.”
Casey picked up her mike. “He’s got the best on his tail. He’s ours.”
She heard his low chuckle and smiled. Was it the thrill of the chase that was making her heart race, or was it something else? Ashe was danger itself but, heaven help her, she couldn’t back away from him. Fate had conspired against her, placing her on a case he was an integral part of, and one she was bound to see through.
“Just be prepared for anything.” With that single statement, he signed off.
Chapter Four
Ashe needed only one glance in his rearview mirror to know that the man was still following him right into the trap. Ashe knew this area like the back of his hand, but he wondered about Casey and how she was handling it. The terrain here was rough and, if he had her pegged right, she was a city girl through and through.
Unfortunately, during the past few hours, a thunderstorm had been building. The sky overhead was filled with towering black clouds, and just to the southwest the sky was streaked with rain. Already, a few drops were striking his windshield. Unless he missed his guess, they were in for one major gully-washer.
Less than a minute later, the wind struck his vehicle like a rampaging stampede, and rain hurtled from the sky in swirling waves that all but obscured the road ahead. Before he’d even reached the canyon, the track beneath his utility vehicle’s tires became a muddy stream. He slowed down, careful to keep the vehicle on harder ground, and switched over to four-wheel drive. One wide turn and he could become bogged down in the softer ground beside the road.
As he reached the canyon opening, his rearview mirror caught a flash of chrome from the motorcycle behind him. The helmeted driver, though drenched, maneuvered the cycle with the skill of an expert, despite the wind and rain.
Ashe knew then, that, like him, his adversary was used to the swiftly changing weather conditions of the Southwest. His thoughts turned to Casey. The route she was following would take her across two small arroyos that would fill up quickly with runoff in this downpour.
