Redhawk's Heart, page 6
Worried, Ashe radioed her.
“I’ve had to slow down,” she told him, frustration evident in her tone, “but I made it through the washes already. It was like fording a stream. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to back you up. Count on it,” she said.
He was surprised at how easily he pictured the way she would look as she said that. Her eyes would be slightly narrowed and her lips pursed with determination. Though they hadn’t known each other for long, instinct told him that she wouldn’t let him down. One way or another, she’d keep her word.
CASEY DROVE CAREFULLY up a rock-strewn hillside, a shortcut she’d decided on at the last minute. She’d lost time because of the rain, but if she could make it over this small hill, she’d still be able to cut off the motorcyclist’s escape. Of course, if the biker had possessed even two healthy brain cells, he would have turned back by now. Sheets of pouring rain made visibility practically nil, and the ground was like a shallow river beneath the tires of her car.
Halfway down the other side she struck muddy soil, and her vehicle started to wallow. Before she could turn aside, her vehicle sank down to the axles, then stopped all forward motion. Not even all-wheel drive could have helped her now. The mud here was silt, not sand, and it buried her tires, taking away all hope of traction. She was going nowhere.
Reluctantly she threw her door open, grabbed the hand held, and proceeded on foot through the mush toward the mouth of the canyon. She’d probably make better time walking, anyway. Ignoring the cold, stinging rain, she picked her way through the soggy earth that threatened to suck her shoes right off her feet. Finally, she hit sandy ground and was able to jog to the dirt road. One way o another, she’d be there to back up Ashe.
Casey had just arrived at the mouth of the canyon when the radio at her belt came alive with a burst of static.
“He turned back and made it out of the canyon along a shallow tributary. He’s long gone now,” she heard Ashe say. “He found a trail with the motorcycle that was too narrow for any vehicle. There was no way either one of us could have followed him.”
Casey stifled a groan. “Too bad he didn’t do it five minutes ago.”
“Why? Where are you?”
“At my end of the canyon where you told me to wait. But my vehicle’s stuck about two hundred yards from here. at the base of a small hill.”
There was a moment of silence. “You mean you’re out in the rain and mud?”
“Brilliant deduction, Detective.”
She started the trek back toward her car, cursing the desert, cursing Ashe and cursing the case that had brought her here in the first place. This time she took her time. There was no need to hurry back, and the slog through the mud was tiring.
When she didn’t get another transmission from Ashe, she began to worry. Maybe she’d been too curt. She’d need help getting her sedan out. Though she hated asking anyone for a hand, she’d hate hiking all the way back to the highway in the rain even more.
Crossing the muddy terrain was like wading through a giant vat of peanut butter. To her surprise, when she finally arrived, Ashe was already there, and he had attached a towrope to her car. Five minutes later, the vehicle was free.
“You’re unstuck,” he said simply, joining her beside her car.
Ashe stood before her, neither touching her nor moving back. His gaze searched hers as if he wanted to read the secrets of her soul.
Casey’s pulse raced. Ashe’s wet shirt clung to him, accentuating his powerful shoulders and the planes of his muscular chest. Rain dripped down into his open collar, making his copper skin glisten.
The cold rain did little to cool the fires spreading through her. She yearned for his touch, though her more cautious intellect urged her to move away.
Ashe gave her a gentle smile, then caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand. “You came through for me today. You pulled out all the stops to do it, too. I won’t forget that.”
As he turned and walked back to his vehicle, the memory of his touch and the enticing warmth it had evoked stayed with her. Desire sang to her of forbidden pleasures. She wanted to call out to him, but did not. They both had other responsibilities and, after those were completed, she’d be leaving here for good. Pursuing the attraction between them would lead only to pain, and they’d both had enough of that in their lives.
Feeling more alone than ever, Casey climbed into her sedan and followed Ashe’s taillights back to the highway.
THE NEXT MORNING, CASEY returned to the Reservation. She still needed to question Alice Johnson’s best friend, but the woman’s address mystified her. “Turn at the rock with the petroglyphs,” she’d been told. Cripes, couldn’t they have nice little street signs, like Tumbleweed Lane or Canyon Road?
Knowing Ashe could help orient her, she once again considered asking that he be assigned to her immediately. After mulling it over, however, she opted against it. She wasn’t sure if her desire to seek him out was an excuse—a product of feminine longing—or a genuine investigative necessity. Pushing away the disturbing questions, she focused on finding her way.
After forty minutes of wrong turns and time-consuming corrections, she arrived at her destination. Casey pulled up to a gray stuccoed wood-frame house with a log hogan at the back. The absence of other houses, telephone lines or even roads disturbed her. With her back to the house, Casey could look around in any direction and find no traces of civilization anywhere. She suppressed a shudder. How could anyone stand being so isolated?
Casey parked and went to the door of Diana Begay’s house. She needed to find out if anyone had come here recently, asking questions about the Johnsons or Katrina.
As she approached the door, a woman about Katrina’s age came out. Casey saw open suspicion on her face, and tried to overcome that with a smile.
She pulled out her badge and ID. “I’m Special Agent Casey Feist,” she said, keeping her voice soft and nonconfrontational. “I need to talk to Diana Begay about the family that was killed,” she said, remembering this time not to use names.
The young woman did not relax. “My mother won’t talk to you. My parents are traditionalists. You aren’t welcome here until you learn our ways. You’ve already insulted them.”
“I don’t understand. What did I do that was rude?”
“You didn’t wait to be invited. You left your car and came right up to the door, like some tourist.”
Casey took a deep breath. Had there been time, she would have studied the culture more thoroughly before coming to the Reservation. But time was something that was working against everyone involved—except the killer.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to offend. I’m trying hard to catch a very dangerous person before he can harm anyone else,” Casey said.
For the first time, she saw the young woman relax a bit. Her shoulders lost some of their rigidity, and the tightness around her eyes disappeared.
“I know. That’s why I came out to talk with you. Whoever you’re looking for killed our friends. He needs to be found and put in jail for a long time.” She led the way to a bench beneath a nearby cottonwood tree. “I’m Ilene Begay. I’m not a traditionalist like my parents, so you can relax.”
“Could you tell me if anyone around here has ever had any arguments or trouble with the people who were killed? Maybe a neighbor, businessperson or the parents of one of their students?” Casey wanted to cover as many possibilities as she could think of.
“There was that fight over the land where the school was built, but that was years and years ago,” Ilene said.
“Tell me about it. Did somebody attack the John—I mean, the people who were killed?”
Ilene smiled at her predicament. “There wasn’t a real fight, like with fists. One family claimed that the land where the school was built was theirs and that the council shouldn’t have allowed anyone to build there. But land here isn’t really owned by individuals or families. The tribe allocates it. That family didn’t have a shrine or anything there, so the tribal council ruled against them. The family argued against that decision for a long time. Now that the school is probably going to shut down, I expect they’ll try again to get the land back.”
“Could I ask the name of the family who claims that land?”
“I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. It’s the Nakais. Officer Nakai, the eldest son, is a cop and a friend of Detective Redhawk’s.”
Casey tried to conceal her surprise by continuing with her questions, this time about Katrina.
“Can you tell me if anyone has been around recently, here or at the college, asking questions about Katrina or her parents?”
“Nobody’s come here. As for at the college—” she shrugged “—I just don’t know. I stick pretty close to my studies. I talk to Katrina when I see her on campus, but I don’t usually have time to socialize.” She paused. “You might want to talk to Elsie Benally.”
“Is she a friend of Katrina’s, or a friend of her parents?” Casey asked.
“Neither, really, though my foster mother and she spoke frequently. I thought of her because she usually knows more about what’s happening on the Reservation than anyone else. If there have been people asking around about the Johnsons or Fox, she might be able to tell you.”
“Where can I find her?”
Before she could answer, a woman called out. Ilene looked back at the house. “They don’t want me to talk to you. I’ve got to go back inside.”
“Directions, please?” Casey pressed.
“It’s north of Big Gap, not far from the road to Redrock. But your biggest problem won’t be finding the place. I just don’t know how you’ll get her to talk to you. Whatever you do, don’t go there by yourself. She’ll run you off with a shotgun and you could get hurt. She really distrusts outsiders. A lot of families here do.”
Dene was called again. “I’ve got to go.”
Casey returned to her vehicle. Much as she was eager for any excuse to spend more time with Ashe, the thought that she wouldn’t be able to do her job without someone else paving the way bothered her. It went against everything she liked to believe about herself.
Yet, out here, her training didn’t seem to count for much. Clearly, no matter how skilled or well-intentioned she was, circumstances would not allow her to complete this job alone. The admission went against everything in her, but she had to accept it. She pushed back her frustration, knowing it would do no good, and got under way.
At least she’d learned something useful from Ilene. She’d met Officer Nakai before, at the crime scene, and he’d seemed very cool and professional, except when he’d been around the bodies. He’d avoided staying inside the house, Casey recalled. Had that uneasiness been the product of the Navajo beliefs about the dead, or a criminal’s aversion to being at the scene of the crime?
She’d have to ask Ashe about Nakai, and get his opinion on Nakai’s shoe size, too. Judging by his height, Casey suspected he’d be wearing less than a size ten, though.
Almost an hour later she drove through the small town of Shiprock en route to the station. As she passed a farming area parallel to the river, she spotted Ashe’s tribal police carryall, the unit number emblazoned above the back fender. It was parked beside a one-room house resting on the high ground in the center of an old, reclaimed arroyo. A single cottonwood stood beside the house. Seeing Ashe’s cruiser sparked her curiosity. Maybe the investigation had brought him here and, if it had, he was certainly pursuing a lead she didn’t know about.
Casey pulled onto the shoulder, turned around, and drove back to the point where she could see his vehicle clearly. A half-dozen goats and sheep in a small pen confirmed that somebody lived in the tar-paper-covered house, which was little more than a shack. A metal pipe sticking out of the shed-type roof gave off faint gray smoke, and the door was open, probably to help dissipate heat from the woodstove.
After a few minutes went by, Casey decided to move in closer. She’d wanted to know more about Ashe, and observing him unnoticed now might give her a few answers. Maybe she could learn something useful, too, from the way he dealt with other members of his tribe.
Casey stepped softly across the sandy soil, getting as close as she could without giving herself away. She stopped behind the cover of the cottonwood tree and listened. From the voices, Casey knew Ashe and an elderly person were inside the shack. Although she could hear the words, she couldn’t understand their language.
Suddenly she saw Ashe appear at the open doorway, and look just to the right of where she was. As he stepped outside, Casey ducked back out of sight. Ashe walked down the shallow arroyo, disappearing quickly into a side canyon. She waited, wondering what he was doing, but he didn’t return, though his carryall remained beside the house.
Something wasn’t right. Casey wasn’t sure what he was up to, or what was going on, but her instinct for danger was working overtime now. She followed, creeping along the edge of the arroyo and staying in the shadows.
When she reached the end of the small side canyon, Casey climbed out, as she could see from his footprints Ashe had done. She looked around and spotted him a hundred yards ahead, making his way around an old apple orchard. Beyond it, a wide irrigation ditch ran parallel to the river. Whatever Ashe was looking for wasn’t obvious, but he was definitely searching for something. She decided to stay behind cover and follow, ready to offer her help.
A few minutes later, she realized what he was doing. An olive-green sports van was parked in a low spot overlooking the arroyo. Seeing it now, she knew Ashe must have been trying to approach without being discovered.
At that instant, the van’s motor suddenly roared to life and the vehicle fishtailed out of the depression, heading directly toward Ashe.
“Look out!” Casey shouted, forced to reveal herself. Ashe turned in surprise as she ran into the open, hoping to lure the van away from him and toward her. The ploy worked.
Ashe was at her side in a flash and, grabbing her hand, led her through a thicket of willows at breakneck speed. The van was close behind. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”
“I hate to ask, but do you have a plan, other than turning us both into instant track stars?” she retorted, gasping as they crashed through the brush. The loudness of the pursuing vehicle told her they were losing ground.
“Not track, but you’d better be a great broad jumper—or else swim like a fish.” He swerved abruptly, heading straight toward the irrigation ditch fifty feet ahead. It was almost full of muddy, turbulent water. “We can’t outrun the van. That’s our only chance,” he said, pointing to the water.
“Wait a second—” Before she could get another word out, he tightened his hold on her hand and jumped toward the opposite bank, pulling her with him.
For a second Casey thought that they’d make it, but they hit the water at least four feet short of the opposite side. The current here was powerful, and they were swept along instantly. Although she knew how to swim, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get any closer to the bank. As the water carried them forward. Ashe kept one hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. They bobbed like corks, hurtled away from the sides and into the faster-flowing center.
“There’s a spillway ahead!” he shouted over the rushing sound. “We have to grab on to something and pull ourselves out!”
The current pounded against them, sapping their strength. Seeing her chance just ahead, Casey lunged and grabbed a willow branch that jutted out overhead, then held it in a death grip. The rushing water hurled them toward the bank.
Three minutes later they lay on solid ground, exhausted and shivering. The swirling water at their feet looked like melted brown crayons because of the silt it carried down from the mountains.
Slowly, they climbed and clawed their way to the top of the berm, which also served as a flood-control levee. A road ran along it From there, Casey could see the concrete-lined spillway less than thirty feet farther along the ditch. It dropped at a steep angle into a bubbling pool fifty feet below.
“You could have killed us!” she yelled at him over the roar of the waterfall. “What kind of escape plan was that?”
Ashe looked down, then shrugged. “What choice did we have? Would you have preferred getting run over instead?”
“I ran with you because I thought you had a plan. You could have at least tried to think of something else.”
He stood. “That’s the thanks I get? You walked into this mess by yourself, you know. What were you doing trying to eavesdrop on me, anyway?”
“What makes you think I was doing that?” she hedged.
He gave her an incredulous look, then, with a wave of his hand that encompassed the entire river valley, added, “I suppose you just happened to drop by because of your interest in agriculture?”
She considered continuing to deny it, then decided on another tack. “Stuff it. I’m in charge of this investigation. I don’t have to answer your questions.” Casey headed down the levee road.
He fell into step beside her. “Face it. We can’t work this case separately,” he said. “We each need something the other has. I know the area and the people, and you have access to resources I need.”
She suppressed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to come right out and ask for his help. Her pride had taken enough of a bruising already. “Okay. You want to work together? While we’re looking for a good set of van tracks, you can start by telling me what you were doing here.”
“I’m making it a point to find and talk to people who have connections,” he answered.
Casey looked around. “What connections? That woman’s closest neighbors are bullfrogs and apple trees.”
“Your eyes will never tell you the whole story—not out here. Always remember that. The woman at the house back there is a hand trembler. She diagnoses illnesses so that our medicine men can cure them. She’s held in high respect and knows just about everyone along this valley. Even the modernists come to talk to her. Almost all of us have traditionalists in our clan who need help sooner or later.” Ashe pointed toward what looked like vehicle tracks ahead.
