Regardless, she wasn’t about to admit defeat yet.
She couldn’t tell Logan she was with the FBI or searching for Rico Jimenez, but maybe she could tell him about the map. Maybe he could even help her figure out why it was important.
She sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I think I might know what they want.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She unbuttoned the flap on her shirt pocket, pulling out the now rather damp piece of paper she had carried with her all day. Gingerly she unfolded the map, smoothing the rumpled corners.
Logan leaned closer, looking over her shoulder, and every nerve flared to life at his nearness. Not what she was supposed to be thinking about.
“I think it’s a map, but I haven’t had time to study it yet.”
He ran his hand over his chin. “Where did you find it?”
“Tucked into a guidebook I brought with me.” She glanced up at him, right into those green eyes that made her think of pine trees and snowcapped mountains and cozy ski lodges. Her breath stuck in her throat. Good-looking, kindhearted and selfless. A wonder he wasn’t married yet. Focus. Not important details. “What do you think it is?”
“Honestly, it looks like Big Bend. This—” he pointed at different features as he spoke “—is the Rio Grande. And here are the Chisos Mountains. Elephant Tusk. Mariscal Mountain. The hot springs. Boquillas Canyon. Whoever made this knew the area well.”
“And this is Mexico?” She pointed to the area south of the river.
He nodded. “There are a couple of small villages out here—Santa Elena, San Vicente, Boquillas. But most of this area is a nature preserve protected by the Mexican government. The nearest big city is Ojinaga, across the border from El Paso.”
“Look, it’s dated. Right here—1567.” She pointed at the tiny numbers written near the text.
Logan’s brow wrinkled. “The paper seems old, but not that old.”
“It could be a copy, couldn’t it?” Ashley squinted at the tiny letters. “This writing... Is it Spanish?”
“Looks like it. I have a dictionary in my office. And you don’t have any idea where you got it from?”
Something about the map—maybe the way the paper felt in her hand—tugged at her memory. “I remember...” She paused, trying to seize the vague impressions in her mind. “I remember opening an envelope. The map was inside. Something about it made me feel...sad.”
She tried to picture that moment in her mind. If only she could remember when it had happened and the return address on the envelope. But wait—the envelope hadn’t been marked with a return address, had it?
It had only borne her name and address, and the post office’s cancellation. From...
“Panther Junction.” She snapped her eyes up to his. “It was posted from Panther Junction. There’s a post office, isn’t there?”
He nodded. “It’s the only one in the park. When did you get it in the mail?”
She thought for a moment. “It was recent. One of the last things I remember before waking up on the riverbank.”
“Who would send you a map of Big Bend?”
“No idea.” She shrugged helplessly. And, more important, how was this map linked to Jimenez?
“So, what’s it for?”
She stared at the writing again as the hot sun scorched the top of her head. Probably time to refold the map and give up. Wait—a written phrase caught her eye. “Look—” she pointed above one of the mountain peaks “—there’s a notation here in English. And the handwriting is different. It says ‘lost mine.’”
“Sure, it’s called Lost Mine Peak. Second in height behind Emory Peak.”
“But look here, at this symbol—Au. It’s written in the same handwriting.”
Logan squinted at the map. “So?”
“Gold. It’s the symbol for gold, from the periodic table.”
“How do you know it’s referring to the periodic table?”
“And here,” she persisted. “‘Mariscal.’ It’s a mine, too, right? I remember seeing it on the map you gave me.”
“Hg,” he murmured.
“Mercury. It was a mercury mine, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “First half of the twentieth century. It produced nearly a quarter of the country’s mercury.”
Ashley glanced over her shoulder, making sure the road was still empty. “Logan, what if this map shows the location of a gold mine right here in Big Bend?”
* * *
Logan stared, vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open. Rookie. “Right there on Lost Mine Peak? It’s just a name, Ashley. Hundreds of places in the west are named after lost mines.”
“You’re an expert on Big Bend, right?” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Aren’t there any legends about lost mines?”
“Well, sure, but there are also legends about lost canyons full of bison, and we haven’t found any of those yet, either.”
She stared at him, waiting.
He tugged at his shirt collar, hot now that his clothes had dried out. “We’d better keep walking. Still have a few miles to go.”
She folded the map and returned it to her shirt pocket. “Tell me one of the legends. You’ve got to know one. In fact, I bet you know one about Lost Mine Peak, don’t you?”
“Maybe. You’re not going to drop it, are you?”
“No.” A grin lit up her face, making her eyes sparkle. “I’m very persistent.”
He sighed. “The legend says that back in the 1500s—”
“Fifteen sixty-seven!” she said triumphantly. “That’s the date on this map!”
He scowled before continuing, as if she hadn’t interrupted. “The Spanish found a rich vein of gold near the top of Lost Mine Peak. They hauled life-term prisoners twenty miles across the desert from the presidio at San Vicente, blindfolded part of the way, to work the mine.”
“That must’ve been miserable.” She frowned. “What happened?”
“The Comanche, angry over the Spanish invasion of their lands, found the mine and killed all the workers, to a man. Then they filled in the entrance to hide it from anyone else who might come looking.”
“And you don’t think it could be true?”
“Well... I guess if I’m being objective, the Chisos Mountains are igneous rock formations, so theoretically it’s possible there could be veins of gold. It just seems so...improbable.”
She stared across the desert at the mountains in the north. “Apparently whoever made this map doesn’t agree with you.”
“And the people trying to get it from you?” He raised an eyebrow. How could he believe such a ridiculous theory? Still, there was no denying someone wanted something from her.
Ashley nodded.
“And you think the people after the map are the ones who threw you into the river?”
“I have no idea. But it’s my best guess. Somehow they found me in the park, realized I didn’t have the map, and dumped me into the river.”
When she put it like that... He swallowed, his stomach flipping. The thought of some thug attacking her, searching her and throwing her into the river like a piece of trash... It made him want to find whoever had done it and bring them to justice. Maybe after he knocked a couple of teeth out.
She was still pale, whether from the same line of thought or from the incident by the river, he didn’t know. But she needed help.
Or to get out of Big Bend.
“It’s not safe for you here,” he said at last. “You should leave the park. Turn that map over to Ed Chambers and the superintendent and let them sort it out. I’m sure they could get you a transfer.” Even if the thought of her leaving twisted uncomfortably at his heart, her safety was more important.
“I can’t.” She clenched her teeth.
“Why?”
She shoo
k her head. “Don’t ask, because I don’t know all the reasons yet myself. I only know that I can’t leave.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “At least turn the map over to the superintendent. If the NPS sends rangers out searching for this mine, then maybe whoever is after the map will give up.”
“Aren’t you at all concerned about finding whoever it is and arresting them? We are in law enforcement, aren’t we?”
He stopped and, before he quite knew what he was doing, gently gripped both of her arms and stared into her dark eyes. “Of course. But I’m more concerned about protecting you.”
Confusion flickered across her face—warmth mingled with wariness, as if she couldn’t make up her mind.
For a moment Logan didn’t know what she would do, or what he wanted her to do—step into his arms or walk away. The latter would certainly be better for his sanity.
She did neither. Instead she stood like a statue, saying in a clipped voice, “I’m here to do a job. I don’t need your protection.”
Worse than a slap in the face. He pulled his hands back, retreating a step. With a curt nod, he walked ahead in silence.
It seemed obvious Ashley needed his help—someone had tried to shoot them, after all. So why was she pushing him away? Either she had a chip on her shoulder the size of Montana about accepting help or...he was letting things get too personal, and she could tell.
And it was obvious she didn’t want any part of his unruly emotions.
Logan kicked a rock on the road as they trudged on under the hot sun. He barely knew Ashley. It had been...what, three days since they had met? Why did it feel like so much longer?
He had to get his feelings back under control, take them out of the picture. View her for what she was—a coworker who needed training. Not an attractive, mysterious, brave woman who needed his protection.
He could turn off his heart. Somehow.
EIGHT
Pressing a washcloth to her face, Ashley scrubbed away the grime, wishing she could wash away all the fear and uncertainty inside just as easily. The past three days had lasted an eternity.
After they’d walked a long way, a ranger had picked them up and given them a lift back to Castolon. From there, she and Logan had driven her car to Panther Junction. He’d kept teaching her about the park as they’d driven: its layout, wildlife, policies...anything to avoid the uncomfortable looming silence. Despite her admittedly cold words to him earlier in the day, Logan had insisted on checking her house to make sure no one had broken in, before leaving for his office.
She had to give him credit for his work ethic. Long hours, flexibility and dedication were a given with the Bureau, but the working conditions weren’t typically quite this...wet. Or sandy. After all they’d been through, all she’d wanted was a shower.
And some time alone to figure things out.
After throwing on a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt, she retrieved her laptop and carried it out to the living room. She flipped it open, finding the file with her notes.
Two more days. She had two more days to come up with some sort of information for Dick Barclay—something to convince him not to call Morton. She had no doubt what would happen if her boss found out about the memory loss—she’d be on the next flight home.
Ashley rested her chin on her hand. It would help, obviously, if she knew why she was there. Why this place, and this map, mattered. Although Dick Barclay knew she was with the FBI, and here to investigate Jimenez, he didn’t seem to know about the map or the gold mine—otherwise he would have mentioned them.
Unless... She tapped her chin. What if Barclay hadn’t wanted to remind her about it?
No, that was ridiculous. Barclay had only been here...what? Six months? How could he know about the mine when not even Logan did?
The map was connected to this case somehow, though. Maybe it was the lead that had brought her here. Maybe the cartel was searching for the mine, too, and if she found it, she’d find Jimenez.
Or maybe she was desperate and grasping for straws. She’d be able to concentrate a whole lot better if she could stop thinking about Logan. She had hurt his feelings today, that was obvious, but it was safer this way. When she didn’t know whom she could trust, or what tomorrow might bring, it was too dangerous to let him in. Just being around her had put him in physical danger.
And no matter how rational Ashley tried to be about him, her stubborn heart wasn’t listening. He had held her so closely this afternoon, and the last thing her heart had wanted was for him to let go.
Even now, that same foolish part of her wanted him to knock on the door. To listen to her, help her, keep her safe.
“Absolutely not,” she muttered aloud. She’d worked too long and too hard to succeed in a man’s world, and she wasn’t about to turn herself into a needy, withering female just because a good-looking, good-hearted man had rescued her once or twice. Or three times. She was beginning to lose count.
Ashley turned back to her notes, forcing her mind to concentrate on the screen in front of her. There were those words again—the best reason not to let Logan Everett too close. Trust no one.
Why? She scanned page after page and then she found it. A reference to an FBI report on Jimenez’s suspected criminal activity in the Big Bend country. Please let it be here on this computer.
Oh, happy day, there it was. Finally something was going her way. The document claimed Jimenez had split off from a large cartel in western Mexico, starting his own operation a couple of years ago. He or his men had a long string of associated violent crimes linked to drug running and serving as coyotes for illegal immigrants.
But what would Jimenez want with Big Bend? The river was shallow here, making crossings easier, and the area was understaffed. Yet the terrain was so rugged, it would be nearly impossible to move drugs or people safely into the States on a large scale. So what was Jimenez doing in Big Bend?
According to the file, the Bureau had a contact in San Vicente who’d reported on Jimenez. Small drug runs. Cartel members moving back and forth across the border... Was it related to the mine? And how was he doing it undetected?
Obviously, Logan hadn’t heard anything about the cartel. Even the superintendent didn’t think Jimenez was working in the area, if the file he had given her was any indication.
Ashley shivered as the answer came to her. Of course. Someone on the inside was helping him. It could be border patrol or the local authorities or someone right here with the NPS. Whoever it was, they were orchestrating Jimenez’s movements to pass unnoticed.
At that thought, memories of conversations with Morton back in his DC office flooded into her mind. That was why she was here undercover—not only to avoid scaring off Jimenez, but because the FBI suspected it was one of the Big Bend rangers. And it was her job to figure out whom, along with pinning Jimenez.
Something else niggled at the edge of her memory. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this specific assignment was personal. She’d fought to convince Morton she was the right agent. But why?
Ashley patted her jeans’ pocket, where she’d tucked the map safely away. It had to have something to do with this map. What? And why had someone sent it to her? She rubbed her hands across her face, straining to dredge up any other memories that might help.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted her and Ashley’s shoulders tensed. It had to be Logan. She wasn’t ready to face him again yet, not now. He seemed so good, so trustworthy... The thought of him being the traitor, however unlikely, made her stomach hurt.
The knock came again and she closed her laptop. Her lights were on, so it was obvious she was home. She couldn’t hide forever.
Only, it wasn’t Logan. It was Will Sykes, the ranger she had met this morning.
“Hi, Will,” she said. With his dark good looks and charming smile, he might’ve chosen a career in Hollywood instead o
f life in remote Big Bend.
“Ashley.” He flashed a wide grin. “I heard you had some sort of crazy incident down at Santa Elena this afternoon.”
“Yeah.” Did every ranger know by now? “It was a little more than I bargained for on my first day of work.”
“I bet.” He leaned casually against the door frame, his dark eyes unreadable. “Hey, didn’t you have some sort of accident there the other day, too? I heard something about Logan finding you in the river.”
“Something like that. He found me along the river’s edge.”
Why was he asking? Curiosity?
Will’s mouth opened, as if to ask another question, but then he smiled. “I’m glad he could help you. How are you recovering?”
“I’m doing pretty well. I think I’ll be avoiding the canyon for a while, though.”
“Too bad. It’s a beautiful place.” Will’s dark eyes lingered on her face, his lips curving into a grin that veered toward flirtatious. Maybe he was trying to be friendly, not pry.
Those files were messing with her head. Not every ranger was secretly helping Jimenez. She just needed to find the one who was.
“Yes, it is. How long have you been a ranger here, Will?”
“A couple of years, but my family is from Texas.”
“Oh?” He looked Hispanic, with his dark hair and eyes, but she didn’t want to make him feel like he was under interrogation. His file had included the background check they’d run when he was hired. Nothing of interest, except for one relative south of the border. A distant cousin. “Did you grow up nearby?”
“El Paso. My father was American, my mother Mexican.” He winked. “It’s okay, everybody wonders. They’re just not brave enough to ask.”
She smiled in a vain attempt to cover up her curiosity. “Sykes isn’t exactly a Hispanic name. So...” She paused. “How do you like working here?”
Fatal Flashback Page 7
