Fatal Flashback

by Kellie VanHorn

  Logan picked up her train of thought. “So, if we photograph the mountain peak, maybe with a little research we can extrapolate where the entrance should be?”

  “Exactly.”

  “If this mine even exists.”

  “Of course.” Her smile was obviously fake. Agreeing for the sake of keeping the peace. “How about Thursday? Since we have that staff picnic this afternoon.”

  When he’d told her about it earlier, she’d practically grimaced. She didn’t exactly strike him as the social type. “Remembered, did you? I’m impressed.”

  Ashley handed him the dictionary, her face scrunching. “Yeah, about that...do I have to go?”

  Ah, right. Trying to get out of it, after all. But he could be stubborn, too. “You’ll get to meet more of the other rangers.” He folded the park map. “Besides, a little fun will be good for you.”

  * * *

  Ashley sent a quick confirmation message to Morton and left work early under the pretense of needing time to get ready. In reality, it would only take five minutes to change out of her park uniform, but Logan didn’t argue. After how easy it had been to convince him to take her to San Vicente, she could hardly complain about being dragged to a picnic.

  As soon as she walked into the house, she dropped her keys on the coffee table and pulled out her laptop. It had occurred to her that maybe she’d find files on some of the other rangers on her computer. Useful information prior to meeting more of them in person.

  Sure enough, she had personnel files from the Department of the Interior—she had no idea how Morton had gotten them without going through Barclay and arousing suspicion—and perhaps, better yet, personal information gathered through the Bureau’s resources.

  Her hand hovered over the computer mouse. The list was alphabetical, containing almost a hundred files. But one name immediately drew her attention and, unable to resist, she clicked on the file marked Logan Everett. He had become her partner, so she needed to know whether he was trustworthy. But logic couldn’t shake the guilt niggling at her conscience as she read his file.

  Thirty-two years old—about what she’d guessed. Graduated with honors from a top environmental science program before going directly into the park service. Three years at Crater Lake—that must’ve been beautiful—and now seven years here. He’d taken on the role of training new rangers about four years ago.

  She moved on to his personal information, shifting in her seat and wishing she had the luxury of waiting for him to tell her all these facts when he was ready. But everything she read was, if anything, admirable. Newspaper clippings showed various things he’d done during his time with the park service: a few criminal arrests, but mostly successful search-and-rescue operations.

  Exactly the sort of man you’d want on your side for an investigation. And no motive to help Rico Jimenez.

  She moved on to others she’d already met: Ed Chambers, Will Sykes, the superintendent. Ed had a sick sister who needed surgery. The superintendent had recently gone through a divorce. His only daughter was in college. Will had only been with the park service for two years—Big Bend was his first assignment. His father had died a long time ago, leaving his mother to raise him and his sister alone. They still lived in a suburb of El Paso.

  Reading the files was like sifting through everyone’s laundry, searching for the stinky socks.

  And still more than ninety files to go. Ashley shut the computer, momentarily disgusted with her job. Was this hunt a waste of her time? Maybe Jimenez was a criminal genius and didn’t need anybody’s help. Maybe there weren’t any dirty socks to find. The thought that any of these people—so dedicated, so willing to make sacrifices to protect others—could be a traitor, made her stomach churn.

  She just hoped—no, prayed—that that someone wasn’t Logan, because sometimes it was the person you’d never suspect.

  It took less than five minutes to change into the only dress she’d brought with her and to run a comb through her hair. Then she slipped her laptop into its hiding place under the mattress and tucked the map into the camisole she wore underneath her dress.

  * * *

  “Hey, Ashley.” Will sauntered toward her as she approached the party, carrying a drink in his hand. His crisp, white shirt matched his perfect teeth and contrasted beautifully with his dark skin and hair. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Logan told me I had to come.”

  “I’m glad he did.” To her surprise, Will took her arm, leading her toward the crowded tent. As they walked, she caught a sudden scent on the breeze—something clean, like detergent or fabric softener. Strikingly familiar but gone before she could place it.

  There probably weren’t more than a hundred residents in Panther Junction, but it appeared that most of them had made it to this event. And now they were watching her walk arm-in-arm with Will Sykes, jumping to who-knew-what conclusions. Ashley extricated her arm under the pretense of smoothing some flyaway hairs from her face. They all knew Will—they would know he was merely being friendly.

  And he proved to be a great escort. Not only did he seem to be on good terms with everyone, he made a point to introduce her. She soon lost track—elementary school teachers, interpretive rangers, postal clerks, the janitorial staff. Most of them looked about a thousand times more likely to win a quilting bee or a game of shuffleboard than to secretly help a Mexican drug lord. Still, she would check their files later.

  The small talk was already wearing on her by the time Ed Chambers clattered a wooden spoon against one of the tables. “Welcome, everyone,” he called. After offering a short prayer, he invited all of them to line up and “dig in” to the heaping platters of beef brisket, potato salad and beans.

  She took her loaded plate and followed Will to a table, mentally cataloguing each new person she met. And not looking around the crowd for Logan.

  He came up to her as she threw away her trash. “Well?” A mischievous light glinted in his eyes.

  “Well what?” Despite the heat creeping into her cheeks at his nearness, she held his steady gaze.

  “Did you get the meat sweats?”

  “Excuse me?” She did her best to look politely disgusted.

  He laughed. “You know, when you eat too much meat.”

  “Ugh. You don’t need to say anything else.”

  “That’s my girl. I knew you would like the brisket.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, unknowingly setting off an electric jolt through her insides.

  What on earth was wrong with her? She was a federal agent, not a high-schooler.

  “Ashley—” Will walked up to them “—want an escort home? Unless you need to stay longer?” The half smirk on his face as he glanced at Logan’s hand on her shoulder filled her cheeks with heat.

  She pulled away, swallowing her embarrassment. Logan was her trainer, after all. There was nothing personal.

  “No, go ahead.” Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * *

  “So, want to talk about it?” Ed Chambers asked as they walked over to park headquarters.

  Logan stopped wiping at the barbecue sauce hopelessly smeared across his shirt and glanced up at his friend. “What?” he snapped, instantly regretting his tone of voice. It wasn’t Ed’s fault Logan had plowed into the trash can.

  No, come to think of it, maybe it was Ed’s fault. He had paired Logan and Ashley together, after all. And if Logan had been watching where he was going instead of staring at her brown hair dancing in the breeze...

  Ed glanced over his shoulder, toward the tent. “Whatever, or whoever, was distracting you back there. I have a guess already.”

  “Maybe it’s none of your business, old man.” He couldn’t hold back a laugh. Ed had been both a friend and spiritual mentor to him for years—there could be no keeping secrets fr
om him.

  They reached headquarters and Ed unlocked the door, pulling it open. “I’m glad to see you’re finally opening yourself up to new possibilities. She’s the first woman to turn your head in a long time.”

  “Who said it had anything to do with her?”

  Ed raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just making an observation. I’ll see you later.”

  “Hey, Ed?” Logan called as the chief ranger turned to go. “What else do you know about Ashley? Why is she here?”

  A curious expression flickered on Ed’s face but vanished almost immediately. He shrugged. “Providence, I guess. Why?”

  Did he know more than he was saying? Logan opened his office door. “I’m concerned about her.”

  “That’s why I picked you to train her.”

  After saying good-night to Ed, Logan pored over the park map on his desk. If only he could feel so confident. Personal feelings aside, he still worried about Ashley. They’d left Santa Elena Canyon alive only by the grace of God. What if someone was after that map? How was he going to keep her safe the next time? She was quite capable with the law-enforcement side, but she didn’t know the terrain like he did. And after what had happened with Sam...

  He wanted to believe what Superintendent Barclay thought—that the shooting had been a random incident. Bored teenagers daring each other. Or maybe the newest cartel member proving his loyalty by taking shots across the border.

  But deep down, he didn’t believe it. Of course, that left an even bigger question. How had anyone known Ashley would be there? Or were they waiting, in case she came back?

  And what had happened to her that first night, when he had found her near the river?

  Too many questions without any answers. And the woman herself working against him. One minute she would be in his arms, staring up at him with those eyes large enough for a man to drown in, and the next she was pushing him away. Refusing his help. Keeping her secrets.

  He pursed his lips together. Ed was right—he hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Erin.

  That thought was almost more terrifying than anything else.

  TEN

  Ashley kept her hand tucked into her pocket to keep from glancing at her watch. The steeple of the San Vicente chapel stretched its small brown cross up to the brilliant blue sky on the far side of the marketplace, beckoning her as she wound her way between the vendors’ booths. From their position on the northwest corner, the steps should have a perfect view of the US side of the river.

  The small square was a feast for the senses, packed with colors and textures and spicy, pungent smells. Along the edges of the square, sand-colored adobe buildings stood sentry, their bright awnings flapping in the breeze.

  Fifteen minutes. She had fifteen minutes to stroll through this marketplace, find a way to ditch Logan at the last second and identify her contact at the chapel. Would he or she be waiting in the street behind it?

  At least they were dressed like tourists. Logan carried a Nikon DSLR slung in a bag across his broad shoulders, ready to snap pictures from the chapel steps. The perfect pretense for being there, but she hoped he wouldn’t scare her contact away.

  She paused in front of a booth full of blankets, fingering the vibrantly woven wool. The vendor smiled, his brown face crinkling around his dark eyes. Hoping for a sale, no doubt.

  “Can we shop later?” Logan stopped next to her and nudged her with his elbow. He’d stayed on her heels like a loyal dog—she laughed at the image, pretty sure he wouldn’t find it quite as funny. The way he kept scanning the square, as if he assumed somebody was about to jump them at any second, was sure to chase off her contact at this rate. Logan didn’t have FBI training, of course, but it’d be nice if he could be a little more covert about it.

  One of these blankets would make a lovely gift for her parents...

  “You know—” she smiled sweetly up at him “—my mom’s birthday is coming up. She’d love one of these blankets. Why don’t you go ahead?” She nodded toward the chapel. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  His brows pulled together into a slight frown. “For somebody so insistent on coming down here, I don’t get how you could shop at a time like this.”

  She shrugged. “The chapel’s not going anywhere. Five minutes won’t kill me.”

  He raised a brow, his lips pursing to one side. “Women and shopping.”

  A decidedly false stereotype, in Ashley’s case—she’d far rather be at the shooting range—but she could hardly say that to Logan, so she shrugged again and waved him off toward the chapel. “Five minutes.”

  He hesitated, scanning the market again.

  “I’ll be fine.” She looked at him pointedly.

  “All right.” He let out a resigned sigh, evidently deciding he wasn’t going to win this argument, and ambled off toward the chapel.

  One problem solved. Ashley snuck a glance at her watch. Less than ten minutes. She picked up one of the blankets, barely paying attention to the intricate black, green and white weaving, and purchased it from the vendor without haggling.

  His wide grin assured her she’d probably paid more than anybody else in the market would’ve, but she could chalk it up to keeping up her disguise as a tourist. Stupid Americans, right?

  In the distance, Logan glanced back at her and waved. She held up the blanket, pasting on a ridiculous smile of delight at her new treasure.

  As soon as his back was turned, she tucked the blanket under one arm and slowly wove her way toward the chapel, doing her best to look like she was following Logan but veering a little more to the left. When he disappeared around the front of the chapel, she cut straight across the square, ducking around textile booths and stepping past carts laden with tomatoes, peppers and corn.

  She’d almost reached the far side of the square when a man stepped in front of her, holding a tray of silver jewelry.

  “Pretty lady,” he said in broken English. “See the jewelry?” His face was wrinkled and weathered, and his smile revealed a chipped front tooth.

  On the far side of his booth, an alley led behind the old chapel. The bright overhead sun cast a heavy shadow along the chapel’s back wall, but nobody appeared to be waiting for her. Farther down, the alley was empty, save for laundry hanging on lines strung between the houses. Maybe her contact wasn’t here yet. She still had five minutes or so.

  The man pushed the tray at her. “Lovely, yes?”

  “Yes.” She scanned the booths around her. Nothing out of the ordinary. And, thankfully, no sign of Logan.

  “Come, see more.” The man set his tray down on his stand, beckoning her closer.

  Might as well. She could keep a good eye on the alley from here and, in a couple of minutes, she’d cut between this booth and the neighbor selling baskets and slip into the alley to wait.

  Some of the pieces were quite lovely. Beautiful craftsmanship.

  “Did you make—?” she started to ask, but the man placed a rough hand on her arm and tipped his head toward the alley. Her contact?

  “This way,” he whispered.

  Nobody seemed interested as she followed the man behind the booth, ducking with him into the dark shadows beside the crumbling adobe wall of the chapel. They both glanced up and down the alley to make sure no one lurked nearby. Empty. Above them, the chapel’s large cast-iron bell gonged once to mark the hour.

  “Agent Thompson?” The man kept his voice low. He gazed over her shoulder, toward the marketplace and his unattended booth.

  Ashley nodded. She’d followed him into the alley. If this was a setup, the cat was already out of the proverbial bag. “What do you have for me?”

  “Jimenez knows you go undercover in park.”

  She clenched her teeth, fighting the unease knotting her stomach. Not what she was hoping to hear. “How?”

  He shook his head. “I do no
t know.”

  Cover blown. Should she call Morton, abandon the mission? She’d suspected as much after the break-in at her house, but with this confirmation...

  No. She was here for a reason, beyond catching Jimenez, and she was determined to figure out what it was. The street was still empty. She fished out the map, which she’d stowed along with her passport inside a plastic sandwich bag in a pouch beneath her waistband. She showed it to the man, indicating the mine. “Do you know where this is?”

  His eyes widened slightly. “Is where Jimenez gets gold. Pine Canyon Trail.” He pointed to a long squiggly line running below the mine, and then dragged his finger down to another set of mountains closer to the border. “Drives gold out from Juniper Canyon to hide it here, until he can cross border.”

  She’d ask Logan the names of those mountains next chance she got. The illegal mining alone would be enough to arrest Jimenez, but knowing the way the cartel lords operated, he was bound to have other infractions. Illegal laborers. Weapons. Drugs. They’d put him away for a long time, if she could catch him before he got to her. “Thank you. Where is he now? At the mine?”

  “Goes back and forth.” The man waggled his finger between the mine and the southern mountains. “Work during day. Drive out gold at night.”

  It was enough. Ashley’s heart soared inside her chest. With a little surveillance, they’d catch him. Maybe she’d finally figure out why this place mattered.

  She folded the map, sealed it back inside its plastic bag—just in case—and tucked the pouch beneath her waistband. She touched the man’s arm. “Thank you. We’ll see he gets the justice he deserves.”

  The man nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes turning liquid. “For my Lena.” He swallowed, blinked a few times, and walked past Ashley back to his booth.

  She lingered in the shadows a moment longer, scanning the marketplace for Logan’s tall figure, but finding no sign of him. The crowd had thinned now that it was afternoon. The heat scorched the dusty, packed earth of the square. She edged along the chapel wall, following it behind vendors’ booths, as she kept an eye on the marketplace.