by Aimée Thurlo
“Before Karl got the job with the bomb squad, he’d applied for a job at Daniel’s company. Something about him rubbed Daniel wrong, so he ended up hiring someone else.”
“What exactly was the problem?” Kim asked.
“Daniel wouldn’t say,” Rick answered, “but he wants Preston to know what went down today.”
“Do you think Karl Edmonds might have had something to do with the explosion? He was angry at Daniel and you, so maybe after three or four years of stewing on it, he decided to take action.”
“As far as theories go, that’s not so far-fetched. This was the first time Daniel and I have been together in years, at least in a place that was vulnerable to attack.”
“And Edmonds does know how to blow things up,” Kim said.
“Still, I’m not ready to put him on my short list—not without a stronger motive,” Rick said. “Right now I’ve got another idea I want to check out.”
Chapter Twelve
“We need to think outside the box on this,” Rick said as they drove away from the campus. “My gut’s telling me that you and the rest of the staff at the Brickhouse were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My family seems to be the focus of the attack, and somehow I think it ties back to Hosteen Silver.”
Kim watched him. He looked so relaxed behind the wheel, but his gaze was restless, taking in everything around them. That intensity was part of what drew her to him. He was a man who lived on the edge, one who’d dealt with brutality and conquered it, but had yet to open his heart to gentleness. She wanted to be there for him, to soothe all those rough edges, yet it was difficult penetrating the steel walls he’d built around himself.
Annoyed with herself because she’d allowed her thoughts to wander, she focused back on business. “Even if we accept that there’s someone out to kill all your family, why did he wait till now? What’s changed?”
“Good question. My gut tells me that once we get an answer to that, the case will crack wide-open,” he said, giving her a quick smile.
His entire expression softened when he gave her one of his rare smiles. Despite what he thought, the scar didn’t diminish his looks. It added to that earthy quality he possessed, and made him even more appealing.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his eyes dancing as if he’d already guessed.
Flustered, she thought fast. She couldn’t admit to fantasizing about his looks. “I’m sure some of the answers we’re searching for will come to us after you crack the code your foster dad left you.”
“Good point. Let’s go pay Daniel a visit to see if they’ve made any progress on that front.”
When they arrived at the compound they joined Daniel and Paul in the main room. Rick immediately asked them about the code.
“We’ve run every decryption program we have and we’ve still got nothing,” Daniel said.
“If you ask me, you’re both going too high-tech on this,” Paul said, looking at Rick. “The old man thought you could figure things out without a mainframe computer, so the key has got to be something you two did together or spoke about.”
“A lot of time has gone by since he and I spoke at any length, but we never really talked about private stuff beyond day-to-day decisions. Even as a kid I avoided the touchy-feely stuff, and he never pushed it.”
“Yet he left the book with the code in a place where only you’d be likely to find it,” Daniel insisted.
After a long thoughtful pause, Daniel continued. “I have an idea. Kyle and Erin will be gone from Copper Canyon for a day or two. They’re meeting potential clients in Albuquerque, so you’ll have complete run of the place. Relax, look around, and maybe something will come to you. The key is, don’t force it.”
“I agree with Daniel,” Paul said. “We’ll concentrate on finding and interviewing Professor McCullough, and you work on trying to find any possible link between what happened to Hosteen Silver and the explosion at the Brickhouse.”
“Okay, but there’s someone I want to meet face-to-face first. What do you have for me on Nestor Sandoval?” Rick asked Paul.
“He was picked up for drug trafficking six months ago, but the case fell apart when witnesses recanted and he walked. Sandoval’s stayed under the radar since then, but the police suspect he’s dealing weapons now,” Paul said. “He’s bad to the bone, Rick, so if you’re going to go searching for him, take Detective Bidtah, like Preston suggested.”
Rick considered it, then nodded. “I’ll head back to the Rez. See if Preston can arrange for Bidtah to meet us at Sandoval’s residence.”
* * *
AFTER GETTING SANDOVAL’S ADDRESS, Rick and Kim left Daniel’s compound and headed west. Rick finally asked the question that had been on his mind. “Are you okay staying at the ranch alone with me? As you pointed out once before, backup’s a ways off.”
“Of course.”
He smiled. He’d been like her at the beginning of his career—eager to work, wanting to do the right thing and refusing to back away from danger.
“We both know there’s more going on between us than business,” he said in a quiet voice. “That’s bound to complicate things.”
She sat a little straighter. “No, it won’t. I barely know you, Rick. You’re not exactly an open book.”
“No, I’m not,” he admitted.
“From what you told your brothers about your relationship with Hosteen Silver, that’s just your way.”
“Maybe so,” he answered, not bothering to argue the point. “Life teaches all of us different lessons—or maybe it’s the same lesson and we all react differently to it.”
She saw the muscles on his face tighten.
“My brothers and I were all headed in the wrong direction when Hosteen Silver found us. He helped put us back together again, though unfortunately, old wounds don’t always disappear. They turn into scars, reminders that none of us is as tough as we’d like to be.”
“It’s hard to trust a perpetual stranger, Rick. I want to know the man who’ll have my back.”
“Fair enough,” he said after a beat. “Ask me whatever you want.”
“How did you end up in foster care?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Do you want me to ask you something else?”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, then continued. “I was born to a single mother and abandoned at a trading post when I turned six. I never saw my mother again after that. By the time Hosteen Silver found me, I’d gone through a series of foster homes. I was trouble and most families couldn’t wait to get rid of me. That was fine. I’d already learned never to count on anything or anyone outside myself. He found me in family services, offered me a chance to turn my life around, and it worked out, though it wasn’t easy for either of us.”
He’d told her his story quickly, factually and without emotion. He didn’t want her to realize how painful his past still was.
“Before you start feeling sorry for me, you should know that I like my life,” he added quickly. “My brothers and I are close and I’ve achieved what I set out to do when I left the Rez.”
“And now?”
“I’ve left the Bureau, so I’m in transition again. Life will show me what’s next.”
“You need a new passion, something that calls to you like the work you did for the Bureau. You need to find a new dream.”
“I’m not a dreamer. I’m a doer.”
“The two go hand-in-hand. What would you like to see in your future—a family and kids, like your brothers?” she pressed.
“I suppose I’ll marry someday, but if I do, it won’t need to be out of love. That emotion can change in the blink of an eye.”
“So you’ll marry...out of expediency?”
“No, more out of friendship and respect. Those tend to last longer.”
<
br /> “I’ve heard of worse reasons for getting married,” she said, “but I won’t settle for anything less than love.”
“You’re a beautiful woman—independent, smart,” he said. “I can’t imagine you not having guys lined up at your door, wanting to take you out.”
“Thanks, but the truth is I’m hard to deal with. Back in high school my friends would go for the predictable guys, the pretty boys, the bad boys or the ultramacho jocks. I wasn’t into any of them.”
“What type of guy do you want?”
She shrugged. “I’ll know him when I see him. He’ll speak to my heart and be someone who needs me as much as I’ll need him.”
They were on Highway 64 just east of the town of Shiprock when he saw the emergency lights of a white tribal police SUV coming up from behind. “I have a feeling that’s Detective Bidtah. He knew which road I’d be on.”
Rick pulled over and a moment later a plainclothes officer approached, his badge clipped to his belt.
“Rick?” he asked. “I’m Detective Allan Bidtah. One of our undercover people found out that Sandoval was evicted from his old residence. He’s moved to a new place north of Shiprock on the Cortez highway. There’s a rumor that he’s involved with a particularly violent gang that’s been causing problems in Rez communities south of Shiprock. If that report’s correct, you’re going to need armed backup.”
“All right. Lead the way. We’ll follow you.”
Ten minutes later they were heading north in the direction of Colorado. They left the highway just past Monument Rocks and entered a run-down rural area, what appeared to be the beginnings of a housing development that had fizzled out. All that remained was graveled roads and a grid of scattered single-wide mobile homes. Some stood on concrete pads laid as foundations for permanent homes, and most were surrounded by chain-link fences.
Bidtah parked on a dusty road between two single-wides, then stepped out of his vehicle. He pointed to the front end of a black Nissan sedan behind the closest trailer.
Rick nodded. “You’re not armed, Kim, so you should probably stay in the vehicle,” he said.
“No chance. I’m supposed to be learning from you, and I can’t do that if I duck and cover.”
He bit back a smile. He hadn’t expected anything less. “Follow my lead, stay behind me and keep your eyes open for anything that doesn’t look right.”
With Bidtah, they walked over, keeping space between them, not wanting to present too easy a target.
“Sandoval, open up. Detective Bidtah, tribal police,” the detective said, knocking hard on the metal door. Rick watched the corner of the trailer, making sure nobody came out the back.
Several seconds went by before there was the sound of footsteps inside. The door opened slowly and four young men in their late teens, wearing baggy pants and hooded sweatshirts, came out onto the stacked warehouse pallets that served as the step. If they were armed, no weapons were visible.
“Sandoval’s not here, officer. Hasn’t been around for several days, maybe a week,” announced a big, barrel-chested guy with a shaved head crowned with a red bandanna.
“Where can we find him?” Bidtah demanded.
“Don’t know. If you get to him first, tell him Billy’s looking for him.”
“That makes you Billy. How about a last name?”
“Why get all cops-and-robbers on me? I ain’t done nothing,” Billy said.
“Talk to me here, Billy, or at the station,” Bidtah said, looking back and forth at the other three, who’d stepped off the pallets and were slowly starting to form a circle.
Rick recognized the flanking maneuver. He got set, used to being the first target because of his size. He knew what was coming.
Billy nodded slightly to the others, then rushed Rick, jabbing for his throat.
Rick sidestepped the punch, dropped his shoulder and sent the big guy flying into the air. Billy hit with a thud and Rick immediately moved in, placing his foot at the guy’s throat. “Don’t move.”
Bidtah had his weapon out now, covering two of the others, who had their hands out, palms up, to show they were unarmed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rick saw the fourth young man lunge for Kim. The teen threw his forearm up around her neck in a choke hold, but Kim sagged suddenly, elbowed him in the gut and stomped on his instep with her heel. As he gasped, letting go momentarily, she turned and punched him in the groin with her fist.
In agony, he sank to his knees.
Kim stepped away, turning to face the others. “Come on, guys, now that you’ve stood up to the cops, let’s talk. Obviously you like Sandoval even less. And guess what, we don’t like him, either. If you give us a lead so we can track him down, we’ll all come out ahead. Make sense?” she asked, remaining perfectly calm.
“Or we can go to the station and talk breaking and entering, assault on a police officer and civilian and whatever else I can come up with between now and then,” Bidtah added. “One look at the broken latch on the trailer door tells me you didn’t gain entry with a key. Whose screwdriver is that anyway?” He pointed at the tool on the ground.
“So we help you find Sandoval and we’re off the hook?” Billy asked.
“There’s a saying, ‘my enemy’s enemy is my friend,’” Kim said. “At the moment, that means we’re all on the same side.”
“Yeah, okay,” Billy said, nodding to the others. “Sandoval burned my crew. We don’t owe him anything except the big hurt. What’s your game?”
Kim held his gaze and kept her cool, not looking over at Rick or Bidtah for support. She knew that the gang members would probably see that as a sign of weakness. “Sandoval’s in the wind. Any idea why?”
“He’s worried about some heavy hitter Navajo guys, the sons of a hataalii he ripped off.”
“Ripped off how? Money?” Kim pressed.
“Not even. The old man had taken on a student, Angelina something, so he could teach her medicine man stuff. Anyway, when the hataalii found out she’d been recording his Sings and sneaking photos with her cell phone, he grabbed it from her and ran her off. Sandoval heard Angelina had been planning to sell the Sings to a local college professor writing some book, so Sandoval offered to get the phone back for maybe two hundred bucks.”
“But how do the sons of the hataalii figure into it?” Kim asked.
“When Sandoval went looking for the cell phone, the hataalii caught him red-handed. Sandoval roughed him up a little and got away, but not long afterward, the hataalii disappeared. Now Sandoval’s afraid his sons will think he offed the old man.”
“You got that from him?” Rick asked.
“Yeah. I can’t say for sure, but I think Sandoval’s also the one who placed a bounty on one of the hataalii’s sons. Word reached us a few days ago that anyone who takes out the marked man is in for some serious cash.” He looked at Rick and studied his face. “I’m guessing that’s you.”
“But you’re not sure of the source?” Rick persisted.
“No, and I didn’t bother to find out. We’re not stepping into a gig like that. We do our own thing,” Billy said.
Rick suddenly heard the sound of a car engine moving toward them at high speed. As he turned his head, he saw a plume of dust trailing behind the beat-up silver sedan racing up the dirt road. There were three people inside. Two of them on the passenger’s side, front and back, were wearing baseball caps. The car made a hard right, then headed directly for them.
As the car swung around broadside to the trailer, the two passengers reached out their windows, pistols in hand.
“The Diablos,” Billy yelled, diving to the dirt just as bullets started to fly.
As Detective Bidtah dropped to one knee and returned fire, Rick grabbed Kim’s shoulder and pulled her to the ground.
The attack only laste
d a few seconds before the sedan accelerated and disappeared into the freshly generated smoke screen of sand, dust and gravel.
Chapter Thirteen
They got up slowly, looking around to see if anyone had been hit. Rick concentrated on Kim, and as soon as he verified she was okay, turned to Bidtah. The tribal cop was on his cell phone, calling in the incident as he brushed the sand from his pants with his free hand. He seemed no worse for wear.
Rick looked over at Billy and saw pure hatred in his eyes. “Cool down, man,” Rick warned.
“How do I know you didn’t bring them here?”
“We were not followed,” Rick assured him. “The detective and I know how to spot a tail. At least nobody got hit,” he added, looking at the other gang members now on their feet and dusting themselves off.
“The Diablos know where we hang, bro,” one of the three boys said. “After last week—”
“Drop it!” Billy ordered, turning toward the boy. “Don’t be putting our business out on the street like that.”
He looked back at Rick. “From me to you, dude, you stick out—the big Navajo with the scar on his face—so watch your back. And don’t worry, lady, if we see Sandoval I’ll pass the word along.” He turned to the detective. “You’re Bidtah, right?”
Bidtah nodded and gave Billy his card. “Cell number is on the back.”
After the four gang members drove away, Bidtah went to his unit. Rick noticed Kim reach up to touch her shoulder and wince.
“I thought you were okay,” he said.
“I am. I just landed wrong.”
“Putting something cold on it will help,” Rick said, walking with her toward the SUV. “We’ll get you an ice pack.”
Bidtah came over and joined them. “Patrol cars are out looking for the silver sedan. I don’t know if Preston mentioned it to you, but the Rez gangs have changed a lot since you and your brothers lived here. They’re trying to control some parts of the Rez turf. If there’s a price on your head, you’re going to need to be on full alert. What they lack in training, they more than make up in brutality.”
