by Jenna Kernan
“The what?”
“The livewell. On our police boat. It’s an insulated fiberglass container built into the hull. A livewell is used to keep fish alive after hooking them. It’s watertight and locks, so we store our rifles in there.”
She shook her head, dismissing this option.
“You haven’t seen the size of that livewell. I can get four twenty-pound bags of ice in there and have room to spare.”
“Something the size of a car trunk might do superficial damage to the base. I doubt it would crack the structure. Plus, foam is a bad choice to hold the load because it’s a shock absorber. No projectiles.”
He continued to the smaller utility road leading to the powerhouse. “Good to know.”
There was no more than a metal gate across the road with a simple keypad for admission. He did not press the call button, but used the key code. The gate rolled back.
“They haven’t changed it in a while,” he said in reply to her silent question. “Carter’s wife has two sisters. One of her kids went on a field trip. The gate was open in preparation for the bus.”
Sophia shifted in her seat. “I see your reason for concern.”
“This is only the second dam. We know it is smaller and less vital than the one at Goodwin Lake.”
“Alchesay,” she offered.
“Yes, but Two Mountains Lake above this dam is still more than big enough to decimate our reservation.”
“It would look like the Johnstown Flood,” she said. “Let me have a look inside.”
Jack drove through the gate. They did encounter a locked door at the powerhouse and a keypad. Jack tried the same code as the gate and came up empty so he used the call box.
They were buzzed in.
She pointed at the camera over the door. “They can see your uniform and you are expected.”
He hoped his expression showed how not reassured he was by her observation. Inside the powerhouse they were toured around. Sophia asked questions about the capacity of the various pressurized gases that he didn’t really understand. He did understand that the giant white cylinder held something explosive from the amount of time she spent on it. Their guide was very free with information and offered to have them rappel down from the top to the bottom of the dam.
“Is that access road the only way to reach the bottom?” asked Sophia.
“Unless you can swim, but I wouldn’t recommend that,” joked their guide.
“Boat?” said Jack.
“Not permitted past the signage, ropes and floats.”
Jack looked at Sophia. “Ropes and floats. Can’t think how a person could circumvent protection like that.”
Sophia held her tight smile but she also seemed less than reassured. The slam dunk she had hoped for had trickled away. He thought she saw the reason for their continued worry. Whether she would admit it was something else.
She waited until they were outside to address his concerns.
“Yes, I see some issues that need addressing and we will deal with them. But BEAR has been disbanded. They are a nonentity.”
“Not according to our shaman.”
“Who is a member of BEAR.”
“He was.”
“And also an FBI informant.”
“He believes in protecting the environment.”
“Through terrorism.”
“Without him you’d never have discovered Lupe Wrangler headed the organization.”
“That’s not been proved.”
Sophia knew from briefings that the Pine View Wildfire had been caused by an explosion that took down the iconic private residence that broke the ridgeline. The ecoextremist group BEAR claimed credit for the disaster sending a message to others not to build in the pristine area. Whether BEAR intended the resulting devastating wildfire touched off by the blast was unclear. The FBI had determined via exhaustive investigation that Meadow Wrangler’s father, Theron, headed BEAR. But she knew that Jack and his warrior society believed that Theron Wrangler was merely a figurehead and that it was her mother, Lupe, who ran the organization. Meadow’s statement regarding her father’s death had been considered and dismissed. There was no evidence her father had been murdered by her mother. And Meadow’s statement was self-serving as she was implicated in helping her father set the fire.
“Kenshaw says that the death of Theron and the exit of his wife serve as a signal for sleeper cells to activate,” said Jack.
“I’ve heard that.” She didn’t sound as if she believed it.
“We told the FBI this.”
“You very well may have. But I’m an explosives expert here to consult on your concerns. I don’t work on domestic terrorism except in how it relates to explosions.”
“They stole a heck of a lot of explosives.”
“Yes, we are aware.”
“Still missing.”
“Also aware. Generally, I come in after the boom.”
“Well, we are trying to avoid that.”
“Understood. But let me remind you, this is an unofficial visit. I do not represent the Bureau. I’m doing my cousin a favor. Now you have pointed out some weaknesses, and I can have our people contact highway patrol to shore up these holes in security. But that’s all I can do.”
“What about BEAR and the sleeper cells?”
“I’ll share your concerns, but I am not abreast of the BEAR investigation except to say there has been progress and arrests have been made.”
Jack’s phone vibrated in his pocket, making him jump. He drew it out and glanced at the screen. It was Chief Tinnin.
“Hi, Chief.”
“We’ve finished processing Trey Fields,” said Wallace.
“Okay,” said Jack as he waited for the other shoe to drop. His chief would not call about such a routine matter.
“He made his phone call to an unlisted number,” said Wallace. “We think he mentioned Sophia.”
Jack plugged his opposite ear with his finger and leaned forward to listen as his stomach roiled. “What did he say?”
“‘We saw her. She’s here with Detective Jack Bear Den. Right here on our rez.’”
Jack scowled as he tried to think of someone else that Trey might have been referencing and came up empty. Not good. Having a gang member use his one call to report the position of an FBI field agent was bad. Really bad.
And it was his fault. He’d forgotten his duty to protect Sophia the moment he spotted that truck like a poorly trained hound scenting a rabbit.
“We need to find out who he called.”
“Working on it now.”
He turned to Sophia, raising the phone so he was not speaking into the receiver. “That fatal force encounter with Nequam, did the suspected carjacker have gang ties?”
Her lovely brown eyes widened. “I don’t know that.”
“How was he dressed?”
“Loose clothing. Flat-brimmed ball cap.”
“Yellow?”
She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, as if thinking back to the incident. Her eyes opened wide, meeting his, and she nodded.
“Yes.”
“Latin Kings,” said Jack.
“Yellow and black,” she said, repeating what he had told her earlier in the day.
“You know how they get in, right?” he asked.
She nodded. “Women by sex. Men by crimes.”
“They have to kill someone.”
She nodded.
“I think you were targeted. That’s why there happened to be someone right there filming.”
“Because I’m FBI?”
“I doubt they knew that. Maybe just because of your black Beamer. Flash car like that makes a great target.”
“I told the SAC that the witness may have been there to film the heist as evidence of the crime,” she said.
“Returning with the car would do that. What they were filming was evidence of murder.”
She gave an almost imperceptible shiver and folded her arms around her middle.
“We have a problem.”
Jack gave her the details.
“I have to call in and report this,” she said.
“They’re going to pull you out of here.”
“I sure hope so.”
*
THEY CANCELED THE second visit to the second power station and headed back toward the compound. Jack called for an escort but they were still alone as they crossed into and out of the adjoining town of Darabee.
They’d had some trouble with crooked cops here so he had not called to them for assistance. It was the Darabee PD that set up the opportunity for the hit on the Lilac shooter and the nest of corruption was still being sorted out.
Sophia had been in contact with her office supervisor. As she expected, the shooting had set off alarm bells and they wanted her home. Her people were making arrangements.
She had other information. Her field office was on high alert after some intel on a possible terrorist threat to the federal offices in Phoenix. Something was happening, but they didn’t have the important information, like where or when. They did know who. BEAR had sent a message by US mail warning of an impending attack.
“They’ve got their hands full,” said Sophia. “I may need to sit tight until they can get to me.”
“We’ll take you to the compound. There is one road in and we can protect that.”
“There is the river,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “Tribal headquarters, then. The station is a defensible position. Plus, I can get us information on Martin Nequam. Seems like this all points back to him.”
“Sounds good.”
Somewhere between the phone call and this moment, he and Sophia had ceased pulling in opposite directions and become a team. His police force was small, and he’d never had a partner. But having Sophia beside him felt like a partnership and he liked it.
Jack never saw it coming. One moment he was discussing strategy and the next he was showered with cubes of glass as the front windshield exploded.
Chapter Nine
Sophia spit out a piece of glass and ducked. She had her pistol drawn and her seat belt released just before Jack reached across the seat and shoved her to the floor of the SUV.
“Stay down,” Jack ordered.
That was no rock hitting the windshield. It was a bullet, and he was darn sure they weren’t shooting at him. But taking him out would make it easier to get to Sophia. And they were not getting to Sophia.
Not today. Not ever.
“What’s happening?” she yelled as dust billowed in through the empty space before him.
“Someone’s shooting at us.”
“Location?” she asked, spinning so she could crouch down with both elbows on the seat and her pistol pointed at the ceiling.
He marveled at her dexterity. He could not even fit in that tight space, let alone maneuver in it.
“Unknown. Forward, possibly in the rocks to my left.”
Another bullet struck behind him on the passenger side. He glanced back and saw daylight through the hole. Large caliber, he thought.
“Rear position,” he said and accelerated. They had to be on the ridge, across the river. Using a scope. He lifted the radio and called it in.
He left the road, choosing the cover of the pines. Within a few moments he reached the narrow gap cut through the rock for the road. This position gave no shot from across the river, but if there were someone on the rock above them he had drawn them into a shooting gallery.
He braced for more gunfire.
Sophia glanced from one side of the shorn rock to the other.
“Bad spot,” she said.
“But out of range.”
“They could be up top.” Her words mirrored his thoughts.
“If I leave this gap they have another shot at us from across the river.”
“Hold then,” she said, pistol raised and ready.
The radio barked as Wallace Tinnin called for a status update. Jack lifted the radio and responded. Tinnin was sending his only available men, three units, to them. Jack lifted his cell phone and called Ray Strong, told him the situation. He sent Ray and Dylan to check the opposite ridge.
“We’re en route,” said Ray. “You sit tight.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and your mom called,” said Ray.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jack.
“Don’t know. Call her when you can. Gotta go. We’re rolling.”
“Let me know what’s happening when...” He glanced at the phone and saw that Ray had disconnected.
“Now what?” asked Sophia.
“We wait.” Jack wondered if there were more of them. If they had forced him onto this road cut and were now approaching their position.
Sophia rose, sending the cubes of broken glass showering to the floor mats. She ran a finger into her mouth and along her cheek and dropped a bloody cube of glass to the floor with the rest.
“You all right?” Jack asked.
She didn’t look at him when she nodded. All business, as she scanned for any approaching threat. From far off came the welcome sound of sirens. His department was on the way.
“That’s a good sign,” said Sophia.
A few minutes later Jack and Sophia continued to the station under police escort.
They reached tribal headquarters, where Chief Tinnin waited, greeting them with a Kevlar vest in hand. Jack exited the SUV and took the vest, then gave it to Sophia. She needed no instructions but slipped into the oversized gear with fluid grace. The second the last strap was secure, he had her out and running for the doors, his arm around her waist and her body tucked close to him. They ran with matched strides, like a thoroughbred teamed with a draft horse.
Jack wouldn’t feel safe until he had Sophia through the station doors.
*
SOPHIA PANTED, WITH hands on knees, the dizziness a result of the aftermath of her fright. Studying the effects of adrenal reaction in the academy was far different than experiencing it, and she did not object when Jack sat her in a chair and offered her a bottle of water.
She’d been prepared when she needed to be. It was all right to let her body recover now. Still it bothered her that Jack’s hand was steady as he handed her the cool plastic bottle.
“This is my fault,” he said.
His supervisor nodded. “It is. She’s a guest. You’re her escort. You don’t pull over a suspect when you have a passenger.”
“They might have been shooting at Detective Bear Den,” said Sophia.
“Maybe,” said Tinnin to Sophia, hands on his hips as he regarded them. “But it’s your side of the window that’s missing.”
Sophia’s ears buzzed and her dry throat made her cough. She sipped the water and said nothing further. Jack did not leave her side. He stayed squatting on his heels, his head nearly eye-level with hers until she finished shaking. He also held her hand. Was this just an act of comfort or did he also feel the connection between them strengthening?
“I’m all right, Jack,” she said and gave him a smile.
“Still pale,” he observed.
She pulled her hand back. He wasn’t her sweetheart or her mother. She could deal with this like she did everything else—on her own.
“Can I get you anything? You hungry?”
She shook her head. The idea of food made her stomach clench. A glance at the station’s ancient analog wall clock told her it was nearly two in the afternoon. A man Jack’s size must be starving by now. She took pity on him.
“Could you order something in?”
His smile made her heart flutter. Based on the heat flooding over her skin, she’d guess the color was also returning to her cheeks.
“Fine. Turkey, ham or roast beef?” he asked.
“Roast beef with lettuce, mayo and tomato, if they have it. No onions.”
He moved to the phone and placed an order with someone named Willy, adding drinks, chips and brownies.
“Want to look up Martin Nequam w
hile we wait?” she asked.
“You recover fast,” said Jack. But he sat at his desk and tapped at a keyboard so old the space bar had a shiny spot exactly where his thumb touched.
She cast a dubious glance at the cathode monitor. But soon after he’d logged in and up popped the image of a young woman.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Missing person,” said Jack. “Her name is Kacy Doka. She disappeared in February. Teens run away but she’s the third since November.”
“That’s a lot on such a small reservation.”
“I agree.”
“Home troubles?”
“Don’t know. Wallace just pulled me in. I’ve only started investigations on them collectively. Up until now they’ve been treated as separate cases. We want to be sure their disappearances are unrelated.”
He closed the window and the bright smiling face of Kacy Doka disappeared.
Jack was searching on the Crime Information Center database. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the tools available to the FBI, but would do in a pinch.
It did not take long for him to get hits on Martin Nequam.
“All right,” said Jack, leaning forward.
The criminal history page popped up and displayed Nequam’s date of birth. The age of the youth hit her hard, and she was glad she was still seated beside Jack’s desk. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed several times to choke it back down.
Nequam had three entries under names used. Below that came known associates, his arrest record, including the agency making the arrest, and the charge.
“Juaquin Nequam, twenty-three. Martin have an older brother?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Jack used the computer to look up Juaquin’s information. Then he lifted the phone and called the state highway patrol, relaying the information on the shooting and the make, model and plate of his suspect. Then he repeated the call to the Flagstaff PD, asking them to check the location for Juaquin Nequam.
Jack flicked his attention back to the screen and read aloud from Martin Nequam’s criminal history. “‘Fleeing, convicted,’” said Jack, reading the list. “‘Robbery, convicted.’ Another robbery and conviction, battery and substance-abuse charge. Looks like he had some charges pending.” He turned to her. “Your boy was bad news.”
