by Jenna Kernan
“Gun!” he shouted and fired.
His gunshot reverberated through her chest and made her ears ring. A spent cartridge pinged on the concrete walkway beside her and bounced away. An instant later, she heard a second shot.
Fortune wiggled and wailed in a tiny, fragile cry. Lori cradled her fuzzy blond head and pressed her lips to her forehead, making a shushing sound that she could not hear past the ringing in her ears and the slamming of doors. She caught the odor of gunpowder as Jake fell backward to his seat on the front walk.
The woman shouted. Something crashed.
Jake lifted a hand to his chest. He’d been shot. Oh, God, he’d been shot.
“Jake!” she cried.
He did not look at her but tried and failed to draw a breath. His face was scarlet. His eyes bulged. She crawled the distance that separated them and grasped at him with her free hand.
“Oh, no. Jake! Please, no.”
Where are they?
She glanced to the open door and saw the empty living room and the kitchen beyond. The dinette lay on its side, as if it had been used as a barricade. One of the chairs had been upturned and tossed against the wall.
Her gaze swept along the side of the house in one direction and then the other, scanning for movement.
Her heart beat in her throat. There was no car or truck in sight on the long hill sloping down to the road. The trees now loomed ominously beyond the driveway. Were they there right now, aiming the pistol at them?
Jake’s face turned toward purple, the bluish tinge taking hold of his lips.
Lori reached to the radio on Jake’s utility belt and tugged it from its plastic cradle.
She depressed the button. “Officer down! Jake Redhorse. He’s shot. I think he’s shot. Send help. He’s at Gill’s house...” She was babbling, hearing the panic in her voice.
His eyes pinched closed. She had to do something. She was a nurse. But oh, sweet heaven, she’d never had to treat someone so close to her. Where was the blood?
Lori caught movement and saw something darting between the tree trunks, racing fast and low to the ground. From the road came the sound of tires spinning on gravel. The yellow truck flashed from the tree line, past the house, continuing on toward the main road.
Jake’s breath came in a shuttering, hard-won battle. The second breath was better. His face went from blue to unnaturally gray in three breaths.
“Jake?”
“Le-go the button,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Radio...button.” His gaze flicked from hers to the black radio she clutched.
She glanced down and released the button she was pressing so hard that her thumbnail had gone white.
An instant later she heard the voice of the dispatcher, Carol Dorset, asking for her to identify herself.
“Lori Mott. It’s Lori. They shot him.” She let go of the button this time.
“Sending EMS and all available units. What is the condition of Officer Redhorse? Over.”
“He’s breathing now. Conscious.” Lori held the radio in one hand and clung to Fortune with her opposite one.
“Bleeding? Over.”
“I’m not sure yet. I...” She dropped the radio to tug at the buttons of his shirt with one hand.
He lifted the radio.
“Carol, two suspects. Native American. One male, six feet, long hair, black clothing and...” He winced and dragged in a breath. Sweat beaded his forehead, but he continued speaking. “Copper breastplate. Second...female, four feet ten, dressed in black. Yellow jacket. Possibly Minnie Cobb.” He released the button.
There was a pause and then Carol’s voice emanated from the radio. “Vehicle? Over.”
Jake looked to her. She took up the radio and described the truck.
“Got it,” said Carol. “Hang on, Jake. Help’s coming.”
Jake sagged backward. “Lori?”
She leaned over him, cradling Fortune in the crook of her arm as she fumbled with his shirt buttons with her free hand.
“Yes?”
“I think I’m going to pass out.” His eyes fluttered, and he made good on his prediction.
“No! No. Jake, don’t.” But his eyes rolled white and his features went slack.
He was going to die right here in front of her.
Chapter Seventeen
Lori saw the hole in the center of the left pocket of his gray police uniform shirt. The fear rose higher in her throat as she set down the baby to see to Jake. She tore the shirt open, sending buttons flying. Beneath the shirt was the nylon sheath that covered his Kevlar vest.
She gasped in surprise and relief. How had she forgotten that he always wore this? Had it stopped the shot, or was this one of those hollow-tipped bullets, the ones they called “cop killers.”
She tugged at the Velcro straps at his side and lifted the warm, heavy front panel. Then she groped beneath with one hand, checking the place that matched the hole in the front of his vest. No blood. She sank back on her heels and closely examined the vest, finding the tiny hole and the hard, flattened metal that could so easily have taken him from her forever.
In that moment, she realized that she was not over Jake Redhorse. The thought of losing him to a bullet crystallized everything. She had fought to prove herself and to prevent herself from again experiencing the pain only he could cause her. But insulating from future hurt was no protection at all. That little flattened bit of lead had proved that to her.
It would be hard to trust him and to earn his trust. But that was the only course for her now.
Her hands were under the vest again, checking, probing for some injury. But she was breathing again, the tears no longer choking her. She pressed on the thick muscle of his chest and he groaned. His dark eyelashes lifted, and he stared straight up at the blue sky. Then his gaze shifted to her.
“Where’s Fortune?” he asked.
Lori retrieved her, holding her so he could see Fortune. “She’s fine.”
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “That’s good.” He shifted and groaned, then pushed up on an elbow. “They gone?”
“Yes.”
From somewhere far away, she heard the sound of a siren.
“Okay, then,” he said. After a moment, he asked her to help him sit up.
She tugged and he pulled, and they got him to a sitting position. Now he’d gone greenish around the face.
“Maybe you should lie down again.”
“Give me a minute.” He pressed his lips together, his breathing shallow. His color did return, but it took more than a minute.
“Take the baby inside. It’s too cold out here for her,” he said.
Lori did as he said and then came back for him.
“I didn’t hear them pull up,” she said. “If you didn’t call me, I might not have gotten her out.”
He blinked at her in confusion. “I didn’t call.”
Their gazes both turned to the forest abutting the property. Who had warned her?
* * *
THEY BROUGHT JAKE by ambulance to the temporary trailers that now comprised the tribe’s health clinic, where they were met by Kee. When the ambulance took over, Lori had run into the house to grab the diaper bag and thrown on the closest thing, which was her nurses’ scrubs and clogs. Fortune had begun crying en route.
Betty Mills met them outside the trailers and offered to take the newborn, but Lori declined. Betty pushed her owlish glasses back on her narrow nose as Lori held the wailing child.
“Please get me a bottle of formula,” said Lori.
Betty stiffened but did not move. No one but the head physician, Hector Hauser, gave Betty orders, and judging from her thunderous expression, Betty was not having it. Finally, her supervisor turned. Her staccato steps rang on the metal st
airs of the trailer as she headed away.
Lori could deal with ruffled feathers later.
She glanced around the trailer’s interior. She’d never been inside the portable medical facilities and was surprised to see it looked very much like the inner part of their urgent-care center, with three curtained examining rooms, one bathroom and a portable ultrasound and X-ray machine. She assumed the locked cabinets beside the small stainless-steel sink held drugs and other medical supplies. There was even a large refrigerator and a water dispenser set beside a small desk with a computer along the opposite wall.
She turned back to find Jake gripping Dr. Redhorse’s wrist, which held a pair of open medical scissors as his brother tried to cut off Jake’s vest.
“I have to buy the uniform and vest,” Jake said. Kee gave up and Jake let him go. Kee helped him sit up, and then he assisted him in removing his shirt before releasing the Velcro straps of his body armor.
Lori scanned his upper body for injuries. She noticed the well-defined muscles that armored his chest, protecting him, she hoped, from serious harm. Her skin tingled at seeing Jake shirtless, until she saw the bruises, and then her skin went cold. Here was the visible reminder of how close Jake had come to leaving this earth. Seeing him alive and well made her fear of facing the possibility of another rejection seem a frail and feeble reason to keep from trying again with Jake.
Lori’s gaze shifted to Dr. Redhorse as he examined Jake.
Kee more resembled his mother, sharing her cleft chin and dimples. He was the only Redhorse boy to have cut his hair short. He had a penetrating stare and an intelligent glint in his eyes. He stood several inches shorter than Jake because of the corrective surgery.
Betty returned, holding a small bottle. “I have three of my own, Lori. I think I could feed her.”
Lori did not disagree but took the formula and offered Betty sincere thanks. Betty watched her shift the infant to the crook of her arm and expertly offer the bottle.
“We have a women’s health trailer, including a delivery room and nursery. I can take the little one over there. Nina is working. She’ll take care of her.”
Lori felt the weariness settle in her shoulders and lower back. But she was not leaving Jake or this baby.
Betty held out her hands. “Come on. Pass her over.”
She was saved from a reply by the appearance of Detective Bear Den.
“Jake?” he said. “That truck. Did it have black pinstriping?”
“Didn’t see it.” Jake now lay on his back on the examining room table. “Lori did.”
The detective swung his attention to her. She took a reflexive step back and shook her head.
“I only saw it for a second and through the trees.”
“Any pinstriping?” Bear Den asked again.
Lori shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What kind of yellow? Mustard?”
“No. Bright yellow, like daffodil or lemon.”
Bear Den’s gaze shifted to Betty Mills, whose ears had perked up.
“We’ll call you if we need anything,” he said, dismissing her.
She snorted. “I’ll remind you that I run this clinic.”
Bear Den’s brow lowered, and his features turned fierce. It was obvious that the detective did not respond well to being bossed.
“And I run this investigation,” he said to her. “Now get out, or I will put you out.”
Betty’s jaw dropped and she glared at him. Then she whirled and stormed away, her heels banging on the trailer floor.
Bear Den watched until Betty had vanished through the trailer’s outer door and then swung his attention back to Lori.
“Tell me what you saw, from the beginning.”
She did, relating everything she remembered in a string of babble. She had not even realized she had switched to Tonto Apache until Bear Den placed a hand on her shoulder and she remembered to breathe.
“Slow down, Lori.”
She looked up at him as the fear began to gel into anger.
“Are you going to catch these two?” she asked him.
“Someone shot one of our own. You better believe this is a top priority with the force.”
* * *
JAKE RARELY SAW his brother Kee ruffled, but this was the exception. Perhaps seeing his kid brother shot in the chest would do that to a person.
He seemed relieved when his longtime mentor, Dr. Hector Hauser, arrived to take over. Kee actually had to sit down beside the examining table, and for a moment there, Jake thought he’d have to give up his place.
It was Hauser who had first noticed Kee’s leg-length discrepancy when his eldest brother was a boy, discovering the reason for Kee’s awkward gait and inability to keep up with his younger brothers. He’d also been the one to arrange for the surgeries that evened his brother’s legs. Jake thought Kee’s decision to become a physician had much to do with Hauser’s influence.
Lori and Detective Bear Den were speaking just beyond the open ring of curtains that encircled this exam area. He could make out only Detective Bear Den’s questions and not Lori’s murmured replies.
Hauser examined Jake’s bare chest, noting the bruise on his skin that was ripening to the color of plums.
“Seems to be just soft tissue damage. Did they fish the lead out of your vest?”
Kee rose to do that and used forceps to retrieve the business end of the bullet from his vest. The projectile was now spread to a very flat lump of lead.
Bear Den returned. “Don’t touch that,” he instructed Hauser.
Hauser nodded and held the bullet out for Bear Den to collect in an evidence bag.
“Did it penetrate the other side of the vest?” Hauser asked Kee, who was up and on his feet again.
“No. It didn’t.” Kee’s shoulders rose and fell as he blew away a long breath of relief. “Never touched him.”
Detective Bear Den stepped aside as Hauser wheeled over the X-ray machine. Lead vests were placed and everyone but Jake shepherded out during the X-ray.
Then Bear Den got Jake’s statement as Kee, Lori and Dr. Hauser examined the digital display.
“No fractures in evidence,” Hauser said. He excused himself to see about an incoming patient.
Kee offered cold compresses for the bruising and some painkillers. He asked Lori if she wanted him to bring the baby to the nursery in the women’s care trailer, and she declined again.
Kee said he’d check back and left them.
“Don’t tell Ma,” Jake called after him.
Kee lifted a hand, signaling that he had heard, and disappeared out the trailer door.
Lori turned to Bear Den. Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, and some of the starch to her spine.
“Why does everyone want this baby?” Lori asked the detective.
“You mean Mills and Dr. Redhorse,” Bear Den said.
“No, not them.” She puffed up her cheeks and blew out her frustrations. “I just mean, everyone wants her. The two who tried to snatch her from the nursery, and then the two today at the house.”
“Same two, I think,” said Bear Den. “Their timing was bad at the clinic. Only Burl Tsosie was supposed to be there.”
They would have taken Fortune easily, Jake realized. Now it wasn’t his ribs that ached, it was his heart.
“How’d those two know about Fortune so fast?” asked Lori.
Before Bear Den could address that one, she hit him with another.
“And what about the Protective Services thing? I’m certain Betty told me that she would call.” Lori rubbed her chin with her thumb thoughtfully. “I’m sure.”
“You think she’s involved in this?”
“I didn’t say that,” Lori hedged.
“So then the question becomes, why did she lie?” asked Jake.
&n
bsp; “To cover her butt, maybe,” said Lori. “She’s not above throwing someone under the bus when a mistake is made. I’ve seen that firsthand.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jake.
“Nina Kenton has worked in our clinic since we opened. But when she asked Betty about a girl who was not on the appointments for Hector, Betty reprimanded her, just because she asked a question. Even put it in Nina’s personnel report. I can’t remember what it said, but it was a professional way of saying ‘You do your job and I’ll do mine.’”
“What job?” asked Bear Den.
“Scheduling. Patients and the staff. That’s all Betty’s job, along with medical records, billing and payroll. She is very good at what she does. Makes very few errors. But when she does make one, she rarely gets the blame.”
“You don’t like her,” said Bear Den.
“I’m afraid of her. And she’s my supervisor. Am I supposed to like her?”
Jake was lucky. He had nothing but respect for Wallace Tinnin. The man had come to his home more than once during Jake’s childhood over domestic disputes, and Jake had always wished that Tinnin had been his father instead of the unpredictable, volatile man who sired him.
As if summoned by Jake’s thoughts, Tinnin appeared in the trailer door and clunked down the hall on his metal crutches, drawing up at the cubicle where they gathered.
Chief Tinnin’s gaze swept the curtained interior, pausing on Detective Bear Den before stopping on Jake.
“How you doing, son?” he asked Jake.
“I’m fine, sir,” he replied.
A smile lifted one side of Tinnin’s sagging features.
“Guess what just pulled into the parking lot?”
“Yellow truck, with black pinstriping?” asked Bear Den.
“Right in one,” said Tinnin.
Lori moved to stand beside Jake.
“Any guesses as to who pulled in with a bullet wound in his stomach?”
“Faras Pike.” Bear Den named the head of the Wolf Posse.
“I wish. It’s Earle Glass. Hauser is outside checking him now.”
