“Please, tell me you’re kidding, Dad. Tell me you didn’t hand car keys to a woman who has half the state of Arizona gunning for her.” His voice rose, and he took a deep breath, tried to calm down.
“You’re exaggerating, son. Even if you weren’t, Skylar is a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders. She’s a former police officer, a current private detective. She survived a week lost in the Sonoran and a couple days hanging out with you. She’s tough as nails. She asked for the keys. I said yes. Seemed like a no-brainer to me.”
“Someone is trying to kill her. No-brainer or not, you should have told her to wait.”
“For you?”
“For someone. Me. A police escort. Anyone with a gun who might actually be able to protect her if she gets into trouble.”
“She’ll protect herself. That’s the kind of woman she is.”
“Would you say that if she were Debby or Rayne?”
Richard’s lips tightened, and he shook his head. “No, but the closest Deb has ever gotten to defending herself is swinging a fly swatter at a wasp. Your sister wouldn’t know the barrel of a gun if it jumped up and hit her in the face. Neither of them has the experience or training Skylar does.”
“That’s not the point.”
“The point is, your heart is working overtime, and your head has gone to lunch.” Richard grabbed a sheaf of papers, thrust it at Jonas.
“What’s this?”
“Skylar asked me to do some research before she left. Wanted some information on New Day. I have half a dozen articles about the organization. Three about the Clovis brothers. Seems like they’ve run into the law a time or two. Never ended up in jail, though.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll look at everything later. Right now I need to go find Skylar.”
“You just had fifteen stitches put in your face. I’m not sure going out is a good idea.”
“Fortunately, stitches in my face won’t affect my gun arm or my aim. I’ll be fine.”
“Take the articles with you, then. Skylar wanted them ASAP.”
“Right.” He’d give her the articles, and he’d give her a piece of his mind.
Or two.
The rope incident on the mesa had been foolish. Going out alone a few hours after nearly being killed? That was even worse.
His cell phone rang as he shoved the rolled articles into his jacket pocket.
“Hello?”
“Jonas? It’s Skylar.” Her voice sent a wave of relief through him, and he bit back the angry words that threatened to roll of his tongue.
Keep your cool, Sampson.
Be reasonable.
“Where are you?”
“Sitting in the sheriff’s office, waiting for him to bring in some mug shots he wants me to look at.”
“You should be sitting in my sister’s apartment waiting for me to give you a ride.”
“Probably, but I got caught up in the moment. The sheriff thinks he knows the identity of the men we saw today. Said he had some mug shots for me to look at. I couldn’t resist coming in to see them.”
“Not even long enough to find a safer way to get there? I was a hundred yards away, Skylar. Didn’t it occur to you to ask for an escort?”
“It did, but—”
“What?”
“What happened today scared me. I can’t lose you, Jonas. You’ve come to mean too much to me.”
“And you don’t think I feel the same way?”
“I know you do, I just…seeing you bleeding like that, knowing it was my fault. It got to me.”
She didn’t need to explain.
He understood every feeling she’d had as she’d pressed her jacket to his cheek. Only his wound had been minor. The one he’d pressed his hands to had not been.
Blood-stained hands.
Endless guilt.
Yeah. He understood.
“I get it, Skylar. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“Thanks. Listen, I asked your father to search online for a few key phrases while I was gone. I would have called him, but I don’t have the number to your sister’s apartment. I had to get this number from Chief Deputy Mitchell. Would you mind giving it to me so I can check in and see if he came up with anything?”
“No need for the number, I’m in the apartment and I have the articles. I’ll bring them when I pick you up.”
“Your dad works quick. Did he find anything interesting?” She ignored his comment about picking her up. It was probably for the best.
She’d protest.
He’d insist.
They’d do the same dance they’d been doing since they met, and, this time, Jonas planned to lead.
“I haven’t had a chance to read through the articles, yet, but he says the Clovis brothers are in a few of them. They’ve had run-ins with the police, but they haven’t done any time.”
“What kind of run-ins? Do the articles say?”
“Hold on.” He scanned the printed sheets his father had marked with the brothers’ name, frowning as he read the information in the first article. “Looks like both were arrested a year ago on charges that they’d stolen artifacts from Native American burial sites. They were released a couple days later. Lack of evidence is what the article says. Funny, I don’t remember reading about this.”
“I guess it wasn’t big news.”
“I guess not.” He scanned the second article. “Okay. The older brother was also arrested three years ago. Want to guess what he was suspected of?”
“Trafficking in stolen Native American artifacts?”
“Exactly. Same deal. Arrested. Released a few days later. Not enough evidence to hold him. Looks like a pattern.”
“You said there were several articles. Were there more arrests?”
“Three articles on the brothers. No more arrests. The third article was in the paper six months ago. I remember reading it. The author is a friend of mine, a Navajo who was investigating the theft of sacred tribal objects. The Navajo Nation was demanding restitution from those they thought were responsible, but the sheriff’s office said there wasn’t enough proof to make anyone pay. My friend wrote a pretty scathing commentary in the Sunday paper.”
“Were the Clovis brothers mentioned in it?”
“Not that I recall.” He looked down as his father pointed to a paragraph near the bottom of the page. “Actually, they are in it. Just a brief mention about their criminal pasts and arrests.”
“Interesting. Redmond had doctorates in archeology and ancient studies. He knew plenty about the native peoples of North America. Probably enough to identify and value artifacts. Shelby said he and the Clovis brothers were tight. The brothers might be able to handle the actual thefts, but I bet they’d be hard pressed to tell the difference between modern artifacts and antique ones. They’d have needed someone who could do that for them. Someone who could appraise their cache, make sure they got a fair price for it on the black market. We were looking for a connection, Jonas. I think we’ve found it.”
“It makes sense. An organization like New Day doesn’t run on stupidity. They’d have known they needed an expert if they were going to make top dollar, and Redmond had a reputation for being an expert and a cheat. If they put out feelers, asked around, his name would have popped up.”
“And, if approached with an opportunity for quick cash, I doubt Redmond would have refused it. Even if he had to get a job at the diner to cover his real reason for being in town. Once I’m done here, I think we should—”
A voice rumbled in the background, cutting off Skylar’s words.
“The sheriff is here. I’ve got to go. See you in an hour or so, okay?”
“I’ll come pick you—”
But she’d already hung up, and Jonas did the same, scowling as he shoved the phone into his pocket and met his father’s eyes. “Thanks for the research, Dad. Because of it, we’re finally heading in the right direction.”
“No thanks necessary. I may be a boring cartographer, but that doesn
’t mean I don’t love a good puzzle.”
“Who says being a cartographer is boring?”
“You. About a thousand times when you were living at home.”
“I was a dumb kid, and I didn’t realize how good I had it. I need to get out of here. Give Deb a kiss for me, and keep an eye on Rayne. She’s looking tired.”
“I guess you’re heading to the sheriff’s office?”
“You guess right.”
“Be careful, okay? I know you’re a tough guy, and I know you can take care of yourself, but you’re my son, so I reserve the right to worry about you.”
“I’ll be careful.” He glanced at the articles again, frowning. “Do you remember reading any of these before today?”
“Sure. The one that got me the most riled up was the one written by your buddy. Thousands of artifacts stolen. Tens of thousands of dollars gone. Not to mention the historical value for the tribe. A priceless, irreplaceable collection. All of it vanished, and no one seems willing to do anything about it.” He shook his head.
“Who could? There hasn’t been enough evidence to throw the book at anyone.”
“Maybe not, but some of the students in my topography class at the university are citizens of the Navajo Nation. We’ve talked about the stolen artifacts a few times. They blame the sheriff. Say he’s not doing his job, not working hard enough to close the cases. It surprised me to hear it, because the crime rate around here is lower than it’s been in years. That’s got to say something about Smithson’s work ethic,” Jonas’s father responded, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a soda.
“Either that, or it says something about his team of deputies. I’ll see you later.” Jonas stepped outside, the cold evening air slicing through his shirt.
The sun had fallen below distant mountains, trailing vivid purple clouds in its wake. Dusk had a feel and weight, the silence of it reminding Jonas of the nights he’d spent chasing trails through a lonely wilderness. He’d loved the expanse of the sky sprinkled with stars. Loved the way the silence of the evening gave way to the melody of the night. Frogs and birds of prey. Coyote and mountain lion. They were part of it all, and he’d been part of it, too. One with nature, the way Pops had taught him to be.
One with himself.
At peace with God, the stunning beauty of creation bringing him closer than he had ever been to understanding the power and glory of the Creator.
He’d let the gang take that from him.
Let them win, just as Skylar had said.
But their victory didn’t have to be permanent.
He’d been knocked down for the count but not down forever.
Jonas Sampson the contractor was about to retire.
The Shadow Wolf was about to return.
The hunter. The tracker. The man who knew exactly where he belonged.
That’s the direction he’d been heading since the day he’d agreed to search for Skylar. The yes after dozens of nos. A shift in perspective that he’d only noticed when he was deep into the mission, searching for answers, working with someone as driven and committed to justice as he was.
God’s plan.
As much as he’d tried to fight it, Jonas couldn’t deny the truth. Now, with one mission nearly complete, he was ready to move onto another and another, ready to go where God led, use the gifts he’d been given, seek justice over and over again.
His future lay in that direction.
And it lay with Skylar.
Rayne was right. No more caution. No more “wait and see.” He’d found someone he wanted to be with, and he was going to hold on tight for as long as she’d let him. Forever he hoped. Her name whispered through his mind as he opened the garage and started his old Chevy. The truck had seen better days, but at least it had an intact windshield. One small layer of protection if bullets flew again.
He frowned, pulling out his cell phone and hitting Redial. Skylar needed to stay put until he got there. Stay safe. He left a message when she didn’t pick up. Told her to do them both a favor and cooperate for a change.
As much as he was ready for a second chance at the job he’d once loved, he was ready for a second chance at building his dreams. A wife. Children. A happy, chaotic home.
All the things he’d been so close to having a lifetime ago.
The thought was as bittersweet as the last snowfall in the mountains.
The end of winter beauty.
The beginning of spring growth.
The way it should be.
The way Gabriella would have wanted it.
But his eyes misted anyway.
Because, saying goodbye to the past wasn’t easy.
No matter how many times it had been said before.
And no matter how wonderful saying hello to the future would be.
EIGHTEEN
There wasn’t one face that Skylar recognized.
She combed over the twelve photos the sheriff handed her, frustrated by her failure.
She’d seen the perp, had carved his face deep into her memories so that she wouldn’t forget.
“He’s not here.”
“You’re sure?”
“The guy I saw had white-blond hair and a thin face. None of these guys have both those things.”
“Could be he has bleached hair. Lots of people are doing that, nowadays.”
“Bleached hair, brown hair, it doesn’t matter. I know the face I saw, and it’s not in this pile.”
“I’ll have Sampson come in tomorrow. Maybe he can pick the guy out.”
“Not if he saw what I saw, and I’m pretty confident he did,” she muttered, grabbing her purse from the floor.
“Too bad. These were my top twelve candidates for the crime. Half of them are New Day members.”
“Are any of them a Clovis?”
“One. He’s the one I thought you’d ID.” The sheriff shrugged.
“Maybe if you let me see the other brother’s photo, we’d have a match.”
“The younger brother was only brought in for questioning. Never arrested, so I’ve got no mug shot.”
That didn’t sound right.
Didn’t sound like what Jonas’s father had discovered.
“Too bad, because I know I’d recognize the guy if I saw him again.”
“Then, how about we take a ride out to the compound? See if we can spot him?”
An odd suggestion.
At least, in Skylar’s mind it was.
During her days on the force, she had done things by the book, and that hadn’t included taking a potential witness into the enemy’s lair.
Maybe things were different in small towns, but the thought of driving out to the compound with the sheriff made her skin crawl.
She couldn’t put her finger on why.
Didn’t bother trying.
She’d had the same unsettled feeling moments before she’d been gunned down by a supposed friend. No matter the reason for it, she wouldn’t ignore the warning it conveyed.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll wait until tomorrow. It’ll save you a trip if Jonas and I go together.”
“Whatever is easiest for you. Of course, I don’t mind making two trips out there. I need to ask a few questions anyway.” He smiled, but something hard and ugly flashed in his eyes, and Skylar backed toward the door.
“Like I said, I’ll go when Jonas can.”
“You two are an item?”
“We’re…friends.” More than that, but it wasn’t the sheriff’s business, and she didn’t know his reasons for asking.
“Just pals, then?”
“That’s right.”
“So, he won’t miss you all that much when you head back to New York? Won’t get on a plane and rush off to find you?”
More odd questions, and Skylar’s unease grew.
“Who knows? Listen, I really need to go. Thanks for letting me look at the mug shots. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.” She opened the door, breathed a sigh of relief when she step
ped into the corridor.
Overreacting.
She had to be.
He was the sheriff. By most accounts, a good one. She had no reason to doubt his motives. No reason to suspect him of anything.
No reason except that feeling.
That nagging, relentless, horrifying feeling that told her bullets were about to fly and that she was going to be on the receiving end of them.
She shuddered, nearly jumping out of her skin when Sheriff Smithson dropped a hand on her arm. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary, Sheriff.”
“I insist.”
Her heart beat double-time as the sheriff led her into the lobby. Chief Deputy Mitchell was there, and he waved, offering a smile.
“Any luck with the ID?” he asked and the sheriff shook his head.
“Not this time, but we’re getting close.” Smithson sounded jovial and friendly, but his grip was tighter than necessary, his fingers biting through layers of cloth and pinching Skylar’s skin.
“Thank you again for your time, Sheriff. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She broke into the conversation, pulling her arm away, walking outside into cold, crisp air, taking a deep breath to still the nervous tremors in her belly. The sheriff didn’t follow her.
Had it all been her imagination?
The feeling.
The look in the sheriff’s eyes.
Or was something there that needed further investigation?
No New Day member had ever been convicted of a crime in Cave Creek. Had there been convictions in Phoenix or the surrounding areas? That would be interesting to know, because if Cave Creek was the only town where New Day members consistently went free, that would say something about its law enforcement officers. It would say something about the sheriff.
And what it said wouldn’t be good.
She got into Richard’s oversize Cadillac, eager to return to the apartment and share what she’d learned with Jonas. Eager to pick his brains, find out what he thought about the sheriff’s odd questions.
He was the partner she hadn’t wanted.
And he’d grown on her like dandelions on a newly cut lawn. Quickly. Unexpectedly.
Lone Defender (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 16
