by Pamela Clare
That was the only way the pieces fit together.
McBride seemed to consider this. “Solid analysis. Let’s search the periphery, find which way they headed when they left the site.”
The bloodhound quickly found the place where they’d come out of the forest. Chaska backtracked a few yards from there to the spot where the two men had stood and watched Naomi, disgust fueling his anger as he glanced back toward her campsite. From here, they would have been able to see every move she made without being visible themselves.
Chaska glanced around. “They came from that direction.”
But where had they gone after Naomi had gotten away?
While the bloodhound sniffed the periphery, Chaska circled the camp slowly, doing his best not to step on sign, looking for that heel with the missing D-shaped chunk. He found what he was looking for not far from Naomi’s tent—tracks leading out of camp. “This way.”
With the bloodhound in the lead, they moved fast, following the tracks through a long stretch of ponderosa pine forest. Chaska kept his gaze on the ground. In places, the duff—mostly old pine needles—was so deep that there were few tracks to follow, and that was where the bloodhound was especially helpful. At one point, the tracks crossed a dirt road, then disappeared into a grove of chokecherry bushes.
A black search helicopter passed overhead, tree branches dancing in the rotor wash, the noise it made eliminating any chance that they’d take these guys unawares.
McBride held a hand to his earpiece, then spoke into his mic. “Copy that.”
“News?”
“The victim told Price that the suspects said something about hiding in an abandoned ranger cabin. The chopper spotted a structure up ahead.”
A few minutes later, they saw it—an abandoned cabin, its log walls bleached by the sun.
“The scent trail leads right up to it,” said the bloodhound’s handler, who’d drawn the dog up beside him.
McBride nodded and motioned for everyone to stop. “Keep out of sight.”
But rather than approaching the cabin, they waited for other law enforcement teams to arrive. It seemed to take an eternity.
Chaska pointed out what ought to have been obvious. “We don’t know for sure that they’re still there. With that helicopter flying overhead, they must know we’re closing in on them.”
“True, but I won’t risk them opening fire, killing a few of us, and getting away in the confusion.” McBride studied him for a moment. “You’re not going in.”
Chaska covered his disappointment. What had he imagined—that he would go charging in, his pistol drawn like some kind of action hero? “I knew that.”
“No, you didn’t.” McBride grinned. “You’ve been a huge help, but I can’t let you go any farther.”
Chaska found himself standing with the bloodhound and its handler while McBride and a dozen sheriff’s deputies and deputy marshals got into position.
“Did you learn this growing up—you know, cutting sign?” the dog’s handler asked. “I thought McBride was full of shit when he brought you into this, but I can see how it comes in handy.”
“Thanks—and, yeah. I learned from my grandfather.” The old man had been determined to make sure Chaska and Winona had a true Lakota upbringing, and both of them would forever be grateful.
“What tribe?”
“Oglala Lakota nation.” Chaska watched as McBride gave the signal and the officers moved toward the cabin.
When Naomi woke up in the recovery room, it took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was there, her mind fogged by anesthesia and morphine. Arlie and Clem. That terrible night in the forest. Winona and Shota. Chaska.
A nurse came to stand beside her, touched a hand to her right arm. “Hey, Naomi. How are you feeling?”
“My leg hurts.”
“I bet. Let’s get you more morphine. They’ll hook you up to a morphine pump when we get you upstairs, and then you’ll be able to control your pain relief yourself.”
The nurse returned with a syringe and injected something into Naomi’s IV, and she drifted off. But it wasn’t peaceful sleep.
In her dreams, she was falling and falling, fear chasing her.
Chapter 4
Naomi woke as she was wheeled into a hospital room. She was still groggy on anesthesia and pain meds, the world coming together in random pieces. Bright lights. A window with a view of mountains. People in blue scrubs.
“Hi, Naomi. I’m Ellie. I’ll be your nurse for the next few hours. We’re going to take good care of you.” Ellie hooked her up to the morphine pump and explained how it worked. “When you need pain relief, push this button. Easy enough?”
Naomi nodded, more alert now.
“It sounds like you’ve had a rough time of it. I’m very sorry.”
“Does everyone here know what happened to me?”
Ellie fiddled with Naomi’s IV line. “My fiancé was one of the Team members who helped in your rescue—Jesse Moretti. Also, Scarlet Springs is a very small town.”
“I remember Jesse.”
Ellie gave a little laugh. “He’ll be gratified to hear that.”
“Is that where I am—Scarlet Springs?” She remembered driving past the town on her way up to the campground.
Ellie adjusted the blood pressure cuff that Naomi hadn’t noticed on her arm. “Yep. Scarlet Springs, population less than fifteen hundred.”
The town where Naomi had lived as a child had been smaller than that. She had spent her entire life wanting to escape. “Is it a good place to live?”
“I love it, but then I grew up here.” Ellie gave her a warm smile. “The doctor should be in shortly to talk with you about the surgery. Also, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Naomi’s heart gave a sick thud. “I don’t know anyone here.”
Had someone tracked down Peter and Ruth?
“Remember Winona? She came to check on you.”
“Winona?” Naomi found herself smiling, relieved. “She’s here?”
Ellie patted Naomi’s arm. “I’ll send her in.”
A moment later the door opened, and Winona entered. “Hey, there.”
Naomi recognized her, and yet she’d been so out of it earlier that it was almost as if she were seeing Winona for the first time. “Hey.”
Winona’s shoulder-length black hair was tucked behind one ear, her brown eyes warm. It took her a moment to notice what Winona was carrying.
Naomi stared. “Flowers?”
No one had ever brought her flowers.
Winona set the vase down on the bedside table, gerbera daisies in pink, white, and yellow keeping company with white and pink roses in a vase of pink glass. “It must be hard to be in the hospital so far from home.”
“Thanks—and thanks for finding me out there. I don’t know what would have happened if you and Shota hadn’t come along.”
She probably would have died.
“You’re welcome.” Winona sat in the chair next to the bed. “How do you feel?”
Naomi wasn’t sure how to answer. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d run for her life from two escaped convicts, been shot in the arm, broken her ankle falling into a ravine, stayed awake most of the night in pouring rain afraid the bastards would find her, only to wake up and find out she’d been saved by a wolf. All in all, not her best day. “I’m okay—a little groggy. They had to operate on my leg.”
She tried to shift it, winced at the sharp jolt of pain.
“How long are they keeping you in the hospital?”
“I’m not sure.” Naomi knew that she and Winona were essentially strangers—two people brought together by bad circumstances. Still, she felt at ease with her, as if she’d known her for a long time. “Where’s Shota?”
“He’s back home. He’s got an enclosure behind the wildlife rehabilitation center that I run. I live next door, so his enclosure is kind of my backyard.”
“You’re a vet?”
“I specialize in
rehabilitating wildlife.”
“Is that how you ended up with Shota?”
“I had just started my wildlife residency when a game warden arrested a man for illegally transporting gray wolf pups into the state. There were two females and one male. They were close to death when we got them—hypothermic, dehydrated, starving. We took care of them around the clock, but the two little females died.
“Shota survived, but he was socialized to accept people and couldn’t be released into the wild. I couldn’t bear to see him end up in a zoo. I offered to give him a home. I had to jump through a few hoops, but I finally got permission.”
“It’s legal here? Wait. Of course, it is.” Naomi had seen pastures with llamas and ostriches on her drive through Colorado. “Marijuana is legal here, so why not wolves?”
Winona laughed. “Some Colorado cities ban wolves and wolf-hybrid dogs, but not Scarlet.”
“Has he ever bitten you?”
“No. Chaska and I—we’re his pack. He likes you. I’ve never seen him—”
Someone knocked on the door, and a man in blue scrubs entered. “Hi, Naomi. I’m Doctor Renshaw, the orthopedic surgeon. How are you feeling?”
“A little groggy and sore. My leg hurts.”
“I bet.” The doctor explained the surgery at some length, then told her they planned to keep her overnight for observation because of her concussion. “The surgery went well. Your leg should heal without problems. I used glue on your incision so you can take showers. You might need a little physical therapy, but you’ll be back to hiking within a few months. I promise. You’ll need to visit an orthopedic surgeon in about ten days for a checkup. He can remove those stitches in your shoulder, too. You won’t be able to put weight on that leg for about six weeks, and that means no driving.”
The reality of her situation rushed in on her. “How will I get home? I drove here. My Honda is still up at my campsite—if it wasn’t stolen.”
God, what a disaster!
“You could fly back and return for your vehicle later,” the doctor suggested. “Or ask a family member to fly out and drive you and your vehicle home.”
She didn’t bother to tell him that she didn’t have family. “Yeah.”
What was she supposed to do now?
She forced a smile onto her face. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“I’m sorry your vacation was interrupted. Let the nurse know if you’re not getting adequate pain relief. If all goes well, we’ll release you tomorrow morning. In the meantime, get some rest.” The doctor walked out of the room and shut her door.
Naomi drew a deep breath, fought to rein in a growing sense of panic. “I should be grateful. Last night, I was sure that I was going to be raped and killed. Today, I’m wondering how I’m going to get home again and how much all of this is going to cost.”
And then it hit her.
“My tools!” Damn it! “I brought some of my jewelry-making tools along. If those bastards stole my SUV, they took my tools, too. That’s thousands of dollars.”
How was she going to recover from this? Would car insurance cover that?
Winona closed a warm hand over hers. “I know this must be overwhelming. Chaska is working with the U.S. marshals, trying to track them.”
“He is?” Naomi remembered Chaska’s dark eyes, the intensity of his gaze, the reassuring calm of his voice. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
I won’t let them hurt you, Naomi.
“My brother is an adrenaline junkie.”
“I hope he’s safe.” She hoped all the people hunting those bastards were safe.
“What are you going to do?”
Naomi’s thoughts spun, muddled by morphine. “I guess I need to find a hotel.”
She could stay there until her stitches were out and then…
“Why don’t you stay with Chaska and me? We have a spare bedroom. I’ll take you to your appointments, and you can see Shota. You can figure out the rest later.”
Naomi stared at Winona, astonished once again by her kindness. “You truly wouldn’t mind?”
“It would be fun to have you there, and it would save you money.”
Naomi studied Winona for a moment, saw nothing in her eyes but kindness. “Okay, if you’re sure—and thank you.”
McBride turned onto Fourth Street and pulled to a stop in front of the two-story Victorian house Chaska shared with his sister. “You were a big help out there today. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Chaska couldn’t hold back his frustration. “My help didn’t amount to much in the end, did it?”
They hadn’t caught the bastards. The cabin had been empty.
“I wouldn’t say that. If you want to meet some of the Shadow Wolves, let me know. I’ll set something up. They could use a good man like you.”
It was a powerful compliment, especially coming from a man like McBride, who understood a few things about Native culture.
“Thank you.” Chaska climbed out.
“Can I get in touch with you if I think we need your help again?”
Chaska had no problem with that. “Sure. I can’t make any promises.”
McBride grinned. “Good enough. Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
“I’m off to talk to the victim about her vehicle.”
That would be a fun conversation.
Chaska walked up to the house, body tense with frustration. What he needed was a good couple of hours at the rock gym, doing laps up a 5.11 route until his muscles screamed and his mind was empty.
He stepped through the front door and found his sister cleaning the downstairs bathroom, rubber gloves on her hands. A mop leaned against the bathroom door, Linkin Park blasting over the speakers. Winona was home early, and she was cleaning.
Something was up.
She jumped when she saw him. “Oh! I didn’t hear you.”
He believed that. “Is the music loud enough? I’m not sure all of our neighbors can hear the lyrics.”
She stopped scrubbing the sink. “How did it go out there? Did you get them?”
“No.” He walked to the iPod stereo and turned down the music, not wanting to have an entire conversation by shouting. “We tracked them to a cabin, but they’d been gone for hours. We picked up their trail again, but it ended at a long-term parking lot next to a pile of window glass. McBride thinks they found a car that had keys in it, busted the window, and stole it. The owner is probably backpacking in the Indian Peaks Wilderness and has no idea the car is gone. That’s why nothing has been reported stolen.”
“So, you have no idea what kind of car it is or what its license plate number is.”
“From the tire tracks, it must be an SUV. We won’t know more than that until the owner gets back and finds it missing.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been frustrating.”
“Yeah.” He pointed to the mop with a jerk of his head. “What’s this about? Is Old Man coming for a visit?”
Grandfather was almost ninety, but he still got around. He liked to drop in on them once in a while to see how his two youngest grandchildren were doing.
Winona went back to scrubbing the sink. “Naomi had a displaced fracture and had to have surgery on her leg. The doctor says she can’t put weight on it for six weeks, and that means no driving. She doesn’t know how to get home and doesn’t have any family to help her. She’s really not in any shape to figure it all out right now. I told her she could stay here with us in the meantime.”
“Naomi is going to be staying here—with us?”
“Mr. Listens Well—that’s my brother. Yes, with us. She asked about a hotel, but that didn’t seem right.”
No, that wasn’t right, not when they were here to help her. So, why was Win avoiding his gaze?
Chaska knew his sister. “What’s really going on here?”
She rinsed the sink, turned her sponge on the tub, squirting a homemade mix of vinegar and dish soap on the porcelain and getting onto her
knees to scrub. “Do you remember what you said right before Shota ran off, right before we found her?”
He thought back. “I said I wasn’t going to ask Nicole out.”
“No.” Winona glared at him over her shoulder. “You said you were going to wait until the right woman came along. Then you said, ‘Creator can feel free to put her in my path anytime.’ Remember?”
Aiii.
So that’s what this was about.
Chaska crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re matchmaking again.”
“Naomi needs help, and we need to see where this goes. You were led to her.”
“Yeah, by Shota’s sense of smell.”
It had been a long time since Chaska had believed in anything that couldn’t be proven by science. He still smudged and made a spirit plate at every meal, but that was just tradition for him, a way of staying connected to his roots as a Lakota. That didn’t mean he held any spiritual beliefs. Yet, even as he rejected the idea that Shota’s finding Naomi was anything but completely random, he found himself remembering Naomi’s bruised and beautiful face—and her courage.
Winona went back to scrubbing. “All I know is that the moment you said what you said, Shota took off. Old Man doesn’t believe in coincidences.”
No, he didn’t.
Grandfather saw the world through different eyes than Chaska or Winona or even most Lakota these days. He was a traditional, what old-timers would call a true Lakota. For him, what had happened today would seem full of spiritual significance. And now Winona thought perhaps Creator had sent Chaska his half-side. If Old Man heard about this and how it had all happened, he’d probably start planning a wedding.
He would also be angry with Chaska for invoking Wakan Tanka—the Great Mystery—the way he had.
Chaska tried not to take the frustration he’d been carrying all afternoon out on Win. “It’s the right thing to help her, but don’t try to turn this into something it isn’t. I doubt Naomi needs anyone meddling in her private life right now. Besides, we know nothing about her. She might prefer women.”
