by Jenna Kernan
She didn’t tell him that Hatch Yeager was now at peace or that it wasn’t his fault or that these things happen in war or any of the other things that people say. Instead she said the one thing no one else had thought to say.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for you and for Hatch. He was a wonderful friend to all of you. I know you miss him.”
And when he needed Carter, he had not been there. Carter felt his throat tighten, but he held on.
“I’m sorry about your friends, too.”
She gave him a tight little smile and swallowed before speaking again.
“This is new,” she said stroking the skin of his upper arm and the artwork depicting a medicine shield with five dangling feathers, one for each of them, Dylan, Ray, Carter, Jack and Yeager. Each feather was adorned with a turquoise bead like the one given to them as baby boys at their birth. The stretched hide of the shield depicted the imprint of a bear paw.
“I’ve had it since I came back. We all have one.”
“The same one?”
“No, your uncle, Kenshaw Little Falcon, helped each of us choose the design.” He could say no more because being chosen as a warrior of Tribal Thunder, though a great honor, was as much a secret as was the rituals of his medicine society, the Turquoise Guardians. He could not share this business, especially with a woman.
“A bear for a Bear Den. Is Jack’s shield also the track of a bear?”
Carter frowned because he did not understand his shaman’s choice of symbol or placement. He and Ray and Dylan were all told to choose a medicine shield, and their spiritual leader had selected their talisman. An eagle for Ray to help him see more clearly and make better decisions. The track of a bobcat for Dylan to help him see what is hidden. But Jack was told to depict a medicine wheel on his back to help him know which direction to go.
“Jack’s is a medicine wheel,” said Carter.
“Good choice.”
But different than the rest of them. Yet another visible separation between them.
“I do not think he likes it.”
“No?”
Carter was uncomfortable speaking of his brother’s insecurities.
“He told me that he wanted an animal spirit. Ray Strong doesn’t have a track. His is an eagle to help him see farther ahead. But mine is a bear track and Dylan has the track of a bobcat for stealth. Jack doesn’t have an animal totem.”
“A medicine wheel is a powerful symbol.”
“It makes him feel different. He wanted a shield, like the rest of us.”
“But he’s not like the rest of you.”
Carter stiffened and drew his arm from her grip. “He’s my brother.”
Amber dropped her gaze and nodded. “They are all your brothers—Tommy, Kurt, Jack, Dylan, Ray and Hatch.”
She gave him an open look, and he wondered if he might have a second chance with her.
But first he needed to know why she had gone.
“I want to know what happened.”
“When?”
“The day you left us.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“I remember. You were worked up about your father’s truck.”
“No. It wasn’t about his truck. It was about you treating me as a child, instead of your future wife. You actually called me childish.”
“We were seventeen. We were both childish, Amber.”
“Maybe. But you worked everything out with my dad. You didn’t even include me until after you gave him your signing bonus.”
“It’s only money.”
“Not to my father. To him it’s a disease.”
“I solved the problem.”
“You made it worse.”
“Oh, come on. Can’t be that bad. Certainly not bad enough for you to rescind your membership in the tribe.”
Amber slipped from the bed. Slowly she drew to her feet and motioned to the door.
“I think you better go.”
Chapter Eleven
Carter went out to the living room to find both Ray and Dylan in conversation. Ray had a pistol in a shoulder harness beneath his left arm and Dylan’s rifle with a scope leaned against the kitchen table. Just seeing his friends there made him feel better. This was what it meant to have brothers of choice, if not of blood. He couldn’t ask for better fighters or better men.
He told them about the message he had delivered, and Ray and Dylan agreed to go visit Kenshaw Little Falcon and ask him about the blank page. He thanked them formally in Apache and spent a few minutes catching them up on all that had happened during the day.
They hadn’t even asked. He needed help, and that was all they had to know. They trusted him, and he trusted them with his life.
A thought struck him. They hadn’t asked. If he said it was important, then it was important. If he said it was life or death, then it was just that.
But when Amber told him he was not to pay her father’s debts, he had downplayed her concerns. He hadn’t listened, and he hadn’t trusted her. She was trying to protect her sisters and her parents. She was trying to respect her father and keep him from jail and guard her sister’s future. She’d spent a decade alone, without her people.
“You two back together?” asked Jack.
Carter groaned. It didn’t take long to spill his guts. Amber opened the door to her room, cast them a ferocious glare and headed to the bathroom.
Carter felt gut shot.
“You okay, man?” asked Ray. Ray would understand mistakes if anyone would. One had landed him in jail for over a year and another had cost him his best friend’s life. Or that was how he saw it, and nothing he or Dylan said could change his mind.
Perceptions. Reality. Was there really a difference?
He glanced to the hall where Amber exited the bathroom, freshly showered, her wet hair leaving a stain on the back of the short sleeveless nightie that must have been Kay’s. She glanced at him, scowled and then shut the bedroom door with a little too much force.
“I screwed up again,” said Carter.
Ray punched his arm, redirecting his attention. “Look on the bright side. Tomorrow you get another chance to screw things up all over again.”
Dylan glanced at his watch. “Already tomorrow.”
“I should talk to her,” he said.
“Let her rest. Want a beer?” asked Ray.
“Naw. I’m beat. I’m going to hit the sack.”
His friends exchanged a look.
“What?” he asked.
“Should I set up a perimeter around Amber’s room?” asked Dylan.
Carter made a face and stalked toward the bathroom. It didn’t hit him until he was in the shower how bone-weary he really was. He made it to Ray’s bedroom, dropped the towel and slipped into bed. Amber’s sister had given her an overnight bag as if she were preparing to flee the country. Maybe she was. But the next time she agreed to speak to him, he was going to give her the respect of listening without assuming the worst. He was downright ashamed of himself for doing that before and worse still, for not even recognizing what he had done. Was that why she left? Because he would not listen or understand?
Carter tossed, punched the pillow and finally eased into a restless sleep. He woke often to stare at the glowing red numbers on Ray’s bedside clock before finally waking with a start at the gentle rapping on his door. He was shocked to see that the gentle gray light of morning found him still asleep.
“Bro?” That was Jack. He sagged, knowing he was hoping it had been Amber.
“Yeah,” he called.
The door creaked open, and Jack’s face appeared in the gap.
“Chief Tinnin is on the phone. He says he’s got an FBI agent in his office, and one of the two new Feds is Black Mountain Apache.” Jack cast Carter one
last look. “We have to go in.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER Carter and Amber reported to the tribal police station. Amber had been cool and polite this morning. The walls were definitely back in place, and he knew he had been the mason.
At the station, they were introduced to FBI Field Agent Luke Forrest. Jack had told them en route that Forrest was instrumental in busting the crystal meth labs operating on the White Mountain Apache Reservation, but Carter saw another manzana. Had to be, because a man working for the FBI could be nothing else.
Carter took Amber’s elbow as they entered the squad room, intending to keep her close, but felt her body tense at his touch. Carter sized up Field Agent Luke Forrest. The man’s suit fit perfectly, revealing a slim, athletic white lawman with the head of an Apache. He wore his hair short in a military style Carter himself had once favored. But not anymore. He was never going to hide who and what he was at the core.
Chief Tinnin made introductions. Carter regarded Agent Forrest. The FBI had wisely sent the only Apache agent they had to negotiate the transfer of Amber to the US Marshals’ protection.
Forrest cast them a confident smile that matched his handshake. His eyes were dark and cold as flint. He nodded to Amber, but his gaze lingered—whether out of appreciation or desire to take her from Turquoise Canyon, Carter wasn’t sure. Carter had to hand it to Forrest. The warmth of his smile never wavered.
Carter kept Amber slightly behind him, but Agent Forrest spoke to her first and in English.
As a full-blood Mountain Apache, Forrest had the same genetic roots, but his people and Carter’s had been enemies in the Apache Wars. Some things are never forgotten. The Turquoise Canyon Apache were of the Tonto Apache. Not Mountain Apache. Tonto was a name Carter despised because it was given to them by the Spanish and meant either crazy or moron, depending on who you asked. The Tonto Apache’s language was different enough that most other Apache tribes could not understand them. They called themselves , but neither their Athabaskan neighbors of Black Mountain nor the US government paid any attention to what they called themselves. Carter shook his head in disgust at the thought of who the US government had sent in as their first choice.
“Ms. Kitcheyan,” said Forrest, “Chief Tinnin has told me that you know why I’m here. You are an important witness to the mass slayings in Lilac and, as I understand it, may be able to identify our killer.”
Amber nodded.
“Then both you and Mr. Bear Den are key witnesses.”
“Don’t you have to catch someone before you need witnesses?” asked Jack, placing a hand on his hip to reveal his gold tribal police detective’s shield and the pistol holstered at his hip. Carter had questioned Jack’s choice to join the tribal police as many of their people saw them as little better than the Arizona highway patrol, working for the establishment instead of the people. But right now, Carter felt lucky.
Forrest kept right on talking as if Detective Bear Den were background noise.
“I know you feel an obligation to see this man and his accomplice brought to justice. I know you lost many friends and colleagues yesterday.”
* * *
AMBER LACED HER hands before her, but she said nothing. Her stomach churned.
“The attack and the subsequent attempts on your life, one right here on your tribal lands, make it clear to us that you both need protection.”
“But I don’t want protection,” said Amber. “I want to go home.”
Even as she said it, she knew her request sounded crazy. She stared at the four men. Tribal Police Chief Wallace Tinnin, Carter Bear Den, Detective Jack Bear Den and FBI Agent Forrest. Her skin went damp as she imagined being caged in a safe house. Trapped with a man she’d once loved before she discovered that he did not trust her. Back then she believed love and trust were one and the same. But they were not, and she could not live without both.
“What if I refuse?” she asked.
Agent Forrest and Chief Tinnin exchanged a look. Agent Forrest got the short stick and faced her with hands open. A trick she used herself to put people at ease. It was a gesture that was intended to speak to the primal brain. See? I have no weapons.
“Ms. Kitcheyan, like it or not, you are a federal witness. You arrived only moments after the shooting at the home of Harvey Ibsen. Later you were abducted by men impersonating federal agents. This seems more than the act of a disturbed mind, Ms. Kitcheyan. We need your help to figure out what happened down there.”
“I’m just a receiving clerk.”
“And the only surviving member of your department and, apparently, still in danger, judging from the fact that the two men who abducted you yesterday are still at large. And that happened right here in the safety of your reservation. You need protection, Amber.”
She set her jaw and tipped her chin down and looked away. Forrest sighed. Then he continued.
“What if one of these men is killed trying to protect you?”
That hit home. She couldn’t bear that.
“And if you refuse to cooperate, we will take you into custody.”
Carter stepped in. “You can’t remove her from our tribal land.”
“I can because she is no longer a member of the Turquoise Canyon Tribe. Her membership was rescinded years ago.”
Carter’s shoulders sank, and Amber braced. It hadn’t taken them long to discover her weakness.
“You can’t take my brother,” said Jack Bear Den.
“True. But we are requesting he accompany us.”
“I don’t give a flying fart what you are requesting,” said Jack.
Carter pressed a hand to his Jack’s beefy forearm, and the two brothers shared a long look.
“Carter, no,” said Jack.
Carter drew a long breath and let it go. “I’m not leaving her.”
Jack stared up at the ceiling and then back at his brother. “She had no trouble leaving you.”
Amber felt small and hollow. Brittle as burned paper in the wind. She had left him. Saving him from trying to protect her yet again. Perhaps she could do the same today. She believed Carter still had feelings for her and was still trying to solve all her problems. Did he see her as another friend thrown from safety into danger? She prayed she wasn’t his chance for redemption. His charity would be worse than his contempt.
It had been so hard to walk away last time. But no worse than marrying a man who did not listen to or trust her. She still didn’t know if she had been right to go. It seemed the only way. Maybe she should have tried harder.
She turned to face Carter.
“I don’t want you to come,” said Amber, her voice soft and low but somehow resonating like a gunshot in the quiet room.
“Well, too damn bad. This time I get to choose, and I’m not letting you go alone.”
“I need time to think,” she said, stalling.
Forrest’s expression was sympathetic. “I’ve read your initial statements, but I have some questions to ask in the examination room with Chief Tinnin before we go. And you are going, Ms. Kitcheyan,” said Agent Forrest. “We’ll be ready in just a minute.”
The men moved to the far side of the squad room. Carter hesitated, lingering a few steps from her, looking back, and then joined the others.
A minute. She pressed both hands to her ears as the screaming voice of her own protests seemed to shriek inside her head like the rushing winds of a winter storm. She was going into protective custody with Carter Bear Den. For how long?
Then she thought of the shooting at her office. Her friends and colleagues. Didn’t she have an obligation to help catch this man and then help convict him so he could never do such a thing again?
Forrest said he thought this shooting was more than the act of a disturbed mind. What did that mean? The man must be crazy.
&nb
sp; But if he were crazy, then why was he so hard to find? Crazy people were not careful or organized. They were sloppy, impulsive. She certainly knew that. Crazy people were erratic. They might throw a television from its stand for no reason and then walk over broken shards with bare feet. Might fall asleep while driving or forget to pick you up at school. They might throw things at you when angry. Amber lifted a hand to her lip and then forced it down with the memories. The pulsing in her heart ached all the way up to her throat.
Why couldn’t they catch the shooter?
Because Agent Forrest was correct. This man wasn’t crazy. He was sane, and he was after her. The realization made her sway. Carter left the three men in their discussion and hurried to her.
“Amber, I’ve got you.”
“Don’t do this. Let me go.”
“You are not getting away from me this time. We have business to settle, and if we have to be locked in protective custody to settle it, that’s what we’ll do.”
Chapter Twelve
A few minutes later, Amber sat facing the closed door in the windowless interrogation room. Chief Tinnin and Forrest sat across from her and had brought her a glass of water. It was the only thing on the surface except for the FBI agent’s laptop and a digital tape recorder with a glowing red eye. Recording.
Amber had fought back against the fear, pushing it down deep again. After this interview, they were taking her into custody. She looked at the two armed men and recognized she was already in custody.
Should she call her mother? Her father? She winced at that thought. Her father’s words came back like a promise.
Listen, you, I run this family. You do what you’re told or else.
Once he had disowned her, leaving had been her only choice. She had not thought he could do anything more to her once she was gone. How wrong she had been. He had still taken one thing more. And now here she sat. Powerless because of that theft.
Forrest looked up from his laptop, fingers poised. “Ready?”
She began where he asked her, before coming to work, and ran through the entire day. Forrest did not interrupt or ask questions as the other two agents yesterday had done. He just listened until she fell silent.
