by Jenna Kernan
Landers screamed as they slid along the embankment. Carter straightened as the van left the road. Landers made a grab for the wheel as the van careened down an embankment and thundered on.
Mora flopped to the side, his body held erect by his shoulder restraint, his foot still evidently on the gas as they sped through the low scrub sending rocks knocking against the undercarriage.
Landers had one hand on her side and one on the wheel as she steered them perpendicular to the highway.
“Hold on!” she shouted.
Carter saw the scrub brush vanish, and the van tipped, sliding on the loose red sand, planting nose first into the ground. The rear tires remained at ground level and the front tires now rested on the floor of the arroyo, a dry river bed some three feet down.
“Out,” said Landers.
Carter unfastened his belt, and Amber did the same. Carter reached forward, checking Mora’s pulse at the neck and finding none.
Landers clutched her side, blood leaking between her fingers.
“I figure you have about a minute before they get here.” The marshal spoke between clenched teeth. “Take his gun and phone.”
Carter did as she suggested, finding his phone in his right pants pocket.
“Thirty seconds,” she said, glancing back at him. “Run.”
“What about you?” asked Amber.
“Lung shot. Can’t run. Go.”
Carter pulled open the van door and dragged Amber down beside him. He looked right and left down the wash. In either direction he could be out of sight in thirty seconds at a dead run.
He grabbed his duffel and pointed in the more difficult direction, the one with the denuded trees and rock.
“Run,” he said.
Amber did run, and she was fast. Not as fast as he was but fast enough. In twenty seconds they were out of sight of the van. In a minute they were out of sight of the place where he had last seen the van.
They ran for another minute, and then he slowed them to a jog. They were both sweating and panting but not loud enough to miss the sound of the two gunshots.
Amber stilled, looking back. She didn’t ask him, just stared in wide-eyed horror. He suspected that Agent Landers was dead.
“Who was it?” asked Carter.
“The man who killed Ibsen. The Lilac shooter.” She glanced back at the way they had come. “He’ll come after us. I know it.”
“Maybe. Depends on how badly he wants to risk getting caught.”
She stared at him, her breathing slowing rapidly back to normal. She was in good shape.
Amber glanced back over her shoulder in the way they had come.
“See anything?” she asked.
“No.”
Amber grabbed the hem of her gauzy blouse and tugged the entire thing up over her head. Carter’s attention snapped back to her.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s white. Easy to see in this wash. We’re rabbits. Brown is a much better color for hiding.”
He was already unbuttoning his oxford as she stuffed her blouse in his duffel with her necklace.
He stowed his top in his green duffel, trying not to stare at her slim athletic figure and the lacy black bra that hugged her breasts.
“Come on,” she said.
They ran again, a fast jog that took them over uneven ground and over rocks and tangled tree branches. He didn’t stop, and she didn’t ask him to. But over time her stride grew clumsy, and he slowed.
“They might follow or might go back to their vehicle to try to get ahead of us. This wash roughly parallels the road. I don’t know when it might cross under the highway.”
She had to pause as she spoke to catch her breath. “They might...go...the wrong way.”
He nodded. Then he motioned to a section of the wash wall that had collapsed, offering some cover and also morning shade.
She followed as he tucked them in close to the earthen wall. He handed her back her blouse, and she shrugged into it. Next he offered water. She took very little.
Amber was a child of the arid Southwest who knew that water was precious. She returned the bottle, and he drank sparingly before returning it to his gear.
“What now?” she asked.
“We wait. If they show up first, we are in serious trouble. If it’s the FBI or state police, we might be okay.”
Amber looked up the narrow wash, topped with leafless brush, dry, yellowed grass and an occasional cactus.
“Too dangerous to continue.”
“I think it will go under the road.”
She peeked up over the earthen barrier at the way they had come.
“I hate to wait here like a sitting duck.”
Carter lifted the marshal’s gun. “Not defenseless.”
Amber chose not to remind him that their attacker had used either an automatic or semiautomatic rifle.
“How did he find us again?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He was waiting for us. I saw them parked in that state police vehicle way back in the turnoff for Mesa Salado Dam.”
“Me, too.”
“How did they know that we were in that van? The windows were tinted. They couldn’t see us.”
“Which is why they shot for the seats behind the driver,” said Carter. His expression showed worry which made her more nervous.
“How did they get a state police vehicle?”
“I don’t know. A copy, maybe.”
“It fooled me.” She glanced around at the thirsty trees that waited patiently for the July monsoons to fill the river.
“How long until the FBI find us?”
“Maybe an hour or two.”
“You have cell phone service?” she asked.
He lifted out Mora’s phone, an Android, and woke it up.
“Password protected,” he said. He glanced at the emergency button but hesitated. Something felt wrong. “It’s on. So the FBI can track us once they realize we’re missing.”
“Turn it off,” she said.
He did.
“What are you thinking, Amber?” He trusted her, and her opinion mattered to him. She was smart, observant and completely aware of her surroundings. Any one of those attributes was rare enough.
She scrunched her forehead, making a single line form between her brows.
“If we were on the reservation, I’d say wait for help. But that was a state police vehicle.”
“Or a copy.”
“But it might be the real state police. So, what if we were picked up by FBI, and they weren’t really FBI? Those guys at the tribal station told me they were Feds.”
He settled back against the red earth wall behind them.
“I’ve been wondering about your question—how does that gunman get away?”
“And?”
“I think he has help.”
That seemed obvious. But he felt she had more to say, so he didn’t comment. They were both thinking it, but she was the one who finally came out and said it aloud.
“I hate to say it, but what kind of person can hide suspects, get inside information on the location of witnesses and then vanish again?”
He didn’t like her train of thought but could not find a better explanation for what was happening to them.
She rested a hand on his knee. “Everything points to law enforcement personnel.”
He set his jaw. If she was right, then waiting for help suddenly seemed a bad idea.
“Do you think they will let your brother know if you are missing?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. It is out of his jurisdiction.”
“We should try to get to the reservation or to your brother.”
S
he was right. Getting to Turquoise Canyon might be the only way to let their people know what had really happened. He knew for certain that tribal land was the one place on earth they might just be safe.
“You’re right.”
“But how? The reservation is at least seventy miles away and we don’t have a vehicle or even a phone.”
Chapter Seventeen
“They might be back there, waiting for us,” he said.
“Risky to hang around, especially in a state police car. Assuming they are not state police, another trooper will definitely stop if he sees that SUV.”
“Could be a while.”
“You think they are still there?” she asked.
“Not sure. But there might be something useful in the van. They had a radio.”
“No radios,” said Amber. “We can call your brother if we get to a landline.”
They made their way back to the van over the next hour, stopping to listen and scout. Once at the van they found both agents dead.
Carter looked at the bullet holes that told him that if Amber had not spotted the gunman the instant she had, they would both be dead, as well.
“You saved our lives,” he said.
“No. I just pointed. You are the one who pushed us down below the path of the bullets.”
Carter took a slow walk around the van, looking at the ground. Many of the Apache people were excellent trackers, and she knew Carter had this skill.
He confirmed her suspicion a moment later.
“Two men. Both in boots. One is about one-eighty and the other slighter, maybe one-fifty. They jogged down to the van and stopped there.” He pointed to the place beside Mora.
Was that where they took the shot that killed Landers? she wondered.
“The smaller one circled the van around the back. He went slow, and he stopped at the door. They followed us to the river channel but went no farther. Then they both walked back up the bank.”
She held her arms folded over her body as the cold reality of this situation chilled her heart.
“Did you see if they wore police uniforms?” he asked.
“I didn’t notice.”
“I’m going to take her gun. Look around and see if there is anything else worth carrying.”
Amber searched the van and found a half consumed bottle of green tea and took that. Carter returned Mora’s phone to his pocket and took Landers’s service weapon.
“I have to go back to the road,” he said.
“Why?”
“I need to leave a marker for my brothers.”
She didn’t know if he meant his actual brothers or members of his tribe. But it didn’t matter.
“It’s dangerous. You will be seen by passing cars.”
“I’ll be careful.”
She nodded, and he gave her a swift kiss before jogging away. Amber pressed her fingers to her lips. His kiss was quick and possessive. She watched him go and then saw him drop to the ground, waiting. A moment later she heard a car pass. Then he moved out of sight.
She stood trembling, waiting for him to reappear. Seconds ticked by, and finally she saw him, trotting back to her.
“They wiped away the trail of the van. You could miss it easily,” he said.
“What marker did you leave?” she asked.
“Five flat stones, stacked one on the other.”
“Like a trail marker?”
“Yes.”
Carter led them a short distance from the van and left more marks, though these he scratched in the dirt. She recognized them as Native symbols but did not know the meaning.
He drew a crooked arrow and a bull’s eye, and what looked like a butterfly and then several wagon wheels.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He pointed at the crooked arrow first and then moved from one symbol to the next.
“This one is Lightning Snake. It means escape. It will tell them we made it out. This is Buffalo Eye and signifies the need for alertness. I hope they will read that our attackers are still out there. This is a saddlebag.”
“I thought it was a butterfly.”
He smiled. “Saddlebags mean a journey. It will tell them that we are traveling, and this means Hogans,” he said referring to the pictorial representation of the traditional domed dwelling of their people. “To let them know that we are traveling toward a town.”
“Which town? Phoenix or home?” she asked.
He drew one more symbol, a series of connected straight lines and one wavy one.
“Water,” she said.
Then he made a vertical line and the water symbol. He repeated this once more.
“Water. Dam. Water. Dam,” he said, pointing.
“Mesa Salado Dam, Antelope Lake, Red Rock Dam, Turquoise Lake, Hogan. Home at Turquoise Reservation.”
He nodded and gave her a smile.
“You said your younger brother Tommy was a Shadow Wolf. He reads sign.”
“Yes. And Jack, Ray and Dylan were marines. But more importantly we are Apache. They’ll know where to find us.”
She studied his work, hoping their people would find them quickly.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Why did you kiss me?”
His smile broadened. “That answer might take longer.”
He offered her the water bottle, and she took another swallow. Many rough miles lay between them and civilization. It was only February and approaching noon, and the temperature felt well into the eighties. And the dry heat of the desert was already stealing away their strength.
Carter motioned back to the dry wash. They picked their way carefully now, conserving energy and stopping at mid-afternoon when the sun had dipped enough to allow the wall of the wash to cast enough shade to sit in. They had the rest of the first bottle of water and ate the pretzels he had commandeered from the FBI’s stash.
The salt tasted so good she licked her fingers, and when she finished she found him watching her again. The lowered lids and the intent stare both made her stomach flutter and her body come to tingling awareness.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She flushed.
“And you can run like the wind.”
“Same goes for you,” she said, now letting her attention wander over the thirsty sand and wilted gray-green trees that hugged the banks waiting for rain.
“I hate it down here in the flats,” she admitted.
He nodded, understanding that. “We belong in the mountains.”
“I keep seeing their faces. All the ones I worked with.”
He wrapped an arm about her.
“They’ll be burying them soon,” she said. “This weekend, I’ll bet. And I won’t be there.”
“At least you won’t be buried with them.”
Her gaze flashed to his. Then she rested her head on his shoulder, not knowing if she should feel lucky or cursed.
“I’d do anything to catch that guy,” she said. “See that he goes to prison for the rest of his life.”
He gave her a squeeze. “I’ve been thinking about what you said back there, about him working with law enforcement. I’m afraid it makes a lot of sense.”
She sighed and snuggled closer.
“And, Amber? I haven’t seen anyone seriously since you left. Now I know why. I still want you.”
She tensed and lifted her head. “Carter, we’ve been apart a long time.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
“No,” she admitted. “Just afraid.”
He blew out a breath.
“What is it you are afraid of, Amber?”
“Besides dying?” she chuckled. “I don’t wan
t to be like my parents.”
“And what do you want?”
She sighed. “What I can’t have. To live near my sisters, watch my nephews grow up.” Be Turquoise Mountain Apache, she thought.
He noted that none of her ambitions involved changing her identity. He also noticed she did not say she wanted him.
“I wished you had come to me. Confided what he did.”
“You were in basic when I figured it all out.”
He stopped walking and turned to her. “Amber, you talk about trust. But you didn’t trust me to help you. You didn’t come to me for help when you needed it. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“You were gone, Carter. I was there alone.”
“You chose to handle it alone. I would have helped you. I’d like someone who believes in me enough to stick around, even when I don’t understand.”
She dragged her toe in the sand, making an arching line. “I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of being trapped.”
“Is that how you see our marriage?”
“At the time I did. You said I was my parents’ responsibility and then I would be yours. I don’t want to be passed along like a child, Carter. I want a partner, not a keeper.”
“I was eighteen, Amber. I was trying to be a man. Take care of things. Take care of you.”
“I know.”
“I can’t stop thinking of it and of us. I keep wondering if it could work between us.”
“Carter, we almost died again today. It’s natural to want to grab a hold of someone.”
“Not someone. You.”
She lifted a hand in the direction they had been heading, calling an end to the rest. “We should get moving.”
“Amber.”
“Not now, Carter. Please.”
“When? They came after us again. If you hadn’t recognized that guy, we might be dead right now. So I’m wondering, Amber, when is the right time to talk about the things that really matter? Things like how you smell and how you taste. And how much I want to make love to you again.”
“I don’t.”
“What do you want, Amber?”
She looked around with frantic eyes. “I just want to get out of this arroyo.”
