No Way Home

by Annette Dashofy

  The airport parking lot lights threw Allison’s lowered face into shadows, but her hunched shoulders and her hands shoved into her jeans pockets told Pete all he needed to know.

  “Hart Canyon,” she said.

  “Be a little more specific, please.”

  “You found the car in the ditch. How much more specific do you want?”

  Pete cleared his throat. “You told me the car wasn’t anywhere near where Logan and Zoe were staying.”

  She kicked at a pebble on the concrete. “Yeah.”

  Pete and Morales exchanged looks. The San Juan County detective was losing patience as quickly as Pete.

  “Who was behind the wheel?” Morales asked. His tone had hardened.

  Keeping her face lowered, Allison shook her head.

  Pete stepped between the girl and the detective, facing her. “Allison?”

  She didn’t move.

  Pete had run out of patience. “Allison, look at me.”

  Her shoulders hunched even closer to her ears, but she lifted her face enough to meet his gaze.

  “I don’t know who you’re protecting or why, but your brother and Zoe are out there alone, with some very bad men after them.”

  “They’re safe—”

  “No. They’re not. Listen to me.” Pete planted his fists on his hips and moved closer, looming over her. “You’re either going to tell us where to find Logan and Zoe, or you’re going to give us the name of the person who took you out there.”

  “And if I don’t?” Her defiant words carried a trembling squeak.

  The kid had moxie. Pete gave her that much. Not that he intended to admit it.

  “If you don’t,” Morales said, “you’ll probably go home to Pennsylvania as an only child. And you’ll have to watch your mother plan your late brother’s funeral.”

  A bit harsher than Pete would have said, but the raw threat worked. Even in the man-made lighting, he could see the color drain from her face.

  Allison withdrew her hands from her pockets and hugged herself. After a moment of letting Morales’s words sink in, she let out a damp sigh.

  “His name’s Billy Yellowhorse.” She shot an angry glare at the detective. “But you’ll never find him either.”

  Pete sent Allison with Rose back to the hotel in their new rental car. Morales had offered him a ride, and when Pete climbed into the pickup’s passenger seat, the detective had his phone pressed to his ear.

  “We’re headed out there now. Keep me posted,” he said and hung up.

  “Where are we headed?” Pete asked.

  “Out to where we found the abandoned car.” Morales turned the key and dropped the shifter into reverse. “You can get up to speed, and who knows? We might happen across something new in the process.” He backed out of the parking spot and shifted into drive. “Air One, our helicopter, is going to make another sweep of the area. Maybe the FLIR will pick up something this time.”

  Forward Looking Infrared Radar—a cool toy Pete had had a chance to play with a couple months ago. While looking for Zoe. “What about this Yellowhorse character? Are you familiar with him?”

  Morales cruised through the lot to the exit gate. “Never heard of him. Native. Navajo, most likely. While you were seeing your friends off, I asked a deputy to run the name and to call the tribal office in Shiprock too, in case he’s in their database but not ours. We’ll see if anything comes up.”

  Pete eyed the detective’s profile, lit by the truck’s instrument panel. “I have another name for you. Wolf Man. Know him?”

  Morales shot him a look. “Hell yes, I know him.” The gate lifted and the detective drove through. “He’s a person of interest in the Santiago girl’s homicide.”

  “I thought you suspected Logan Bassi.”

  “I do.” Morales shrugged. “Maybe. Either way, Wolf Man’s involved up to his ass. And if the Bassi boy turns up dead, Wolf will be my top candidate for the murder.”

  Pete’s jaw tightened. If Logan turned up dead, odds were good Zoe would be too. And if anything happened to Zoe, Pete would burn the entire state of New Mexico if that’s what it took to bring down the killer.

  “Remember I mentioned Detective Apodaca, who had been working this case?”

  “The one you replaced because he was shot?”

  “That’s the one. He was investigating Wolf when it happened. Apodaca hasn’t been able to tell us anything yet, but we’re pretty damn sure it was Wolf who gunned him down.”

  “Don’t suppose you know what his real name is.”

  “Wolf Man? He has a list of aliases as long as my arm. Fifteen or twenty at last count. We haven’t been able to determine which identity is his legal one.” Morales ticked off a half-dozen generic names, none of which meant anything to Pete. Until the detective said, “Calvin Bodine.”

  “Wait. Bodine?”

  “Yeah. Why? You think you know him?”

  “There’s a Cody Bodine working as a land man for Federated Petroleum in Monongahela County.”

  “Calvin Bodine. Cody Bodine. Interesting coincidence.” Morales grunted. “I hate coincidences.”

  Zoe grabbed the wrist of the hand clamped over her mouth. Not that screaming would do any good.

  The man shushed her. “It’s me,” he said in a loud whisper.

  The voice was vaguely familiar. Before Zoe could register the shadowy figure’s identity, Logan cried out, “Pony Boy.”

  Yellowhorse shushed them again. “Come on.” He caught Logan’s other arm. “Move.”

  They took off into the darkness once more, Logan between them, hopping on his one good foot. Zoe scrambled to keep up with the Navajo’s unfaltering stride. She wanted to ask where they were going, but it didn’t matter.

  Anywhere but here.

  Behind them, angry shouts announced the gunman had discovered the bullet-riddled mobile home was vacant. The Jeep’s engine revved.

  “Get down.” Yellowhorse dropped, dragging Logan and Zoe with him.

  Zoe slammed to the ground. A rock sliced her knee. Biting back a yelp, she managed to break the fall with her free hand before faceplanting.

  Yellowhorse threw himself on top of both of them. A human shield.

  The Jeep rumbled. Didn’t sound like it was coming closer. But it was on the move. The black of night suddenly lit up as high beams swept toward them. Zoe held her breath, certain the gunman could hear her heartbeat over the noise of the vehicle’s engine. The light swept over them. She flattened closer against the cool earth.

  Then the headlights angled away, leaving them once again in the dark.

  The Jeep must be circling, the men using it as a search beacon to locate their prey.

  Yellowhorse shifted on top of her and Logan. “They didn’t see us.” Even the unflappable Pony Boy sounded relieved. He rolled off them. Hoisted Logan from the ground. “Let’s go.”

  Zoe ignored the stabbing pains in her knee and clambered to her feet. She reclaimed her post at Logan’s side and blindly followed Yellowhorse’s lead.

  Calvin Bodine. Cody Bodine. As Pete mulled over the so-called coincidence, Morales’s phone rang. Were they one and the same?

  No. Even someone as elusive as Wolf Man couldn’t be two places at once.

  Morales’s tight voice cut through Pete’s thoughts. “We’re on our way.”

  “To where?” Pete asked.

  The detective tossed his phone into one of the cup holders on the center console and gunned the big Ford’s diesel engine. “We just got a report from our helo. Firefight out near Navajo Dam.”

  “What do you mean? Firefight?” Pete didn’t like the sounds of this at all.

  “Shots fired. Lots of them. The FLIR picked up multiple thermal images.”

  Pete wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. “Where’s Navajo Dam?”


  It took a moment for Morales to reply. “About eighteen miles from where we found your friend’s abandoned car.”

  Pete knew without doing the time difference calculations that he’d rousted Baronick from slumber with his phone call. But when Pete mentioned the Calvin and Cody Bodine “coincidence,” Baronick’s groggy voice cleared. He promised to haul the land man’s ass out of bed and get back to Pete ASAP.

  The drive to wherever the hell they were going seemed to take forever. Pete kept an eye on the dashboard clock and knew well over an hour had passed.

  A firefight. In a remote area. Not all that far from Zoe’s last known location.

  He wanted to yank Morales from the driver’s seat so he could take the helm and force more speed from the truck.

  Pete’s head knew better. They had gone off the real road miles ago and were careening nearly out of control through rocks and brush and gullies. His perception of the surroundings was limited to what the headlights revealed. Once the sun came up—which was hours away—he suspected he’d be grateful for Morales’s skilled handing of the terrain.

  But damn it, Pete’s heart wanted to get there now. Better yet, an hour ago.

  Hang on, Zoe. Just hang on.

  Morales answered his cell phone for the umpteenth time, revealing little on his end of the conversation.

  In the distance Pete made out headlights. Two stationary vehicles. “Is that our destination?” he asked once the detective hung up.

  “That’s it. And good news. No fatalities.”

  Pete breathed. “They’re all right.”

  Morales gave a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe. Let’s withhold any assumptions at least until we get there.”

  Which still took too damned long. After several more long minutes of lurching over and around rocks and arroyos, they pulled up to two green and white San Juan County Sheriff’s Office pickup trucks with their headlights aimed at what had once been a mobile home.

  Pete leapt from the truck before it came to a complete stop. Morales’s shouts only brushed his awareness, not wholly registering. Pete strode toward the crime scene, searching for a familiar blonde. Zoe, where the hell are you?

  A strong hand grabbed his arm. Tried to jerk him to a stop. But he shrugged free and trudged onward.

  “Chief Adams. Stop.” This time the voice beside him made it through to his muddled mind. Morales’s firm grasp halted him in his tracks. “You can’t go charging in like that, and you know it. This isn’t your jurisdiction.”

  Pete clenched his fists. Get a grip. He nodded. Then he met Morales’s gaze. “I need to know about victims.”

  The detective’s stern expression relaxed. “Let’s go find out.”

  Pete fell into step beside Morales as they approached one of the Sheriff’s Office pickups. The detective introduced Pete to the uniformed sergeant before saying, “Give me an update.”

  “Apparently one vehicle drove in here and started firing into the trailer.” The sergeant pointed to a churned area in the rocks and sand. “Looks like the vehicle drove around some over there.” He aimed a thumb toward the opposite direction from which Pete and Morales had come. “Then it took off heading northeast. Air One’s doing a search and we have another unit tracking them on the ground.”

  “What about the trailer’s occupants?” Pete asked.

  “There weren’t any. I checked for victims as soon as I arrived.”

  The anxiety throbbing in Pete’s temples eased. Slightly. Zoe and Logan weren’t here. Most likely never had been here. Some kids out joyriding probably used the old mobile home for target practice. But that only meant he was no closer to finding Zoe than he had been when he stepped off the plane.

  Another figure, backlit by the second pickup’s headlights, headed toward them. Although the man was in shadows, Pete could see he carried a rifle in one hand and appeared to have something else in the other.

  Morales introduced the deputy to Pete before asking him, “What have you got there?”

  “I found two firearms inside.” He set the rifle and a revolver on the pickup’s hood. “Neither has been fired. Looks like someone’s definitely been staying here. There’s camping equipment, bottled water, and a bunch of canned and packaged food. And this.” He deposited a woman’s handbag on the hood next to the guns.

  In spite of the darkness, Pete recognized the purse. He took a step closer, fighting the urge to snatch it. “That’s Zoe’s.”

  The deputy eyed him. “The wallet inside has a Pennsylvania driver’s license for a Zoe Chambers.”

  Pete looked at Morales, who appeared concerned, but Pete had a feeling he was more worried about the Pennsylvania police chief going off the reservation than about the missing Pennsylvania paramedic or the missing kid.

  If Pete had been home, he’d have called out the neighboring departments and the county and the state police to find Zoe. Here, he was one man, out of his element, at the mercy of a department where no one owed him any favors. Where no one cared about the woman he loved.

  Right now, he’d give about anything to have Wayne Baronick at his side.

  Morales elbowed Pete out of his rising panic. “Let’s go,” the detective said.

  “Where?”

  “Where do you think?” Morales tipped his head in the direction the sergeant had indicated a moment ago. Northeast. “I want the Bassi kid. You want the Chambers woman. Whoever shot this place up is after both of them. Are you coming with me or aren’t you?”

  The anxiety dissolved into determination. “I’m right behind you, Detective.”

  Twenty-seven

  The pickup rocked hard to one side. Then the other. In the backseat, Logan cried out in pain as Zoe did her best to maintain her balance and to stabilize the boy’s injured ankle. She wanted to order Yellowhorse to take it easy. On the other hand, she wanted him to hurry up and get them the hell outta there. She split the difference and kept her mouth shut.

  “I can’t tell if it’s broken,” she said to Logan. Her skilled fingers palpated the now swollen joint.

  “Does it make a difference?” he asked through clenched teeth. “I can’t walk on it, let alone run.”

  She wished like hell for some supplies from the ambulance. Even a basic first aid kit would help. She glanced at the back of Yellowhorse’s head. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”

  “There is a cabin near the dam. I checked earlier and no one is there. If we are spotted, people will assume we are there to fish.”

  She hadn’t expected a straight answer from him. A fishing cabin? Near a dam? Probably little more than a plywood shanty with an outhouse. Still, it had to beat the trailer they’d been in. “Any chance you have some first aid supplies there?”

  She noticed Yellowhorse’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “Yes,” he said. “You’ll be able to patch up our friend.”

  The truck bucked and jounced. Logan yelped. But then the ride leveled out. Zoe looked through the front window. Painted lines marked the pavement visible in the headlights.

  They were on a real road. She let out a breath and relaxed her hold on Logan’s ankle resting in her lap. Behind them, nothing.

  For the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself the luxury of thinking about something other than immediate survival.

  “Where’s Allison?” she asked.

  “I left her with her mother and grandmother. I hope they are in Pennsylvania by now. Or on their way.”

  She couldn’t make out Logan’s face, but suspected he was as skeptical as she was.

  They drove on in silence, passing no one. And no distant headlights trailed them. They’d lost the Jeep.

  She hoped.

  With the adrenaline drained away, her eyelids grew heavy. The next thing she knew, a slamming door jarred her wide awake. They were no longer moving. Logan sat up
a little straighter, and the door next to Zoe opened to reveal Yellowhorse.

  She blinked in the light. How on earth had she managed to fall asleep? And how long had she slept?

  “We are here,” the Navajo said. “Wait in the truck. I’ll check the cabin and turn on the lights.”

  “Is it safe?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with fear. “I mean, to have lights on.”

  “I believe so, yes. No one will think anything of it here.”

  “Hiding in plain sight?” Zoe asked.

  “Yes.”

  For the first time, she had a feeling she could read him. Yes, they were hiding in plain sight, because hiding in the middle of nowhere hadn’t worked out so well.

  And maybe this wouldn’t either.

  Which brought up a question she’d been afraid to ask. “Those men in the Jeep…with the gun…it was Wolf, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Yellowhorse started to turn.

  Zoe sidestepped, blocking him. “You kept insisting we were safe at that trailer. That no one would find us. But they did. How?”

  The Navajo’s brow creased. “I don’t know.” He moved around her and walked away into the darkness.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Zoe,” Logan said. The kid sounded like he was about to burst into tears. “I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

  “You didn’t. I volunteered for the job, remember?”

  A moment later, a light came on inside the cabin followed by another one on the porch. Zoe still couldn’t see much, but so far it looked better than what she’d expected. Yellowhorse stepped through the door and strode toward the truck.

  “Let’s get him inside,” the Navajo said to Zoe.

  She jumped down and leaned back in to support Logan’s injured ankle. “Can you slide yourself out?”

  Grimacing in pain, he slid across the backseat until he perched on the edge. Zoe carefully lowered the bad leg before resuming her position as a human crutch. Yellowhorse took the other side, and the trio shambled their way onto the porch and through the door.