Ben had expected criticism, sarcasm, even outright hostility. He hadn’t expected support. “Thanks, Cap.”
“Don’t mention it.” He readjusted the headphones. “You’re late.”
“Right.” Ben grabbed the wand and jogged out the back door, which is how he nearly collided with Dana. “Morning.”
“Ben.” She didn’t smile or look at him, just marched on through like a commander to battle. He realized then that’s what she was. Each day she headed into combat, forced to battle anew her fears and her ghosts. Every morning she had to put aside the things from her past, which wouldn’t remain buried. Now her fears and insecurities had taken on an additional form in Drogan.
He stood staring after her, seeing clearly what he’d done wrong over the last two days. He hadn’t made it one bit easier for her. Instead, he had applied more pressure.
He stared down at the wand in his hand. The urge to rap himself on the head with it was almost overpowering.
“Have you forgotten how to use that?” Sayeed had walked in behind Dana and stood staring at him.
“It’s not the wand I’ve forgotten how to use.” Ben moved past him, slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s my brain.”
He walked out to the parking lot, whistling as he stepped into the sunshine. As he checked her Honda, he thought back over every conversation they’d had since the night at Cimarron Canyon. How could he have been so stupid?
Even the talk with his granddad had done absolutely no good. He’d been about as patient as a three-year-old on Christmas morning.
Dana was scared, exhausted, and under extreme pressure. She’d told him so in a dozen different ways. He’d responded by scaring her more, wearing her out, and cranking up the pressure. Way to go, ace.
Funny thing was, it had taken an old codger like Captain to make him see the truth.
He headed back inside, intent on a new path.
Today he would stick to doing his job, doing it better than he had.
He would find extra ways to help her, but he’d be subtle about it. He’d be patient. As granddad had reminded him, it wasn’t easy for a man, but it was possible.
He walked back inside, went to the workroom, and decided to take another look at the forensic evidence from the semi-truck Drogan had blown up. He had no doubt the two incidents were related. If he could find a common denominator between the explosion at the cabin and the explosion with the semi, he’d begin to lay the groundwork for a criminal trial. He might also find a clue as to where Drogan purchased his materials.
Both would aid Dana in closing this case. It was time he started helping her and quit being a thorn in her side.
Three hours later he was surprised when she walked into his workroom. Pulling off his goggles, he smiled at her. The look seemed to catch her off guard.
“I’d like you to come and look at something Nina’s found.”
“Absolutely.” He set the goggles on the table, washed his hands so he wouldn’t taint anything with explosive residue, and followed her back into the main room.
Though her shoulders were still rigid with tension, she seemed to relax when he started talking to her about the work he was doing.
“I think Drogan might be mixing some of his own materials. I’m finding tiny particles of a unique mineral. I’m not sure why he’d put it in the compound. I still need to do some testing, but why it’s there is less important than where it’s from. If I can narrow down the where, we might be able to locate his other base. Sayeed thinks it could be from the Enchanted Circle area.”
Dana stopped and stared at him as they reached Nina’s desk. “Nice work, Ben. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He plopped down in the chair across from Nina’s desk. “So what’s up?”
Nina looked to Dana for approval.
“Tell him,” Dana said, moving her left arm behind her back.
Ben pretended not to notice, crossed his legs at the ankle, and grinned at them both. “You two must have a really terrible job you want me to do.”
“Why would you say that?” Nina asked, her solemn expression not giving away a thing.
“You’re ganging up on me. Dana would normally just order it done.”
“She knows you’d say no,” Captain piped in.
“Uh-oh. Even Cap’n knows. Now I’m intrigued.” Ben crossed his arms and pretended to look put upon. “Can’t leave a man alone with his explosives. That would be too simple.”
“Give him the book, Nina.” Dana used her right hand to wave at something Nina was holding.
Nina reached into her workspace cabinet and pulled out an old, blue book. It didn’t look like a bestseller.
“That? That’s what you want me to do?”
“This is what was in the backpack—The Grapes of Wrath.” Nina pushed the book across the desk toward Ben. “It’s not the same book. The one Drogan had has been sent to the regional lab, but it’s… identical.”
“I don’t want it.” He pushed it back.
“Told you he wouldn’t do it,” Captain said.
“Come on, Ben. There could be some clue to Drogan’s plans here.” Dana didn’t smile at him exactly, but she had stopped scowling. “You’ve figured out Drogan better than any of us. We need you to read it.”
“Look how big this is. It’s bigger than some of the military manuals I had to digest.”
“Plainly, he’s not a reader.” Captain leaned back triumphantly, as if he’d predicted Ben’s illiteracy.
Ben picked up the book, felt its weight, and set it back on the desk. “Give it to Captain to read.”
Nina shook her head. “He’s read it already. We want your take on it.”
Red passed through the room, carrying yet another bucket of chicken.
“Give it to Red then. He needs something to do while he’s eating all that chicken.” Ben opened the book and actually did feel a small surge of panic. “Look how small this print is. What was wrong with publishers back then? There wasn’t even a paper shortage.”
“Ben, Nina thinks Drogan may be identifying with one of the main characters, actually the family the story is about. If you read it, even just the tabbed portions she’s marked, maybe something will stand out to you.”
Nina nodded, but didn’t voice her own opinions.
“Want to tell me what you’re thinking, Nina?” Ben drummed his fingers against the cover of the book.
“I’d rather wait until you’ve finished it.”
“Were you planning on retiring from this office?”
Captain’s laughter surprised them all. Ben picked up the book and trudged back to his workroom. He’d agreed to be patient. He’d even made progress all morning. Now this. It seemed no good deed went unpunished—something he needed to remember for future reference.
Fifty-six
Dana sat in her office and tried to puzzle out the change in Ben. He’d definitely been unhappy about his new assignment, but something else was going on. She traced back through the day, running the images through her mind like the pages of a flip book.
He’d scowled at her when she’d walked in, obviously still hurt about last night. She’d expected as much, which is why she’d barreled right past him. She distinctly remembered being able to feel his gaze boring a hole through her back.
Before she’d walked into her office, Sayeed had asked Ben if he’d forgotten how to use the wand. She’d heard his reply. It had struck her as odd at the time, but she’d been so intent on escaping into her inner domain that she’d slammed the door shut and forgotten it.
What had he said? She replayed the scene again in her mind. Something about it was his brain he’d forgotten how to use. That was it!
A pretty strange thing to say, even for Ben.
She hadn’t seen him all morning, which was unusual. Yesterday, he’d passed her window at least once an hour and scowled at her.
Then she’d gone into his workshop. She had put it off, dreading being alone with him, expecting him to b
ring up last night. Instead, he’d been genuinely excited about the progress he’d made on Drogan’s case.
She looked up at her wall of honor. They were good men, all three of them. Ben Marshall was as well. She’d known it the moment she’d met him. His shot on the semi, the way he’d worked with the Mifflin family, even the way he’d accepted Nina’s book, all indicated how dedicated he was to his job.
He’d been no happier about the reading assignment than a high school student forced to study during summer break.
The look on his face had made her want to laugh out loud. On the one hand, he’d looked generally aghast, but she hadn’t doubted for a moment he would do it. Something told her he was playing the clown—trying to ease the tension in the room.
Maybe that was the difference she had sensed. He’d taken the focus off their relationship and put it back on the mission. She didn’t know why, but she was grateful. Her neck felt slightly less stiff than it had when she’d arrived this morning.
Now if they could make a break with this case.
Her personal life, she could ignore.
Or so she told herself.
Then Clay appeared at her door. “Tafoya’s on line 2.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. He says it’s about Drogan.”
Fifty-seven
Twenty minutes later, Dana hung up the phone and went in search of Ben. She’d barely stepped out of her office when she walked into Sayeed—literally.
One glance at his face told her the day was snowballing into disaster.
“There’s something you need to see. I want to show you first, but I think you’re going to want to share it with the entire staff.”
“All right. Should I come to your work station?”
“It might be better if we have some privacy.” Sayeed searched her face. “It is rather startling, but I believe it’s a step forward in our investigation.”
Without another word, Dana ushered him back into her office.
“I can access the files from your terminal.” Sayeed waited for her permission.
When she nodded, he sat down behind her desk, entered his own pass code, and pulled up three files. Though she felt dread growing in her stomach like a monstrous ache, she stepped behind him.
“This first picture is of Angela Dixon. She is the cousin of LuAnn.”
“Our waitress at the diner?”
“Correct. She is the same age as Mr. Drogan and attended the same high school. I found the picture through one of the Internet services that allows you to contact lost classmates.”
Dana reached for her desk as her legs began to tremble.
“Finding the old picture was simple enough. Discovering her current whereabouts proved impossible. I finally resorted to contacting LuAnn and telling her you might be in danger. She gave me Mrs. Dixon’s current name and address as well as a picture.”
Sayeed clicked on the second file and a photo of a pleasant, middle-aged woman appeared. “This picture is of Mrs. Dixon now. She has moved to Canada and is fifty-eight years old. This picture isn’t particularly relevant, but I was able to speak with her. I’ve sent you a file with a transcription of our conversation.”
Dana backed slowly around her desk and sank into the chair. She watched as he pulled up the last file, though it didn’t surprise her a bit. She didn’t think anything would ever surprise her again. She saw the third photo come up, as if she were watching it from a great distance. Of course, she knew that picture. She remembered having it taken and attaching it to her paperwork when she’d come to work for the Taos office.
“This is your picture, Dana.” Sayeed turned to look at her, his black eyes sorrowful. “I wasn’t here when you first came to work in this office—”
“Five years ago.” Her voice seemed to come from somewhere else. The first and last pictures might have been the same person, especially if viewed from a distance. Dixon had a better nose, in Dana’s opinion. She’d never really liked her own nose—it was a tad too large. But their eyes, jawline, and cheekbones were all identical.
“Your hair was shorter then, like Angela’s. When I modified your picture to black and white, as hers is, the similarities are even more apparent.”
Dana stared at the screen as if it would change, then turned again to Sayeed.
“Drogan thinks I’m related to Angela Dixon?”
Sayeed leaned forward on her desk. “Mrs. Dixon couldn’t tell me exactly what Drogan thinks, of course. She hasn’t heard from him in over thirty years since he came back from Vietnam.”
“She spoke with him then?”
Sayeed looked down at his hands, then back up at her. “Yes. He asked her to go away with him. When she refused, he became irrational. She was already married with children, but he wouldn’t accept that her life had moved on while he was gone. He began stalking her.”
“There’s nothing in the court records about this. Drogan has no criminal file.” Dana stood and paced around her office.
“No. She never filed any formal charges, though she did speak with the local authorities. She couldn’t prove it was Drogan, but she was certain nonetheless. I put it all in the file.” He turned back to her computer, signed off, and stood.
“So you think five years ago Drogan transferred his obsession to me?”
“I don’t know, Dana. We need to share this information with the rest of the team. Maybe they can reach a consensus. I believe it’s possible he is confused. Perhaps for Drogan time froze in 1978. He may think you are Angela Dixon. The last time they spoke, he swore to kill her if she ever returned to the Taos area.”
“So she moved to Canada?” Dana’s voice squeaked in spite of herself.
“Her husband was offered a transfer with his multinational firm. It seemed expedient to accept the offer.”
Dana stood and walked to her door, forcing her gaze away from the wall of honor as she passed it. “Thank you, Sayeed. I can’t say I like what you found, but it may answer some questions.”
“Unfortunately, it makes your situation more uncomfortable. Should I forward this information to the rest of the staff, or will you go over it at tomorrow’s briefing?”
She tried to pull all the pieces together—a seventy-year-old book, Tafoya’s call, now this.
“Dana?” Sayeed reached out and touched her arm.
“Please forward the files to everyone, explaining it exactly as you did to me.”
Sayeed nodded and left without another word.
Dana closed her door, unsure now about seeking out Ben. Once he learned of this development, he would want to encase her in a bubble. A part of her actually liked the idea. Somewhere cozy and safe.
The grown-up Dana knew there were no such places.
So she stood and gathered her things, then went in search of the people she would need to continue the investigation. But when it was time to leave the building, Dana didn’t complain about her bodyguards.
Fifty-eight
Ben threw his pack into the backseat of Dana’s Honda the next morning, then climbed into the passenger seat. He wasn’t happy with the fact that Dana insisted on traveling while Drogan was apparently lying in wait around some corner, but his every argument had been shot down—all via e-mail since she still wouldn’t resume their nightly phone calls.
He considered the e-mails a step forward in their relationship. He wasn’t delusional though. He was riding shotgun because Tafoya had asked for him. Dana had told him as much in her e-mail the night before, but she wouldn’t reveal anything else about the meeting.
“Sure you don’t mind driving?” Ben asked.
She shook her head, causing her brown hair to slip forward. “I’m surprised you’re not arguing more. Men always want to drive.” She pushed her sunglasses up and pulled out into the early morning traffic.
Ben tapped the book he’d dropped in his lap as he was buckling his seatbelt. “Thought I’d get in a little reading on the way to the reservation.”
Dana lowered h
er sunglasses and peered at him over the top. “Seriously?”
“Yes. This is actually pretty interesting, and I think I see where Nina was headed.” He opened midway through the book and found his spot.
“You read half the book yesterday?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m not buying it, Marshall.”
“Wouldn’t lie to you, boss.”
She maneuvered the car into the westbound lane, then set it on cruise. “Any idea what Tafoya wants?”
“Nope. I haven’t talked to him since Sunday.”
“Why did you talk to him then?”
Ben placed his finger at the spot he was reading and looked up at her. “I went out there in the morning to attend services.”
“Services?”
“Right. Services.”
“What kind of services?”
“Church.”
Dana tapped her hand against the wheel, seemingly preoccupied with the road.
Thinking he’d answered her questions, Ben went back to the problems of the Joad family in Steinbeck’s book. He was pretty sure Drogan saw himself as Tom, the main character. He was anxious to return to the office and talk to Nina about it.
“Apache church?” Dana asked.
“Huh?” Ben turned the page, engrossed in the descriptions of the government camps during the Great Depression.
“Could you put the book down for a minute, Ben?”
At the note of aggravation in her voice, he snapped it shut, then remembered he’d forgotten to mark his place. Jerking the book back open, he scanned for the spot he’d been reading.
“Ben!”
“Right. Closing it.” He set the book on the floorboard and turned to give her his full attention. Even though she looked utterly exhausted—he’d glimpsed dark circles under her eyes before she’d rammed the sunglasses back on—she was more beautiful than ever. She wore her customary white blouse and had added a white scarf to her hair to keep it out of her face.
He thought of telling her how nice she looked, but stopped himself in time. Patience.
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