by Aimée Thurlo
As he started toward the door, the dispatcher came in and handed the chief a note.
“Nick,” Mora said, calling him back. “Get over to the Cultural Center. Theresa Redwing called and asked that we send a deputy. Someone’s been casing the joint. I’ll be standing by if you need backup.”
“On my way,” Nick said, and hurried out.
Nick drove directly to the Center, eyes open for strangers or anything out of the ordinary. Noting that there were no other vehicles parked next to the Center, he climbed out of his Jeep. Suddenly Rita Korman came charging out the front door and the skin at the back of his neck began to prickle.
Nick looked around the area again, wondering what he’d missed. “Is there an emergency?” His eyes narrowed, and his hand rested on the butt of his pistol.
“Not at the moment, but it’s about time one of you officers got here.”
Patrick, a tall Anglo man in his early thirties, came out and greeted him calmly. “Please come in. We’ll talk in my office,” he said, giving his stepmother a warning look that stopped her in her tracks as she started to follow.
Nick followed the younger male Korman in, then waited for Patrick to close the door. “Sit down, Deputy Black Raven,” he said, then walked to his desk. “We have a serious problem. Lately, we’ve noticed that Eden Maes, the daughter of the woman who stole some artifacts from this center many years ago, has been casing us out. It’s making all of us very nervous.”
Nick stared at Patrick for a moment. He knew why Eden was keeping an eye on them, but that wasn’t information he cared to share. “What exactly has she been doing that has you worried?”
“She’s out there every day at lunch, and usually part of the afternoon as well. She watches everything, and seems to be taking notes. I think she may be planning a robbery. Can you arrest her, or at least take her in for questioning?”
“She has a right to sit wherever she wishes in the Plaza. She’s a teacher who works mornings, eats lunch, and is probably just grading papers. You have lunch outside some times, don’t you?”
Rita suddenly came into the room. “I’m sorry to burst in on you two, but the doors here are paper thin and I don’t think Patrick is explaining this very well. This Maes woman poses a threat to us, and we need to have this resolved once and for all. Years ago, when you two were just kids, the tribe entrusted us with religious artifacts that we kept under lock and key. But we failed to live up to the pueblo’s trust. Items were stolen right from under our noses by her mother. I won’t have this happen again. You have to find out what she’s up to and put a stop to it before it’s too late.”
“The woman is perfectly within her rights to sit there and work or eat,” Nick said flatly.
“Don’t you see what’s really going on? Since she hasn’t lived here for many years, she probably doesn’t know that we no longer store ceremonial items for pueblo societies. She’s using the excuse of working at that table to get to know our employees’ schedules and daily routines. She’s undoubtedly planning to rob us.”
“A robbery,” Nick said, trying not to smile. Recalling the way Eden had handled his police baton, like a pseudo-baseball bat, he couldn’t quite make the mental leap to picturing Eden with a mask and a gun.
“You think we’re just being paranoid?” Rita groaned, shaking her head. “You’re making a big mistake. I won’t have you dismissing our concerns like this. I’ll take our complaint all the way to the pueblo governor if I have to.”
Rita walked to the wrought-iron-barred window and pointed Eden out to Nick. “There she is again, sitting at that same picnic table. She’s watching the doors, and us inside.”
Nick looked out. Looking at Eden was like having a ray of sunlight touch his cold heart. He felt compelled to protect her from even this vague form of harassment. “See that burrito in her hands? I’d say she’s having lunch. That also probably explains why she’s sitting at a picnic table.”
“You aren’t going to take any of this seriously, are you?” Rita’s voice rose in anger.
Patrick took Rita’s arm, and giving Nick a sign to wait, led her out of his office. He returned a moment later. “I have to apologize for my stepmother’s outburst. She’s usually not like that, but she’s genuinely worried that something else will happen here at the Center. Last time, when the mask and fetish were stolen, she blamed herself, and took it very hard.”
“I’ll increase my patrols,” he assured Patrick, standing. Suddenly a gunshot reverberated inside the building. Nick immediately ran down the hall toward the sound, thumbing loose the safety strap and reaching for his pistol. Standing just outside the open doorway, he glanced inside the room. Rita was standing by a large floor safe, her face the color of chalk. A small, semiautomatic pistol was in her hand, and a shell casing lay on the floor.
Instinct and training made him glance out the window, trying to determine the trajectory of the bullet. That’s when he saw Eden across the way, looking around frantically, trying to figure out what had happened. Fear was etched clearly on her face. Waves of anger swept over him as he realized that he could have lost her to one stray bullet.
Nick traversed the room in three steps, and took the pistol from Rita’s shaking hand. Checking the handgun, he noted the clip was missing, then saw it still clutched in Rita’s other hand.
“What happened?” he demanded, taking it from her. Looking around, he finally found the small bullet hole in the adobe wall beneath the window. The bullet had not penetrated the compacted earth.
“I thought I’d get my brother’s .22 caliber pistol out of the safe,” Rita said, her voice unsteady. “I borrowed it a few days ago, because for the next week or two we’re going to be keeping late hours here. I’d taken the clip out. What was that round doing in the chamber? Wayne should have seen to it that it was unloaded properly.”
“We’re just glad you’re all right.” Patrick, who’d come into the office just behind Nick, put one hand on Rita’s shoulder. “Take the pistol with you, Deputy. I don’t want that thing hanging around here. I hate guns. Wayne can pick it up at the police station when he wants it back.”
“You can’t just hand it over,” Rita argued. “We need to protect ourselves, Patrick. You can’t go on pretending that everything’s okay. We’re going to be robbed. You’ll see.”
“Perhaps you should listen to your stepson,” Nick said. “Had the bullet passed through a window or out the doorway and killed someone, you would have been charged with manslaughter.” His fist clenched and his blood went cold as the full extent of the danger Eden had been in really hit home. “You would have faced prison time, not to mention having to live with the knowledge that you killed or maimed someone,” he said, trying to keep his tone steady and free of the anger that tore at him. “We don’t require gun licenses in New Mexico unless it’s for someone who carries a concealed weapon. But owning a gun carries responsibilities.”
Thinking of what just happened sobered her. “I just don’t want people to think I take my responsibility to this Center lightly. Many still believe that part of the reason the sacred artifacts were stolen was because Marc and I neglected to have proper security measures in place. That’s not true, but people continue to blame us.” She paused and in a shaky voice added, “I can’t go through something like that again.”
Patrick led Nick out into the hall. “Don’t worry. There’ll be no more guns brought into this Center unless they’re being carried by a qualified security guard or a police officer.”
“Keep an eye on your stepmother,” he said firmly. “She seems to be really stressed out.”
He nodded. “She wasn’t always so nervous about this Center. Her attitude really changed after the theft. I was just a kid back then, but even I noticed it. There was a lot of blame being passed around, but Rita was her own worst enemy. She just couldn’t seem to let it go. She kept turning things over in her mind, wondering if she should have done this or that.”
Nick nodded and wondered if Patri
ck realized that what he was really saying was that Rita was a loose cannon when it came to Eden.
“I know what you’re thinking, Deputy,” Patrick said, “but you’re wrong. My stepmother didn’t take that pistol so she could shoot Eden, or even threaten her. She’s into health, exercise, and environmental issues. Rita won’t even go dove hunting with my dad and me. She’s not a killer.”
Nick nodded, but remained unconvinced. All he really knew was that now he had even more reason for keeping a close eye on the Cultural Center. Rita didn’t want Eden on the pueblo, but he wasn’t certain how far she’d be willing to go to insure her departure.
Nick walked outside and climbed into his unit, glancing back one last time to look at Eden. She was still sitting at the picnic table, her attention focused on some papers.
As the sun danced on her silky, chestnut hair, he suddenly remembered how it had felt cascading over his naked chest one night so long ago. Nick groaned softly as his body became impossibly hard. The woman was driving him crazy. He had to find a way to keep her out of his every waking thought before she staked a new claim on his heart.
Chapter Eight
Nick was ready to drive off when Rita waved at him, calling him back. Parking, he went to meet her.
“Deputy, I’m sorry to keep you, but I’d like another moment to speak to you before you leave.”
“No problem.” Nick studied Rita Korman, a lean, fit-looking woman in her mid- to late fifties. She seemed composed, but what he read in her eyes was fear and frustration, a bad combination by anyone’s standards.
“I want you to understand where I’m coming from. I’ve spent the last twenty-five years working for your tribe, and I really do care about this place. That’s why having that particular woman watching us unnerves me so much.”
He nodded thoughtfully. Rita sounded sincere and had held his gaze steadily. “I can understand that. We all want to protect what we care about.”
“I’ve done my best to safeguard the Center, believe me. Our security layout here is second to none. The only thing missing is an armed guard, but the tribe’s funding isn’t sufficient to cover it.”
“What kind of antitheft devices do you have in place? For instance, are the video cameras tamper-proof?”
“They certainly are. And that’s not all. Would you like to take a look? I’d be glad to show you.”
Rita escorted him through the entire building, including the loading dock, then led him to her office.
“The old safe over there is just for petty cash and over-flow, but the large safe built into the closet is state-of-the-art. It would take several hours and a professional safe-cracker to even make a dent in it.”
Rita was paranoid, but at least the Center was better off for it, Nick mused. “Tell me something. Theft isn’t something normally associated with our pueblo. How do you explain what happened twenty years ago?”
She considered it for a long time before speaking. “We all know that Isabel Maes took the artifacts. My guess is she did it to get back at the tribe. She must have harbored some pretty deep resentments since no matter what she did, she was never really accepted on the pueblo.”
“Do you have any theories about where the artifacts really went? Or where they might be now?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been over and over that. I think we’re still missing a piece of the puzzle. I figure that Isabel took the artifacts to her husband. As a veteran cop with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, he would have certainly known the right fences. Is that the correct term? I’ve heard it on T.V. cop shows,” she said, then seeing him nod, continued. “But if what I suspect is true, and the artifacts were passed to a fence, they’re long gone and this pueblo will never see them again. They’re probably in a private collection back east, or in California.”
“Hey, sis. What’s this I hear about an accident with my gun?”
Rita turned her head and saw her brother, Wayne, coming down the hall. “Hi, Wayne. I’ll fill you in on the way to the fitness center, okay?” She turned back to Nick. “You’ll have to excuse me, Deputy. I teach an aerobics class twice a week at my brother’s gym.”
Rita tried to escort Nick back to the door, but he remained where he was. “Can you get me a detailed description of the stolen items before you leave? Maybe a copy of what was given to the insurance company, if you still have it around.”
“No problem. I know where that’s kept. We never did box those records up because, as far as I’m concerned, that matter’s still pending.”
Rita walked to the reception area, went to Theresa Redwing’s workstation, and reached into the bottom drawer of the file cabinet behind her desk. A moment later, Rita handed Nick a copy of an old insurance form.
Nick studied it. The descriptions were there, but no photographs. “I don’t suppose there are photos anywhere?” he asked, suspecting the answer.
“You know the tribe prohibits having photographs taken of ritual objects. Believe me, the insurance company and I have both tried to get the Summer and Winter Chief to make an exception, but they’ve never budged.”
A few minutes later, Nick resumed his patrol. He hadn’t really planned it but, somehow, he found himself driving past Eden’s house. A twinge of disappointment bit into him when he saw that the curtains were drawn and no one appeared to be there. Cursing himself for acting like a love-sick idiot, he headed back out on patrol.
IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON by the time Eden headed home. Today she’d given the kids an assignment that would also help her out. She’d asked her class to gather information and draw historical maps showcasing the layout of the pueblo twenty years ago, and explain how things had changed. The kids would learn a lot about the pueblo’s recent history and, hopefully, it would give Nick and her some idea of where to search for the artifacts.
Following a spur of the moment impulse, she stopped by the tribal newspaper and set another plan in motion. Nick would disapprove, hating the fact that she hadn’t consulted with him first. But she had to do this for him. She’d overheard some of the teachers at school talking. Too many people thought that she was using Nick and getting him involved in a fight that would make him lifelong enemies at the pueblo. Her plan would point out to everyone that the fight was strictly her own. And, with luck, she might get a lead or two out of it.
After leaving the newspaper, Eden stopped at Mrs. Chino’s and picked up Christopher. “Hey, little love,” she said, shifting her squirming baby to get better hold of him.
Every time Christopher smiled, she could see a part of Nick mirrored there. Her heart did a funny little twist inside her as she realized that the three of them shared a blood bond that could never be broken.
By the time she reached her home, she saw Nick leaning against his department’s vehicle, waiting. Her heart began to pound. The flash of his eyes on her made her feel a simmering in her blood and a fire growing deep in her center. She met his gaze and seeing the anger that glittered in his dark eyes, knew that he’d learned of her visit to the paper in record time. Her guess was that they’d called him the minute she’d left. The young woman behind the desk had been very apprehensive about the ad Eden had wanted to place, and had even called the editor-in-chief before taking her money.
“We have to talk,” Nick clipped. “I just came from a meeting with Jerry Chevarria.”
“I didn’t know you had any interest in the pueblo’s weekly newspaper,” she said, unlocking the door and going inside.
“Don’t try to sidetrack me,” he said roughly. “Jerry told me that you visited him up shortly after noon and placed an ad. Why the hell didn’t you talk to me before you did something like that?”
She set Chris down in the playpen with his toys. “I don’t need your permission to conduct my life and my business.” She avoided looking directly at him, realizing the danger. The challenge in his voice was igniting her own anger and a reckless excitement that sparked the very air between them.
“You don’t get it? This is a police
matter. You can’t do whatever you please. Jerry told me that you were offering a five hundred dollar reward to anyone who could lead you to the cache of stolen goods or information leading to an indictment of the real criminals.”
“It’s no different than what those crime-stopper programs do,” she said. “For twenty years the police have made no progress at all, and there’s nobody even investigating this case anymore except me. Why do you have a problem with the fact that I’m doing something to get this case solved?”
“People are already trying to drive you out of here. By doing this, you’re turning yourself into an even bigger target.” His voice boomed in the room, but hearing Christopher’s whimper, he suddenly grew still.
Nick walked over to where the little boy was, then brushed his knuckles across his cheek. “Sorry about that, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was only hoping to scare some sense into your mom.”
Eden saw the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Chris, and it tore a piece of her heart away. Yet when Nick looked away from the baby and back at her, the cop he was overshadowed everything again. It was then that she remembered the many arguments between her mom and dad. Even in the midst of their anger, her parents had always been careful around her. Eden’s dad, in particular, had always gone out of his way to speak gently to Eden and reassure her, though it really hadn’t helped much. It was unbearable for a child to have to witness her parents trying to hurt each other.
“Don’t push this, Eden.” His face was hard, and there was an unmistakable tension about his jaw.
He looked formidable, anger and determination glittering in the darkness of his eyes. If the stakes hadn’t been as high as they were, she might have backed off. “We need to stir up the waters a bit and see what comes up. It’s the only way to find leads at this point.”
“A plan like this is going to bring out every lowlife for miles. You’ll get scam artists playing games with you, trying to get you to hand over cash any way they can. And, if the criminals you’re hoping to unmask are still around, and let me remind you that so far there’s been no evidence of that whatsoever, you’ll be presenting yourself as a target.”
