by Aimée Thurlo
“A Navajo tribal officer delivered a package for you. It’s at the downtown station.”
He nodded. “Good. I’d like to pick it up as soon as possible. It’s something I think you need—particularly when we speak to Navajo witnesses.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a very special jish—what some call a medicine pouch. When a Navajo sees that you honor our beliefs and are protected from the chindi, they’ll be more inclined to speak to you.”
“The chindi?”
“The good in a man merges with eternal harmony after death, but the evil side, the chindi, remains attached to this plane, waiting to create problems for the living.” He paused, then in a slow, deliberate voice, continued. “Even though you don’t share my beliefs, I wanted to protect you from a danger that is very real to me and those of my tribe.”
Valerie had spent most of her life proving how tough she was. Maybe because of that, no one had ever said that they wanted to protect her. His concern filled her with a warmth that soothed her soul, softening all the hard edges she’d kept firmly in place all these years.
Suddenly horrified by her response to him, she mentally shifted gears. “By the way, what was that thing about the notches? Looks like a saw blade, kinda.”
“Maybe I should just let your imagination come up with an answer,” he said with a teasing grin.
“Let me guess. You’re either a serial killer, or you like keeping track of the number of catfish you’ve gutted.”
He laughed. “Those weren’t notches. They’re teeth for sawing wood. My dagger’s a customized British commando knife.”
“You really had all of us going with that,” she said, laughing. “Remind me never to play poker with you.”
After they stopped at the station, Luca picked up a small box from the desk sergeant while she went to check her computer. Afterward, armed with Mae Nez’s address, they returned to the sedan, which was parked in an emergency vehicle space.
Once they were alone inside the unmarked cruiser, Luca slit open the box with a pocketknife and extracted the small, beaded leather pouch. “The contents of this jish are an extremely powerful, ancient form of protection. My father made this especially for you because, sometimes, the enemy you know least about is the one who poses the greatest threat.”
Even knowing that she didn’t share his beliefs, he’d cared enough to have this done. The gesture touched her deeply. “Thank you, and know that I’ll have your back all the way, just as you’ve covered mine.” She fastened the jish to her belt in the same way he wore his.
AS THEY DROVE AWAY from the station, silence settled between them. In that quiet, Luca became acutely aware of everything about Valerie. There was no doubt that she was a tough police officer, but he’d also caught glimpses of the gentle, feminine woman that lay within that strength. Fire and desire danced in her eyes when she looked at him, and that knowledge pounded through him, heating his blood. Sex was an appetite, and like hunger, it could be quickly and easily satisfied. Yet something warned him that taking her once would never be enough for him.
She was vastly different from Merilyn, the woman he’d intended to make his wife until fate had stepped in. Yet it was Valerie’s independent streak and that mixture of toughness and vulnerability that called to him. She was exciting to be with, challenging on almost every level. And that was the problem. He’d never run from a challenge in his life.
As the radio dispatcher called and she reported their location, Luca led his thoughts back down a more disciplined track. Caring held dangers he wanted no part of. Everything had two sides. Even the innocent yucca plant that had brought Man and Woman together had given birth to another, much darker emotion—jealousy.
“Do you enjoy police work?” he asked, focusing on a much safer topic.
“Law enforcement is the only work that ever called me. It’s what I was born to do,” she answered, sounding completely at ease talking about something she obviously loved. “It demands everything and it’s often round-the-clock, but I love it.”
“Our jobs don’t leave much time for a private life. Does that ever get to you?”
“I don’t live the kind of life most women would choose for themselves, that’s true enough. But most of my friends are in law enforcement, too, and understand the demands of my schedule. When I do have time off, I tend to spend it catching up on things I’ve left undone—like unpacking,” she added with a grin. “It’s a crazy lifestyle, but it suits me.”
Something in Valerie’s tone had spoken louder than her words. Even as she’d justified the long hours, he’d sensed her leaving something out.
When Merilyn had died, he’d kept to an unbelievably punishing schedule filled with Brotherhood business and police work. He hadn’t wanted time to think. The frantic pace—one similar to hers—had kept him from dwelling on things he couldn’t change.
As he glanced at Valerie he wondered what she was running from. He had a feeling it was from herself, but he had no idea why she’d feel the need to do that.
“So what’s life like for you on the Navajo Nation—the Rez, as you put it? Do cases come few and far between, or are they back-to-back like they are here?” she asked.
“With a much lower population density, I sometimes spend more time traveling than I do actually investigating. That means working long hours. But I take time for myself, too. That way I continue to walk in beauty.”
“You’ve mentioned that a couple of times since we met. What exactly does that mean?”
“A good Navajo’s life is defined by balance and order. When you’re in harmony with all the different aspects of your life, you can walk in beauty.”
“So now that you’ve seen how much order there is in my apartment, I guess I’m your worst nightmare,” she teased.
“I could teach you a few things about the Navajo Way….” he said with a slow, thoroughly masculine grin.
The power of that gesture ribboned around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She looked away, hoping she was wrong and she wasn’t actually blushing.
Valerie cleared her throat then spoke. “Mae Nez’s home is a good forty minutes out. We’ll stop by her place of work first since it’s closer. If she’s not there, then we’ll go to her house.”
“Good plan.”
“On the way there, make sure you help me keep an eye out for a tail, too,” she said.
He nodded. “Considering I’m the enemy he challenged, the killer is bound to start keeping close tabs on us.” Realizing that his statement would lead to questions about the Brotherhood, he quickly added, “I’m the son of the tribe’s most respected hataalii, so I’m undoubtedly in his sights. Since the snake didn’t work, he’s sure to try again.”
As she remembered him shirtless, barely in his jeans, she sighed softly. He was magnificent to look at, easy to be with and intelligent. The whole package practically made her weak at the knees.
“What did your background search tell you about Mae?” he asked.
“Not much. She has no record. She’s a student—part-time—and lives with her father.” Valerie glanced over at him. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s not likely that she’s a Traditionalist, but her father may be. If we end up at her home, why don’t you let me take the lead? By approaching them in a certain way, we may get further.”
“You’ve got it.” She knew that he wasn’t just trying to take over. His focus was on the case and that was as it should be. They were detectives on the job. Nothing else should matter now. Yet it did…. Somehow she had to stop wondering how it would feel to lay against his chest and feel his arms around her.
“You’re usually not this quiet. What’s on your mind?” he asked.
She scrambled for a suitable answer. “This case—it’s different from anything I’ve ever handled on almost every single imaginable level.”
“It’ll test each of us, and we may end up with a few more scars, but we’ll find the answers we need.”
Chapter Nine
They drove east up I-40 toward the community of Tijeras, nestled in the mountain pass between the Sandia and Manzano Mountains. Valerie remained quiet—mostly to prove she could—and Luca studied the crime reports and area maps, working while she drove.
After ten minutes with only a random radio call to mar the silence, she was ready to scream. “Okay, I give up. You win,” she said at last.
He looked at her in surprise. “What are we playing?”
“Strong silent type—and I lose,” she said with a martyred sigh. “Conversation doesn’t always have a purpose, but considering we’re still ten or more minutes from our destination, let’s talk. It’ll make the drive more interesting, too.”
He looked at her and waited.
“Okay, then. I’ll start,” Valerie said. “You don’t have a ring on, but I can’t imagine a guy like you being completely unattached….”
“I am.”
She immediately picked up on the change in his voice. “But you haven’t been for long….”
He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “She died in an accident a little over a year ago.”
“Wife?”
“No, but she would have been.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. The fact that he’d said “over a year” instead of giving her an exact number of months meant that he was past the worst of it. But some of the pain was still there…or maybe it was only the memory of that pain that lingered.
“And you?” Luca asked. “You’re an outgoing, attractive woman. It’s hard to believe that there’s no one special in your life.”
“I’ve dated mostly police officers over the years, but the truth is I like my freedom and independence. In law enforcement I have a gazillion rules I have to follow day in and day out. After hours I don’t want to answer to anyone.”
He smiled. “That feeling will pass when you meet the right person, and new priorities will take its place.”
“Is that what happened with you?”
“Yeah. The right person changes your perspective—your whole outlook on life, actually. But I’m having a problem believing you’ve never met anyone who was special to you.”
“Oh well, if you want to go back far enough there was one. Carlos and I were inseparable.”
“What happened?”
“I outgrew the need for teddy bears.”
He smiled. “Diverting away from the issue usually means you’ve got something to hide.”
“I didn’t duck it. I told you the truth. I’ve dated over the years, but things usually fall apart after a few months. One guy said I was ‘emotionally unavailable,’ whatever that means. What it all comes down to is that my job makes a lot of demands.”
“No regrets?” he pressed.
“No, not really.” Not until yesterday when Luca had stepped into her life. More than anything, she wished she could have met him under different circumstances. Mystery surrounded him and that constantly teased her imagination.
As they drove into the canyon, she took the exit south, passing through the intersection of old Route 66. It took another fifteen minutes before they found the place where Mae Nez worked, which was actually several hundred yards north of the interstate and around a big curve in the road. Valerie parked in front of the Sandzano Food Mart, noting that business at the small store wasn’t exactly brisk.
As they came through the open door, a bell atop the entrance rang and an Anglo man behind the counter greeted them with a smile. “Hi there. Can I help you?”
Making sure that her badge was clearly displayed, she identified herself then added, “We’re looking for Mae Nez.”
“Is she in trouble?” the man asked quickly, giving them a worried look. “I’m Mike Smith. I own this place.”
“No, not at all. We just need to ask Mae a few questions,” Valerie answered, seeing four photos of employees on the wall behind the cash register. Only first names were listed below the photos, but one was Mae, who was wearing a store apron and sporting a shy smile.
Mike followed her gaze and nodded slowly. “That’s Mae. I guess you want to talk to her about her friend’s murder. Unfortunately, she’s not here, and may not be home either. She asked for a few days off so she could go to the Rez and have a Sing done. Something that’ll give her immunity from the ghosts of the dead.” He looked at Luca, then added, “If you’re Navajo, you’re bound to know more about that than I do.”
“The Sing is called Enemy Way,” he responded, still looking at Mae’s photo.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said.
“Can you give us directions to her house?” Valerie asked, suspecting that the GPS wouldn’t be much help.
Mike gave them directions then drew a map for them. “It’s a hard place to find.” He paused, then added, “There’s a spring that flows through the area, and I understand there’s been quite a bit of rain over there recently. If the creek’s full, that homemade bridge of theirs might be a little risky. I suggest you park your car and go in the rest of the way on foot.”
“Okay, thanks.”
As they walked back outside, she glanced at the map and shook her head. “I guess we should have brought one of the department’s four-wheel drive units. I hate to spend time walking unless it’s part of the investigation.”
He said nothing, his gaze taking in the area around them, especially the road leading back south toward the main highway.
Valerie glanced over at him and, accurately gauging his silence, added, “What’s wrong?”
“Just a feeling—a bad one,” he answered quietly, now looking farther ahead, north. “Stay on your guard.”
“Cop’s intuition?”
“A feeling,” he said. “My father would call it ‘álíl—a power that doesn’t lend itself to explanation.”
“Do you think we’re in immediate danger?”
He considered for a moment before answering. “No, but the danger’s not far,” he said, his voice quiet and too controlled to pass as natural.
“So we’ll be just fine—till we’re not,” she commented with a rueful smile as they climbed back into the car.
“Don’t say things like that. You need to guard your speech, particularly now. Your jish contains a crystal,” Luca said, then explained, “Our ways teach that at the time of creation, a crystal was placed in the mouth of The People to make the spoken word come true.”
“So I shouldn’t say anything that I don’t want coming true,” she said, considering what he’d said. “Okay, I’ll be more careful from now on.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. “Your ceremonies give you confidence to face whatever comes your way, don’t they?”
“They restore the rightful balance of things and knowing that gives us power over fear,” he answered.
“Your tribe—your beliefs—make you a part of something that can never be taken away from you. I envy you that.”
“A Navajo is never alone, that’s true. We have our ways, our clans, our tribe,” he said. “Out here…it’s very different.”
“Remaining alone can make you strong, too,” she said, for her own benefit as much as his.
Yet, despite her brave words, she knew Luca had awakened a side of her she’d almost forgotten existed—the one that compelled a woman to find a mate.
Valerie instantly pushed that thought aside with every shred of willpower she possessed. Some doors were better left unopened.
“If you pick up on anything, or anyone, we need to be concerned about, let me know instantly,” she said, her voice brisk and businesslike. “We can’t get backup here inside a half hour, so we’re on our own.”
“He’s out there,” he answered softly.
“Somewhere in the county, New Mexico, the world? Or do you mean right behind us?” Valerie pressed, annoyed with him—and herself.
“Not d
irectly behind us, no, but I can feel his presence,” he said, then after a brief silence added, “He may have figured out where we’re going and is already a few steps ahead of us.”
“If you spot whoever’s out there, catching him will become our first priority. The Nezes can wait.”
“Agreed.”
They drove south, crossing into the foothills of the Manzanos, the southern half of the spine of mountains that bordered the east side of the Rio Grande Valley. Soon they reached the turnoff, revealed by the rural mailbox with a number and the name Nez painted on its side.
The road was graveled, quite good for about a mile as it wound up into the juniper and piñon trees. At a fence line, though, it forked, and the route they took now was not much better than two deep tire ruts. After about a hundred yards, the ruts got so deep the car high-centered with a loud scrape and Valerie stopped.
Looking ahead, she cursed softly. “I’m not risking losing an oil pan just to save a few more steps. How about we walk from here?”
“Good idea,” Luca said, opening his door. He climbed out slowly, looking around and listening but not moving away from the vehicle.
She checked her pistol, and with one last look in the rearview mirror, opened her door and joined him. “Let’s find an easier route than that washboard of a road, but keep an eye out for the bridge Smith told us about.”
“Someone else made the same decision. There’s a trail that probably joins up with the road somewhere ahead.”
“Trail?” She glanced around. “Where?”
“Look at the footprints leading down into that dry arroyo,” he said, pointing Navajo-style.
She followed him down the incline into a steep arroyo. The sand at the bottom was just damp enough to make the footing solid rather than mushy, a good thing as far as she was concerned.
“There’s the bridge,” he said, after they’d walked about a quarter of a mile up a long slope.
The private bridge was made of logs and big square timbers, but the four supporting posts in the center of the structure had been knocked out of line by debris.
