by Aimée Thurlo
Travis got some curious looks from motel guests, but the few comments he received all centered on Crusher’s size. Avoiding looking directly at any outside lights and nodding to any citizens who came closer, Travis’s eyes adjusted quickly to the low illumination. All his senses were on full alert and he gave a close second look to any male guest who seemed too curious.
As he worked along the west side toward their target van, he noticed a shift in one of the shadows on the hillside above the motel. A residential road led up to the top of the rise.
Crusher growled, a deep, menacing sound.
Travis stood still, hiding in the deepest shadows beside the white van and looking up. The headlights from vehicles passing by on the road above the hidden figure gave him brief glimpses of the person, but it wasn’t enough to make an ID. He couldn’t release Crusher here either. The watcher would simply run uphill and Crusher might get struck by a vehicle.
“On the rise behind us,” Travis said quietly as Laura joined them, completing her part of the search. “I can’t make out details, but the outline fits the general description of the subject.”
A few seconds later, a pickup went up the hill and headlights illuminated the figure for a heartbeat. “Bulky jacket, hat,” Laura said with a nod.
The man suddenly waved at them and ran uphill toward the road.
Laura cursed and shot after him.
Travis followed, Crusher at his side. “No, don’t go after him!” he called out.
“He’s not far,” she said, breathing hard.
“This is what he wants. He’s setting us up.”
She came to a dead stop.
Travis caught up to her. “You were rushing blindly into what could have been an ambush. He could be up there with a gun, or in a car, ready to run us over.” He forced Crusher to remain at heel. The dog’s hackles were raised and it was clear he wanted to continue racing to the top.
“You’re right,” she conceded. “But he was so close….”
“You reacted instinctively. With this guy, that’s not a good idea. Don’t let him sucker you into a trap.”
As they walked back down the slope to the parking lot, he added, “He had something in his hand. Did you see it?” When she shook her head, he continued. “It wasn’t a gun—too small. Cell phone, maybe,” he said, as he dialed the police station and called in a report.
“He wanted us to see him,” she said after Travis ended the call. “That’s why he waved.”
“He had a reason for letting us know he was around. We must be missing something.”
“Let’s take a drive around the neighborhood. Maybe he’s still in the area hoping to spring his trap.”
As they reached Travis’s vehicle, Crusher slowed down and growled.
“He may be picking up our suspect’s scent,” Travis said, stopping and studying the SUV.
“Maybe he didn’t use all his explosives last time,” she said.
Travis expelled his breath in a hiss. “Don’t touch the car. Crusher’s not a bomb-sniffing dog, but if he thinks the scent’s off, you can count on it.” He studied the vehicle without approaching it. “The suspect’s wave could have been his way of goading us into jumping into the unit and racing off after him.”
She glanced beneath the SUV at the same time he did. “Bingo,” she whispered, pointing to a dark object about the size of a shoe box, duct-taped to the underside of the frame.
Travis called their department’s bomb expert. While they waited he and Laura secured the scene, making sure no motel guests approached. Fortunately, it appeared that the dinner rush was over. The lot was all but empty.
As they waited, Travis tried to look at things from a logical standpoint. “That wave of his bothers me. Something tells me we haven’t narrowed down his message yet.”
She nodded slowly. “He placed the bomb in a place that’s real easy to spot, too, so I think he wanted us to see it. It may even be a dud. He really doesn’t want us dead—yet.”
Travis nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe so, but eventually that’ll change.”
“I agree. Once he gets bored, or feels threatened, he may try to kill me right under your nose. Or maybe he’ll go for you first, just to show me that he can take anyone he chooses from me.” She swallowed hard and suppressed the shudder that touched her spine. “I have to put this guy behind bars for good.”
“We’ll bring him down. It’s just a matter of time. Patience, coupled with vigilance, is the key to catching him, and I’ve got plenty of both.”
Silence stretched out between them as they waited for the bomb squad. At long last Laura spoke. “What’s the story behind your nickname? Specter, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Overseas, I could move more quietly that anyone else, even in full gear. The men used to say that I was nothing more than a shadow, a ghost that passed by in twilight and disappeared into the darkness. That’s why I was regularly assigned to infiltrate enemy lines and do what had to be done.” He shook his head, preempting any further questions. “The rest is classified.”
She looked into his hooded eyes but there were no answers there. Yet in the silence of her heart she could hear the unspoken part of his story. He’d done his duty but it had come at a cost to himself. The price he’d paid wasn’t easily seen, but was there in the way he’d learned to put barriers between himself and emotions that might touch him too deeply. That gulf protected him from the darkness where nightmares still lingered.
The department’s bomb expert—and his right-hand man—arrived a short time later. Jerry Anderson didn’t want to put on the bulky protective suit unless necessary, but his aide, a safety officer from the fire department, helped him get into a protective vest equipped with ceramic armor inserts and a helmet with a visor.
As Travis briefed Officer Anderson, his gaze remained on the department’s SUV. “Did you see a timer?” Jerry asked.
Travis shook his head. “Once I saw the box, we backed off.”
“Wise move.”
Jerry lay on the ground several feet away, using a long pole with an attached mirror and light to study the container.
Other officers soon arrived and reinforced the perimeter. Fortunately, it was late so there was little activity in the parking lot. The guests inside hadn’t been alerted to the situation because no sirens or emergency lights had been deployed. The hotel staff had been briefed and ordered to keep any curious guests inside the building and out of the hotel lobby with its glass panels.
They watched as Jerry poked the device with the mirror. One of the pieces of tape holding the box came loose. Jerry pulled it down, then moved into the clear and stood.
“It’s fake,” Jerry told them, holding the shoe box in his gloved hand. “Light as a feather. I’d be surprised if there’s anything in here at all.” He pulled out a pocket knife, then slit the two pieces of tape holding the lid shut.
As he lifted the lid, all they saw inside was a printer image of Laura at the airport loading her luggage into the rental car.
“So he knew exactly when I came in. But I didn’t tell anyone about my travel plans,” she said.
“You didn’t check in with your people at NSI?” Travis asked.
“I had to tell my supervisor where I was headed when I requested a leave of absence, but NSI is more secure than Fort Knox. He had to have found out another way.”
“Getting passenger information from an airline is really tough even for those of us in law enforcement,” Travis said.
“Maybe he had an airline contact who could access the booking systems,” she said.
“Whatever the answer, one thing’s clear. You’ll need to stay at a secure location from now on,” Travis said.
Before he could say anything else, a uniformed officer came over. “Ms. Perry?”
“That’s me,” she said, turning around.
“The mayor learned about the destruction of your rental vehicle, so he wanted to offer you a loaner from the city’s motor pool,” he said, handi
ng her the keys and pointing to a generic white sedan parked close by. “But he also wants you to understand that the loaner would be in lieu of the consulting stipend. If you prefer, you can turn down the vehicle, of course.”
“I’ll take the car. Convey my thanks to the mayor,” Laura said.
Travis rolled his eyes.
“It’s a trade—a fair one,” she said.
Travis spoke to Jerry, then returned to where she stood. “We need to move your location. You can’t stay here anymore.”
“I know. Once I get my suitcases and laptop from the room, I’ll pick a motel at random. Cover my tail to make sure I’m not followed, okay?” she asked. Seeing him nod, she added, “I’ll be taking evasive action, so don’t feel bad if I lose you for a while.”
“Give it your best. I can equal anything the Bureau taught you behind the wheel.” He grinned slowly. “And, remember, if you need my location, use your cell phone.”
“I’ll keep track of you.” She chuckled as they headed back inside the motel. “At least there’s one positive side to what happened today, besides the fact that no one was injured.”
“What’s that?”
“We now know that we won’t have to go looking for him. He’ll come to us.”
Chapter Seven
Laura had always excelled in evasive driving techniques. Yet every time she reversed directions, circled or pulled over to hide in a crowded parking lot with her lights out, Travis stuck with her.
Travis was good, but then again, he was more familiar with Three Rivers these days than she was. She’d also had enough sense not to carry out any really risky moves that might have endangered the public.
Spotting another motel in a perfect location, Laura made a hard right and pulled into its parking lot.
Travis joined her a moment later and, along with Crusher, walked her inside the lobby. “Good choice—across the street from the National Guard Armory. Soldiers on temporary duty are usually billeted here so there’ll be plenty of friendly forces in the immediate area.”
“The sign outside also said the motel had an internet connection. Add the twenty-four-hour MallMart on the corner and the fast-food joints and I’m all set.”
After checking in, Laura led the way across the interior courtyard to her room. Crusher was off leash but at heel beside Travis, who was carrying her suitcase. She’d grabbed her jumbo-size tote bag containing, among other items, her laptop computer.
As they stepped inside the room, she took a look around. “It’s adequate,” she said at last.
He nodded absently. “It’s late. Are you going to call it a night?”
“Naw, I’m still too wound up. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you stick around? I’ll buy dinner, fire up my laptop and maybe we can access some of the police computers and review the cases.”
He shook his head. “Using my password I could get access to my department’s system, but that’s all.”
“How likely is it that the Bureau’s investigating the murder that went down in Shiprock?”
“If the tribal police department requests the Bureau’s help, they get involved, but I have no idea if they were called in or not,” he said, running a hand through his hair, then rubbing his neck. “I’ll look into that tomorrow. To get that kind of information I’ll have to make some calls, and we’ve been through enough for one night. Meet me at my place tomorrow and we’ll get a fresh start.”
“Yeah, okay. And maybe this time I should consider bringing an armored car,” she said softly.
He smiled grimly. “Don’t kid about stuff like that.”
She cringed. “Sorry. I forgot. Words have power?”
He nodded. “Speaking of bad things can make them come to pass.”
As he headed to the door, she said, “So you’re really going? I’m disappointed.”
He turned around. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked slowly, his eyes on her.
His words drifted over her like a caress, but it was that intense gaze that nearly took her breath away. “I was hoping we could talk strategy and maybe do a little work,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Define work.”
She felt her cheeks burning and her body began to throb in some very predictable places. “Never mind. How early a start do you want to get tomorrow?”
“You know I’m up before dawn, so why don’t you come over for breakfast? We’ll strategize then.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
LAURA WOKE UP EVERY FEW HOURS throughout the night. The details of the case wouldn’t stop replaying themselves in her mind. It was always like that whenever she was dealing with a problem or on a case. Sleep came in spurts, if at all.
When she saw the clock on the nightstand finally reach five, she tossed the covers aside, eager to get started. All she needed now was a double shot of espresso and she’d be good to go.
Less than twenty minutes later she set out. The drive helped her relax. By the time she reached Travis’s home, the sun was just peering over the horizon.
Laura parked in the wide turning circle where the private road ended, taking a spot beside Travis’s department SUV. The ground was scorched in the spot where her rental car had rested. Everything else had been taken away, except for a scattering of glass cubes—what remained of her windshield.
Trying not to think about that, Laura walked up the trail and knocked on the front door. There was no answer or bark. She stood still and listened. It was a cool morning. Maybe he’d gone for a walk to clear his thoughts.
Laura hiked uphill toward the steep cliffs of the mesa behind the reconfigured farmhouse. As she drew near the base of the cliff, she became aware of the monotone chant that stirred the stillness around her.
The Song rose, reverberating with power and the echoes of history. Even the birds were silent, knowing that their song couldn’t match the chant’s compelling beauty.
Laura moved forward quietly, walking parallel to the cliffs. Though she didn’t understand the words, the chant wrapped itself around her, filling her with a great sense of peace.
Then, as the tree line thinned around a bare knoll of hardened sandstone, she saw Travis standing in a small clearing, a leather pouch in his hand. As she watched, he lifted his hand and released a fine yellowish powder into the air. The fine granules spiraled in the gentle morning breeze as he continued the chant.
The magic of the Navajo Song and the beauty of the ritual held her mesmerized, and she remained rooted to the spot.
At long last he placed the bag back on his belt. “You don’t have to stand there in the shadows. I’m finished,” he said, never looking directly at her.
“How did you…” She sighed. “Never mind.”
Laura looked around for Crusher and saw him lying against a rock, watching her through half-closed eyes. His coloring gave him nearly perfect camouflage.
“Will you tell me more about the Song?” she asked Travis.
“It’s a prayer to the dawn.”
“It was beautiful,” she said, bending down to pet Crusher, who’d finally decided to come and say hello. “I’ve done a lot of praying too lately, asking for help finding my friend’s killer.”
He fell into step beside her as they headed back down the slope toward his home. “Navajo prayers are different than the ones you’re used to. They’re not petitions, they’re more like affirmations. The prayer to the dawn is our way of starting the day right by restoring balance and harmony. The last line, ‘now all is well,’ says it best.”
“There won’t be any balance and harmony for me until I find my friend’s killer,” she said.
He didn’t respond right away. When he spoke at last, his words were slow and thoughtful. “The balance Navajos speak about transcends the personal. Its context is universal. Catching a killer maintains the balance between good and evil, but the goal is to restore harmony so all can walk in beauty.”
“I work to see justice done. Without that, criminals would gain the upper hand. There
’s no harmony for anyone then, so we share a common goal,” she said. “It’s only the way we look at the details that’s different.”
He expelled his breath loudly. “Our hataaliis—what you might call our medicine men—teach that it’s all in the details.”
“Not when the end result is the same,” she argued good-naturedly.
“It’s hard to walk in beauty with someone who has to challenge every premise,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m not challenging your views. We’re having a discussion, that’s all,” she said. Looking at his face, she smiled. “This is what used to pass as just talking in my family.”
Suddenly realizing that she was the last of her family—her mother had passed away and she’d never known her dad— Laura lapsed into a somber silence. Nancy, who’d also been like family once, was gone now, too.
Sensing what was bothering her, he reached for her hand. “You’ve still got me. I’m in your corner.”
Almost as if sensing he was needed, too, Crusher pressed his big muzzle into the hollow of her free hand.
She bent down and scratched him behind the ears. “If my job allowed me to stay in one place like yours does, I’d be tempted to get a companion like Crusher,” she said.
“He’s a good ole boy who certainly earns his keep,” he said as they continued walking again. “His courage can be relied on—except during thunderstorms. Then he becomes a giant wimp,” Travis added, laughing.
As they reached the house, he unlocked the back door and led the way inside. “I’ll put the cinnamon rolls in the oven.”
“That’s something else we have in common. I always keep a tube of those in my refrigerator back home. I can’t tell you how many times they’ve been my dinner,” she said laughing.
“These aren’t store-bought, I make my own. The dough’s risen, so all those need now is time in the oven.” He gestured toward a cookie sheet containing six large, delicious-looking rolls.
