by Aimée Thurlo
“He’s inside the room at this end! We’ve got to get him out!” Dana cried out.
Dread chilled her spirit, but knowing that her friend’s life depended on them gave her all the energy she needed. “I’m going in to get him.”
They heard a vehicle engine start up somewhere well away from the cabin. “The kidnappers are taking off. They heard the sirens, too,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Dana recalled her brief impressions of the room adjoining the one where she and Hastiin Sani had been held. “There should be a fire extinguisher on a corner shelf to the right of the woodstove in the main room.”
“I’ll grab it.”
Dana stopped by the first window and called out to Hastiin Sani, but there was no response. “I’ll climb in here while you go through the front door. Give me a leg up. I left Hastiin Sani in this room.”
“No, the smoke is already spreading. Let’s both use the front door. If we can get to the fire extinguisher, that’ll buy us a little more time.”
They were at the front door seconds later and found it unlocked. They went inside, through a kitchen to a sparsely furnished family area. There were four wooden chairs, one splattered with blood, and a small round table.
In the bedroom to their left, a mattress burned fiercely, obviously ignited by the scorched kerosene lamp that lay atop what was now a glowing collection of wire springs. A draft was carrying much of the smoke out the window, but enough had drifted into the rest of the cabin to make breathing difficult.
“Go back outside,” Ranger said.
“No way,” she shot back. “He’s in there.” She pointed to the splintered door, pock marked with six bullet holes.
Ranger found the fire extinguisher right where she’d said it would be. “We don’t have much time,” he said, aiming the spray at the flaming mattress. “This won’t hold us for long.”
While he fought to suppress the fire, she ran into the other room.
Hastiin Sani was on the floor, his lifeless eyes open, but unseeing. Her heart broke and tears poured down her face as she knelt beside his body. Although deep in her heart she’d known this might be the outcome, she’d wished so hard for a miracle she hadn’t been prepared to face this reality.
Hearing Ranger in the room, she looked up and saw him crouched beside one of their captors, the one who’d come after her.
“This one’s still breathing,” he said.
The words meant nothing to her. Still kneeling by Hastiin Sani, and ignoring the blood seeping into her clothes, she gazed at the body of her friend and whispered a soft prayer.
“He held his ground and bought me time to get away. He gave his life for mine,” she told Ranger, tears pouring down her face.
She moved her hand over Hastiin Sani’s eyelids, shutting them. Then, taking a shuddering breath, she began to cough. “We’ve got to carry him out of here quickly.”
“Our friend’s gone. We can’t do anything more for him. One of the other kidnappers is also dead. But the man in front of me breathes. He may be able to tell us who was responsible for all this. We’ll take him outside first.”
The building shook as something crashed to the ground. “Time to move,” Ranger said, getting to his feet quickly.
“I’m not leaving Hastiin Sani’s body here! I’ll drag him out myself if I have to,” she said, choking back a sob. “I owe him that at least.”
“Don’t speak the name of the dead,” he ordered.
His tone captured her attention, jolting her into remembering. Mentioning the name the recently deceased had used in life was said to call his chindi-the evil in every man that stayed earthbound after death. Belief in the chindi was strong among New Traditionalists and traditionalist Navajos. Even modernists respected the custom.
“I’m sorry,” she said, then as she breathed in another lungful of smoke she began coughing again.
“Take shallow breaths and let’s work quickly,” he said. “I’ll carry this man outside. I managed to close the door to the bedroom, so we should still have a clear path. But I’ll need you to take the fire extinguisher, just in case. Afterward, if we can, we’ll come back for the dead.”
Despite the intense sorrow that lay over her like a heavy weight, his logic got through to her. The smoke burned her lungs and her eyes as she led the way with the extinguisher. The door to the bedroom was now on fire, and flames were attacking the door frame and licking at the kitchen ceiling. Soon the whole adjoining wall would go up. The heat was stifling, and the smoke so thick it was like walking through a dimension of Hell. If they’d waited any longer, their way out might have been blocked.
They rushed past the red-hot, burning door, got the unconscious man outside and laid him beneath one of the pines. As Dana looked back, she saw smoke billowing from every window now. Suddenly there was a blast of hot air, and the remaining windows exploded in flames.
Dana took a step forward toward the cabin, searching desperately for a way back in, but Ranger grabbed her, pulled her against him, and held on to her tightly.
“We can’t do anything more now. It’s time to concentrate on life, not death,” he whispered, his voice as compelling as it was gentle.
Almost numb with sorrow, she didn’t fight him. Dana buried her head against his strong shoulder, taking the comfort he offered. So much violence and death. Nothing made sense to her anymore…except one thing. Dana remembered her promise to Hastiin Sani. It was the only thing she could do for him now, and no matter what it took, she’d keep her word.
The safe haven she found in Ranger’s arms tempted her to rely on him, and that’s when she stepped away. It was her own strength she’d need to depend on now.
Ranger moved to where the unconscious man lay and, after searching his pockets, extracted the man’s wallet.
Dana, standing behind him, saw that the driver’s license listed the kidnapper as Xander Glint. “He’s got our friend’s cell phone in his shirt pocket,” she said, spotting it.
“I’m going to leave it where it is in case someone besides this man handled it. The police might be able to lift some prints later.”
For a second she wondered if there’d be any phone numbers saved in it that Hastiin Sani wouldn’t want anyone to see. But her friend had been too smart for an oversight like that. The only numbers there would be those of friends and neighbors, and maybe a few of the medicine man’s patients.
The shrill pitch of the sirens grew louder with every passing second. “They’ll be here shortly,” Dana said.
“Did the medicine man say anything to you that might explain the kidnapping?”
She said nothing for a moment, wondering exactly how to answer him. Ranger had an eye for details and everything about him said he was a man on a mission. But Hastiin Sani’s last words has been Trust no one, and she intended on honoring his final wishes.
“Like what?” she asked at long last, unable to think of anything better than answering his question with a question.
“You tell me.”
She struggled not to flinch under that gaze. Measuring her words carefully, she finally answered. “He was drugged and beaten up. I got the impression that they wanted to get some information from him. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Can you remember anything about the men who kidnapped you? Did you hear them say anything that might help us?” Ranger pressured.
Suspicions clouded her mind. She didn’t know much about Ranger, but she did know that someone had set up and betrayed Hastiin Sani. To think that the kidnappers had coincidentally shown up at the right place and the right time, complete with dart guns and knockout drugs, was stretching it. This had been no ordinary kidnapping.
She held back answering. Until she was one hundred percent certain which side he was on, it would be safer not to trust him even with what little she could share.
A police car arrived just a few vehicle lengths ahead of an old fire truck, followed by another police car and an EMT unit. The fire crew went to work right a
way and a tall, powerfully built Navajo police officer wearing the department’s tan uniform came toward them. Ranger nodded, and the officer nodded back. The two appeared to know each other.
While the EMTs worked on the injured man, Ranger gave the officer a quick rundown of what had happened since he’d arrived.
The officer nodded when Ranger finished. “I’ll need your weapons,” he said, pointing to Ranger’s rifle and the pistol still in Dana’s hand.
They turned them over to him without question, Dana glad to be rid of the gun.
The officer’s gaze shifted to the burning cabin, which had collapsed upon itself and was completely enveloped in flames. “Whatever was in that cabin is long gone. But maybe we’ll find a few leads outside.” He gestured to the two officers who were circling the burning structure and searching the ground. “It’ll take quite a while to process this scene.”
The officer looked Dana up and down. “Are you injured, ma’am?”
Dana looked at her torn, bloody clothes, then shook her head. “The blood isn’t mine,” she managed weakly.
“Your wrists are all scraped up,” he said, pointing. “I’ll have the EMTs check you over in a moment. Just don’t let them near your fingernails. The crime team will want to take scrapings. In the meantime, why don’t you two go over and stand by my unit until I can interview you officially? This area is now part of the crime scene.”
RANGER AND DANA stood beside the white tribal police SUV, watching the activity. Other officers had now arrived on the scene, and the firemen were hosing down the blackened ruins of the cabin. Two bodies-what was left of them-had been taken by the coroner’s people a half hour ago. He was glad he hadn’t been asked to help with that. Crime-scene teams and the medical people on the rez used two sets of latex gloves. No one wanted to risk contamination by the chindi.
As they watched the police teams work, Ranger gave Dana a long, furtive glance. He had a strong feeling she knew a lot more than she was telling him. He knew she didn’t trust him. Of course he didn’t much trust her, either. Something about her was…well, wrong. He’d understood her grief and shock. But then she’d done an abrupt turnaround, quickly becoming composed and, along with that, distant and uncommunicative. People had different ways of handling grief, and he thought he’d seen them all. But he couldn’t quite get a handle on Dana Seles.
Dana was stunning-even in her conservative schoolteacher slacks and blouse-with curves that could tempt any man with a pulse. She had beautiful copper-colored hair that brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were light brown and soft, doe-like. Yet when he’d pressed her for information, they’d turned as cold as ice.
The fact that Hastiin Sani was dead and they’d barely laid a hand on her raised even more questions in his mind. Why had they bothered to bring her along, unless she’d set up Hastiin Sani, then been double-crossed?
Then he remembered how badly the medicine man had been beaten, and what she’d said about him being forced to give up information. Maybe the woman had been brought along as leverage. Hastiin Sani would have been almost impossible to break-that is, unless they threatened to torture or violate the woman.
He watched her writing in a little notebook. She’d been doing that off and on for the past twenty minutes. The medics had wanted to bandage her wrists, but she’d settled for a clear salve instead after they’d cleaned them up.
“What’s that you’re writing?”
“My perceptions about what happened. Not facts…just feelings. Intuitions. Like that,” she said, then looked back down and continued writing.
Her handwriting was meticulously neat, as he’d expect from a teacher, but unbelievably small. He couldn’t make heads or tails out of it even though he was now sitting beside her on the ground. At long last she stopped, then gazed back at the cabin.
“Think back,” Ranger said. “Tell me everything you heard and saw once the drugs wore off.”
“I’ll be telling the police all of that very shortly. Don’t worry,” she answered.
“The medicine man who died meant a lot to me and to many other people, too,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. “I have to find out why this happened. To do that, I’ll need firsthand information from you while it’s still fresh in your mind. I’ve got some specialized training, and I intend to get involved in bringing these guys in. You want justice, don’t you?”
He watched her carefully. She was being too careful. The way she was weighing every word that came out of her mouth meant she had something to hide. Over the years he’d learned to trust his instincts. Pressing her now was the best way for him to get to the truth-before she had time to put up walls or make up pat answers.
“You told me that you heard the medicine man giving his interrogators some information. Think back. What kind of information?” he asked.
She hesitated. Hastiin Sani had died protecting the names on the list. Her best bet at the moment was to try and lie convincingly. “I don’t know. I was too groggy and upset at the time, and the door was closed. All I wanted to do was find a way to get us both out of there. I worked on trying to free my hands, which were tied behind my back. I was too scared to think of anything else,” she said and shuddered. At least that much was true.
“Think carefully. Is there anything else you can remember?”
“Why should I trust you?” she countered.
He swore under his breath. How was he supposed to explain to this Anglo schoolteacher how much was at stake? “You know I was his friend.”
“I don’t know that at all. All I know about you is that you came to pick him up. And someone told his kidnappers where he was. It may not have been you, but I can’t be sure of that.”
“I helped you get away.”
“True, but you appeared out of nowhere-armed to the nines. You shot back at the kidnappers, sure, but, under the circumstances you didn’t have much of a choice,” she said.
“I had a choice. I didn’t have to help you.”
She nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “You did help me stay alive.” She’d tell him enough to make him stop pressuring her. She’d already seen he was friends with the police, so he’d find out sooner or later what she was planning to tell them. “All I know was what the medicine man told me. A person named Ignacio Trujillo is behind the kidnapping and whatever they wanted with us. Trujillo intends to kill a group of people, according to Hast…my friend. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Yes, but is it all you know?” he pressed.
Dana rolled her eyes, but never did answer him. She was telling him enough to keep him off her back, but there was obviously more to the story. Her eyes were alive with secrets.
Out of the corner of his eye Ranger saw a van from one of the local TV stations arriving. Another car raced in right behind the van, one he recognized as belonging to a tribal newspaper reporter.
Knowing the reporters would bring cameras, he walked around to the other side of the police car, hoping to keep a low profile. He didn’t want to be spotted and, under no circumstances, could he allow his photo to make the news.
The way Dana followed his lead immediately piqued his interest. It was clear to him that she didn’t want to be seen or identified, either.
A dozen more questions popped into his mind. Who are you, schoolteacher? His next priority would be finding out everything he could about Dana Seles.
Chapter Three
It seemed to take forever before the two plainclothes officers, who’d arrived on the scene almost at the same time as the reporters, spotted them. To her surprise, no one seemed curious about why they’d taken steps to avoid being photographed. She knew why she’d done it. She didn’t want anyone to see her face in tomorrow’s newspaper. Yet Ranger’s reasons remained a mystery to her. Maybe he was an undercover tribal officer, or member of some other covert agency.
Ranger greeted one of the detectives like they were old friends. “Joe,” Ranger said, nodding to him. “What’s going on over there now? Have they found anyt
hing?”
Joe shrugged. “Not much. Seems the FBI’s going to be taking over the case, too. We’re just doing the grunt work. You know how it is. You do the work, the feds get the glory.”
He nodded. “Any ID on the dead perp?”
The detective shook his head. “His ID melted into a glob, but maybe dental records…Anyway, the bodies are going to be flown to Albuquerque for autopsies and such. Sure glad I’m not going to be there. The fire did a job on them. But we’ll get these punks. The medicine man was important to our community.”
“Any chance of an ID on the two that got away?” Ranger persisted.
“Maybe. Shell casings were found in addition to those from the forty-five and the carbine. If they have prints, we’ll find them,” he answered. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky and the injured one will have connections that lead us to the rest. Word is he’s expected to pull through. With a murder rap hanging over his head, he might give up his buddies.”
The detective then turned to look at Dana and gave her a polite nod. “Ma’am.” As was customary on the rez, he didn’t offer to shake hands. “I’m Detective Joe Nakai.”
She gave him her full name and answered his questions. “One of the four men in the van had a small curved scar on the back of his left hand, crescent-shaped. I noticed that before I passed out. They hardly spoke to each other, but I couldn’t detect any kind of accent, not even a southeast New Mexico twang.”
“After the drug wore off, what happened?”
“When I came to, they were questioning the medicine man, then they tossed him back into the room with me, the one at the north end. That’s when my friend told me that a man named Ignacio Trujillo was responsible and would be carrying out even more crimes unless he was stopped. He wanted me to know in case…” Her voice broke and she swallowed. After a moment she added, “In case he didn’t make it.”
“What kind of crimes?” Detective Nakai asked, looking over at Ranger for a second.
“He wasn’t specific but there wasn’t enough time.” After a pause to clear her throat, Dana continued. “I remember reading in the papers about a man with that same last name. He was the head of a local criminal organization. But he was killed by the police, wasn’t he?”
