by Cassie Miles
His body quaked above her.
Fireworks.
Passion.
Then, they both were still. Suspended in ecstasy. She exhaled a long satisfied sigh as delicious shivers rose from her core and raced across her skin. If making love was something Dash had learned in the FBI, she’d never again date anyone but Feds.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Dash climbed out of the camper at a few minutes past seven o’clock. Shirtless, he stretched and yawned. It was a beautiful spring day, drenched in sunlight. The subtle hues of the granite cliffs and scruffy pines reminded him of an artist’s painting. This rugged landscape wasn’t so dull, after all.
Cara tumbled out beside him. With her hair tousled and her shirt half-buttoned, she didn’t look anything like a learned archaeology professor. She was amazing. Her lips were curved in the goofy smile of a woman who had been well loved. Three times.
She spread her arms in a salute to the sun. “I feel like a butterfly coming out of her cocoon.”
“Don’t fly too far.” He reached into the camper, grabbed his leather jacket and slipped it on. “I’d like to get to the dig site before they’re busy. What time does the work get underway?”
“The schedule is pretty relaxed, depending on the weather.”
When she met his gaze, her grin took on a more subtle shading. He knew there was something on her mind. Being able to read her expressions pleased him. She was like a well-crafted book with a twist on every page. “What is it, Cara?”
“About last night…”
“What about it? Are you going to give me a grade?”
“Is there anything higher than A-plus?”
“You could give me extra credit.”
He reached toward her, but she moved away. Though she seemed to be glowing, her eyes were serious. “I want you to know that I’m not one of those women. Just because we had amazing sex, it doesn’t mean you owe me something.”
He hadn’t been thinking about their relationship, hadn’t been thinking at all.
She continued, “I don’t expect gifts or flowers or any kind of commitment.”
Her frank assessment bothered him. The way she described last night sounded a lot like a one-night stand, and he didn’t see her that way. She was incredible. A once-in-a-lifetime woman. “What if I said I wanted a commitment?”
“I wouldn’t believe you. You’re an FBI field agent who loves his job. You’re married to your work—your often dangerous work—and there isn’t room for much else in your life.”
Which was one of the reasons his first marriage had ended in divorce. “I could make some room. Rearrange the furniture.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for.” Her gaze turned inward. “I’m in my thirties. After what hap pened with Russell, I realized that I’m not going to live forever.”
“That’s not an uncommon reaction. I’ve seen it before in victims.” When facing their own mortality, people looked at their life in a different way. “You’re thinking of all the things you haven’t done, the sights you haven’t seen, the experiences you might have missed out on.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Maybe you want to jump out of an airplane. Or go backpacking in Tibet.”
“I want a family. A home.” She glided into his arms. “I want to settle down and that’s something I would never ask of you.”
Her body was so soft, so warm and pliant. He wanted to make love to her again, to give her the answer to her dreams. “Why couldn’t you ask me?”
“Because I’m a porcupine and you’re Son of Light—strong and wise. A professional hero.” She gave him a quick kiss. “And there’s one more thing about last night.”
“Which is?”
“I’d like to do it again. As soon as possible.”
“That can be arranged.”
He wished he could spend the rest of the day in her arms, watching her smile and listening to her lecture him about the geology of the area. And he wasn’t done with the topic of their nonrelationship.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore the cold, hard threat of reality. “We should get going.”
“Right.” She stepped away from him. “There’s no need to rush to the dig site for their coffee. It tastes like formaldehyde.”
“There’s instant coffee in the camper.” Not very appealing but he needed the caffeine. “One of the other agents went to the grocery for us yesterday and picked up supplies. Stuff for sandwiches. A package of granola bars. I think there are doughnuts.”
“Mmmmm.” She rubbed her slender tummy. “Doughnuts.”
While she returned to the camper, he strolled toward the rock ledge. Dash had attempted to use the elf-sized bathroom in the camper last night. He preferred the great outdoors. As he relieved himself, he gazed across the tops of pine trees and listened to the morning sounds of birds and chipmunks. Nothing dangerous here. Not like the road that lay ahead.
He needed to focus on Russell, but his thoughts returned to Cara. A porcupine? Not in his opinion. Last night, she hadn’t been prickly.
Back in the camper, he sipped the barely palatable instant coffee and munched doughnuts. He shoved everything else from his mind. Time to change gears. Time to do his job. “I have a question for you, Cara.”
“Shoot.”
“When Russell held you captive, you said you heard another voice. Any chance you could identify the speaker?”
“Doubtful. I had the impression that it was another man, that’s all.”
“I have to consider the possibility that Russell isn’t working alone. He might be using one of his buddies from the dig site.”
“Hard to believe,” she said. “Russell never was much of a leader. Even among the archaeology nerds, he was pegged as a loner.”
“I’ve checked the criminal records on the other people at the site. Two of the young men have minor offenses.” Not exactly gangbangers. These college students were mostly clean. “Is there anything else you remember about that voice?”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to concentrate. He wished he could see inside her head, to really understand her needs. Damn it, he could make room in his life for her. If necessary, he’d hire movers to clear out all his old baggage.
“Angry,” she said. “The voice was angry and demanding.”
“In what way?”
“I can’t be certain. I was hallucinating like crazy. But I had a sense that the other person was giving the orders. Russell sounded sad. And very young.” Her lips pursed, and she set the doughnut down on a paper plate. “It sounds crazy to say this, but he had a very sweet side to his personality. When I had him in class, he reminded me of a puppy dog.”
Dash hadn’t abandoned his idea that the other person—the man giving the orders—was William Graff, Russell’s father. Before they went to the dig site, he needed to contact Flynn and have him check on the elder Graff’s whereabouts.
Talking to Flynn wouldn’t be easy. Dash hadn’t exactly explained his plan to take Cara with him to the dig site, and he was damn sure that Flynn wouldn’t approve of the risk. Unless he got results.
AS THEY DROVE NEARER to the dig site on the Colorado side of the Four Corners region, Cara recognized familiar landmarks. A barren hillside destroyed by a forest fire. A towering rock formation. Compared to the arid plains of the reservation, this landscape was almost verdant with an abundance of pine, scrub oak, aspen and shrubs.
Russell had promised to find her here.
Though she’d locked the memory of her abduction into a dark corner of her mind, a glimmer of fear shone through and she looked toward Dash for reassurance. In his strong profile, she saw little resemblance to the man who had tenderly made love to her in their camper mini-home. Last night, he’d been attentive to her every whim. He’d grinned and teased and nibbled her earlobe.
This morning, his attitude was determined and a little bit fierce. A professional hero. A man who would never settle down. Though she wished their relationship c
ould be different, she accepted him for who he was. Son of Light, strong and wise; he would always come to her rescue.
“Do you think Russell will show himself?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “Not in broad daylight.”
“Then why are we coming here?”
“The people at the site have been interviewed by one of our other agents, but they might open up to you. They might give you a clue.”
His jaw tightened. He hadn’t shaved this morning and probably not the day before. His light stubble looked rough and sexy. And yet, underlying his tension, she sensed that he was enjoying himself. Tracking down bad guys was what he did for a living.
And she was a professor. Her lifework didn’t require overt courage. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. Though she wanted to be part of the investigation, she was having second thoughts. “Are we making a mistake by coming here?”
“Flynn seems to think so. When I told him about the note you found in your term papers, he was ready to mobilize the search teams and choppers to blanket this area.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“It’s crap,” he said. “The manhunt failed. Russell’s too smart. He knows how to hide. The only way we’ll catch him is face-to-face.”
They were almost there. The camper rounded the edge of a mesa and descended into a wide box canyon. The cliff dwelling perched in a high rock crevice, facing east to catch the first rays of the sun. It hadn’t been well preserved; only a few walls of the adobe brick structures remained. More interesting were the ruins of other houses and hogans scattered across this wide area that was sheltered on three sides by hills and cliffs. Research showed this had been a farming community. The cliff houses—well-stocked with provisions—provided a fortress in case of attack or siege by an enemy tribe.
The area where the archaeologists had set up camp included several motor homes. The largest held the sensitive instruments and chemicals used by Dr. Sterling in his forensic anthropology investigation. Another was used for cooking and utility. The two smaller motor homes provided sleeping quarters for Dr. Sterling and Dr. George Petty, who was in charge of the site. The students—their number varied from six to twelve—slept in twelve-foot-long canvas tents with wood floors.
Before they reached the parking area, Dash pulled onto the shoulder and stopped. His expression was serious. “We don’t have to do this, Cara. If you’re worried, we can turn around and go back to the safe house.”
“A minute ago you told me that Russell probably won’t show himself.”
“Probably not. He’s a stalker who picks out his prey and waits for the right moment to approach. He won’t initiate a direct confrontation.”
“Especially not with you.”
Above all, Russell had shown himself to be prudent. He’d hidden from the searchers. Except for the deputy he’d shot in the leg, he saved his violence for women—unsuspecting women like her who were unable to defend themselves. His victims. She couldn’t let them down. Cara thought of the burned remains at Mesa Verde—a charred skeleton that had once been a living woman. And the Navajo elder’s daughter.
Russell would strike again unless she and Dash could stop him. She met his gaze. “I want to be here.”
“You’re a brave little porcupine.” His breathtak ing blue eyes shimmered. For a moment, his tough-guy facade slipped, and she saw the man who had passionately made love to her. “This is all going to turn out all right.”
She wished she had half his confidence. “Tell me what I should do.”
“Talk to his friends. Find out if any of them knew what he was doing. And listen to their voices. One of them might be the second person who was with Russell.”
She shuddered at the thought. One of these students might have seen her tied up and helpless.
“Concentrate on his girlfriend,” Dash advised. “Find out why she sent us that message.”
“Catch you later?” Despite herself, she shivered.
“He’ll never catch you, Cara. I won’t let that happen. After we’re done here, I’m taking you back to the safe house.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be doing my job.” Dash needed to be more active in the manhunt. No more creeping around the edges and waiting for other people to act. He wanted Russell in custody, locked up where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.
He started the camper and drove the rest of the way into the encampment. As soon as he parked, people were approaching the vehicle. There was a sameness in the way they were dressed in worn, baggy jeans, khakis and sweatshirts. Shaggy hair. Thick-soled hiking boots.
These were the archaeology nerds, and Cara was the best person to talk to them. Immediately, they circled around her, babbling excitedly. When she introduced them to Dash, they studied him with the guarded curiosity of people who had never met a real-life FBI agent before. Basically, they appeared to be decent kids. Dash reminded himself that appearances could be deceiving; Russell had been one of these kids. A puppy dog. Except when he was abducting and murdering young women.
As they gathered around a picnic table, Dr. George Petty approached. He was an older man, fit and ruddy-faced. A black knit cap was pulled low on his forehead. When he shook Dash’s hand, his grip was strong. “How can I help you, Agent Adams?”
“Tell me about a typical day at the site. If Russell Graff were here, what would he be doing right now?”
“Poor Russell.” George Petty frowned. “He seemed to be a nice young man. Perhaps a bit of a loner. But from a very good family. He’s very fond of his mother.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He talked about her often. And he carried a photograph of the two of them on a vacation.”
“What about his father?”
“Never mentioned him. Such a nice young man.” Petty shook his head. “That’s what people always say, isn’t it? When they found Son of Sam, the neighbors said he was a pleasant fellow. A mail carrier.”
Which was exactly the way Dash would have described Dr. Petty. A pleasant fellow. Was it a pose? Was he the second voice Cara had heard?
Dash glanced back at the picnic table where she was deep in conversation with the students. She fit in well. In spite of what she’d said about not having a place where she belonged, everyone here seemed to accept her.
He’d noticed the same thing on the reservation. Everywhere she went, people welcomed her. They cared about her. Living alone had been a choice she’d made for herself. And now she wanted a family. A husband. Shouldn’t be a problem. Other guys would line up around the block for the opportunity to give her a home—an image he found intensely irritating.
“Could I interest you in a cup of coffee?” Petty asked.
He remembered Cara’s comment about formaldehyde. “No, thanks.”
“Well, then. You wanted to hear about our work.”
“Yes.”
As Dr. Petty explained about excavations and artifacts, mapping and sectioning, Dash surveyed the surroundings, noticing many good hiding places among the rocks and trees. The high-topped mesa with the cliff dwelling was to the east. The western side of this U-shaped canyon was a forested hillside. He spotted an aspen grove, a sign of groundwater. “Excuse me, Dr. Petty. Is there a creek in this area?”
“Indeed, there is.” He pointed toward the north wall of the canyon. “The creek comes through the rocks over there. This excellent water source was diverted into irrigation ditches by the ancient people. They were good farmers. At one time, there might have been upwards of five hundred people living here.”
“Russell worked with Dr. Sterling.”
“On the burial mounds and in the cliff dwelling where they’ve found evidence of a great battle.”
“Has Dr. Sterling returned?”
“As far as I know, he’s still in Window Rock.”
He saw Cara rise from the picnic table and come toward them. After she warmly greeted George Petty, she turned to Dash. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
H
er tone was so formal that he almost laughed out loud. Last night, she’d been screaming his name in the heat of their passionate lovemaking. He matched her attitude as he turned to Petty. “Please excuse us.”
They were only a few steps away when she said, “Nobody has seen Joanne Jones this morning.”
“Russell’s girlfriend. Do you think they ran off together?”
“Or something might have happened to her.” Cara set off in the direction of the canvas tents with quick strides. “What if he hurt her?”
Joanne was a redhead, not typical of Russell’s usual victims. But his actions were increasingly hard to predict. He’d killed that blond woman. “How do you know which tent is Joanne’s?”
“The women’s tent is separate from the others. Right now, there’s only Joanne and one other female. She wasn’t sure whether Joanne even came to bed last night.”
“Why didn’t she inform Dr. Petty?”
“It’s not unusual for Joanne to stay out all night. Apparently, she’s a bit of a dig-site slut.”
“Were you aware of this before?”
“Not really,” Cara said. “Joanne certainly doesn’t look the part. Thin and petite. When she wears her hair in braids, she could be twelve years old.”
Inside the tent were four cots covered with sleeping bags. Suitcases and feminine gear were stowed underneath. Cara pointed to a redheaded Raggedy Ann doll on one of the beds. “That has to be Joanne’s.”
Dash expertly rifled through her belongings. Tucked between the sleeping bag and the mattress, he found a single sheet of white paper. The spacing was similar to the note Cara had received. The message was typed. Dash read it aloud. “Meet me tonight at the place of long shadows.”
“Oh no.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “She wouldn’t be that foolish.”
Dash cursed himself for being unprepared. He hadn’t planned for another abduction. “Where is it? This place of long shadows?”
“To the north. Near the creek. I’ll take you there.”
Which was exactly what Russell wanted, to lure Cara closer. “Unacceptable. I’ll go alone.”
