Secrets of the Lynx

by Aimée Thurlo

  Paul nodded. All five of his brothers knew that formation like the back of their hands and, there, in a narrow, dead-end canyon, the tactical advantage was theirs.

  Paul thought back to the phone call from Yolanda that had led up to this. He had no regrets. He’d been growing restless these past few months, eager to do something more than watch surveillance monitors, the bulk of his business these days.

  Now, maybe, fate was finally giving him a chance to get back to the work he loved and pay his debt to the past. Throughout those long months of rehab, he’d kept going by telling himself that someday he’d find Miller, that it was inevitable their paths would cross again.

  The possibility that Chris Miller had actually come after him now seemed almost too good to be true.

  “Don’t expect me to hide out,” Paul said, then after a second added, “If it’s Miller again, our face-off is long overdue. This is personal. Come morning I’m heading back to town.”

  * * *

  U.S. DEPUTY MARSHAL Kendra Armstrong was nearly exhausted after another eighteen hour day. It was two o’clock in the morning, pitch-black outside, and she was alone in a remote corner of New Mexico’s badlands. The headlights of her tiny rental car were the only illumination within miles.

  She should have been back in Denver, in on the takedown of the fugitive she’d been after for the past six months. With effort, she pushed back her anger.

  According to reports, it was possible that Chris Miller, a high-threat outlaw, had finally surfaced here. Her record for tracking down and capturing runaways fugitives was second to none, so she’d been immediately ordered to New Mexico. Still, the sudden reassignment had taken her by surprise. She hated surprises.

  As she eased the tiny rental sedan along a dried-up stream bed, the car’s tires began to lose traction. Feeling the sedan bogging down, she decided to leave the soft, sandy track.

  She’d traveled less than one hundred yards when the undercarriage scraped loudly, the screech so loud it hurt her teeth. The car suddenly stopped, her tires spinning from lack of grip. The wobbly tilt of her vehicle told her she’d high centered on bedrock.

  Kendra switched off the ignition and climbed out. The light in the distance teased her—the ranch house where former Deputy U.S. Marshal Paul Grayhorse awaited her arrival, no doubt. She was reaching inside the car for the bottle of water on the seat when she heard something moving in the brush behind her. Kendra instinctively reached for her weapon and turned in a crouch, gun in hand.

  Three armed figures were standing several feet away from her, but it was too dark to make out their faces. The tallest of the three quickly blinded her by aiming his flashlight at her face.

  “U.S. Marshal. Lower your weapons,” she snapped, shifting her aim to the person holding the flashlight. If she went down, she’d take him with her.

  “We were expecting you to stick to the road,” the man with the flashlight said, instantly lowering the beam and putting away his gun. He stepped forward. “I’m former Marshal Paul Grayhorse. These are my brothers, Detective Preston Bowman and Daniel Hawk.”

  “Kendra Armstrong, Deputy U.S. Marshal,” she said, remembering not to offer to shake hands. Navajos preferred no physical contact with strangers.

  Kendra opened her car door, allowing the glow of the dome light to illuminate the area. Even in the muted light she could see the gleam of cold steel in Preston’s eyes, the world-savvy gaze of a seasoned cop. Daniel Hawk had an easy smile, but he stood erect with his shoulders rigid, like someone who’d served in the military. Having grown up with a full bird colonel for a dad, she knew the stance well.

  Yet it was Paul Grayhorse, the man with the flashlight, who’d captured and held her attention. Now, there was a man who seemed to be far more than the sum of his spectacular parts. He stood tall, with strong, broad shoulders, and had an amazingly steady gaze. Through sheer confidence, he commanded the situation.

  “I was afraid I’d bog down in the sand, so I decided to veer off the path,” she said, holstering her weapon.

  Paul gave her a heart-stopping smile. “You’re not the first visitor to get hung up on the sandstone out here.”

  “I’m glad we’re all on the same side at least. I would have hated having to take on all three of you,” she said, her gaze studying the men.

  Paul smiled. “Preston’s the smallest and he can’t fight his way out of a paper bag. I bet you were planning on taking him on first.”

  Daniel laughed. Preston scowled but said nothing.

  “What strategy would you have used? Attacking the good-looking brothers, or the one with the flashlight?” Daniel pressed, cocking his head toward Paul.

  “None of the above,” she said with a tiny smile. “I’m going to need all of you to help me get off that rock.”

  Paul laughed. “We’ll get it back on solid ground for you. Just give us a minute.”

  His reassuring, confident tone was soothing. Without thinking, her gaze drifted over Paul’s shoulders. She’d seen him favor his right shoulder slightly when he’d put away his weapon, so she knew it was still causing him some pain. According to what she’d read in his file, that gunshot wound had shredded muscle and forced him to take an early retirement.

  “No need for heavy lifting. If we can get a shovel we can scoop up dirt, add some brush, and form a gripping surface beneath the drive tires,” she said.

  Paul, who’d already moved around to the back of the sedan with his brothers, looked up quickly. “So you’ve heard about my injury. Don’t let it fool you. I can do whatever has to be done.”

  She heard the dark undertone in his voice and realized she’d struck a nerve. Paul was fighting the consequences of his gunshot wound by not allowing himself to accept limitations. Although she didn’t know Paul very well, she liked him already.

  She closed the car door, placing them all in the dark again. “I was more concerned about you standing out here in the open when there’s a gunman on your tail, Paul,” she said.

  Paul shook his head. “No one’s around.”

  “And you know that...how? There’s no telling what could be out there in the dark,” she said.

  “Trust me, if anyone was here, we’d know,” Paul said.

  “An elephant herd could be out there, and we’d never see them,” she said.

  Paul chuckled. “This was—is—our home. Once you’re in tune with the land, you can see beyond the deepest shadows.” He handed Preston his flashlight.

  She stared at him for a moment, wondering if he truly believed that metaphysical nonsense. No matter how you felt about the land, no one could see into the night, not without special gear anyway.

  “You’re not convinced,” Paul said, not making it a question.

  As his brothers crouched by the car, using the flashlight to check out the extent of the problem, Paul gestured back up the dirt track. “Nature itself lets you know if there’s trouble. Look down the road. See that coyote crossing from north to south?”

  She strained to peer into the long shadows of night and caught a glimpse of something low, moving fast. “Over there?” she asked, pointing.

  “Yeah. If there were human beings skulking around, the animal would have known and never crossed the road, putting himself in full view like that. Coyote survives by staying attuned to his surroundings just like the other animals here in Copper Canyon. That’s also how we knew someone had come into the canyon long before we heard your vehicle. Everything became still—too still.”

  “Hey, you two gonna chat all night?” Daniel called out.

  Kendra realized that for a few moments she’d totally forgotten about the car and her situation. Paul’s low, gravelly voice and his intense gaze had completely sidetracked her.

  “Got a plan yet?” Paul called back.

  “Yeah, if we lift the rear tires off the rock, it’ll roll down onto level ground. Kendra, you’ll need to get behind the wheel and put it into neutral,” Daniel said.

  “Preston, you take the
middle, I’ll take the left, and Daniel can take the right,” Paul said.

  “No offense, Paul, but maybe we should trade places so you won’t have to stress your shoulder,” Kendra said.

  “No need,” Paul said with a quick half smile. “I can lift more with one hand than my brothers can with two.”

  Preston laughed as Daniel answered, “Next time I need to unload a van full of tactical gear I’ll give you a call, bro.”

  “Once the car’s free, I’ll drive all you guys back to the house,” Kendra said, then got behind the wheel and placed the sedan in neutral.

  A few seconds later, the car rose and began to roll forward. It rocked a little as they set it back down but continued to move forward.

  “Okay, guys, jump in,” she said. “We need to get to the house as soon as possible. I don’t think anyone followed me here, but you can’t be too safe.”

  Paul’s brothers entered the two-door sedan from the passenger side, and climbed into the back.

  “Expect some bone-jarring bumps along the way,” Paul said, taking the seat on her right.

  His words repeated themselves in her mind. Something told her this case would play out the same way.

  Chapter Two

  Kendra drove at a slow and steady pace to avoid losing traction in the sandy ground. Amazingly enough, there were no more mishaps. Although she repeatedly scraped the wheel wells against the brush, a sound like fingernails being raked across a chalkboard, the rest of the drive was uneventful.

  Within a minute or two she saw the rectangular stucco frame house nestled against the wall of the canyon. Moonlight shimmered off its metal roof—a touch of civilization in an area that appeared to be largely untouched by man.

  “It looks kind of lonely out here,” she said quietly.

  “You’re a city girl, I take it?” Paul asked. Seeing her nod, he continued. “Life moves at a different pace in this canyon, but there’s plenty of company. Big cats hunt here, and bears include the canyon in their territory, too, along with coyotes. Then there are all the smaller creatures. Copper Canyon is teeming with life.”

  “But no humans beside us, right?” she asked.

  “There are several Navajo families within a dozen miles of here, but they’re all pretty scattered. What makes this place an ideal safe house is that there’s only one way to approach it, and the canyon itself transmits sound like a tunnel.”

  Kendra pulled up beside the house and parked next to a big blue Dodge pickup.

  “You two should probably go inside. We’ll bring in some firewood,” Daniel said, signaling Preston and gesturing to a cord of wood stacked beneath the roof overhang.

  Paul led the way to the front door and invited her in. “Make yourself at home.”

  As she entered the living room/kitchen combination, she glanced around. The interior had a casual, rustic, Southwest elegance.

  To her left along the far wall were kitchen appliances and a wide counter. A half dozen feet away from there stood a dining table and some straight-backed chairs that were handcrafted from knotty pine.

  Farther in, near the center of the large open space, was a sofa covered in heavy, rich brown leather. The pine frame, with its decorative grooves and diamond-shaped patterns, matched the design on the table and chairs.

  Beautiful red, black, and indigo Navajo rugs were hung on the walls facing the big stone and iron fireplace. A smaller one woven in red, black and white was draped over the back of the couch.

  “I like this place,” she said. “It feels...welcoming.”

  Paul smiled. “Over the years I’ve heard it described in many ways. Each person sees something different, but the consensus is always the same. Our foster father’s home agrees with people and sets them at ease.”

  “I love the pattern on that Navajo rug draped over the couch,” she said.

  “That’s an antique blanket our foster father was given in payment for a ritual he performed for one of his patients. Almost everything woven prior to 1890 is a blanket. Navajos had little use for floor coverings since keeping warm was their priority. Then trading post owners started encouraging The People to weave rugs instead. Those were thicker and more appealing to the tourist trade.” He went over to the couch. “Touch the blanket. It’s soft and very warm.”

  She ran her fingertips over the woven fabric. “It feels wonderful, and so beautiful, too.”

  As Daniel and Preston came back in with armloads of firewood, talk naturally shifted back to business.

  “I’ve read through your files, Paul,” Kendra said. “From the reports I saw, you were on protection duty, fully prepared. Things went south for you and your partner after you reached the DC courthouse’s steps.”

  He nodded. “I’d checked the whereabouts of the judge’s known enemies, including the ex-soldier Chris Miller, the Hawthorn cartel’s wet-work specialist. Our intel said he was hiding out in Mexico, well out of reach. That turned out to be wrong. Later, video surveillance cameras across the street from the shooting revealed he’d been on the scene.”

  She nodded slowly. “Our problem’s been that Miller’s a master at changing his appearance,” Kendra said, glancing at Daniel and Preston who were stacking wood. “Following an auto injury that took place just after he left the military, he had substantial facial reconstruction. The only subsequent photo we have of him is a very low-quality one taken from that video. It was actually thanks to a partial fingerprint lifted from a parking meter, combined with facial recognition software, that we were able to confirm his ID at all.”

  “That faulty intel cost my partner her life,” Paul said. “What’s worse, Miller’s still in the wind.”

  She could feel the pain vibrating through his words. Though it hadn’t been in his file, she’d interviewed other marshals before coming here and been told that Judy and Paul had been very close. Some had speculated that the two had become lovers.

  As her gaze drifted over the man before her, she could understand the temptation he might have posed to his late partner. There was something about Paul, an intangible that went beyond those long legs, narrow waist and a chest any woman would be tempted to nestle into.

  Yet all things considered, what drew her most was the mercurial quality reflected in his gaze. Those dark eyes could sparkle with intent, determination, or even gentleness, in a flash.

  Paul Grayhorse intrigued her, but this wasn’t the time for distractions. She looked away immediately, refocusing on her mission.

  Having replenished the fire, Preston patted his brother on the back. “Police work is always filled with the unexpected, bro. What we do only comes with one guarantee—a lousy paycheck.”

  “We all go into this kind of work knowing the risks,” Daniel, a security consultant, said, “but at least we don’t die by inches, chained to a desk.”

  Paul crossed the room, stopped at the coffeepot on top of the stove, and poured himself a cup. “That’s exactly why I had to expand my business to include actual cases. Sitting in front of surveillance monitors all day was driving me nuts.”

  “No one’s arguing that, but you should have waited until you had full mobility in your arm again.” Preston checked the handgun at his waist, then zipped up his jacket and brought out a set of keys from his pocket.

  “You leaving?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah. I want to find Yolanda Sharpe, then run tonight’s events past my informants. I also want to know if any new talent, Chris Miller in particular, has shown up in the area recently.”

  “That’s why I won’t be staying here long either,” Paul said. “If someone’s gunning for me, I won’t be hard to find. Next time, I’ll be waiting.”

  “I can’t stop you, but that’s a bad idea, Paul. You’re too close to this,” Kendra said. “I’m here to bring Miller in, so we both want the same thing. Give me a chance to work this case first.”

  “Are you officially taking over the investigation?” Preston asked her.

  “Not yet,” Kendra said. “Until we fig
ure out who we’re dealing with I’ll be working closely with your department, but it’s still your case.”

  Daniel grabbed his jacket next, then nodded toward a rifle case barely visible beneath the sofa. “I’m leaving you my AR-15, with three full magazines. It’s got a thermal imaging kit you won’t believe. Just take care of it. I’ve got to hit the road, too. I’m conducting a training op at New Horizon Energy, the tribe’s secure facility. Lots of VIPs coming in to observe.”

  Kendra waited for the two men to leave, then spoke. “Now that it’s just the two of us, brief me on what went down earlier this evening.”

  “You must have seen my report,” he said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He removed his pistol and holster, leaving them within reach.

  “Of course, but I want to hear it directly from you, Paul, particularly anything you may have remembered since then.” She scooted her chair back, then took off her dark blue cardigan. As she did, sparks of static electricity lit the air. Her shoulder-length auburn hair stood out, twirling erratically, some strands tickling her nose. She brushed her hair back with a hand, trying to tame it into place.

  As he recounted the events, Kendra jotted down the new details in a small spiral notebook, noting how sharp his instincts were.

  Kendra tried hard to focus exclusively on Paul, but one strand of hair kept evading her and tickling her nose. She jutted out her bottom lip and blew hard, trying to force it away.

  “Why did you stick around once you realized that something was off?” she asked, wanting to know more about the way he thought things through out in the field.

  “I couldn’t be sure that she was setting me up, and I didn’t want to bail on someone who needed my help.”

  Kendra watched Paul as he spoke. She couldn’t help but notice how calm he was. It was normal for people to shift and move around when they were being questioned, not necessarily a sign that anything was wrong, but Paul remained perfectly still.