by Marlow Kelly
“And by ‘we,’ you mean the FBI?” Tate clarified.
“Yes.” Finn started over. “The FBI suspects that Portman was a member of a group who call themselves the Syndicate. We had a man on the inside while Portman was still alive, and he managed to get evidence of the Syndicate’s existence.”
“But?” Tate growled.
“But what?”
“You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a ‘but.’” Tate relaxed his hands and leaned back in his chair, puffing his chest, confident in his assessment.
“We believe the home invasion was instigated by the Syndicate.”
“And you’d like to take over the case. Sure, it’s yours.” Tate smiled.
“No.” Finn shook his head. “We’ll leave it in your capable hands. And the mugging—”
“The victim is a Sinclair Quinn.” Ramirez checked the file, which was open in his lap. “Is the attack on her also linked to this…this…Syndicate?”
“We can’t say definitively,” Finn hedged.
Tate crossed his arms and surveyed Finn. The captain was uncomfortable with this conversation. “Why are you leaving this with the Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department? Why not just take over yourself?”
Finn didn’t have an answer except maybe a half-truth. “We have our suspicions, but that’s not the same as proof. My superiors have told me that, without any evidence, I can’t pursue it, so it has to go through the proper channels, and that’s you.”
Tate narrowed his eyes. “Is there anything else?”
Finn shook his head, knowing that Tate wouldn’t believe him if he said the Syndicate were part of an international conspiracy and was comprised of billionaires who were manipulating events in their favor. He rose to leave and then stopped. “Oh, wait. Yes, there is. Ramirez, do you remember that guy from the bank robbery when they torched the place with you inside?”
The detective gave a long, low whistle. “Don’t tell me they were behind it.”
“I’m not sure, but there was a man named Ethan in the Molly’s Mountain case who killed the Hopefalls Police Chief. They have the same name, and it could be him. The descriptions are similar, but not a perfect match. We thought he was dead but…”
“You’re not sure,” Tate parroted. He stood and walked across the room, opening his office door. He was throwing them out. “You have a big bunch of nothing, and you’re dumping it with us.”
“That’s about it.” Finn smiled. “Keep us in the loop.”
“You’re an asshole, Callaghan.” Tate smiled. He seemed relaxed and forthright.
Finn had no doubt this was his honest opinion. He grinned in response. “It’s always a pleasure working with you, Captain.”
Chapter Twelve
Sinclair had tidied the cabin and finished doing the dishes. She was now sitting on the couch, wondering how to occupy her time. She couldn’t really do more baking since they were short on supplies. As it was, they’d had pancakes for lunch since they didn’t have the makings for anything else.
The sound of an ax chipping away at wood told her that Milo and Ava were still working on their dugout canoe. They’d set up a long tree trunk on supports near the old garage and seemed to be content to work on their project. Michael had driven Nadie to the general store on the reserve to buy groceries. He had assured Sinclair the risk was minimal and they’d be protected by the small, tight community. That could be true, but it was a gamble, in Sinclair’s experience. Luck was a fickle bitch, and the human factor would always screw you in the end. The less people who knew about them the better, but she’d conceded in the end. They needed food, and therefore they had to take the chance.
With Nadie and Michael out of the house and Milo and Ava occupied, she was alone for the first time since she’d been jumped near her apartment. Going over the pros and cons of having sex with Michael would be a waste. For nearly twenty years, they’d pretended they were just friends, but they weren’t and never had been. She remembered how it felt to lie naked beside him. He’d made her feel cherished, although she couldn’t say exactly why. He hadn’t whispered any words of love, which was good because it would’ve made her uncomfortable.
And the sex… Even now, after all these years, her nerve endings hummed at the memory. He was the best she’d ever had. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been intimate. She’d given up on men about a year before Carla died. August had marked the anniversary of her death, so it was at least two years since she’d had sex. That was quite a drought. It was past time she dipped her feet in the water.
She stood and paced the room. Did she even need a man in her life? Absolutely not. Plus, Michael was problematic. How would their relationship, or whatever it was, affect those in their group? It probably wouldn’t matter to them. David, Tim, and Finn were adults with lives of their own, and as much as she loved them, she understood their friendship wasn’t as important to their makeshift family as it once had been. David had Marie, and Tim was now living with Dana.
If she wanted, she could enjoy Michael physically. But she questioned her ability to remain detached. She knew him, knew his smile, knew he hated eggs, and knew he didn’t like to be pressured into making decisions. At the same time, they had not only grown apart over the years, they had both changed.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She would have sex with him. They both wanted it, and it had been way too long for her. End of story. Thinking it to death wasn’t going to change a thing. She had to stop obsessing.
Her choices for entertainment were limited. Computers and smartphones were out. When she spent time alone in her she-shed, she always brought a couple of books, her sketch pad, and her camera to photograph wildlife. It helped her unwind and deal with her emotional fatigue, especially after a tough case. She didn’t have access to any of those things, and this wasn’t downtime. They were in hiding because they were being hunted.
That brought her back to reality. She would workout.
There wasn’t enough room for her to practice inside, so she went outside in search of a private location, which was also in proximity to the house.
Ava stopped hacking at the tree trunk and waved to her. “Do you want to help us?”
She had the same high cheekbones as her brother and was already very pretty. Sinclair had no doubt she would grow into a stunning woman. “Thanks, but I’m going to get some exercise.”
She did a few practice swings with her baton and then walked a hundred feet along the trail until she came to a tree strong enough to take her blows.
She’d been practicing for about five minutes when a movement to her left caught her attention. Ava waved at her. The teen was far enough away so as not to be accidently hit.
Sinclair stopped. “Am I making too much noise?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was wondering if you could show me how to fight.”
“Hasn’t Michael taught you?” David had tutored her in all sorts of moves he’d learned in his Special Forces training.
Ava stepped forward. “He showed me how to get out of a bearhug, how to elbow someone in the head, and kick an attacker in the groin, you know, stuff like that.”
Sinclair eyed the teen. She had been confrontational with Michael last night but then they had made up as if nothing had happened. Being in Ava’s company was like riding a bull. Sinclair never knew if she would be thrown to the ground and trampled on. But she believed that every woman should be able to protect herself, and Michael had obviously given Ava the fundamentals of self-defense. “When did he coach you?”
“A year before I went to kindergarten.” She shrugged, her long dark hair bouncing as she moved. “But I beat up a boy who tried to kiss me, so I didn’t get any lessons again until I was ten.”
Sinclair laughed and then said, “I can demonstrate the basics of stick fighting, but you have to promise me you will only use it for self-defense.”
Ava solemnly put a hand over her heart. “I promise.”
Sinclair handed
Ava the baton and showed her how to collapse it and how it hooked inside the pocket of her jeans like a pen. “Don’t strike for the throat or head. You could kill someone and could be charged with using a weapon with lethal force.
“Did you hit the men who attacked you?”
She thought about lying but decided to turn it into a teachable moment. “Yes. I was lucky to escape. There were two of them. I broke one guy’s hand because he had a gun, and I hit the other one in the knee and the ribs.”
“What did you do then?”
“I ran, and that’s exactly what I want you to do. You just need to create the opportunity to escape. Now, watch how I flick it open.”
She demonstrated the action, pulling it from her imaginary pocket and flicking it so it extended to its full length. Then she showed Ava how to strike the muscles of the arms and legs, how to jab and how to use it to block an attack.
After Ava had practiced a few moves, she stopped and said, “Do you think Mike will let us make our phone calls today?”
Sinclair shrugged. With everything that had happened, not just the trauma of the attacks, but also being so close to Michael, she had completely forgotten about calling work. “I don’t know. I’m not expected back at work for a few days, so I have some time.”
A vehicle, which sounded like it needed a new muffler, rumbled up the dirt driveway.
Sinclair grabbed the baton from Ava’s hand and hauled her behind a bush, forcing her to duck and hide. “Stay here,” she hissed, her hand on her Glock.
“It’s okay. It’s just your mom and Michael,” Milo called, giving them the all clear.
Michael parked the old, battered truck near the main cabin. His mom climbed out of the passenger side, followed by an old, stooped woman with long white hair.
Sinclair and Ava joined the others.
Nadie led the Elder inside while Michael surveyed the compound. He seemed calm, controlled, and way too sexy for her piece of mind. He grabbed some grocery bags from the back seat.
“Hey Sprog, whatcha been up to?” Michael smiled at his sister.
Ava pointed at Sinclair as she stood toe-to-toe with her brother. “She made me hide when you drove up. Overreact much?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned to follow the others.
Sinclair wasn’t used to the attitude. The people she rescued were normally grateful for her protection.
“That’s enough.” Michael grabbed Ava’s arm. “Sinclair’s protecting you.”
“There was no need. It was just you.” High color rose in the teen’s cheeks.
“Next time it might not be.”
Ava tore her arm out of his grasp. “I hate this. You promised I could make a call.” Then she stomped off, taking the path to the lake.
Sinclair turned to go after the teen.
Michael stepped in front of her, stopping her. “Sorry about that. Fifteen’s a tough age.”
“Shouldn’t one of us go after her?” She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to leave Ava alone.
“Some quiet time will do her good, and there’s really nowhere for her to go. The path just trails the lake shore and will lead her back here. She won’t venture into the forest. It’s too dense.”
They joined the others at the kitchen table.
“Sinclair, I’d like you to meet Grandma Pelle,” Nadie said as she set a kettle on the stove.
Sinclair smiled, bowed her head. She’d met Grandma Pelle before at a conference on missing women organized by Child Seekers International but doubted the Elder would remember her.
Milo searched the cupboards. “Aha.” He retrieved a pouch of tobacco and handed it to Nadie.
Nadie placed the pack in her left hand and presented it to Grandma Pelle. “We ask you to pray for our safety.”
To Native Americans, tobacco was considered the first medicine and represented their spiritual connection to the Creator. It was used as an offering to Mother Earth in exchange for the gifts she provided.
Unexpectantly, the door jerked open and Ava stood there. She left her hand on the handle as though she were deciding whether to stay.
Nadie glanced at her daughter and then nodded toward a chair at the table, silently ordering her to sit.
Grandma Pelle smiled at the teen and then opened her bag and retrieved a ball of dried herbs.
Sinclair assumed, from her previous experience, that it was sage, and the Elder was about to conduct a smudging ceremony.
Nadie set a small cast-iron dish on the table.
Grandma Pelle placed the smudge in the dish. Using a match, she set it alight and then she waved it to flame with an eagle feather. Traditionally, they never blew on the spark to get it going; it was always fanned, either with a hand or a feather.
The Elder scooped up the smoke, very much like cupping water and cleansed her hands with the vapor. She did the same with her face, and lastly her heart. Then she passed the bowl to Nadie who repeated the purification process. Everyone at the table took their turn.
Once they were finished, Nadie poured tea into a mug and set it in front of Grandma Pelle.
The Elder took a polite sip and then said, “The Blackfoot have a story about the Chinook Wind. Chinook Wind was a girl who married Chinook Glacier. He took her to his home of ice and cold, but she didn’t want to stay there. She wanted to return to her warm family near the sea. But Glacier wouldn’t let her go. Her people heard she was unhappy, and they came and fought with Glacier. After a great battle, they took her home.” Grandma Pelle turned and spoke to Michael. “All of our young people have a foot in two worlds, one in the white man’s world and one in ours. But you have forgotten where you came from. It’s time for you to return. You will bring our women home. It is time for you to help your people. This is how it is.” She took another sip of her tea, obviously finished with her announcement.
Michael said nothing. He rose and silently walked out.
Nadie’s face flushed. Her reaction could have been caused by embarrassment or anger at Michael’s behavior. Both were a possibility. He hadn’t been overtly disrespectful to Grandma Pelle, but he hadn’t shown her the esteem that was normally reserved for Elders, and it reflected poorly on his family.
Sinclair was tempted to go after him but stayed in her seat. One person being rude to an Elder was enough.
Grandma Pelle smiled at her. “Go talk to him. Tell him he needs to follow your path.”
Grandma Pelle obviously remembered her. She left the cabin and went in search of Michael. She found him pacing on the trail.
“Do you see how it is?” His neck was corded, and every muscle in his body seemed tense and jerky.
“How what is?” She put her hands on her hips.
“The expectations.” His jaw was clenched so tight she thought he might break his teeth.
“Get over yourself. The statistics of violence, abuse, and human trafficking for Native American women are horrific. She’s an Elder. Aren’t they supposed to look out for the young?”
He turned to face her. “What’s your point?” He didn’t seem impressed by her lack of sympathy.
“Not everything is about you. Maybe this is about her getting an ex-federal agent to help her people.”
“And how am I supposed to do that? We’re in hiding.” He gave a long, drawn out sigh. He seemed calmer, less frustrated. “I can’t do anything about the women until we stop the Syndicate, and I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know if that’s possible.”
The enormity of his statement sucked the air out of her lungs. She hesitated, needing some time to catch her breath. “What makes you say that?”
He shrugged, suggesting the answer was obvious. “Think about their resources and what they’ve done already. They have someone who’s probably high on the food chain working in the DOJ. Do you honestly think Marie’s solar panel was the first project they’ve stopped? Or that they haven’t used eminent domain to steal land before, like they did with Tim’s neighbor? They have money, technology, connections, a
nd we know they won’t hesitate to use lethal force.”
She hadn’t thought about this as a long-term situation. She’d been too busy dealing with…everything. “If that’s the case, we need a better plan. We have to change our appearance, get new IDs, and make a clean break. Leave Montana and go to a different state where no one will recognize us. Do you have the means for that?”
“I’m not sure I can run away. Finn, David, and Tim would still be at risk. Sooner or later, the Syndicate are bound to come after them. If I hide, I’ll put all of you in danger again. But you, my mom, Milo, and Ava will need to go away for a while.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“I mean, yes, it makes sense to hide your family, but I’m going to stay with you and watch your back.”
“Tim and David—”
“Have other responsibilities. Finn has Agent Morris to cover his ass. I’ll cover yours.”
He muttered something unintelligible and shook his head, but he didn’t argue with her.
“Are you going to tell your mom they have to disappear?” Even though she had no intention of going into hiding, there was a good chance she wouldn’t be able to return to her apartment or use her car for the foreseeable future. How would Nadie, Milo, and Ava handle not being able to go back to their lives? “Ava’s going to have a fit.”
“I know.” He pressed his lips into a grim line. “I’m going to put off telling them until tomorrow.” He grinned at her. “Unless you want to do it?”
It was an impish smile that made butterflies dance in her stomach. “Not a chance.”
“We’ll deal with it together, and if we ever get out of this, I’ll do what Grandma Pelle tells me.” He grabbed her hand and led her back to the cabin. “Come on. Milo’s making burgers for dinner.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan stood behind the two gorillas, not wanting to have any part in this job. Three operatives, including him, had been summoned to Lucy Portman’s office on the fifth floor of the PDE building in Granite City. One of them had a broken hand, the other covered his ribs with his arm. He tucked the knowledge of their injuries away in case he needed it in the future. He wasn’t planning to hurt them, but he never knew when it would be necessary to sacrifice a colleague, and the weakest link was always the first to go.
