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  “Did they ever cross-check to see if that suspect had a connection to Mrs. Atkins?” Jonas asked, always suspicious of seemingly coincidental events.

  “No, and the suspect was eventually cleared of any involvement. Both cases remain unsolved to this day.”

  “What did the attorney say when he heard Grant Woods’s story?” Jonas pressed.

  “He thought the boy had made it all up to get back at his daughter, because she was friends with the kid who’d beaten him up at school.”

  Jonas considered what he’d just learned, recalling Emily’s story about Grant and the girl he’d taken for a ride, then assaulted. If Grant was retaliating once again for that old wound, he certainly had a long memory. Although it wasn’t impossible, it seemed highly unlikely.

  “Many secrets have remained hidden over the years, but they’re all coming to the surface now, so watch yourself,” Diné Nééz said.

  “I intend to,” he answered.

  “Have you been able to find any sign of Dinétsoh?”

  “I know he passed through her land. I think he could be hiding in one of the old mines,” Jonas said, updating him.

  “Our searchers didn’t find tracks around any of those openings. Don’t go into those death traps unless you have hard evidence that the others missed. Judging from the amount of blood you found, Dinétsoh was fighting for his life, and may have already lost that battle,” Diné Nééz said.

  “Even if he did, the bearer bonds are still out there—maybe buried, or hidden under a rock. I’ll keep searching, but there’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “We’ll continue our search, too, but you’ve already found far more than any of the others.”

  “I believe he’s up there somewhere,” Jonas said again, pursing his lips and pointing toward the cliffs to the south.

  Diné Nééz reached into his jacket and brought out a small leather pouch. “This jish was made for you,” he said, handing it to him. “It has soil from the sacred mountains, pollen and other substances. It also contains something special that may prove of value to you—shashchiin, bear fetishes. One made out of turquoise and the other, jet. They are the guardians of boundaries. They’ll provide you with protection.”

  “Ahéhee’,” he replied, thanking him.

  “It was Bear who helped the Diné defeat our enemies and enabled the People to live outside the shadow of fear,” Diné Nééz said. “Mother Earth is filled with power and offers her protection to those who honor her with prayers.”

  “Although a part of me still believes in the old ways, I prefer to rely on my own training when facing a challenge, Uncle,” Jonas said.

  “The two can work together, and make you even stronger.”

  Diné Nééz stood as Jonas fastened the bundle to his belt.

  “I have reason to believe that the woman I’m guarding is protecting a secret of her own,” Jonas said.

  “One that pertains to the matter at hand?” he asked quickly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “If I learn anything that might be helpful, I’ll call you right away.”

  Jonas left a short time later and was soon on the road back to Emily’s place. As he reached the spot he’d chosen to stay at tonight—he changed positions nightly—Jonas greeted the sentinel who’d taken his place.

  “Everything’s quiet,” his fellow warrior said. “The trailer curtains are mostly drawn, but if you take a look through the crack, you can see that she’s got one small light, possibly a night-light, still on.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Jonas said softly. “Evil is always friends with the dark.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On Wednesday, Emily woke up right after sunrise. She looked outside, pleased with the progress Ken and his men had made. Yesterday, the work crew had come in early, finished leveling the site, and had actually managed to get the wood forms ready and the ground plumbing in and tested.

  She’d received many calls about the furniture and other items she’d listed for sale, so while she’d handled that, Jonas had spent the day searching for Dinétsoh.

  After twenty-four hours of relative peace, eight hundred dollars in her purse and her inn showing signs of progress, she felt more confident than she had in days.

  Shortly after eight, Jonas came to her trailer. She smiled as his gaze slid over her appreciatively. “Come in,” she invited. As he took a seat, she brought out some papers. “Last night I used my wireless to access Robert Jefferson’s Web site. I printed out his photo and figure we can show it around. Maybe someone in town will remember seeing him recently.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “While surfing the net I also found a photo of Grant. I thought we could take that with us to the county records office this morning. The contract had the signature of the county clerk, so let’s see if she remembers him.”

  They were in his truck and on their way to town a few minutes later.

  “What’s your biggest worry right now?” Jonas asked, hoping to surprise her into giving him a quick, truthful answer. When she hesitated, he knew that although he’d get a response, it wouldn’t be the answer—the secret she was keeping from him.

  “Despite the money I raised yesterday, my biggest worry is still funding,” she said at last.

  “You want this badly enough to find a way around obstacles. You’ll make things work.”

  Emily gave him a surprised look. “Sounds like you have more faith in me than I do.”

  “I’ve spent the past few years around people who are trained to do the impossible. From what I’ve seen of you so far, you’d fit right in with them.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “The inn means the world to me. It’s something solid—my future. And it’s all I’ve got left.”

  “Not all. You still have friends.” He took her hand in his. Permanence and stability—what she seemed to want most—were two qualities he would never be able to provide for her. But what he could do was help her achieve her goal.

  “No matter what happens, I’m not going to give up. I have this fire inside me that pushes me to keep going—to do whatever it takes to get my inn up and running.”

  That inner fire warmed him, as well, because it was rooted in hope, a quality he’d sacrificed a long time ago to training and resolve.

  It took about forty minutes to reach the county government complex, a large, modern, two-story building located in the small city of Aztec. After a short walk through the parking lot, they reached the records office, located at the end of a long hall.

  They went up to the counter, and a small, middle-aged woman who’d been seated behind one of the desks came up to meet them.

  “May I help you?” she asked, pushing back a strand of gray-white hair. Her name tag identified her as Alice Sanchez.

  Emily showed her a copy of the signed drilling-rights contract. “We have reason to believe that some of these signatures were forged. What we’d like you to do is tell us if your signature is genuine.”

  Mrs. Sanchez looked at the contract, then shook her head. “If I’d signed that, it would have had the notary seal right next to my name, and that’s not there.” She put on reading glasses, then studied the place where her name appeared. “That’s also not even close to my handwriting. I bring the loop of my S all the way around, tucking it to the right of the letter. This one has a loop that’s open and ends on the left side.”

  “Was this contract ever officially filed with the county?” Emily asked.

  “It has a document number, so let me check the record files for you.” Mrs. Sanchez entered the number on a keyboard, then double-checked the screen and the document. “This file number brings up a property deed listing for a house in Bloomfield, miles from your address—obviously the wrong document. But let me cross-check with your address and see if anything comes up. The numbers may have been entered incorrectly.”

  A few seconds later, she looked up. “Nothing.” She stood. “Let’s go talk in one of the conference rooms. We can sp
eak privately there.”

  Signaling to another employee, she led the way down a long hallway. Once they were inside the small room, she invited them to take a seat at the circular table.

  “This is very disturbing to me. We’ve never had any scandal here in my department,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “And now a forgery of my own signature, no less!” She shook her head. “I’ll have to report this to my boss.”

  “Do you know who might have the skill to create a credible document like this one?” Jonas asked.

  She hesitated, then, as if making up her mind, admitted, “Several months ago, when we moved into this new office, the department hired a temporary employee by the name of Phil Davis. I came back from vacation a few days ago and found out that Mr. Davis had been terminated for improper conduct and ‘irregularities.’ When I tried to get specifics, I ran into a stone wall with my boss. No one would tell me anything. I was told to drop the matter and hire someone else.”

  “Unofficially, do you have any idea what happened?” Jonas pressed.

  “Now that I see this, I’m thinking he was falsifying contracts and forging signatures. Phil liked taking shortcuts.”

  “What kind of shortcuts?” Jonas asked.

  “Not bothering to file important paperwork when he was pressed for time, not logging in calls or updating records and generally letting things slide until the next day if it was close to quitting time,” she said. “But you didn’t hear that from me, okay?”

  “No problem.” Emily reached into her purse. “Do you recognize either of these men?”

  “I know both. Mr. Woods there,” she said, pointing, “is a private accountant who takes on work for the county on occasion. The other is Robert Jefferson. He’s a real-estate attorney who’s involved in many of the property transactions that come through this office. I’ve never had any problems with either of them.”

  Jonas and Emily thanked Mrs. Sanchez, then left the office. While inside the building, neither said a word, but once they reached the parking lot, Emily was the first to speak.

  “The fact that both Grant and Robert are seen as solid citizens is going to make things tougher for us. Word’s bound to reach them. Public employees usually prefer to stay on the good side of anyone with a lot of money and power.”

  “It’s worth pushing for answers, anyway,” Jonas said. “But you’re right. The wealthy always have more leeway.”

  “Grant’s involvement in this still doesn’t make sense to me. He might want my land, but he doesn’t need it.”

  “Sometimes wanting is enough.”

  “If that’s the case, maybe he figured out that this phony agreement—even if I can eventually prove it’s invalid—is a good way to sabotage, or at least delay my sale to the tribe. And, of course, if I go broke in the meantime and have to sell, so much the better. He’ll be right there, hoping to snap up my property at bargain-basement prices.”

  “We need to stir things up and see what comes to the surface,” Jonas said.

  “I hate looking for trouble, but in this case, I think you’re right. I want to know who my enemy is. I’m tired of fighting shadows.”

  He smiled in approval. Emily was his type of woman. “Keep in mind there’s a slim chance that Grant Woods doesn’t know the contract’s phony. It’s possible he was victimized, too. He might have counted on the integrity of another party he authorized to cut a deal with your father. Without talking to Grant, which we can’t do without tipping our hand, we won’t know for sure who drew up that contract for him, and if he just assumed the signatures were legit. If he believes your father initiated the deal, that would mean someone is conning him, as well.”

  “Like maybe Robert Jefferson, who has now conveniently disappeared?” she answered.

  “That’s one possibility. What we need to do is follow the money, and that’ll take us to Phil Davis next. Let’s see what I can do to find him.”

  “Your sources will help,” she said with a nod.

  It hadn’t been a question, more like an acknowledgment. Remembering how she’d linked the circle and the flames to the tribe, he considered the possibility that she knew about the Brotherhood. Her father had known, and although Powell Atkins had sworn to keep the secret, it was possible Emily had seen or overheard something over the years. It would explain her comment. Then again, the Brotherhood’s insignia had been on the contract that had cited a shadow tribal agency—their cover.

  He was overanalyzing things. That was all. The fact was only a few knew about the Brotherhood.

  “What if we never find the answers we need?”

  “We will,” he stated firmly. “Believe me.”

  “I do,” she said, then sighed softly. “You’ve never lied to me, even back then…” She shook her head, almost as if regretting the words, and lapsed into silence.

  Her whisper had felt like a tender caress, soothing his scarred heart. “That night will be a part of both of us forever.” He started to reach again for her hand, but stopped himself.

  He was a warrior. That’s all he’d ever been and all he would ever be. He didn’t want, or need, a family who counted on him.

  To pull a soul as gentle as hers into the kind of life he led would be wrong. She deserved better.

  Using one hand, he flipped open his cell phone, then cursed under his breath. “No signal. I’m going to pull over and see if I have better luck outside. I’ll be back in a minute, hopefully with a lead on Davis.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Emily watched him move away. Everything about Jonas sang to her, touching her in ways that left her feeling vulnerable and wonderfully feminine all at the same time. Love, though the gentlest of all emotions, was the most difficult to deny.

  He returned to the truck moments later, and slipped behind the wheel. “I’m going to drop you off at home—well, your trailer. There’s some business I need to handle alone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You know where Davis is, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “I thought I’d follow him and see where that takes me. But things can get ugly fast in situations like this.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said flatly.

  Jonas shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You’re not locking me out of this. This is my fight, and I’m in it to the end.”

  Her words resonated with conviction, and he knew he’d never talk her out of it. “You’re one hell of a woman,” he murmured, then brushed her cheek with his knuckles. Pure masculine pride filled him as he felt her shiver in response. She had the courage of a dozen warriors, but she was all woman. He needed her—

  The thought brought his musings to a crashing halt.

  “We better get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Although she’d sensed Jonas’s abrupt change in mood, she wasn’t sure what had caused it. As she looked over, all she could see in his face was self-control and steely determination.

  Maybe that’s what he needed from himself right now to fight the evil that was pressing in on them. She’d have her own battle to wage soon enough—not only against flesh and blood, but against the darkness that was closing in on her.

  “Davis is supposed to be at his new job,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “He works behind the counter at a gas station out on east Main. Let’s stake out the location and see if any of his friends drop by. When we’re ready, we’ll make our move.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Emily wasn’t sure what kind of move he wanted to make, but she was ready to do whatever it took to get answers.

  They arrived at the gas station ten minutes later. Jonas parked on a side street, facing the station. “We’ll have a good view from here, since the cash register is right next to the window.”

  “Is that him?” she asked, seeing a man with bulging biceps going to the counter and ringing up a purchase for an elderly woman.

  “Yeah.” Jonas nodded, flipped his phone open, then showed her the photo he’d been sent. “Add a few years to this pi
cture and you get the guy by the window.”

  “He looks like he’s been working out a lot since that was taken. His biceps are the size of my waist.”

  “He’s been in prison. A lot of the inmates pump iron to fight the boredom. They also pick up criminal skills—like forgery, apparently, in his case.”

  “How do you think he ended up working for the county?”

  “The mayor’s policy is to give cons a second chance. Looks like good ol’ Phil got his chance, then blew it. If he’s on parole, he’s lucky not to be back in prison.”

  After watching for about a half hour, they saw Phil arguing with someone in the garage bay, a person not visible from their angle. A few minutes later, Phil stormed out of the office and jumped into an old gray sedan.

  “We’re going to follow him from a distance,” Jonas said, starting the engine. Pulling out into traffic, they proceeded west into the city. Making a left turn, they entered an old, run-down neighborhood known for its high crime level and gang activity. Jonas glanced over at Emily. “Keep your door locked and don’t make eye contact with anyone.”

  Seeing a group of boys gathered in front of a bar, she did as he asked. Yet, instead of following his own advice and avoiding eye contact, Jonas met their stares with an unflinching one of his own, followed by a somber nod.

  “Are you trying to provoke them?”

  “Just the opposite. To a Navajo, avoiding eye contact is a sign of respect but out here it’s different. If I looked away, those kids would perceive it as a sign of weakness and, like predatory animals, they’re more prone to attack then. The nod acknowledges their presence, and makes them think we’ve met before.”

  His voice was cold and detached, edged with steely resolve. Jonas was in full warrior mode now, and that left no room for the gentle man who’d loved her so tenderly.

  She braced herself, determined to also become whatever she needed to be in order to face what lay ahead. She wasn’t a soldier, just a woman fighting to build a dream—but there was no fiercer warrior than one whose heart was committed to the fight.