The Shadow Page 3

  “No. We’ve managed to keep a lid on that, at least for now. But there’s no telling how long that’ll last. One slip is all it takes.” He gathered his thoughts before continuing. “The woman…In your opinion, will she be an asset or a liability to our search?”

  Jonas considered his answer carefully. “She’s offered to help, and give me access to her land. But she has secrets, too. I can feel it in my gut.”

  “Don’t we all?” the man countered with a shrug. “Is it possible that whatever she’s hiding has something to do with her father’s death?”

  “I can’t be certain of anything at this point.” Except for one thing, Jonas added silently. His attraction to her hadn’t diminished. If anything, it had grown even stronger. And that would make him a liability to the mission unless he kept it in check. “I’ll report as soon as I have something.”

  “We need to put the case together quickly, but our involvement has to be kept under wraps. The Brotherhood has remained a secret organization since the time of Kit Carson—unseen but felt—and that’s how it must remain. Live up to your code name, Chaha’oh,” he said. It was the Navajo word for shadow. “Use your skills and get it done.”

  JONAS RETURNED TO THE house and parked next to it. As he stepped out of the cab, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right. Remaining beside the truck, he waited and listened, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him. This same instinct had kept him alive more times than he cared to count, and taught him to pay attention to subtleties.

  He watched the play of light and shadows on the ground, and somewhere in the distance heard the sound of soft humming. As he walked around the house, he saw Emily standing outside the back door, her eyes closed, her face tilted up toward the sky.

  For a moment he just gazed at her, absorbing the way her brown hair cascaded around her shoulders as she enjoyed the warmth. The last time he’d seen her look that serene and happy they’d just made love. Safely nestled against him inside his sleeping bag, she’d looked up at him and smiled. That moment in time had been permanently carved into his heart.

  Tearing his gaze away, he muttered an oath. Diversions and distractions were an implacable enemy, and danger was close. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he felt it as clearly as the cool breeze that penetrated his open leather jacket.

  Darting his eyes around, he joined her quickly. “Let’s go inside,” he said, forcing his voice to remain casual. “Maybe I can help you finish emptying the rooms.”

  “You weren’t gone long,” she answered pleasantly.

  “I just needed to check in with a few people and see if anything new had turned up on our missing man.”

  “And has it?”

  He shook his head.

  She led him through the kitchen, returning to what had been her father’s office. “I’ve gone through all the files Dad kept here. His maps are missing, as I told you, though the folder was still in the cabinet. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I also didn’t see anything that pertained specifically to the tribe, so I stopped trying to sort and just stuck everything in those boxes. They’ll go into storage alongside the furniture.”

  Hearing a truck engine, she looked out the window and smiled. “Finally! Here are the movers. They’ll load the rest of the big stuff into the truck and haul it over to the rental storage place in town.”

  Still uneasy but unable to identify the threat, Jonas walked out with her and remained by her side while the workers loaded the truck. As soon as they drove off, he and Emily returned inside the house.

  “I’ve never heard of that moving company,” he said. “I assume you checked them out?”

  “Of course. They’re new, but legit, and they gave me a great price. I’ve got to cut corners now. Every dollar counts.”

  She hadn’t asked for, nor did she want, his sympathy. She’d simply stated a fact. His admiration for her continued to grow.

  He looked around the interior, noting that nothing except portable lanterns and labeled boxes remained.

  “Everything else in here will be transferred across the driveway to that railroad-car-size metal storage container,” she said.

  “Since the bulk of the work is finally done, how about you and me taking a break? There’s a real nice coffeehouse out on east Main, at the mall. They serve the best pancakes for miles. We can have a quick brunch, then get back to work.”

  “Great idea,” she said, walking outside with him.

  Jonas studied the area around him carefully. Someone was out there. He could feel him. As it had been when snipers had stalked his unit, his muscles were wound tight, and he was ready—itching, really—for a challenge.

  They were several feet from his truck when he saw a flicker of movement to his left, between two stacks of plywood. Jonas urged Emily quickly into his truck and, motioning for her to stay down, made his way toward the intruder, creeping silently in his soft deerskin boots.

  The man never heard or saw him coming. As soon as he was within a few yards, Jonas dived for him, but only caught the heel of his shoe. The intruder, dressed in green coveralls and a cap, dropped something as he kicked loose, then took off at breakneck speed, rounding the corner.

  Jonas raced across the yard after him, but before he could narrow the distance, he heard a small motor revving up somewhere ahead. Suddenly a dirt bike roared around the side of the house, raising a cloud of dust as it accelerated straight at him.

  Two men. He should have expected it. Jonas automatically reached for the holstered Beretta at the small of his back, then changed his mind. He needed a prisoner, not another casualty. There was a better way to unseat this guy, but his timing would have to be perfect.

  Jonas crouched slightly, wondering if his baton would do the trick, then decided it was too light. His forearm was the best choice, though the risk of collision and broken bones was greater. He waved the cyclist forward, goading him with a look of defiance.

  The rider, his features hidden by a helmet, didn’t waver for a second. He came right at him, engine roaring.

  Jonas jumped clear at the last second, throwing out his arm to clothesline the punk. But fate wasn’t on his side. The bike suddenly fishtailed, and the rear wheel whipped around. The rider’s boot caught him in the shin, spinning Jonas out of position. His fist ricocheted off the top of the biker’s helmet as he passed.

  The man raced away, fishtailing again about fifty feet farther down the road, then disappearing in the direction of the highway.

  His leg throbbing with pain and his fist numb, Jonas tried to locate the man who’d run off on foot. He was out of sight now, and probably making a beeline for his partner on the bike.

  Jonas sprinted after the cycle, suspecting the biker would have to stop soon to pick up his cohort. After running another fifty yards, Jonas spotted the bike through the trees, and saw the second man jump behind the driver. As the motorcycle raced off in a cloud of dust, Jonas knew he’d never catch them now, even if he went back for his truck.

  Coming to a stop, he opened his cell phone and punched out the number of his contact in the sheriff’s department, Sergeant Charlie Nez. Charlie’s code name was Ha’asídí, Watchman. After identifying himself and giving him the highlights of the incident, Jonas returned the phone to his jacket pocket and jogged back toward the house.

  He was picking up the object his first attacker had dropped—a Taser—when he heard running footsteps. Just then Emily came around the eight-foot-high stack of sheeting, a double-barreled shotgun gripped in her hand.

  “They’re gone,” he assured her quickly.

  “What about you? Are you all right?” she asked. “I called the sheriff’s department and they said they were sending a deputy.”

  “I called them, too,” he said, noting that she’d wrapped her fingers around the trigger guard. If it was loaded, and the safety off…“Do you know how to use that?”

  She looked down at the weapon, then drew it closer, fortunately moving her grip away
from the trigger area. “How hard can it be? Point and shoot.”

  He gently took the weapon from her hands and thumbed the safety on. “Nice. Remington over/under. Where did you get it?”

  “It belonged to my dad. He used to go duck hunting. I took it to my trailer a few days ago, just for safety’s sake. I don’t really know if it’s loaded or not,” she added. “I’m not sure how to check. The gun was always off-limits to Mom and me.”

  Jonas opened the action and checked. “It isn’t loaded,” he answered. “What were you planning to do if it wouldn’t fire?”

  “It’s nice and heavy. I’d use it as a club.”

  “To protect me?” he asked, doing his best, but not quite succeeding to bite back a smile.

  “Of course. Anyone who got whacked on the head with this would be out of it for a while.”

  He took a step closer to her, then brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. Hearing her draw in an unsteady breath, he felt a surge of pure masculine satisfaction.

  Emily moved away and cleared her throat. “We’ve had two vandalism attempts here in the past twenty-four hours. What’s going on? The bad guys don’t normally come back to a crime scene, do they?”

  “It depends on how serious they are about putting you out of business.”

  “But why? An inn brings visitors and more business to the community. This doesn’t make sense. Were the men who came today the same ones who were here last night?”

  “Probably. The boot and shoe prints match, and the body types fit, at least with height and build.” He glanced down at the Taser, studying it. “This was meant to incapacitate me, and maybe you, as well, while they did whatever it was they came for.”

  “Vandalism wasn’t their only objective today. They want to scare me into leaving,” she said flatly. “Otherwise, they would have waited until I’d left on an errand, and wouldn’t have brought a Taser along.”

  “I agree. Like last night, scaring you was one of their objectives. If they’d wanted to kill either one of us, they’d have come better armed.” He paused for several moments, looking for anything on the Taser that might give them a clue. The serial numbers had been removed, and the insulated grip probably meant no fingerprints could be recovered.

  “Do you think they’ll try again?” With effort she kept her voice steady.

  “Yeah,” Jonas grunted. “That’s why you should reconsider your plans. Since construction hasn’t started yet, why don’t you return what materials you can, take a small loss, then wait them out? Give me time to work. Afterward, when things are settled, you can continue.”

  “No, the clock’s ticking too fast—” She abruptly stopped speaking.

  “We’re on the same side, Em. Don’t shut me out,” he said, more convinced than ever that she was hiding something. Turning to face her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve earned your trust many times over. Talk to me.”

  As she looked into his eyes, her thoughts suddenly became muddled and her heart began doing flip-flops. Forcing a steadiness she wouldn’t have thought possible into her voice, she answered him. “I’d like to trust you completely, Jonas. I really would. But here’s the thing. I never thought I’d see you again. Then, out of nowhere, here you are.”

  She paused, pushing her hands deep inside her jacket pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him. “Though you’ve saved my life twice, something tells me there’s more to your return into my life than you’ve said. Until I know enough to fill in all those blanks, there’s no room for total trust.”

  “No one can ever fill in all the blanks of another person’s life. Things just don’t work that way.” He leaned against the house, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. “You need to make some decisions, and here’s something you should consider. Your father spent a lifetime working for the tribe. He trusted us. Can you afford to do anything less?”

  “Life’s been…different to me. It’s taught me to be cautious.”

  Jonas couldn’t fault her for that. In that one way, they were alike.

  “But you’re right. Once these people realize I won’t run away, they’re going to come after me with everything they’ve got.”

  “No one’s going to hurt you, Em.” He brushed her cheek with the palm of his hand and felt the gentle tremor that traveled through her. “I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”

  Chapter Three

  Emily sat in what had been the living room of her parent’s house. Across the card table from her, in a metal folding chair identical to her own, sat uniformed deputy Michael Dusenberry. Sergeant Nez, whom she’d spoken to earlier on the phone, was questioning Jonas in a separate room.

  “How do you explain what’s happened?” Deputy Dusenberry asked. “This is the second time vandals have come onto your property. Do you have any idea what they’re after?”

  “I honestly don’t know. They haven’t made any attempt to steal my old Chevy, and there’s nothing exceptionally valuable here at the house. My dad made a good living, but he wasn’t wealthy. All the tools, furniture and appliances are well used and out of sight now, locked up in a metal storage building.”

  “Have they targeted anything special?”

  “The lumber and other building materials, but I don’t see what they’d have to gain from setting it all on fire.”

  “Yet they’ve come back twice. There’s got to be something they want. What about your father’s papers and files? As a lawyer he has made his share of enemies.”

  “I’ve gone through most of his files looking for something that could be triggering these attacks on me, but so far I haven’t found anything,” she said, filling in the details. “The only thing missing is my dad’s map collection, and that’s not worth much. That’s all they took.”

  “Are you sure about that? And if you are, is it possible your father threw the maps out and never got around to discarding the folder from the filing cabinet?”

  “The maps were nothing special,” she assured him. “And Dad was a neat freak when it came to his files. He would have discarded both folder or maps, or neither.”

  “I’d ask you to turn all your father’s records over to us to sort through, but the truth is we can’t fund the man-hours when no major crimes have been committed. It’s a matter of priorities and resources.”

  “I couldn’t have turned them over to you anyway—not without a court order. My dad protected his clients’ confidentiality, and I’d have to respect that, too.”

  “Admirable, but if you feel threatened, I’d advise you to hire a trained expert to examine those files for possible suspects.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. My money situation is similar to your department’s.”

  Jonas walked into the room just then, and the sergeant who’d questioned him followed.

  Jonas glanced at Charlie, then back at Emily. “Take things one step at a time, Em. You’ll get further that way.”

  “I’m done here,” Deputy Dusenberry said, standing up and placing his notebook in a shirt pocket.

  “If you need us, just call,” Sergeant Nez added.

  Emily saw the officers to the door, spoke briefly to the reporter outside, then excused herself and returned to the house.

  Standing by the window, she watched them drive away. “It’s such a beautiful day. I wish there wasn’t so much to do here.”

  Jonas gently pulled her toward him and away from the window. “It’s not a good idea to stand in front of the glass like that.”

  Although his words reminded her of the seriousness of the situation, the warmth of his body crept around her, awakening needs.

  “I’m going to take a look outside,” he said, moving away. “I’ll be back.”

  She watched him go, noting the tension that tightened his muscles. An edge of danger defined Jonas. It was there in his long-legged stride and the grim set of his rock-hard jaw. Though he’d chosen a path in life that was wildly different from hers,
it seemed to suit him perfectly. Like the wind, he’d be here one day, gone the next.

  Her inn, on the other hand, would be a part of her life forever. If she could keep her priorities straight, she’d be just fine.

  Jonas returned inside moments later and helped her remove a light fixture from the wall. “We’ve been working under the assumption that someone’s threatening you because of something your father was involved in,” he said. “But is it possible you’ve made enemies, too?”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible. I’ve only been back a few days,” she answered, surprised by his question.

  “What about enemies from your past—old boyfriends, neighbors, people from work who think you’ve offended them, or a stalker who followed you here from Albuquerque?”

  “I lived in the city and worked at a mountain resort. I got along with my boss and fellow employees, kept my distance from the clients and barely knew my neighbors.” She shook her head. “If I’d had any enemies, I would have known long before I moved back here.”

  “You failed to mention boyfriends,” Jonas pointed out.

  “A few along the way, but nobody for long. And the breakups were all amicable.”

  “At least you think they were. Ever get any strange, or pushy e-mails, phone calls? Have you noticed any strange people hanging around your…apartment?”

  “Nope, just a gray cat. After about a week, his owner tracked him down. Sorry, but I can’t think of anyone.”

  “That’s okay. So who have you seen and spoken to since you moved back?” he pressed, undaunted.

  “Starting close to home, there’s my neighbor, Grant Woods. I’ve known him since high school. He came over to give me his condolences.” She paused. “He also expressed an interest in buying all my land. He comes from a wealthy family and is always looking for investments. He figured I wouldn’t be staying. After I told him about my plans for the inn, we didn’t talk about it anymore,” she said. “I also got some other offers—one from a developer and another from one of the utility companies. They wanted drilling and mineral rights.”