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  “That’s one possibility, sure, but I should tell you that Woods has an alibi for the time of your father’s car crash. According to the deputies who followed up on the incident, he was fixing the roof on his house with his handyman—Sam Carpenter—at the time.”

  “Considering what we know about Carpenter, I don’t think that’s exactly a solid alibi. Money can’t buy loyalty, but it can hire liars.”

  “Even so, we have no way of disproving their alibi or placing them at the scene, not unless a third party comes forward with information. This area is so isolated almost anything can happen without witnesses. But it still doesn’t seem likely that Woods would negotiate drilling rights with your father, then kill him. And I’m sure he wouldn’t be working so hard to get you to sell if he considered murder an option.”

  “Those drilling rights…Have you found out if it’s possible the contract’s a forgery?”

  “Experts are checking on that,” Jonas said. “I should know something by later this evening.”

  They arrived at the trailer after sundown and he walked her to the door. “Try to get some sleep and don’t worry.”

  “What about you? Will you be getting some rest?”

  “Enough.”

  “You need sleep, too—unless you’ve got superpowers I haven’t seen.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll show those to you,” he said with a thoroughly masculine grin, then wished her good-night.

  Once she was safely inside the trailer, he moved away, staying in the shadows. There was one possibility he hadn’t broached with her. Her father’s accident could have been a move against the Brotherhood itself, and Dinétsoh the only target. Her father’s death could amount to nothing more than collateral damage during an assault meant to kidnap or kill a Brotherhood warrior.

  Yet that theory didn’t explain the acts of vandalism and the attacks against her—unless she’d seen or knew something she wasn’t even aware of.

  Jonas spat out an oath. He had too many questions and very few answers. He only knew one thing for sure. When the time came for him to move on, he’d be leaving a piece of himself behind.

  Refusing to dwell on that now, he reached for his cell phone and reported in.

  Chapter Eight

  Emily was up by the crack of dawn. The day she’d been looking forward to, and dreading at the same time, had finally arrived. Today, the main house would be demolished, and what had once been her home would give way to the future.

  Emily had just turned on the coffeepot when she heard a knock at her trailer door. She answered it and invited Jonas inside.

  “It’s barely six-thirty. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up, but then I saw that your lights were on.”

  “Today’s the big day.”

  He sat across from her at the small table. “I’ve got some news,” he said. “First, I gave the components of the cyanide trap we encountered yesterday to a specialist. He couldn’t find any fingerprints or trace evidence on any of it, including the purse.”

  “I’m not surprised. Whoever we’re after is more careful than that,” she said. “Any news on the gas and mineral-rights contract?”

  He nodded. “Our expert has determined that your father’s signature is undoubtedly a forgery. Though it looks to be an ordinary signature, it’s really several carefully drawn, individual strokes, and they don’t match up right when examined under a microscope and special lights. On the other hand, Grant Woods’s signature is written in smooth, continuous strokes. Our tribal expert believes other forensic authorities will back that up, and you’d have a good chance of winning if you contest it in court. This kind of evidence would be even more damning on the original contract, which Woods probably has.”

  “The problem is that I don’t have the cash to take it to court. My funds are extremely low right now. I have enough to keep things rolling here until the basic structure is finished, but that’s about it. I won’t be able to pay for the rest of the fixtures and furnishings needed to open up the place, not to mention landscaping, road improvements and such, unless the land sale to the tribe goes through. I know they’ll need the bearer bonds before payment can be made, but if the deal’s on paper, I might be able to get credit.”

  “I’m not sure tribal leaders will sign anything—not until they have the bonds in hand,” he warned, “but I guess we’ll see. Let’s go talk to your attorney. If he has the new draft of the contract, we’ll take it from there.”

  “His office opens at nine. That gives us time to fix a decent breakfast. I don’t normally eat this early, but pancakes sound good to me right about now.”

  “Pancakes sound great. Do you have honey or syrup?” Though army food was pretty good, even out in the field, he missed home cooking.

  “I’ve got honey from local hives,” Emily said, rising to her feet. “Now, how good of a cook are you?”

  BY EIGHT FORTY-FIVE, they were on their way into the city. As she gazed at the tall bluffs to the south, she silently wondered how long she’d be able to see them. The pressure seemed to be taking a toll on her sight. This morning she’d noticed that the dark spot on the lower quadrant of her visual field had widened.

  “Don’t be in such a rush to get your plans off the ground,” he said, misreading her change of mood. “When things are this complicated it can take time to sort everything out.”

  She didn’t answer. How could she explain that she had to get everything finished while she could still see? She wanted to remember every detail of the inn, like the beauty of the sun as it spilled into the rooms that would welcome her guests. The joy of brightness and colors…Those would be only a memory someday.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said gently.

  She hesitated, then spoke. “Although the inn was my dream, my dad made it his, too. That’s why it’s even more important to me now to see this through. If I let anything stop me, I won’t be just failing myself. I’ll be failing him, as well,” she said. “That’s why I won’t give up, no matter what anyone throws at me.”

  That was one of the many reasons Emily had woven a path straight to his heart. The woman didn’t know the meaning of surrender—except in his arms. The thought sent a jolt through him.

  He drew in his breath, then shifted his attention to something less troublesome. “So what’s your construction schedule like after the old house is torn down? You’ve never given me the details.”

  “The inn will be built on the site where the main house stands. There’ll be extra-wide hallways for wheelchairs, low cabinets and furniture, and special ramps and handholds everywhere, particularly the bathrooms. I also want nature trails set up to accommodate the special needs of my guests. Once it’s all finished, I’ll memorize every single detail—and celebrate!”

  “Celebrate, yes, but why memorize the details? You’ll see them every morning when you get up,” he said, instantly picking up on what she’d left unsaid.

  Thinking fast, Emily tried to cover up for her lapse. “It’s at that moment when you see everything finished for the first time that the feeling of accomplishment is the strongest. That’s what I’ll be pressing into the scrapbook of my mind.”

  He nodded, unconvinced, but quickly focused back on the road. The San Juan River bridge was just ahead, and such highway features often became squeeze points and danger zones.

  “Do you keep scrapbooks?” she asked as they turned east into town. “I’d bet anything that you have a trunk full of medals and commendations.”

  “I have them,” he said. “They’re in the closet in a box. Someday I’ll probably look at them again, but for now, I’d rather put some distance between me and those memories.”

  His words held a rawness that nearly broke her heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was only thinking of the pride you must have felt in a job well done.”

  “The job got done, but sometimes at the expense of our dearest blood,” he said, his voice flat. “Remember the saying ‘what doesn’t kill you will make you stro
nger’? It was like that for most of us.”

  Following the whispers of her heart, Emily reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand in response, but said nothing.

  Even as the minutes ticked by and they entered the city, he didn’t let go. Ribbons of warmth spiraled through her as she realized that he needed her. An undeniable peace settled over her. It was like discovering that the wind needed the sound it made through the trees in order to remember its passage.

  Shutting out everything but the present, she leaned back, looked at people on the sidewalks and allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the moment. For now, she’d bask in the simple pleasure of holding hands.

  “Starting an inn in our depressed economy is a risky thing,” he said, finding a parking place near the downtown civic center. “Have you considered that?”

  “Sure, but I’ll be catering to a clientele most places overlook. What I’ll have to offer won’t be unique, but my guests will appreciate it,” she said confidently as she climbed out of the pickup.

  And more important, she would have found a new way to define herself. Being an innkeeper who catered to people with special needs appealed to her on every imaginable level.

  As they walked down the sidewalk in the direction of Robert Jefferson’s office, Jonas kept an eye out for problems, making certain no one in a passing vehicle or on the sidewalk sent off any warning signs.

  “I’ve been thinking about your cash-flow problems. Once the drilling rights question is settled, there may be a way for the tribe to guarantee you credit. You could sign a contract agreeing not to sell that land to anyone but us,” he said. “The tribe wants that parcel, so I think they’d work with you, particularly if it means they have extra time to come up with the money.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said. “But I’m still trying to understand your explanation about why the tribe wants it. There are zoning laws, but other than that, you can’t really control what happens on land adjacent to yours, no matter how many parcels you buy. Eventually, someone on the other side of the property line will do something you don’t like. It’s not as if it hasn’t happened before.”

  He had to give her credit; she knew there was something he’d left unsaid, and wasn’t willing to let it go until she got the whole story. No wonder she’d gotten under his skin. Emily was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman and more. She was ice and flame. She was all cool logic when she needed to be. Yet in his arms she was pure fire.

  He’d sworn to keep his distance, but running away wasn’t his style. And that was the problem in a nutshell. Yet, deep in his gut, he knew he had to let her go. She needed more than someone like him could give her.

  As they waited at a stoplight, he came up with a way to answer her. “Undeveloped land like yours, with access to water and electricity, phones and the like, is at a premium. The added plus in this case is that it could also be used for agricultural purposes. All that, and the fact that it contains pieces of our past and our culture, makes it of great interest to us.”

  “And that’s all?” she pressed.

  No one had ever been able to read him like Emily could. She knew he hadn’t told her everything. Minutes passed and he heard her sigh.

  “I’m not going to let it go,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  They arrived at the attorney’s office a few minutes later. Jen Caldwell, the petite, buxom assistant, greeted them with a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry, Ms. Atkins, but Mr. Jefferson isn’t here. Is there something I can do to help you?”

  Emily told her why they’d come. “Robert was supposed to get the new contract ready for me. Do you know if he did?”

  “I have no idea, but let me check your file.”

  Jen stepped away from her desk and went into Robert’s office. She returned a few minutes later empty-handed. “I couldn’t find anything in his file cabinet or on his desktop computer. But he’s got his laptop with him. That’s usually where he keeps files pertaining to current work.”

  “Could you give him a call for us?” Emily pressed.

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of him for an hour, but he’s not answering. I’ve tried his BlackBerry and his home phone, too. He has meetings scheduled for this afternoon, so he’s bound to check in sooner or later. When he does, I’ll tell him you stopped by and wanted to speak to him.”

  “Can you give us his other telephone numbers?” Jonas asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. That’s strictly against our policy, but I’ll leave him a text and voice message regarding your visit.”

  As they left the office, Jonas was quiet. “I think I can find out where Robert lives,” he murmured at last. “If I do, what do you say we go over to his house?”

  “Sounds good to me,” she answered.

  A cold breeze blew against them, and seeing her shiver, he placed his arm around her shoulder. Without even thinking about it, she leaned into him. The warmth and safety he offered were addictive. But reminding herself that he was only a wartime ally, and once the peace was restored, he’d be gone, gave her strength to move away.

  Jonas made the call, and within ten minutes they were heading east out of the city. The attorney’s home was located in a neighborhood filled with high-end housing near the country club. Yet despite the size of each of the homes, they were on small tracts of land, and that gave the neighborhood a closed-in feel.

  They found the house using Jonas’s GPS, and parked at the curb near the front door. “The newspaper’s still on his front step,” Jonas said, as they approached the porch. “And there’s mail in the box, maybe two days’ worth. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here recently.”

  They walked around and listened at the windows, but no sounds came from inside the house, and the curtains were drawn.

  Emily turned back toward their car, and saw a neighbor watching them from across the street. “Uh-oh, we’ve got somebody’s attention.”

  “Smile and wave, Emily,” Jonas whispered, then brought out his wallet and flashed a badge in the direction of the woman. “I’m Security,” he yelled. “Have you seen Mr. Jefferson today, ma’am?”

  “Not since yesterday. And his car wasn’t in the driveway this morning,” the woman called back.

  “Thank you,” Jonas replied. “Time to go,” he whispered to Emily, motioning toward the pickup.

  “What’s with the badge? I didn’t know you had one.”

  “It’s for show—not tell,” he said with a grin.

  They left quickly before the woman could ask any questions, and were well down the street before Emily spoke again. “If no car’s been around, maybe he never came home. We saw him just yesterday, right? I hope he hasn’t decided to leave town all of a sudden.”

  “Let me check into that and see what I can find out,” Jonas said. It was possible that their visit, and the revelation that Grant Woods was trying to undercut the sale to the tribe—and Jefferson’s commission—explained the attorney’s sudden absence.

  Jonas pulled over to the side of the road and made a quick call to Diné Nééz. Speaking in their native tongue, he updated his contact, Jonas giving him the name of what he believed to be Robert Jefferson’s cell-phone carrier, based upon an envelope he’d noticed on the assistant’s desk.

  While waiting for a response, Jonas glanced over at Emily. “Your attorney could be working against your interests. He might be trying to cut a better deal for himself with Woods.”

  “What would he use as a bargaining point?”

  “He could agree to tell you that the gas and mineral rights contract is legit, and leverage himself to take a cut of that pie.”

  “If that’s what he’s doing, I’ll make sure everyone in the community knows him for the crook he is.”

  Jonas turned away as Diné Nééz came back on the line.

  “We’ll call our contact at the cell-phone carrier,” he announced. “Maybe we can pick up his GPS location.”

  One advantage the
Brotherhood had was that they could cut corners modern law enforcement couldn’t.

  While finishing his conversation, Jonas heard Emily’s cell phone ring. A few moments later, he clicked off and focused on her. “What’s going on?” he asked, reading trouble in her expression.

  “More bad news. I just got a call from Ken, the construction foreman. The access road leading to both my property and Grant Woods’s land is now blocked at the highway. Several gas-company employees and their vehicles, including a backhoe, are parked in the way. The men are claiming they have utility work to complete alongside the highway, and that Ken’ll have to wait.”

  “And he doesn’t want to?”

  “The problem is he rented some heavy equipment and delays are going to be costly. He could send everything back, but he’d still have to pay, and it may be several days before he can get the equipment again. Even if he decides to sit there and wait it out, he’ll still have to pay his men. That’ll ultimately come out of my pocket, too.”

  “Is there an alternate route they could take to your place?” Jonas asked.

  Emily shook her head. “Not without knocking down several big cottonwoods. An easier way would be tearing down the fence and going through Grant Woods’s property. Unfortunately, his gate is locked and nobody seems to be home.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  She nodded. “I tried calling, but no one answers. He probably wouldn’t give us permission, anyway, especially after what happened last time we spoke to him.”

  “This just seems to be our lucky day,” Jonas muttered. Someone was trying to push their buttons. But no one played him. “Let’s go back to your home. Maybe we can convince the gas company to clear a path.”

  They arrived less than fifteen minutes later. Parked along the shoulder of the highway just before the turnoff to her property were four vehicles. Two were pickups, and the others, tractor trailers hauling a backhoe and small bulldozer. The construction workers, including her foreman, were pacing impatiently by their vehicles.