“You still don’t like backing down, particularly if you think you’re right.”

“In this case, I am right. There’s a serial killer in this area.”

He said nothing, mulling everything over, trying to decide exactly what—if anything—he should do.

“Remember what you taught me about restoring balance and harmony,” Laura said.

He looked at her, surprised. “You remember?”

“I remember a lot more than you realize.” She traced his lips with her fingertips and gazed into his eyes.

He knew that she was recalling the first time he’d kissed her. Neither of them had been prepared for the rush of pleasure or the heat that had followed.

“We knew each other as kids, that’s true, but what you’re asking…”

“Is dangerous and maybe a little crazy, but it’s part of what you and I do,” she said, finishing his thought. “We catch the bad guys.”

Twilight Warrior
Aimée Thurlo

MILLS & BOON

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To Trudy Stevenson,

who shares our love for the four-footed ones.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s the winner of a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews, a New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction and a Willa Cather Award in the same category. She’s published in twenty countries worldwide.

She also cowrites the bestselling Ella Clah mainstream mystery series praised in the New York Times Book Review.

Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of thirty-nine years in Corrales, New Mexico. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Reservation.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Detective Travis Blacksheep—His high school pal has blossomed into a beautiful young woman, but she’s come back into his life with baggage from the past and a killer on her trail.

Laura Perry—A P.I. now, she knows she needs help to catch a serial killer. She and Travis had depended on each other as kids, but unless they learn to work together again, lives will be lost.

Barbara Malloy—She has one last shot at grabbing a major TV network job. All she’s ever needed is the story of a lifetime, and nothing’s going to stop her—no matter what it takes or whom she puts in danger.

Lester Crosley—He services nearly every computer system in town, including the police network. Is his clumsy charm just an act meant to conceal something much more sinister, or is he for real?

Harry Roberts—The martial arts instructor has a reputation for being aggressive, but he really slipped up when he got rough with the sister of a police sergeant.

Chief Wright—He’s new at the top job, and likes doing things his way, but Laura has her own playbook.

Nick Blacksheep—He has a new family of his own, but if his younger brother needs him, he’ll be there.

Daniel Rice—The IRS is after him and his wife, Marilyn, for tax evasion, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What other dark secrets does the couple share that might turn the city upside down?

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Prologue

Laura Perry loved her life. The uncertainty and challenges of her career suited her perfectly. And leaving the FBI to become a private investigator for the largest and most prestigious firm in New Mexico allowed her to work alone and unencumbered. Just the way she liked.

Today, however, she was off the clock and on the way to visit with her childhood best friend, Nancy. They’d been as close as sisters during junior high, but had drifted apart in high school after Nancy had become the softball team’s leading pitcher. As playing and practicing began taking most of Nancy’s time, Laura had watched their friendship end, not with a bang but with a whimper.

Yet life, via the internet, had brought them together again. As they’d exchanged emails, the closeness they’d once shared had reappeared as quickly as a patch of clover on a warm spring morning. Their friendship had blossomed as a result.

Although they hadn’t seen each other in years, Laura had been looking forward to seeing Nancy again for weeks. Tonight, she’d spend the night at Nancy’s home outside Flagstaff, Arizona. They’d talk about old times and the new man in her friend’s life. Nancy had sounded head over heels in love in her emails.

Laura sighed. In that one way, she envied her friend. Love sure wasn’t in the cards for her.

Laura turned up a dirt road covered with dusty red gravel and pulled up to the chalet-style home. She removed her handgun from the glove compartment and quickly stuck it inside her jacket pocket. Even out here in this rural area she didn’t want to risk leaving it in the car.

“Hey, Nan! Anyone home?” Laura called out as she walked up the flagstone path leading to the half-open front door.

As Laura stepped across the threshold into the narrow foyer, the door suddenly swung toward her, slamming into her left shoulder. Thrown hard against the foyer wall, she hit her head and fell to her knees, dazed.

Laura heard footsteps coming up behind her and looked back. Backlighted by the glow of the moonlit sky beyond stood the dark outline of a man, his features covered in shadows.

“Nancy spoke a lot about you. That’s why I hung around. I was hoping to meet you. Too bad that you’re too late to help her—or yourself.”

As he raised his arm Laura saw the gleam of a nickel-plated revolver. She ducked left, yanking out her own revolver and firing.

The figure groaned and stumbled back onto the porch holding his shoulder. As he limped away into the night, he muttered, “We’ll meet again soon, Laura.”

The door slammed shut as she struggled to her feet. On the floor were fresh drops of blood, not hers. She’d hit the suspect but it hadn’t been enough to take him down.

She hurried back outside, but by then all she could see were taillights disappearing into the distance.

Taking a breath, she gathered her thoughts. Nancy! Laura ran back into the house, turning on lights as she went. A struggle had clearly taken place in the living room but she didn’t see any more blood.

“Nan?” she called out. There was no answer.

Laura noticed an acrid scent in the air. Alcohol? No, ether. Pistol out, she hurried into the bedroom, where the smell seemed most concentrated. There, she found her friend.

Laura stumbled back a step, senses reeling. Nancy was lying naked on the bed, a cord wrapped around her neck and a hand towel that reeked of ether beside her head.

Chapter One

Six Weeks Later

August, usually the hottest month of the year in the New Mexican desert, made former U.S. Marine Travis Blacksheep appreciate the cool predawn temperatures. The steel-blue skies were glowing now, and soon it would be time. Honoring the customs of the Diné, the Navajo People, had helped him leave the memories of war behind him after his deployment to Afghanistan had ended.

As the sun peered over the horizon, Travis took a pinch of pollen from the leather pouch tied to his belt. He touched the powder to the tip of his tongue and the top of his head, then threw it up into the air, chanting as he did. The blessing would clear his path today and allow him to walk in beauty.

Once the prayer was finished, Travis adjusted the hawk fetish he wore on a leather band around his neck, then smiled at the large black mutt lying on the ground beside him, sniffing the air.

“Hey, Crusher, ready for breakfast?”

The dog barked enthusiastically.

Travis petted the dog’s massive head. He’d rescued the abandoned mastiff mix from the side of the road several years ago and they’d formed a strong bond. Crusher had even undergone some police-service dog training. Although he excelled at tracking, he’d failed to qualify for normal K-9 duty. Crusher refused to respond to staged threats and wouldn’t attack on command.

There was no denying that he was a skilled tracker, however, and very protective of his master. The few times Travis had encountered real danger, the dog hadn’t hesitated to respond.

Crusher was aptly named. At one hundred and fifty pounds, he wasn’t known for speed, but he could knock an assailant to the ground and keep him pinned without expending much effort. That’s why he was allowed to ride with Travis on occasion. The dog’s bulk alone was usually enough to ensure a suspect’s cooperation. If not, one low-throated snarl was guaranteed to do the job.

They were heading back to the house when Crusher suddenly stopped in his tracks. His nose lifted high up in the air, he growled softly, looking off to the west—the direction of the road.

Travis stood still, listening. After a moment, he heard faint footsteps coming in their direction. It was too early for company and the station would have called if they were sending someone out. It wouldn’t be a surprise visit from his police-officer brother, either. Nick worked evenings these days and didn’t get home until after midnight. He was undoubtedly curled up in bed beside his wife.

On his own property and off duty, Travis hadn’t bothered to clip his pistol to his belt. The training and skills he’d developed as a marine took over now. He remained motionless behind the juniper, trying to identify the number of people approaching and get an exact location. He’d had some trouble with poachers earlier in the summer.

After a moment Travis determined only one person was out there, but the guy crunched through the woods like a water buffalo. If he was here to hunt, the only thing he’d bag was a deaf deer.

Crusher growled again and Travis placed his hand on the big dog’s head, a signal for him to remain quiet. The dog obeyed instantly.

Moving around the juniper, Travis crouched and waited, Crusher beside him. As the figure moved past him, Travis reached out and grabbed the subject from behind.

Travis caught the soft scent of roses and immediately realized that the trespasser was a woman. Distant memories suddenly crowded his mind.

Taking advantage of that split second of hesitancy, the woman rammed her elbow directly into his gut.

Travis doubled up and couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the inevitable takedown. The horizon stood on its head as she flipped him over her shoulder.

As he looked up from the ground, he found himself staring at the muzzle of a big bore pistol, then at the familiar face beyond.

Crusher suddenly came crashing out of the brush. Before he could leap, Travis yelled out a command. “Stay!”

The dog froze and stood his ground, growling menacingly.

Travis’s gaze traveled back to the beautiful woman who held him at gunpoint. “It’s you….”

“Can’t remember my name? They say that memory’s the second thing to go when you get old,” she said, putting her gun away slowly. “Can I trust your dog?”

“He’s fine,” Travis said, petting the dog, who relaxed, sensing that there was no imminent danger.

Travis’s gaze drifted down her body slowly. Even the loose-fitting T-shirt couldn’t hide those curves. The rest of her wasn’t bad either. He noted sexy slim hips clad in plain jeans and those long legs. He hadn’t seen Laura in years, but in that time she’d sure filled out in all the right places. Only the laughing eyes were the same—and that smile that could challenge and tease all at the same time.

Laura offered him a hand-up. “Do you always greet early-morning guests this way? I mean, it’s an interesting way to say hello and all, but I imagine it can get hard on your back when you meet someone who’s more than a match for you,” she said, grinning.

“Skinny…you’ve sure changed,” he said.

She laughed. “No one’s called me that since high school.”

“I can see why.” His gaze remained on her. She’d turned into a knockout with black hair that fell in soft waves around her shoulders and light brown eyes that sparkled with mischief. Most of all she had Attitude—with a capital A.

“So, you’re a cop now?” he asked, recognizing her skills.

“I was with the FBI for four years but I’ve moved into the private sector. I work for New Standards Investigations out of the Albuquerque office.”

His eyebrows rose. NSI was well-known among law-enforcement officers. A former FBI assistant director had started the company. They specialized in high-profile cases—and their success rate only enhanced the firm’s stellar reputation.

As she moved closer to him, Crusher blocked her, preventing her from reaching Travis.

“It’s okay, Crusher. Stand down. She’s a friend,” he said.

“It’s okay, big guy,” Laura said softly. Crusher’s tail began to wag. Laura looked back at Travis. “Is he a pet or your backup?” Before he could answer, she continued, “I hope he’s backup because you can’t fight your way out of a paper bag.” She shot him a totally outrageous smile.

Although he would normally have taken a jab like that as a direct challenge, her playful tone and those sparkling eyes made him laugh along with her. “I see you’ve finally come out of your shell, Skinny.”

“Back in high school, things were sure different, weren’t they?” she asked softly. “Do you remember Nancy? In comparison to her, I came across as shy. But that was only because she was so outgoing—star athlete and all that.”

“Yeah, you two hung out together until she got completely wrapped up in sports. She always wanted to be center stage and you were the quiet, mysterious one. So what brings you back here from the big city?”

“Nancy’s dead—murdered—and I have reason to believe her killer’s living in this area.”

“Sounds like we should go to the house and talk,” he said, leading the way up the rocky path. Constructed of pine logs and a green metal roof, his home fit into the hillside as naturally as the trees around it.

Travis walked inside ahead of her, in accordance with Navajo customs. Although Anglo men were taught to let the women pass first, Navajo men preferred to take the lead. If there was trouble, they’d be the first to face it. Laura didn’t comment, so he didn’t offer to explain.

“You’ve got a personal stake in this case. I’m surprised NSI is allowing you to work on it,” he commented.

“They’re not. I’m on my own time.”

Travis led her into the large modern kitchen. “It’s still early. Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

Laura shook her head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”

He stepped over to the fridge. “Let me fix us something and while I’m working, you can fill me in.”

“You cook?”

“Yeah. I hate eating takeout all the time,” he said, bringing some eggs and cheddar cheese out of the fridge.

She didn’t speak right away and he didn’t push. Long pauses were common when Navajos spoke. Waiting was second nature to him.

“My friend was murdered six weeks ago,” she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. “I won’t mention her name again. I remember what you taught me a long time ago about the chindi.”

“Thanks.” He appreciated the courtesy. Although he embraced the modern way of life, as a New Traditionalist he still lived by his Navajo beliefs. To use the name of the dead was said to call back their chindi, the evil in a person that survived death but remained earthbound, unable to merge with Universal Harmony.

“What happened to her?” he asked as he worked.

Laura gave him the details, pausing a few times to keep her voice steady. “The detectives didn’t find any semen. He obviously used protection. But they were able to collect blood samples from the hit he took in the shoulder. There wasn’t a DNA match in any of their databases.”

“So he’s not on any sex-offender lists,” he said thoughtfully.

“And you checked hospital records, right?” he asked. She nodded. “So he must have treated himself, and has probably recovered by now. We’re assuming, of course, that we’re only dealing with one suspect.”

“I’ve got reason to believe we are.”

“What led you here, specifically?”

“I’ve investigated this case from every possible angle. I also searched through RMIN and national databases like NCIC for similar crimes.”

Travis nodded, familiar with the names she’d mentioned. RMIN was the Rocky Mountain Information Network—pronounced rim-in by law enforcement—and the National Crime Information Center, with its FBI origins, was a national database. Computer searches allowed officers to compare a crime under investigation to ones committed by known criminals. Similar M.O.’s could then be used to narrow down suspects.

“And you got a hit?”

“Yes. Five months prior to my friend’s murder, a young high-school basketball star was found assaulted and strangled in her home in Bloomfield. That’s less than fifteen miles east of Three Rivers. Since that crime was committed prior to the attack on my friend, I’d first assumed that the suspect had left this area and was working his way west, into Arizona. Then, just a week ago, a reservation women’s softball coach was murdered in Shiprock. That’s less than an hour’s drive from the Bloomfield scene and the Shiprock M.O. matched the two previous homicides.”

“So you’re thinking since two of three similar crimes have occurred in this area, the suspect either lives here or in one of the Four Corners communities.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Since Three Rivers is the largest city in this part of the state, I’ve decided to make it my base of operations.” She paused, then after a beat, continued, “You and I were good friends once. You knew me and Nan—” she stopped herself short. “And my friend,” she corrected. “That’s why I was hoping you’d agree to work with me after hours.”

“I know about the coach’s murder—all of our officers were briefed—but the crime occurred outside my jurisdiction. Cases on the Rez are handled by the tribal police and the feds,” Travis said.

“I know, but you’ll still have access to much of the information. Intelligence on open cases is shared by local departments.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Back in high school, you and I always had each other’s backs. That’s why I came to find you when I learned that you were a police officer here in Three Rivers.”

He stared at an indefinite point on the wall, lost in thought. Back then they’d lived day-to-day. Poverty had been an ever-present shadow neither of them could outrun. Their friendship had been forged through adversity. He’d always known he could trust Laura not to betray his secrets. She had too many of her own.

“I need your help,” she said at last.

Something in her voice told him how hard it had been for her to admit that. She’d always taken pride in her independence—as had he. In that way, neither of them had changed. “You’ve got a personal connection to this case,” he said, shaking his head. “You should back away and let local detectives handle it. Or take it to the FBI and point out the connections you’ve uncovered.”

“I can’t back away. The killer swore he’d come after me. I’m a threat to him. He’s probably worried that I’ll be able to identify him if we cross paths,” she said. “The problem is, I can’t. When I hit my head, it took me a while to get everything working again, and he was hidden in shadows.”

He added a handful of grated cheese and green chili to the mix of scrambled eggs. “Tell me more about your plan.”

“He obviously targets female athletes, so I thought I’d join a local softball team. There are summer leagues here, I’ve already checked.”

“If I recall, you stink at softball,” he said, trying to hide a smile. “Back in P.E., the only way you could hit a ball was by coincidence.”

She laughed. “In those days I preferred to be inside, trying to get my old computer to cooperate. But I’ve undergone a lot of physical training since then. I can coordinate my movements more effectively now, as you’ve seen.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve changed a lot in some ways, I’ll admit,” he said, giving her an appreciative look. “But inside you’re as headstrong as ever. You still don’t like backing down, particularly if you think you’re right.”

“In this case, I am right. There’s a serial killer in this area.”

He said nothing, mulling everything over, trying to decide exactly what—if anything—he should do.

“Remember what you taught me about restoring balance and harmony,” Laura said.

He looked at her, surprised. “You remember?”

“I remember a lot more than you realize.” She traced his lips with her fingertips and gazed into his eyes.

He knew that she was recalling the first time he’d kissed her. Neither of them had been prepared for the rush of pleasure or the heat that had followed. The intense feelings they’d found in each other’s arms had scared them both.

“We knew each other as kids, that’s true, but what you’re asking…”

“Is dangerous and maybe a little crazy, but it’s part of what you and I do,” she said, finishing his thought. “We catch the bad guys.”

He hesitated, still considering all the options.

“Where’s the boy I knew, the one who never worried about breaking a few rules?”

“He became a man.” Almost as if to emphasize the point, he wound his hand around her hair and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard, forcing her lips to part for him and taking the sweetness there. He was in full control—or so he thought.

As she melted against him, a blazing fire coursed through his veins. Sensations as primitive as time pumped through him, pushing him to the edge. It didn’t surprise him at all to actually smell something burning.

As he caught the scent of smoke, reality snapped him back. “Care for an extra-crispy breakfast burrito?” he asked, then turned off the burners as the scent of egg, cheese and burnt tortillas filled the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, we’re adults, no doubt about it,” she said with a hint of a smile.

He chuckled as he opened the window to let fresh air in.

She met his gaze as he turned around. “I’m not asking you to go rogue on your department, but I can’t do it alone,” she said. “You taught me that order was part of walking in beauty. Help me find justice so I can walk in beauty, too. Will you do that?”

“I’ll take you to the station and you can make your case to Chief Wright. After that, we’ll decide what to do next.”

“Okay, but in the meantime, how about letting me see what the Navajo Tribal Police shared with your department about the latest victim? The common thread I found between two of the three victims is that they were each looking for love in their own way. That made them easy prey to a smooth talker. I’d like to see if that holds true for Coach, too.”

“Back in high school, your friend had a way of falling for every line in the book,” he said, remembering.

“Having a guy around made her feel wanted and important,” Laura said. “When you’re dirt-poor, you grasp at anything that makes you feel you matter. The real problem was that the guys our friend chose were usually creeps who played on that.”

Travis said nothing, remembering that Laura’s mother had fit that profile, too. A single mother with little education and big dreams, she’d never stopped hoping that Mr. Right would come along to save her. Her search had led to endless gossip that had also cast a shadow over Laura. She’d fought back in the only way she could—placing her emotions where no one could reach them.

This case clearly touched Laura on a variety of levels, and he was certain that, sooner or later, that was going to lead to big trouble. “You’re a pro. You know that you’re too close to this. There’s no way you’re going to stay objective.”

“I can’t back off even if I wanted to. But I’m counting on you to help me keep the proper perspective,” Laura said.

He led the way across to the living-room area, and using his laptop and passwords, logged in to the Three Rivers police-department network. “This is all we have,” he said moments later, leaning back so she could see the screen.

She read the report. “The M.O. is nearly identical. All the victims let the suspect get close. Sex was apparently consensual. That suggests they knew and trusted him. Also, he didn’t kill them immediately afterward. My guess is that he likes the feeling of power waiting gives him.” She studied the screen. “Those reports are very brief. Can you get more?”

“That’ll require the cooperation of the Navajo Tribal Police Department,” he said, turning to look at her.

“And that’s beyond your authority,” she said with a nod.

“See if you can get Chief Wright to open some doors for you.”

He got ready so they could leave, and picked up his gun and badge before heading out the door. As they walked side by side, he was aware of everything about Laura. Though her gaze was on Crusher, his eyes were on her. Laura had the perfect hourglass figure with curves that begged for a man’s touch, but what made her special went beyond that sweet package. Her directness was rooted in honesty, and her fighting spirit appealed to him even though it also spelled trouble. Laura was here on a mission, and that stubbornness and sense of determination was bound to bring a slew of problems in their wake.

“You’re so quiet. What’s up?”

“I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re here.” It was the truth, but there was a lot more to it than that. Although they’d both changed, the special kinship they’d shared once was still there. Only now it carried a powerful sexual punch that went far beyond that rush of hormones they’d experienced as kids.

Crusher, who’d gone up the path ahead of them, suddenly stopped. He began to growl, a low and menacing rumble that instantly caught their attention.

Laura looked at Travis, then at the road ahead where her rental car and his pickup were parked. “A coyote, maybe?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Crusher only growls at human strangers,” he said, hurrying along.

The gravel path led into a low drainage area that formed a half circle around the higher roadbed. Crusher stood at the crest of the embankment, looking at something off in the distance.

Travis looked at his pickup parked just ahead and at the generic sedan with a rental-agency sticker on the front bumper. “That yours?”

“Yeah. I picked it up at the Three Rivers airport,” Laura answered. “So what’s the deal?”

“Don’t know yet,” Travis whispered as the dog came to stand by his side.

Travis patted the dog on the head, then crossed the roadbed and examined his truck up close.

The big dog stayed beside him at heel but continued growling and looking off into the distance. Travis followed his gaze, searching for movement, but saw nothing.

“Maybe somebody came up the wrong road, turned and Crusher saw them driving away. There’s a trace of dust in the air,” Laura said, walking over to her car and taking her keys out of her pocket.

As Travis glanced in her direction, he noticed something strange on the ground behind the driver’s side front tire. Memories of Afghanistan, IEDs and insurgents came rushing back. His heart rate suddenly soared, adrenaline pumping through his system.

“Step away from the car,” he snapped. “There are drag marks on the ground. Did you crawl under there for any reason after you parked?”

Laura looked down at the ground. “No. What…”

Travis glanced back at the spot Crusher was watching down the road and saw a flash of light. In a heartbeat, he grabbed Laura’s arm and shoved her down the embankment into the ditch, calling Crusher as he did. Something popped and Travis felt the flash of heat that came milliseconds before the blast.

Travis rolled on top of Laura, shielding her with his body as hot metal, gravel and shards of glass rained down on them. Seconds later, everything grew silent.

Travis got up slowly, chunks of glass, rocks and dust tumbling from his neck and shoulders. Crusher also stood and shook, casting off debris from his back and head.

“You okay?” Travis asked, offering Laura a hand-up.

“Yeah. Thanks. I never saw that coming,” she said, dusting her face off carefully then brushing debris from her hair.

As she glanced up she saw columns of flame rising ten feet into the air. A thick cloud of billowing black smoke also drifted skyward; fortunately, not in their direction.

She shook her head. “I’m sure glad I bought the total insurance package,” she muttered.

“Hang on,” he said, picking off a large chunk of glass caught in a strand of hair above her left eye.

“Thanks.”

Travis then checked Crusher over to make sure he wasn’t injured. Assured that the dog was okay, he stared ahead, his expression hard and set. “This isn’t just your fight anymore. Neither one of us started this but we’re sure as hell going to finish it.”

Chapter Two

Laura followed him back to what was now a crime scene. “You knew the bomb was there, and it wasn’t just because of the marks on the ground. What tipped you off?”

“It was a combination of things. The drag marks played a part, but it was also the reflection in the distance. I knew we were being watched by someone wearing glasses or using optics—binoculars or a rifle scope. It was like that in Afghanistan. IEDs were everywhere,” he said. “Most of the time they were triggered by someone keeping watch, waiting for just the right moment.”

Travis reached for the phone he normally kept on his belt, then realized he hadn’t brought it with him. “I need to use your phone to call this in.”

After making the call, he focused on what was left of Laura’s rental. The engine compartment was still burning, but the flames had died down. Beyond the fire wall, the driver’s seat was shredded and smoking with a foul stench. The roof had been peeled back like a half-opened can of Spam. The backseat was blackened and peppered with shrapnel.

“Normally I’m aware of everything around me, but this came out of nowhere,” she said, biting her lip, then forcing herself to stop. “He obviously knew where I was going or followed me somehow. But checking for a tail is second nature to me. I don’t know how I could have missed him.”

“Maybe he didn’t physically tail you. There are plenty of other ways,” he said.

Going to his truck, Travis studied the caved-in windshield. The driver’s side had sustained the most damage, pummeled by gravel and chunks of metal. With luck, it would still run.

Travis studied the myriad of jagged holes that covered the driver’s side door. Shrapnel—that killed more marines than bullets. He’d thought he’d seen the last of it when he’d returned stateside.

He turned to Laura and held her gaze. “You wanted our P.D.’s help tracking the killer? Well, you’ve got it now.”

“I can be an asset to you. I’ve done a lot of homework on this guy and I can share observations that aren’t in most police reports. From the emails my friend sent me before she died, I have some insight on how he works, too. He’s charismatic, charming and nonthreatening. He insinuates himself into his victim’s life, becomes exactly what she’s always wanted in a man, then kills her.”

“No photo?”

“No, she never sent me one. She said she wanted me to see in person first, that there was just something about him. What that told me was that although the guy wasn’t classically handsome, he had presence.”

They backed away from the site, not wanting to risk contaminating the crime scene in any way. Nearly twenty minutes passed before Travis spotted a dust trail in the distance where the road turned from asphalt to gravel.

“Here comes the crime-scene team,” Travis said, pointing.

“Once they secure things here and examine my vehicle for evidence, we’ll go to the station. I’ll have to get rid of the smashed windshield before we travel, but my truck looks operable.”

“What about Crusher?” she asked, glancing down at the dog, who was also being kept from the scene.

“He rides in with us. I’ll leave him in the bullpen. Chief Wright likes Crusher—better than he does me, I think.”

She was glad the dog would go with them. Somehow she didn’t think anyone, including Crusher, would be safe alone here anymore.

AN HOUR LATER LAURA entered Police Chief Wright’s office. Travis had been instructed to wait outside.

Laura made her case, answering several questions along the way, then waited for Wright’s response.

“I know you want in on this, Ms. Perry, and your credentials speak for themselves. I ran a quick check on you and know you specialized in crimes against women back in your days with the Bureau. You broke several high-profile cases. Now you’re with a top agency. But you’re off the clock. This isn’t part of an NSI assignment, right?”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

“Which means they refused to let you work the case,” Wright observed shrewdly.

“I’d have had to have been my own client. But no matter, I never asked.”

“There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” Wright pressed. “The Arizona victim was an old friend of yours, and you let her killer get away. Now you want to settle a score. Am I right?”

“No, sir, not in the way you mean,” she answered without hesitation. “What’s at stake goes beyond any personal connection. This guy’s not going to stop killing until he’s caught. What he did this morning is just his way of thumbing his nose at me. He allowed Travis and me to escape that blast. We’re not his targets. His real victims will continue to fit the profile he prefers.”

“And you’re sure he’s a local?”

“The fact that two of the three victims came from this area of New Mexico indicates that this is his comfort zone. He’s familiar with the Four Corners. He’ll kill again. To catch him, you’re going to need an edge—someone who knows exactly what you’re dealing with. Let me help—officially. I can be a strong asset to your investigation.”

“The way I see it, you brought him to Three Rivers and now you want field support so you can cowboy up. Tell me I’m wrong,” Wright said.

“He didn’t follow me here. He was probably here already. Yet the fact that he knew where I was opens up all kinds of possibilities. This guy has evaded other departments before. I can help you make sure that doesn’t happen here.”

“And you say you saw him?”

“The circumstances were in his favor and I wasn’t able to make out his face, but I heard his voice.” She swallowed hard.

“There was no guilt there just…an absence of humanity.” She took a deep breath. “The man is evil, and he enjoys what he’s doing. To catch him, you’ll have to be able to predict his moves.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Since I joined NSI, I’ve been called in as a consultant to help departments all over the Southwest solve cold cases. I’ve continued to specialize in crimes against women and my success rate is second to none. This killer is now focused on me, at least for the moment. Let’s use that to reel him in.”

“My people have to follow procedure,” Wright said flatly.

“You went into private investigations to get away from the restrictions of police work. Convince me that you’ll follow our protocols now.”

“I don’t like playing by the rules, that’s true, but my cases always hold up in court,” she said. “I won’t do anything to jeopardize this case, sir. There’s too much at stake.”

Laura could see the chief still wasn’t convinced. “You’ve got trouble brewing here. If it turns out that the suspect has been operating right under your nose for months and you’ve failed to use every resource you have to close the case…” She allowed the sentence to trail off and waited.

Wright regarded her thoughtfully. “I want to check out some things first. Then I’ll make my decision.”

Laura reached into her wallet and pulled out a card. “That’s my supervisor at NSI. He was the Special-Agent-in-Charge of the D.C. Bureau office for seven years before leaving the FBI. He’s got more commendations than most of us get in a lifetime of service. His name is Charles Westin.”

“I know who he is.”

“He’ll vouch for me. My methods aren’t conventional, Chief Wright, but that’s exactly what you’ll need to catch this creep. He’s around here, whether you like it or not, and may even consider Three Rivers his home.”

“Wait in the bullpen,” Wright snapped. He stepped into the hall and called Travis.

Travis came into the office, sat down and waited.

Wright rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “Let’s say I accept her offer. Is there anything between you and Laura Perry that could compromise the case or this department?”

Travis met his boss’s gaze. “We were friends once, but I haven’t seen her since high school. Our lives haven’t intersected since—not until she showed up at my home this morning.”

Wright leaned back, his expression revealing nothing. “All right. I’m going to do some more checking on Ms. Perry, then we’ll talk.”

Travis met Laura in the bullpen and saw that she’d struck up a conversation with their computer tech, Lester Crosley. The man came in periodically to update their security and backup systems. Despite the heat outside, the guy was impeccably dressed in a white shirt and tie and his company’s bright yellow jacket.

Travis walked over and joined them. “What’s up, guys?”

“Ms. Perry speaks my language,” Lester said.

“I love computers, and I’m always interested in security features. These days a good firewall is an absolute necessity. The problem is finding the best one for each system,” she said.

Travis glanced at Crosley. His head was shaved bald, a tough-guy look Travis had seen a lot in the marines, and he looked fit, as if he worked out. Only the paleness of his skin marked him as the proverbial computer geek.

Although Lester had been servicing the city’s computer networks for months, this was the first time Travis had seen him do more than grunt when spoken to. Laura had worked her usual magic. The woman had a way about her, not to mention a smile that could melt an iceberg.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here,” Crosley said, giving Laura a wide smile.

“I’m new in town,” she answered. “I’m here on business.”

“Computer related? IT consultant, maybe?”

“No, don’t worry. I’m not competition,” she said, chuckling.

“I can hold my own when it comes to computers but I’m no programmer.”

“If you’re going to be here for a few days, how about letting me show you around, and maybe take you to dinner?” he asked.

Laura smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but my schedule’s pretty tight. I’ll be putting in long hours before I head back home.”

“Maybe on your next trip then,” he said, rolling his shoulder and bending his neck to the left then to the right, as if working out the cricks. “Just in case you find a break in your schedule,” he added, handing her his business card.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the card and putting it in her pocket.

Travis gave her a nudge. “Come on. It’s time for us to put our heads together and get some work done on this case.”

As they moved over to his desk, she glanced around. “Where’s Crusher?”

“My guess is that he’s in the break room with Sergeant Miller. She buys him tortilla chips—baked, not fried. He loves those—and her.”

As Travis finished speaking, Laura saw the big dog walking down the hall in their direction. Next to him was a sturdy-looking uniformed officer with a touch of gray in her cropped hair.

“I borrowed your dog, Detective Blacksheep. I needed him to help me track down some missing chips.”

Travis laughed as the sergeant walked away. “Crusher, down,” he ordered, pointing beneath the desk. The dog, still licking his chops, lay down with a contented sigh.

Laura waited for Travis to tell her what aspect of the case he wanted to discuss, but Travis didn’t say anything.

“I thought you wanted to compare notes,” she said. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “Or were you just jealous?”

Travis looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I think you’re having a high-school flashback. Did somebody slip a note into your locker after homeroom?”

“Nice deflection, but you didn’t answer the question, did you?” she challenged with a tiny smile.

“Chief Wright’s instincts are right on target. You’re trouble,” he grumbled.

“Let’s focus on our suspect,” she said, growing somber. “When it comes to bad guys, he’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“Just between you and me,” he asked in quiet voice, “how sure are you that you weren’t followed to my place?”

“From Albuquerque, a hundred percent. Think about it. The guy would have had to follow me to the airport, get a ticket on my flight at the last minute, deplane, rent a car and keep up—all without me knowing about it.”

“Maybe he found out when you were arriving, then followed you from the airport, or your motel, over to my place. Think hard. Did anyone know you were coming to see me?” Travis asked. Then, eyes narrowing, he added, “Come to think about it, how did you know where I live?”

“I confess,” she answered with a tiny smile, “I used NSI’s assets. That type of information is out there if you know where to look.”

He nodded, lost in thought. “Okay, let’s get back to the problem. The suspect knew your whereabouts, but you’re pretty sure he didn’t tail you. Maybe he planted a tracking device in your vehicle.”

“Unlikely. My car was a rental, remember? He would have had to have known which car I’d be given, and considering I waited till the last second to rent, that would have been nearly impossible,” she answered. “But once he knew I was in Three Rivers, following me to your place wouldn’t have been that hard. He could have tailed me with his lights off after I turned off the main highway. There’s only one route from town to your place. Right?”

He nodded slowly. “Unless you’re on foot or take a helicopter. We’ll just have to wait and see what the crime-scene team finds in the wreckage before we go any further.”

“Of course, there could be other possibilities we haven’t thought of yet,” she said slowly.

He nodded, considering it silently. At long last he looked up and met her gaze.

She felt the impact of that one look all through her. She’d never met anyone who could spark her senses to life like Travis could. She looked away, knowing this wasn’t the time or place for romantic notions. Yet something inside warned her that some temptations weren’t easily dismissed or ignored.

“Blacksheep!” Wright called from down the hall. “My office.”

Laura stood, too, but Chief Wright shook his head. “I need a word with my detective first.”

Laura sat back down and gave Travis a smile of encouragement. “Looks like you’re up. Remember, don’t lead with your chin,” she said, remembering Nick’s advice to his little brother one afternoon long ago when she’d watched him teach Travis how to fight. Funny how some images from the past popped so easily into her head now that she was back.

Travis laughed, also remembering the incident. “I’ve learned a few things since then.”

She watched him walk away confidently, each stride filled with purpose. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He was his own man now, and a very appealing one at that. Those shoulders—not to mention those world-class buns—could add a real spark to anyone’s daydreams.

Laura looked down at Crusher, who was watching her curiously. “Okay, busted. You caught me checking out your owner. So let me bribe you into staying silent,” she said, petting the dog, who gave her a panting grin. “Want to go outside for some fresh air?”

His ears perked up and he stood.

“Mister C., you and I need to get to know each other a little better,” she said, reaching for the leash on Travis’s desk. “I have a feeling we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Chapter Three

Wright sat behind his desk, staring in the general direction of the trophy case on the north wall.

Travis waited. Trying to rush the boss was never a good idea. He did things on his own time.

“I spoke to Ms. Perry’s supervisor at the agency. Overall, he speaks highly of her. She’s competent and has a very high completion rate with her job assignments. But he also warned me that she tends to be overly proactive and often puts herself in danger by confronting troublemakers without proper backup,” Wright said.

Travis nodded. None of this came as a surprise to him.

“On the other hand, she’s also the only person we know who has encountered the suspect and walked away. She also has experience dealing with these types of crimes. That might help us catch and ID this individual somewhere down the line. That’s why I’m assigning her to you, Detective. You take time to think things through and that might cancel out her impulsiveness.”

“What exactly will her job include?” he asked, not liking the sound of it already.

“Ms. Perry will accompany you as a civilian observer. She’s not a police officer with our department, so she’s not going to carry a weapon while in the company of an on-duty officer. I don’t care if she’s got the permits.”

“What’s my assignment?”

“The serial killer isn’t our business—not officially anyway. You’ll be investigating the bombing incident.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing,” Wright said. “Ms. Perry has a reputation for playing things close to her chest. You can bet she’s got other information she hasn’t shared with us. Keep that in mind while you’re working with her.” Wright walked to the door, saw Laura detaching Crusher’s leash and signaled her to come in.

After she sat down, Wright continued, “Ms. Perry, you’ll be assigned to Detective Blacksheep. You’ll ride along with him, but you’ll have no authority or jurisdiction. For that reason you will not be armed whenever you accompany Detective Blacksheep.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a level look. “I’ll expect you to follow Detective Blacksheep’s orders, and should you encounter the suspect you came here to find, Detective Blacksheep will take the lead.”

“To help you catch this killer, I’m going to need a little more leeway, sir,” she began.

“You have none,” he said flatly. “You heard my conditions.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Laura walked out of Chief Wright’s office moments later, Travis by her side. “He’s convinced that rules are everything.”

“Without rules, there’s only chaos, no progress.”

“The Travis I knew once was the patient sort but he also had his cowboy moments. I remember one night after a basketball game when some guys from Cliffside High jumped one of our pep-band members behind the gym. You ran right into the thick of it and took on six guys.”

“I wasn’t the one violating the rules—they were. I also didn’t have a choice. John was on the ground and the other guys were kicking him.”

“You could have gone for help but you chose the direct approach,” she said with a smile. “Back then, there was a limit to how closely you followed the rules. Is that still the way it is?”

He met her gaze and held it. “I was a marine. I’ve learned the importance of discipline. Now my job is to protect and serve. That’s precisely what I do.”

“As do I.”

“But for the private sector. In law enforcement the way we catch a killer determines the real outcome—whether or not he ends up convicted and behind bars.” He crossed the room and checked on Crusher, who was curled up on a pad underneath the desk next to a bone.

Travis focused back on Laura. When he spoke, his tone was all business. “As long as you respect the way our department does things, we’ll get along fine,” he said, his penetrating gaze holding hers.

His voice was soft but there was no mistaking his challenge. It was there in the tightening of his jaw and the icy glitter in his eyes.

“I’ve agreed to Chief Wright’s terms and I’ll honor my word,” she said softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. “So where do we start?”

“Let’s go meet with the lab boys and find out what they’ve learned about the bomb. That’s all we have at the moment,” he said. “Keep in mind that we can’t even be sure that the bomb was the work of the serial killer.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m not. In our line of work, we automatically make enemies. Anyone who has a grudge against you is a possible suspect.”

“This is more than a coincidence, but if you want to explore unlikely possibilities, we could say that they were aiming at you and didn’t know which vehicle you drove,” she said.

“The most dangerous criminals I’ve put away are still behind bars.”

“They’ve undoubtedly got families,” she answered. “Or maybe partners that weren’t apprehended.”

“That’s exactly my point. We don’t have enough evidence to arrive at any conclusion,” he said. “Let’s go see what the lab techs have for us.”

Leaving Crusher asleep beneath Travis’s desk, they walked to the far end of the building. As they entered the lab, they saw several techs working at various stations. Travis focused on an older woman in her late fifties who was peering into a microscope.

“Mrs. Delaney,” Travis said softly.

“One moment,” she said. After a few more minutes, she glanced up at them. “I know why you’re here, Detective,” she said, looking at Travis, “and I have some preliminaries for you.” She brushed a strand of ash-colored hair away from her face and pinned it back in place. “Whoever put this bomb together knew what he was doing. It was homemade and bulky because of the low explosive used—basically ammonium nitrate and diesel fuel. These components are difficult to trace to a source because they’re so common. The detonator, an electric blasting cap, should be a lot easier to track—if we can get the serial number. A throwaway cell phone was used to trigger the device.”

“Do you have anything I can follow up on right now?” Travis asked.

“One thing caught my attention. The ammonium nitrate is fertilizer grade and we’ve identified the brand for you,” she said, writing it down for him. “Tracking down a recent sale might give you a lead, but of course it could have been purchased several months ago. Or stolen.”

“At least it’s a place to start. Thanks,” Travis said.

“Was there a tracking device found in the vehicle or maybe out in the debris field?” Laura asked as they were about to leave.

“No, all we got was the cell phone and it was a cheap model. We can’t track back the call it received setting off the bomb, but we’re trying to find out who sells that model in this area,” Mrs. Delaney answered.

As they walked out of the lab, Laura remained silent.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after they’d picked up Crusher and were headed toward the department’s underground garage. His pickup would remain at the station where it would be double-checked for evidence. In the meantime, he’d been assigned one of the department’s SUVs.

“Bomb components can be followed up anytime, by phone or computer, usually,” she said. “So what do you say we take a ride over to the Rez and see what their cops have on the Navajo victim? Or we could check with the Bloomfield police and see what other similarities we can find between the crimes that might tell us more about the suspect.”

“You’re looking for patterns, not just victim profiles, right?” he asked, reading her correctly.

She nodded. “An organized serial killer, for example, stages a crime scene, then takes a trophy, something he can hold. I looked but I couldn’t tell if anything was missing from my friend’s place. We’d only reconnected a few months ago on the internet and I’d never been to her home,” she said, her voice wavering.

If she’d only arrived early instead of late, she might have been able to prevent Nancy’s murder. As soon as the thought formed, she pushed it back. This wasn’t her fault. Deep down she knew that. Allowing herself to shoulder additional guilt would only undermine her ability to think clearly.

What she could do for Nancy now was catch her killer and see that justice was served. It was what she did, and Laura knew it the only way she’d ever find peace again.

“What you want is tricky at best,” he said slowly. “Keep in mind that those cases don’t belong to my department and getting that information will entail my calling in favors.” They pulled out into the street. “I’ll also have to justify our interest, and we still have no conclusive proof that the murders are connected.”

“The only way we’re going to get that proof is to keep digging,” she insisted.

“First things first,” he said. “I want to follow up on those nitrates.”

She expelled her breath in a hiss. “Okay. So how many stores do you have around here that might carry something like that?”

“Five. Two are feed stores on the outskirts of town, closer to the farms and ranches,” he said. “I get Crusher’s dog food at one of them. We can go there first. It shouldn’t take us long to check out the retailers.”

“We could save time by calling ahead to see who carries the brand we’re looking for,” she said.

He shook his head. “Word of the explosion has probably gotten around, and community businessmen might be reluctant to talk to the police. They’ll want to avoid trouble and negative publicity. We’re more likely to get the information we need if we catch them off guard and question them face-to-face. Keep in mind, too, that any one of the people we talk to could be the bomber.”

“I was thinking I’d do the calling from my own cell phone. I’m not law enforcement. We could save ourselves a trip if they don’t carry the brand.”

“No, it’s still too risky. If the bomber’s also the killer, he knows your voice. He may panic and run.” He took a deep breath then let it out. “You should take my older brother’s advice about not leading with your chin.”

She smiled. “I can bide my time in an investigation but I’ve never been as patient as you are.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “We can’t afford to telegraph our moves. Surprise is one of the key elements in situations like these. It keeps witnesses off balance. Even the slowest thinker can set a plan in motion if you give them enough time.”

“In this particular instance, maybe your way’s better. But sometimes you have to cut corners. Big payoffs often come with the willingness to take a risk,” she said.

“I’m not opposed to taking risks. It all depends on what’s at stake,” he said, giving her a slow, lazy smile.

From anyone else, the gesture would have scarcely merited a second thought. Yet Travis had that indefinable something extra. It was a quality that was hard to describe. A man either had it or he didn’t. And Travis obviously had more than his share. She suppressed the shiver that shot up her spine.

“So where are we headed first?” she asked, seeing Travis turn west and go down a side street.

“Franklin’s Feed.”

“I remember that place,” she said as memories, mostly unwelcome, filled her mind.

“You worked there one summer in exchange for riding privileges. You were crazy about horses back in high school. You saved every penny you earned hoping to buy the Franklins’ old mare.”

“Mabel,” she said, nodding. “But I was never able to get enough cash together. It broke my heart when I finally realized that it just wasn’t going to happen.” She took a deep breath.

“But, in retrospect, it was a good thing. I would have had to sell her when my mom decided it was time for us to move again.”

“You got too attached to that old horse,” Travis said. “But I’ll say this. You were always happy when you were working in the barn.”

“Getting attached to things was easy for me back then,” she said.

“And now?”

It was the gentleness of his voice that somehow got past her defenses. “I don’t have horses, dogs or even a goldfish. Life is easier without emotional complications.”

“Maybe so, but I really enjoy having Crusher around,” he said, stopping at a red light. At the sound of his name, the dog stuck his head out between the front-seat backrests. “Down, Crusher,” Travis commanded. “He’s a great companion. Now that my brother’s moved out, it’s nice to know that even when I’m asleep, there’s someone watching my back.”

“So it’s a good thing for you that I’m here. Now you have two of us watching your back,” she said. “And best of all, only one of us drools.”

He looked at her, then dropped his gaze slowly, taking in the curve of her breasts, then working his way back up with equal thoroughness. When he finally met her gaze, he smiled. “Nope. You both drool.”

She burst out laughing. Travis had matured into one heck of a man. He commanded a situation without being overbearing and he was easy on the eyes. All in all, Travis was a minefield of temptations, but her instincts assured her that she’d found the right partner for what lay ahead.

“We’ll restore the balance,” he said, cutting into her thoughts. “We’ll cover each other’s back and do what has to be done.”

Chapter Four

As they rode in silence to the feed store on the southwestern edge of Three Rivers, his words echoed in her mind. Most of the high-impact men she’d known would have been reluctant to even allude to an equal partnership. Yet Travis’s brand of maleness wasn’t easily threatened because it was rooted in self-knowledge.

They soon arrived at Franklin’s Feed. To her surprise it hadn’t changed much over the years—except for a coat of paint, which was already fading. A graveled parking area still surrounded the small stucco building with the corrugated metal roof. A hitching rail stood beside the sidewalk, though she suspected it hadn’t been used in years. A store employee was currently helping a rancher load up his long-bed pickup truck with fifty-pound bags of sweet feed.

“Some things always stay the same,” she said. “Does Bob Franklin still run the place?”

“Bob’s retired. His son, Jim, our former classmate, is the one who handles the store these days. He’s a chip off the old block.”

They went inside, Crusher at heel on Travis’s left side. The store’s cat, an old gray of questionable breed, scampered out of the room and into one of the storage areas.

“Is Jim Franklin around?” Travis asked the middle-aged woman by the register.

A smiling face beneath a black baseball cap suddenly popped up from behind the main counter. “Hey, look what the cat dragged in!” Jim greeted. Well versed in the customs of the Navajo, Jim didn’t offer to shake hands. “So, what brings you here today?”

“Where can we talk in private?” Travis asked, keeping his voice low.

“Back room. Come on.” When Laura stepped up, he turned to look at her, did a double take, then smiled. “Skinny, is that you?” he drawled.

“Yeah, Jim. I didn’t think you’d recognize me,” she said, shaking his hand.

“You sure grew up,” he said, giving her a long once-over.

“She’s helping the department with an investigation,” Travis said, all business now.

She looked over at Travis, surprised by his abrupt change in tone. It wasn’t jealousy…more like defining boundaries. It was one of those guy things she’d never quite figured out.

Jim cleared his throat, obviously getting the message. “What’s up, buddy?” he said, keeping his voice low as they followed him into a storage room crowded with pallets of animal feed, stock tanks and fencing.

She noticed how he avoided calling Travis by name. She’d also remembered what Travis had taught them, that Navajos believed a person’s name had power that belonged to its owner. Using it needlessly depleted an individual of an asset that was uniquely theirs to draw on in times of trouble.

“I need to know if you’ve sold any fertilizer within the past week. Ammonium-nitrate crystals, specifically, in the big bags,” Travis said.

Jim raised an eyebrow. “It’s a bit late in the season for that, but I don’t know for sure offhand. Three people work the cash register these days, not just me. I’d have to check.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Travis answered.

“No problem.” Jim walked out front, went behind the counter and sat by a computer on a desk against the wall.

They followed and stood behind him, watching him work. Jim fiddled with the mouse and keyboard, going from screen to screen, then cursed as the display locked up. “I hate this danged thing! New or not, it keeps crashing. I’ve had Lester out here twice already. He says it’s the user, not the interface.” He shook his head and moved the mouse around some more, going through several windows. After a few minutes, he looked up again.

“Okay, I’ve got it. The last bags I sold were back in April. The weather’s too hot to fertilize now, but we’ll sell more again in the fall. Ammonium nitrate stores well.”

“Who purchased the bags?” Travis pressed.

“Mike Petersen bought all six. He grows a lot of corn and sunflowers.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t sell that brand of ammonium nitrate to anyone else?” Travis asked.

Jim shook his head. “That’s it,” he said. “I keep track, be cause, you know, it can be used to make explosives.” He paused, then added, “But come to think about it, I had a break-in about two weeks ago. Not much was taken, not that I could tell anyway. The person cut open some bags, marked up a couple of saddles and tipped over several stacks of feed in the back room.”

“Did you report that to the department?” Travis asked him.

“Sure I did. My insurance requires it.”

“Is it possible a bag or two of fertilizer was stolen at that time?” Laura asked him.

Travis glanced her way, his eyes narrowed. “Did you ever check?” he added, turning back to Jim.

Laura bristled, but the message was loud and clear. She could ride along but it was his case.

“My inventory software has some bugs, or maybe I screwed it up. Take your pick,” Jim said, letting his breath out in a hiss. “So I can’t really tell you for sure if anything’s missing. But I do recall that several bags of ammonium nitrate were tipped over and three had split open. I had to do a lot of sweeping up and repackaging.”

“Do you have any idea who was responsible?” Travis asked.

Jim hesitated. “I think Roy Connors was behind it but I can’t prove it, so I didn’t give the police his name.”

“Connors… That name rings a bell,” Travis said.

“The guy spends a lot of time in the drunk tank since his wife left him. When I hired Roy, I told him I didn’t care what he did in his off time, just so long as he showed up to work on time—sober. I figured the man needed a break.”

“I remember him now. There was a brawl over at the Painted Pony,” Travis said. “Connors took a swing at the bartender and the bouncer had to jump in. It got out of hand fast after that. Every available officer was called to the scene. I nursed a sore jaw for days after somebody sucker punched me.”

“Roy came in with a black eye and skinned knuckles the next day,” Jim agreed with a nod. “I fired him not too long after that because he showed up to work drunk. The following week I had the break-in, the first one in years.”

They were on their way moments later. Travis got Connors’s last known address from dispatch and they headed east.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” she asked, shifting in her seat to face him.

“Crusher and I are going in to question a witness. That’s it.”

“Yes, but you can’t be sure he’ll be sober, and it looks like he’s quick with his fists,” she said. “I’m not armed but I’ve got a full canister of Mace in my pocket. If I go, too, I can help if it gets ugly.”

“No need. He’d have to be blind to even consider taking Crusher on. You might as well just stay in the car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

He expelled his breath in a hiss. “Okay, but stay back and let me handle it.”

“What do you know about Roy?” she asked, not responding directly to his request.

“Not much, but I’ll know a lot more after I run him through the Report Review,” he said, pulling over and punching out the needed codes on his mobile dispatch terminal.

Moments later, incident reports came up on the MDT monitor. “He’s ex-rodeo and has a rap sheet three miles long, mostly due to alcohol-related incidents,” Travis said.

“There’s something else you might consider,” Laura said.

“Roy may have been paid to do the job. I’m thinking along the lines of ‘wreck the place to your heart’s content. Just take a bag of fertilizer and cut the rest open to throw off the weight count.’ What do you think?”

“Interesting theory, but before we reach any conclusions, let’s see what he has to say,” Travis said.

Leaving the old highway that now served as a truck bypass, they drove down a long dirt road. Eventually they reached a single-wide trailer that looked as if it had seen better days decades ago. Travis parked just out of view of the front windows, then sat back and watched the mobile home.

“He’s not Navajo, is he? We don’t have to wait out here to be invited in.”

He smiled. “You remembered.”

“Of course I do. But that doesn’t answer my original question.”

“I want to get a better feel for things before we go charging in there.” He glanced at Crusher, who stood up, ready to go, then looked back at the trailer. “Judging from the music coming over the radio, I’d say he’s home. But no one’s looked out, so he might not know we’re here.”

“Or he’s passed out. See all those bottles at the top of his trash can?” She pointed to the gray, overflowing plastic waste bin.

“Whatever the situation, stand down unless I tell you differently. Let’s go,” he said.

He climbed out of his unit, letting Crusher out behind him. The dog remained on Travis’s left and Laura moved to the far right, making sure they didn’t line up too closely and turn themselves into easy targets.

Tension thrummed through Travis. Laura could see it in the rigid set of his spine and the lack of emotion on his face. Standing to one side of the door, he knocked loudly and identified himself. No one answered. When Travis tried a second time, they heard a low grumble from inside.

“Hold your horses,” a groggy voice said.

They heard slow footsteps coming closer. Soon the door swung open about a foot. In front of them stood a bleary-eyed man whose weathered face looked as if he’d placed last in a boxing tournament.

“I ain’t buying or praying, so scram,” he muttered.

Laura sized Roy Conners up quickly. He was wearing a T-shirt with no sleeves, and she could see the tattoo of an anchor and chain. He was navy, or at least he had been at one time. From the size of his upper arms, she was pretty sure he worked out as hard as he drank. The combination, from her point of view, wasn’t good. He obviously liked thrills and danger, judging from the rodeo-circuit trophies on the shelf directly behind him.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said, giving her a grin as he stepped out onto the wooden steps.

“I’m Detective Travis Blacksheep,” Travis snapped, forcing the man to focus on him. Crusher growled softly, ensuring it.

“I want to ask you some questions about an incident over at Franklin’s Feed.”

“I heard about that. Jim would love to pin that break-in on me, but it ain’t gonna work,” he said with a smug smile.

“I’m not after the person responsible. I just want to know what happened to some missing bags of fertilizer,” Travis said, playing a bluff.

Something flashed in Roy’s eyes, but it happened so fast, Laura wasn’t sure if Travis had noticed it, too.

For a heartbeat no one moved, then suddenly Roy threw a quick jab at Travis’s face.

Travis saw the punch coming and feinted left, simultaneously sinking his fist into the man’s hard belly.

As Roy doubled up, Crusher brushed past Travis and rose to his hind legs, knocking Roy backward onto the floor of the trailer. The entire unit rocked like a boat in a storm.

Travis, still holding on to Crusher’s leash, was pulled to his knees as Roy scrambled to his feet and ran down the interior hall of the trailer. Travis quickly released Crusher and the dog gave chase, followed by Travis then Laura.

Roy jumped out the back door, slamming it behind him. Crusher, a few feet behind, hit the metal panel full force with his paws. Something snapped and the door flew open, dangling from the top hinge.

“Stay here. Crusher will pin him in a minute or two,” Travis yelled, heading after his dog.

Laura looked out just as Roy, the dog and Travis disappeared into the brush behind the trailer. As she jumped down out of the trailer—there was no porch there—a flash of movement caught her eye.

Crusher had reached Roy, who’d tried to circle around, and using his massive bulk, knocked the cowboy to the ground. Growling deeply and resting his huge front paws on the man’s chest, Crusher kept him pinned.

“Atta way, Crusher!” she called, running over.

“Get this wild hog offa me,” Roy managed. Every time he shifted, Crusher pushed him back down. “Jeez, I’m drowning in drool.”

Travis arrived at the same time as Laura. “I’m going to order the dog to release you,” Travis said, “but he’ll knock you right back down if you try to make a run for it.”

“Yeah, okay. Just get him off me,” Roy said.

“Looks like you should have cooperated,” Laura said as the man rose to his knees. “Now you’re going to jail for assaulting a police officer.”

“Hey, the dog assaulted me.”

“Not until you attacked his partner,” Laura said.

Travis handcuffed Roy, reciting his rights as he led him back around the mobile home to the SUV.

While Travis was securing the prisoner, Laura took a quick look through the mobile home. She came out after a few minutes and met Travis, who was checking around the outside of the single-wide.

“There aren’t any fertilizer bags in there and there’s no garden, not unless you count the green stuff growing on the cheese in his refrigerator,” she said. “You might want to have the lab check for traces of nitrates or diesel fuel or request an explosives dog.”

“Let’s see if we can get anything out of him. He’ll be sharing the backseat with Crusher all the way to the station.”

She chuckled softly. “If that doesn’t work, nothing will.”

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