Mystery surrounded him….

And that constantly teased Valerie’s imagination. More than anything, she wished she could have met him under different circumstances.

“Is it difficult for you to accept things that don’t lend themselves to explanation?”

She nodded. “It’s a combination of private skepticism and police training. I’m more comfortable with hard facts.”

“Then rely on this—you can trust me. No matter what goes down, I’ll be right there with you. You’ll never have a better partner.”

“Or a more dangerous one,” she muttered.

Somehow, he managed to hear her. “Dangerous to others perhaps, but never to you.”

Even as he spoke, he could feel her responding to him. What was drawing them together was nature at its most basic…and more. No woman had ever gotten under his skin like this, making him ache and wish for things he had no business wanting.

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

Writing is remarkable work. It fulfills an author’s spirit in a way very few things can. That’s not to say that everything during the course of a book flows smoothly.

While working on Navajo Courage, I spent lots of time hiding out in my office. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that ideas come from life itself.

Once I realized my mistake, I immediately shut my office door and went to join my husband and our animals. By the end of that day, inspiration had dawned and the story came together.

I learned then that the barriers we put around ourselves all too often lock us in and keep us from getting what we most need. Using that newfound knowledge, my hero, Luca Nakai, and the heroine, Valerie Jonas, quickly blossomed to life.

People tend to think of writers as loners, shut away somewhere. But the truth is that’s not the way it works. People need people. It’s that simple—and that complicated.

Here at Harlequin, for example, I’m part of something much bigger than just my book. Since 1989, Harlequin Intrigue has been home for my work—and for me. It’s a place filled with the support an author needs to create stories from the heart. Everyone bands together to bring you the best stories possible. In the process, a real sense of family unfolds.

I’m proud to call myself a Harlequin Intrigue author. Happy 25th anniversary, Harlequin Intrigue, and thank you very much for allowing me to be a part of your history.

All the best,

Aimée Thurlo

Navajo Courage
Aimée Thurlo

To my sister Silvia, and my other sister Peggy.

Love you guys.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s a winner of the Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOK reviews, a New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction, and a Willa Cather Award in the same category. She has been 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

Tribal Police Detective Luca Nakai—As the son of a medicine man, he was eager to do battle with his tribe’s ancient enemy. But his attraction to the beautiful city detective was an unexpected—and dangerous—complication.

Sheriff’s Detective Valerie Jonas—The hard, street-smart cynic didn’t believe in Navajo magic—not until she met Luca Nakai. Together, they stood a chance…but just barely.

Stephen Browning—A former reporter with a serious lack of ethics, he’d do anything to break the biggest story in years.

Professor George Becenti—He took pride in his Navajo blood and thought he knew everything there was to know about Navajo witchcraft. Was he Browning’s secret source, or Valerie’s worst nightmare?

Frank Willie—He quit school abruptly, then his girlfriend moved out. Now the woman was dead, and he was running from the police, desperate to protect his secrets.

Dr. Finley—Head of the anthropology department, the maverick professor knew how to stir up trouble. What’s worse, he liked being the center of controversy.

Mae Nez—Her best friend had been one of the first to die. Now the skinwalker had her in his sights.

Deez—Mystery clung to the Navajo elder like second skin. Yet seeing through the web of secrets surrounding him could help the hunted become the hunters once again.

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

It was late summer, the life-sustaining monsoon season in New Mexico. Despite last night’s downpour, drizzle still fell from the low, scattered, gray clouds that remained.

Oblivious to the morning mist, Detective Luca Nakai of the Navajo Tribal Police jogged up the canyon trail heading east—the direction that symbolized the origin of all things. Greeting the dawn daily in this way kept him focused and centered.

Reaching the top of the mesa behind his home, he stopped and prayed quietly. “Beautiful Dawn, let it be well with me.” Luca touched Mother Earth, raised his hands to Sun, and then drew them back toward him, drinking in life and strengthening his mind so he could accomplish whatever tasks lay ahead. Something bad was coming. He could feel it in his gut.

Gathering strength from the Navajo Way, he began the last half of his morning run. The air was crisp and clean, a gentle breeze dispersing the clouds now, and the land reverberated with power. Let others live addicted to cell phones, the parasitic attachment of earphone-fed music and the compulsions of e-mail and the Internet. Wherever technology deadened the human spirit, silence, inner and outward, soon became a casualty.

As he ran, Luca listened to the whispers of the land. He was the son of the tribe’s most powerful hataalii, medicine man, and as such, understood that life was composed of far more than what the eye could see.

Although Luca had apprenticed with his father for many years and could conduct a Sing on his own if needed, he’d ultimately chosen not to become a hataalii. To follow that path, harmony, balance and order would have had to have been at the center of his life allowing him to walk in beauty. But that wasn’t the case. He’d failed himself and one other, and that unalterable fact would follow him for the rest of his days.

Soon Luca reached his home, a simple, pitched-roof ranch-style house in the shadows of the Carrizo Mountains. Two trucks were parked near the side, not far from the traditional six-sided hogan away from the main house. One vehicle belonged to his father, who was known as Bijishii, the man with the medicine bag. Real names had power and weren’t used lightly. The other belonged to the man he knew only as Diné Nééz, tall man. His presence here meant that he was about to receive a new assignment from the Brotherhood of Warriors.

As a member of that secret organization, Luca was part of an elite force. Created during the time of Kit Carson, the Brotherhood of Warriors were an unassailable line of defense that stood between the tribe and its enemies. The best of the best, they worked in the shadows—warriors who were never identified, seldom seen but always felt. They existed so that The People could continue to walk in beauty, honoring the past and looking forward to a secure future.

Diné Nééz was standing beside the hogan’s entrance. As Luca walked toward the hogan, he could see white smoke curling upward from the hole in the center of the roof.

Whatever lay ahead would challenge him on every level. He’d felt the danger…something without a name…touching his spirit, calling to him for days now. And he was ready. This was what he did—fight battles most would have been reluctant to wage. His work as a warrior defined him and gave him purpose.

Luca joined Diné Nééz near the entrance to the hogan and greeted him with a silent nod. They didn’t shake hands—it wasn’t the Navajo way. “You and my father both here? This can’t be good.”

“I bring disturbing news, Cougar,” he said, using Luca’s code name. “Word has reached us that a murder that carries the signature of a skinwalker has been reported outside Albuquerque,” he added in a barely audible voice, his hand reaching up to grasp the flint arrowhead he wore on a leather strap around his neck.

Luca understood Diné Nééz’s caution. To speak the word “skinwalker” out loud was said to call that evil onto you. Speech was more powerful than the Anglo world realized…or would believe.

“Bijishii suggested that you have a Blackening done before you go,” he said, referring to a well-practiced rite. Blackening cloaked an individual against evil. The rite would give him the power of Monster Slayer, who’d defeated all the evils that had preyed on The People at the beginning. “He’ll also be preparing a special jish, medicine bundle, to help you.”

Skinwalkers…. Navajo witches. They hid under the skin of a coyote or a wolf while they roamed the night spilling blood. Deluded or not, these men or women were feared—and with reason.

“Is this a Brotherhood assignment?”

“It is. The skinwalker has issued a challenge to us. The sign of the Brotherhood of Warriors, flames bounded by a circle, was left in ashes near the body. The officer who first responded is one of us, and sent word to me immediately.”

Now, at long last, he knew why he’d been chosen. As the son of a hataalii, Luca had knowledge that would give him the only power obtainable over this enemy.

“The Brotherhood will be close by if you need backup. The code word that’ll allow you to recognize another warrior is hasih. The counter is bideelni.”

Appropriate. The greeting, loosely translated, meant “hope.” The answer meant “to make it happen.”

“Understood.”

Luca brushed aside the heavy wool blanket covering the entrance to the hogan and went inside. The interior had been warmed by the burning piñon logs in the central fire pit. He sat on the ground on the south side and faced his father, who was seated on the west side behind the small fire.

Diné Nééz followed him in and took a seat beside Luca.

After a momentary, preparatory silence, Bijishii’s voice rose in a chant that vibrated with power and echoed with tradition. The richness of his voice sparked the air as the animal-hide rattle punctuated each sound.

When his song ended, Bijishii looked at his son. “The cougar is your spiritual brother and that connection will strengthen and prepare you for what lies ahead. Like cougar, you’ve become a master hunter, but for this assignment you’ll need to draw on cougar’s other attributes—his strength of will, intuition and steadfastness.”

Luca watched as his father assembled the contents of the new medicine bundle he’d be carrying. The jish would be tailor-made to fight the dangers he’d be facing on this assignment.

“Flint will repel the chindi, the evil in a man that survives death but remains earthbound,” Bijishii said. “Flint’s power comes from its hardness and the flashes of light it emits. It represents lightning, and the moments just before dawn. I’m also placing a piece of turquoise in the bag. That’ll honor Sun, who placed Turquoise Man inside his own child to make him invincible. There’s corn pollen in the jish, too. That’ll feed the spirit of the cougar,” he added, then held out his hand. “Hand me your fetish now.”

Luca gave his father the small stone carving he carried with him in a special pouch.

“Everything inside this new jish will keep your spiritual brother strong. Call on him, and he will help you defeat your enemies,” Bijishii said.

Bijishii burned five herbs in a fireclay container. He then placed a spear point–shaped flint within the ashes. As the Blackening began, Bijishii’s song recounted how the Holy People had taught the Earth People to use Blackening as a protection from evil.

As his father’s voice rose in the confines of the hogan, Luca could feel the raw power of the ancient rite strengthening his spirit. In the days ahead, he would be challenged repeatedly and his life might even hang in the balance. But he was a member of the Brotherhood of Warriors and a tribal police officer. This was his destiny.

Chapter One

It was nearly 9:00 a.m. on a muggy August morning and Detective Valerie Jonas of the County Sheriff’s Department wasn’t in a good mood. She’d just received a cell phone call from her watch commander.

Another body had turned up less than a half hour ago, yet here she was at the Albuquerque Sunport. The chartered flight from Shiprock delivering the special investigator from the Navajo Police had been delayed—naturally.

Right now she should have been at the crime scene, working, not cooling her heels. It was true that the first murder, and the second from what she’d been told, held the stamp of tribal magic. Yet she’d need to focus on forensic evidence, not superstition, to solve the crimes.

Valerie adjusted her badge, making sure it showed as clearly as the pancake holster at her belt. The procedures for an officer at this airport were clear. Although none of them could fly armed without filling out a boatload of paperwork, they were able to carry a weapon throughout the airport terminal and facilities.

On her way to the gate—a long walk to the small local carrier’s location—Valerie answered two more calls from the Sheriff’s Office. The days of handheld radios were gone, and most detectives now lived with cell phones attached to their ears.

At the far west end of the terminal, Valerie noticed a Pueblo Indian man, small of stature but with ample girth, looking around with apprehension as he accompanied another man into a hallway off the main corridor.

She slowed her step, her instinct for trouble working overtime. As she passed the small corridor lined with snack machines, she glanced down it. The big, no-neck blond in a knit shirt and dark blue blazer was standing nose to nose with the Pueblo man, pushing him against the wall. The muscular Anglo also had something in his hand—a weapon maybe. Unfortunately, from her vantage point, she couldn’t swear he wasn’t holding a cell phone.

She moved to the side of the crowd hurrying past her, stopped and watched out of the corner of her eye. As she looked on, the Pueblo man reached into his pocket, brought out his wallet and handed it over to no-neck.

Her body tensed as she realized what was going down. The goon was probably armed with a pointed weapon of some sort, perhaps something made of hard plastic that could pass through the electronic screeners.

As the robber glanced around quickly, Valerie turned her body so that her service weapon wouldn’t show and avoided eye contact. If the robber identified her as law enforcement, he might panic and turn his victim into a hostage.

Somehow, she had to get closer. Then she’d make her move. Reaching into her pants pocket, she brought out a handful of coins. Then, jiggling the loose change in her hand, she drifted toward the vending machines as if contemplating a snack.

She was easing down the corridor when a tall, good-looking Navajo man brushed past her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, giving her a cocky half grin that was so intensely masculine, it practically took her breath away. His gaze still on her, he collided hard with no-neck, knocking him to one side.

Catching a glimpse of the semi-auto in no-neck’s hand, Valerie instantly reached for her weapon but, in a heartbeat, the good-natured Navajo man underwent a transformation.

Positioned just right, and with no wasted motion, he moved in like a Special Forces pro. Brushing away no-neck’s pistol with his left hand, he stepped up and decked the robber with a bone-jarring punch to the jaw. To Valerie’s surprise, the pistol fell to the tile floor with a rattle instead of a thud.

“The gun’s a toy, Officer. Check out the vic.” The Navajo man flipped the groggy thief onto his belly, then produced a set of handcuffs from beneath his jacket and quickly secured his prisoner.

Valerie called for backup as she went to help the victim, who’d just taken a puff from his asthma inhaler. Verifying that he was all right, she went to join the Navajo man whom she now guessed was either undercover security or a police officer.

As she drew closer to him, she got her first clear look at the Navajo fighter. Her earlier impression had been incomplete. There was far more to him than just a charming smile. His eyes were a deep brown and burned with fire and determination. Broad shouldered and strong, but not muscle-bound like the blond hugging the ceramic tile, he had the kind of masculinity that reached out to a woman with a whisper, not a shout.

Glancing up at her, he met her gaze and there Valerie saw an inner stillness, a quiet confidence that added a whole new dimension to the strength and ability she’d already seen him display.

With effort, Valerie brought her thoughts back to the business at hand. Fantasies were for vacation and off-duty hours. “You knew the perp’s gun wasn’t real. That’s why you weren’t concerned about taking direct action. But how did you know that?”

“No oil or gunpowder scent,” he answered.

She blinked. In a terminal filled with fast food, perfumes and aftershaves, it would have taken a bloodhound to pick out oil or gunpowder residue. He had to be kidding.

“Do you have an evidence bag?” he asked, going over to where the weapon lay.

“Yeah, I’ve got several—just not handy,” she said, then, hoping she was right and this was her new partner, added, “I’m Valerie Jonas of the Sheriff’s Department. By any chance are you Detective Luca Nakai of the Tribal Police?”

“That’s me,” he answered. Though the terminal was loud and people were starting to gather, his low, sexy voice carried clearly.

Pen in hand, he bent down and retrieved the realistic-looking toy by the trigger guard. “This guy might need an EMT to check him out. He went down pretty hard.”

The robber moaned and, suddenly realizing he’d been cuffed, kicked out at Valerie.

She tried to dodge, but stumbled from the glancing blow to her calf and fell against Luca. He was built solid and the hard expanse of his chest was like iron and steel, but that warmth…

Luca steadied her, then moving away, caught no-neck scrambling to his feet and swept his legs out from under him with a well-placed boot.

The handcuffed man fell to a sitting position, then realizing he was outmatched said, “No more, I’ll stay still,” and scooted to put his back to the wall.

Two armed airport security officers joined them seconds later. Valerie turned the prisoner over to them, gave a quick rundown of the events then pointed out the initial victim, who’d kept his distance.

“We’re needed at a crime scene right now, guys, but here’s where you can reach me,” Valerie said, giving the closest man her card. Luca handed the toy gun to one of the officers.

A short time later, Luca walked downstairs with Valerie, heading to the terminal’s east end where the luggage carousels were located. On the way, he watched her as she used her cell phone to report the incident to a Captain Harris.

After a few minutes, the attractive detective closed up the cell phone and glanced at him. “Sorry about that. Right after I arrived at the Sunport to pick you up we got a call. Another body has been found apparently with the same M.O. as the first one. Deputies are on the scene now.”

He didn’t comment, waiting for her to fill in the rest when she was ready. Detective Jonas—Valerie—was beautiful…electric almost. Light auburn hair fell over her shoulders and her gray-green eyes sparkled with intelligence and purpose. He noted that there was no ring on her finger, nor was there the impression of one that had been recently removed.

As they walked down the terminal she answered two more calls. From the way she focused and shot questions at whoever was on the other end, he suspected he’d been paired with a woman on a mission, and maybe with something to prove. Not his type, despite her obvious intelligence and physical appeal.

Yet as he gazed at her, he was aware of an unexpected stirring in his blood, and recognized the familiar tug in his gut. He’d felt neither in a very long time, not since…

Valerie answered one more call, speaking quickly to whoever was on the other end.

With the rush of people, conversations going on all around him and the thud of luggage as it slid off the conveyer belts on the carousels they passed, the quiet of the reservation seemed like a distant memory. His new partner’s never-ending conversations grated on him as well. She was definitely not his type. Not that it mattered. He was here to do a job then return home—hopefully in one piece.

They stopped by the last luggage carousel, which had already stopped rotating. Only eight passengers had come in on the small craft so finding the right piece was easy.

Luca slid his hand around the handle of the canvas duffel bag he’d brought and, as he lifted it off the turntable, noticed the way she was looking at him. Awareness clawed at him. Cursing chemistry and hormones, a bad combination that could only lead to trouble, he clamped a lid on distractions.

“Did I forget to say thanks?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You came up with some pretty good moves back there.”

“Thanks,” he answered simply, then followed her up the stairs and out of the terminal.

Soon they were on a wide sidewalk, a north-facing loading and unloading zone. He turned to the west and followed, coming up beside her.

“Not exactly the talkative type, are ya?” she asked after a brief silence. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll do enough for both of us, Partner.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored,” Valerie said as she led the way past the shuttle vans. “Not that there’s much of a chance of that, not on this case,” she added, growing somber as she got back to the business at hand. “The body found this morning was in the city, not county, but since the M.O. matches, it’s my case, too. The county crime scene unit is already there. City detectives will no doubt be there as well, standing by and looking over my shoulder every step of the way.”

“Do you happen to have the full report detailing the first crime scene?”

She nodded. “It’s on the seat of the car. You can study it on our way to the number two site.”

He didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?” she added.

“Of course.”

“Then grunt or something, will ya?”

He paused, then added by way of an explanation, “Conversation…There’s more of a demand for it out here in the city.”

They soon reached a white unmarked sedan with local government license plates. While she unlocked the door, he noted the folder on the passenger’s seat.

“How much do you know about the last killing?” she asked as they both got in.

“I was briefed by my captain. I know that the murder suggested a Native American connection—Navajo, to be specific.”

“Yeah. The cause of death was the result of stab wounds from a large knife. What made it—shall we say unusual?—was that the victim was also stabbed with a blade shaped from a human thighbone. The M.E. was able to narrow that down via fragments recovered from the wounds. Pieces broke off when the bone blade hit the victim’s ribs. There was a lot of weird symbolism at the scene, too. You can see that in the photos.”

He nodded, studying the folder’s contents.

“My first thought was that it was some sort of Satanic or Goth ritual, but one of our officers insisted that it was connected to Navajo witchcraft. He said that the powder we found scattered on the body, what he called corpse poison, was a trademark of skinwalkers. The M.E. confirmed later that it contained human tissue. We also found coyote hairs on the victim’s skin and clothing. Locks of her hair had been cut off, probably with the murder weapon. One last thing—interesting, not to mention weird—the tips of both index fingers, actually the entire joints, were cut from the body. They weren’t at the scene, so the perp must have taken them with him.”

He nodded, understanding more than he was willing to talk about yet. “Was vic number two mutilated in the same way?”

Valerie nodded. “That’s what I was told, but we’ll be able to see for ourselves soon enough.”

As he studied the crime-scene photos, Luca recognized the symbol of the Brotherhood of Warriors that had been made from ashes and left next to the body.

“If the perp’s intent had been to slow down identification of the victim, he would have taken all the fingertips,” she said. “So the whole thing is just plain weird.”

“Was either victim Navajo or part Navajo?”

“The first one’s name is Ernestine Ramirez and she’s Hispanic. The latest victim is a twenty-year-old woman named Lea Begay.”

“The most recent victim has a Navajo name,” he said. “But from now on, vic one and two will suffice.”

Valerie winced. “Sorry. I was told not to use the names of the victims around you, but I forgot. It has something to do with the evil side of a person that sticks around ’cause they can’t enter Heaven, right?”

“Not quite right, but you’ve got the idea,” he answered. “What else struck you about the first scene? Does anything in particular stay in your mind?”

“There was a small arrow with a bead at the end. It had been shot or jabbed into the victim. It was less than six inches long, doll-sized. I asked, but was told you’d explain that part.”

“Arrows like those are shot from a small ceremonial bow made from a human shinbone,” he answered.

“Here’s something else I’d like to know,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “Why were you, in particular, sent to help us with this case?”

“I’m a police detective, and more important, the son of a respected medicine man.” Luca lowered his voice before uttering the next phrase. “Skinwalkers are my father’s natural enemies—and mine.”

“Are you a medicine man, too?” Valerie asked in a whisper, not really understanding his need for secrecy but mirroring his tone nevertheless.

He shook his head. “I trained for it but in the end I chose police work.”

“The job gets in your blood, doesn’t it?” Her voice was still soft. “It starts as something you do and ends up being part of everything you are.”

Her observation said a great deal about her. Valerie was turning out to be an interestingly complex woman as well as beautiful.

“To catch a killer I need to put myself in his head—to see things as he does,” she continued. “I hope you can help me do that. I need to start thinking like a skinwalker.”

He touched the special medicine pouch he wore looped through his belt. “Don’t use that word so freely,” he said at last.

“Because I might call evil to us, like when I use the names of the victims?”

He nodded and said, “It’s even more so with the evil ones. The spoken word has a great deal of power.” He glanced down at the file. “I’m going to need a few more moments to study this file.”

“No problem. We’re still about ten minutes from the second site. It’s past the university, near Central Avenue.”

As silence stretched out between them in the car, she kept her eyes on traffic but her focus was on him. There was something magnetic about Luca Nakai—an intensity that wove its way around her and sparked her imagination. Police officer…medicine man…He was a man of many layers and something told her that beneath that imperturbable calm was a man worth getting to know much better.

Chapter Two

They were still underway and despite their silence, or maybe because of it, her attention had remained riveted on the man sitting next to her.

“You have questions about me,” Luca said, still looking down at the contents of the folder.

She almost choked. Maybe he should have added mind reader to his list of qualifications. Recovering quickly, she glanced at him casually.

“You have questions about me, too, I would imagine,” she said, turning it around on him. “You’re a guest of our department, so why don’t you take your shot first, then I’ll take mine.”

“You know why I’m on this case. Why were you chosen?” he asked without hesitation.

“Fair question,” she said with a nod. “I was chosen because I’ve been given special training to deal with violent crimes against women. I’ve only been working homicide for six months, but I’ve closed all the cases I’ve worked on so far.” Her car radio came on and she answered.

“Our ETA’s less than five minutes,” she responded to the caller, then, racking the microphone, glanced over at him and continued. “One big problem with this case is that we already have reporters breathing down our necks. Information about the killer’s unusual signature reached the media and that’s made this a hot story. The public’s pushing for quick answers.”

“Uncovering hidden truths often takes time. Accuracy and speed are enemies,” he said, expelling his breath in a soft hiss.

“These days stories unfold quickly,” Valerie answered with a shrug. “Internet and television are always in competition to see who breaks the story first.”

“That’s their problem. It shouldn’t become ours. Life isn’t a television quiz show.”

“Off the record?” She glanced at him, saw him nod, then continued. “The problem becomes ours when the sheriff is running for reelection.”

He nodded once. “I hear you. Any suspects yet?”

“No, not even a good lead. But I’ll find answers. Count on it.”

It was her tone that revealed more than her words. “You have something to prove on this case,” he observed.

Valerie swallowed back her annoyance. If it had been anyone else, she would have told him to stuff it. Yet there’d been no censure or disapproval in Luca’s tone. He’d simply stated his opinion. Knowing that he had to get to know her—after all, their lives might depend on each other—she decided to cut him some slack.

“I’ve had to work very hard to establish myself in my department,” she answered after a brief pause. “When I first signed up, the deputy at the desk tried to talk me out of it. I’m smaller and lighter than most of the other officers. From day one, all I kept hearing was that I’d be a liability, and that I’d cost another officer his or her life someday.”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“During training, I was forced to fight twice as hard as any other recruit. Nobody thought I’d make it, even when my physical training scores were better than some,” she said. “Since those days, I’ve worked my way up the ranks to detective, but it hasn’t been easy. A lot of people back from my rookie days would still like to see me fail, just so I’d prove them right.”

“Why was becoming an officer so important to you?”

“Because I know I can make a difference in my job,” she said in a firm voice. “My methods may be different than some of the textbook procedures, but I can get results.”

“Different how?” he asked.

“Let me give you an example. Last week at the downtown office, a suspect slipped off his handcuffs at the booking desk and jumped the arresting deputy. He knocked the officer to the floor and grabbed his weapon. I was coming around the corner just then and, not seeing my weapon beneath my jacket, he motioned me over. I think he wanted a helpless woman hostage. I went over to him as meekly as possible. Then before he could see it coming, I grabbed the weapon and kneed him in the groin,” she said. “I used the fact that I’m not threatening—the very thing they said was my biggest liability—to do what had to be done.”

Luca gave her a huge, devastatingly masculine grin. “Way to go.”

As she looked into his eyes and saw the approval and admiration there, her heart began to hammer. Telling herself it was low blood sugar, Valerie focused. “In this game it’s all about winning, and you do that when you put the bad guys away.”

“Winning…I wouldn’t put it that way exactly. To me, it’s more about restoring harmony—for others and within yourself.”

“Inner peace? That sounds very ’60s,” she said with a hesitant smile, then added, “I’m not sure that kind of thing really applies to police work.”

“It does. Try keeping your sanity after years of busting bad guys without it.”

She kept her eyes on the road as she thought about what he’d said. Luca sure wasn’t like anyone else she’d ever met. There was a quiet dignity about him and a strength that didn’t rely on machismo to back it up.

“Okay, we’re here,” Valerie said at long last, driving down a shabby-looking neighborhood just south of Central Avenue. The street had been cordoned off at both ends of the block by APD police barriers. As Valerie held up her badge a city officer in his dark blue uniform motioned them through.

Valerie parked beside another Sheriff’s Department vehicle just outside the yellow tape that defined the crime scene. The perimeter included an unoccupied-looking, flat-roofed house and a section of the alley.

It was midmorning and there were two television cameras and at least a hundred curious onlookers lining the outside of the tape. As she climbed out of the vehicle, Valerie glanced over at Luca. He was clipping his service pistol to the right side of his belt, next to his badge and a small leather pouch. Coming around the front of the car a few seconds later, he fell into step beside her as they walked toward the crime scene.

“Crazies can be real proud of their handiwork, and sometimes stick around to see us work the scene. Keep a sharp eye out for anyone who fits the profile,” she said.

“Don’t concentrate too much on profiles just yet. Keep an open mind,” he said, then in a whisper-thin voice added, “Patience.”

It was the way he’d said that word that teased her imagination, making her think of steamy summer nights someplace far away and exotic…. She shook her head, banishing the thought as quickly as it had come.

“Detective Jonas,” a tall, ruddy-faced officer called out as he jogged up to meet them. “The body’s through that alley at the other end, inside a private property and not visible from the outside of the yard unless you look over the wall,” he said. Then, lowering his voice, he added, “the entire hood is pretty restless at the moment, so watch yourself in case a relative or friend of the victim shows up. Things could explode in a hurry.”

She knew this type of neighborhood well. The residents were mostly Hispanic and Native American—people who often believed that you were either one of them or an outsider. It wouldn’t make their investigation easy.

“A deputy is tracking down her family, right?”

The officer nodded. “Her residence is in the North Valley, and an officer is en route. She apparently lives with her parents.”

“Anything else on the dead woman?” Valerie asked.

“She’s got a student ID card from the university and crime scene found a paycheck from an area print shop in her purse. The amount suggested a part-time job. Deputy Gonzales is following up on that lead, hoping to backtrack her recent activities,” the officer replied.

“Call the campus police and get her class schedule,” Valerie ordered, increasing her stride.

To their left there were several old multistory apartment buildings that took up several blocks. Ahead of them, on their side of the street, were run-down single-family homes a decade or so older than the apartment structures. The fronts of the homes were open to the street, and several of the houses had low cinder-block walls in the rear.

“From what I recall, a lot of Navajo families live in this neighborhood, but I don’t see any among the onlookers,” she said, glancing at the crowd that lined the yellow tape cutting across the alley at both ends of the property.

“We avoid the dead. Contact with them doesn’t bring anything good.”

Valerie and Luca followed the tall deputy through an open wooden gate at the midpoint of the block wall and found themselves in a small backyard—the crime scene. The body hadn’t been covered yet, but its location close to the wall blocked it from the view of the onlookers.

Her attention already on the body, which rested not five feet from the wall, Valerie reached into her pocket. “We’ll need gloves,” she said, handing him a pair.

“I’ll need a second pair,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Tribal officers prefer to wear two. That way we don’t inadvertently touch anything that came into direct contact with the body.”

Valerie called another officer over and soon Luca had his second pair. As they approached the body she glanced back at him. His focus had shifted from the body itself, and the fact that the fingertip joints were missing, to the bare earth and the items left around the victim.

“Let me know when you get the results on the green powder placed on her lips,” Luca said. “I think it comes from plants used in our rituals but I’d like to know which ones specifically. You’ll also want to get those strips tested,” he said, pointing next to the body. “Find out if that’s buckskin. Navajo witches are said to wear masks of that material at a kill site.”

In a smoothed-over area of dirt by the body he could see the black outline of the circle and flames—the Brotherhood’s emblem.

She followed his gaze, then pointed across the alley to the property opposite them. The wall there was covered with gang signs painted in a multitude of colors. “I saw that same symbol, or one close to it, at the first scene. Is it graffiti, spray painted onto the ground?”

“That’s not paint. Take a closer look. It’s finely powdered ash,” he said. It had been left there as an insult to the Brotherhood. “Make sure the team takes a sample and identifies the source. It may help us in the long run.”

“I’ll take care of that,” a young woman from the medical investigator’s office answered, overhearing them. “We’re ready to transport, Detective Jonas. The team leader says we’ve got enough photos. All we need now is your okay.”

Valerie glanced at Luca, who nodded. “Go ahead,” she told her. “What about the vic’s belongings?” Valerie asked. “Do you have a list of what she had on her?”

One of the crime scene techs looked up then. “Her purse, with billfold, driver’s license and university ID. There were some bus tokens, too. Deputy Gonzales is running down the print-shop check now. We didn’t find any car keys, but there’s a book bag. Inside are pencils and a pen, notebooks and an anthropology textbook.”

“Let’s have a look,” Luca said. “Students sometimes doodle on their notes or slip papers into their textbooks for safekeeping.”

“She took English lit—here’s something on Beowulf,” Valerie said moments later. “Here’s another section with some anthropology notes. It’s all pretty general so it must be a beginning survey class. Yeah, here it is, Anthro 101.”

Luca, thumbing through the anthropology text, nodded. “This book fits that description. Any mention of a professor or TA?”

“Not yet. Wait—here’s some scribbling next to some sketches of arrowheads. It says, and I quote, ‘Dr. Finley sucks.’ That could be one of her professors.”

“Interesting wording—respecting the title but not the man—but it gives us a name to check on. Maybe Dr. Finley, whoever he is in the anthropology department, will recognize her photograph and provide us with some information we can use,” Luca added. “There’s a strong cultural connection to the way she was killed.”

“Sounds like a plan. When we leave here, we’ll go straight to the university. It’s not too far back down Central, on the north side of the street.”

As the body, now in a sealed plastic bag, was placed on a gurney, she studied the faces in the crowd. Their expressions told the story—along with horror and disgust there was also morbid fascination.

Praising the members of the crime-scene team who were busy placing numbered cards near each piece of evidence, she studied the camera-laden reporters. They were all struggling from behind the yellow tape for the best angles.

“Who found the body?” Valerie asked an APD sergeant working crowd control, aware that city officers were the first to arrive on the scene.

“A couple of area residents.” He called her attention to two women who were seated on the back steps of a neighboring home. Another APD officer was standing beside them. “The young redhead with the short skirt and low-cut blouse was on her way home from work, and the other’s a widow who was out looking for her cat. Apparently it was the cat that led both of them to the body.”

Valerie turned to speak to Luca, but to her surprise saw that he’d left the taped area. He was now climbing a large elm tree to the left of the crime scene with the grace and agility of a mountain lion.

Hearing comments from curious onlookers and wondering what he was up to, she went to meet him. “What on earth are you doing?”

“The scene was carefully arranged, and I wanted to get another perspective,” he said, inching out on a low limb then staring down.

A moment later he came back down. “Don’t act surprised or alarmed, but someone’s been watching me from the flat roof of that two-story apartment building at the east end of the block. Binoculars and gray, hooded sweatshirt—even in this heat,” Luca said.

Valerie scanned off into the distance, but failed to spot the person Luca had seen.

“He’s working hard to keep his face hidden. Otherwise he would have come in closer like those other folks.” He gestured toward the onlookers by pursing his lips, Navajo-style. “I’m going to find out why I’ve got his interest.”

Luca and Valerie walked slowly toward the house as if searching for something on the ground. They soon stepped into the shadow cast by the roof of the next building and there were hidden from the person with the binoculars.

In the blink of an eye Luca took off around the side of the house. He crossed the street and circled around the opposite side of the apartment building, planning to catch the guy with binoculars from behind.

Valerie shot after Luca, trying her best to keep up, though he ran like the wind. Unable to close the gap, she worked hard to at least keep him in sight.

Then, as she turned the corner, she saw their suspect climbing up the fire escape onto another pueblo-style rooftop, Luca directly behind him. A heartbeat later, both of them disappeared from view.

Knowing that Luca was on his tail, she pressed on and climbed up after them. As she reached the top of the ladder she heard a loud scraping noise somewhere ahead. Valerie crossed the roof in a crouch. Peering over the edge, she saw Luca on the parapet of the next building, dangling from one of the cañales. Separating Valerie from him was a fifteen-foot gap. He’d obviously jumped but had come out a foot short.

Before she could call out, he quickly pulled himself up over the ledge and onto the roof. “He’s some kind of athlete, that one,” Luca yelled, seeing her. “I’m in good shape, but I barely made it.”

“Where did he go?” she asked, looking past Luca toward the east.

Luca studied the expanse of roof beyond. There were several chimneys as well as heating and cooling units big enough to hide behind. A moment later he looked back at Valerie and gave her a quick thumbs-up.

Valerie studied the area carefully, but all she could see were three pigeons on the graveled roof. There were no shadows anywhere to give the suspect away.

Luca pointed to the pigeons, to his eyes then to a spot across the rooftop.

It took her a moment but Valerie suddenly realized what he was telling her. The pigeons were watching the suspect.

As Luca ran across the roof a shadowy figure slipped out from behind a large chimney then dropped over the far side, apparently finding a ladder.

“Go back down, circle around and cut him off,” Luca called, not looking back.

Seconds mattered. Instead of climbing back down the ladder, she shimmied down a drainpipe, dropping the last four feet to the ground and landing in a crouch.

The narrow alley was in deep shadow and constricted to one lane by two large trash bins. Hearing a footstep ahead she reached for her sidearm and, putting her back to the brick wall, moved forward cautiously.

Standing at the corner, Valerie stopped to listen. Someone took a breath. She had him now.

Chapter Three

Ducking down, gun ready, she took a quick look around the corner—and found herself staring directly into Luca’s face.

She lowered her weapon immediately. “Sorry. I thought I had him.”

Luca holstered his own weapon and glanced back the way he’d come. “I shouldn’t have lost him, but between his familiarity with the area and his speed, he had the advantage.”

“What made you spot the guy?” she asked. “There was quite a crowd back there.”

“I was looking for anyone who might be paying attention to me—not the crime scene. That’s when I saw him.”

“I don’t get it. Why focus on you? You mean because you’re Navajo?”

“Not just that. I figured that a skinwalker would be watching for anyone who might be a hataalii, a medicine man, and wearing a medicine bundle,” he said, pointing to his jish. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth either. The skinwalker, or skinwalker wannabe, had issued a clear challenge to the Brotherhood of Warriors and would have undoubtedly been looking to see who’d come in response to that.

“Did you get a close enough look to be able to make an ID?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Just general size and shape, and the fact that he moved like a man, not a woman. I’m not talking about fitness, just gait, okay?”

She gave him a wry smile. “No harm, no foul. I get you. But that puts us at a dead end. Let’s go back and interview the witnesses.”

“They may be reluctant to talk to us, particularly in a case where witchcraft’s involved. Navajos aren’t the only ones taught to avoid things of that nature.”

Valerie gave him a surprised look. “I have no idea how you investigate a case like this on the reservation,” she said, “but, out here, they can either talk or find themselves down at the station. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer—not when I’m investigating a homicide.”

As they approached the crime scene Valerie was aware of everything about her new partner. Their styles of working were vastly different, yet she had a feeling about him. A quiet man of strength, Luca had come prepared to solve the case. She could feel his determination and understood that feeling well. They’d mesh well as partners…if only she could stop letting the fire in his eyes distract her.

Focusing back on the case, Valerie spoke to the city officer who’d kept the witnesses separated. Elderly Mrs. Santiago had been escorted home so Valerie approached the younger woman who’d remained behind. Mary Sanchez had listed her employment as entertainer, but the short skirt, revealing tank top and hard look despite her age left little doubt what kind of entertaining she did.

“I’m tired, guys, and ready to go home. Tell me what you need so I can get out of here,” she said in a weary voice.

“We’ll make this as quick as possible. Just tell us what you saw,” Valerie said.

“It was around eight. I was on my way home—I usually cut through this alley—when I heard Mrs. Santiago looking for that blasted cat of hers. The thing’s a nuisance, but it’s all she’s got so I decided to help her find him. I know he likes digging through the garbage, so I looked in the alley near her trash can. He was up on that wall,” she said and pointed, indicating the spot just above where they’d found the body. “The cat was making such a racket I thought he was hurt, so I went over to pick him up. That’s when I saw the dead girl,” she said and shuddered. “I’ve seen people cut up before, but this was bad—real bad.”

Valerie gave her time to pull herself together. A crime scene like this one was enough to rattle even a seasoned veteran.

“The blood—it was everywhere—and that Satanic stuff, right out of a horror flick. That’s going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life,” she whispered. “And poor Mrs. Santiago. She came up behind me for a look before I could warn her away. She nearly fainted.”

“Did you notice anyone else around—maybe someone wearing a gray sweatshirt, hood over their head?” Luca asked.

“Not today. Sometimes I see people in sweats out jogging, but that’s usually closer to the university,” Mary answered.

Leaving her to sign the statement she’d given earlier to the county officer in charge of the crime scene team, they followed up on Mrs. Santiago.

The sergeant who’d secured the scene directed them to a house two doors down. “That woman’s got to be in her eighties and she was looking downright frail. I let her go back to her home and left an APD officer with her.”

When Luca and Valerie arrived at the house they were greeted by brightly colored flowers that edged the path to the front door. Although the paint on the trim was faded and the screen door looked worn, they could see that the owner had done her best with her limited budget.

Mrs. Santiago was a small woman with intelligent eyes that, at the moment, mirrored only a barely contained panic despite the presence of the burly city cop standing beside the window.

Not wanting to traumatize the elderly woman any further, Valerie released the APD officer, then, seeing a knitting basket across the room, smiled. Her mother had been an avid knitter and if Mrs. Santiago was anything like her, the activity would immediately relax her.

“Let me move that closer to you,” Valerie said, picking up the basket. “That’s a lovely sweater,” she added, looking at the partial work lying on the top.

“It’s for my niece. I’m hoping she’ll come for Christmas….”

“That’ll be a wonderful present,” Valerie said. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Mrs. Santiago fingered the yarn absently then picked up her needles and began to knit. “I’m going to have to stop letting Oscar out. These days, between the gangs and the drugs, no one’s safe. But the way that poor woman was massacred, and those things around the body…” Mrs. Santiago shuddered and her knitting needles began to click together at a furious pace. “That’s not drug related or the work of the gangs around here. That’s brujería.”

“Excuse me?” Valerie asked.

“I know witchcraft when I see it—but that’s not Spanish brujería. That’s from your people, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at Luca.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

“I overheard two officers talking,” Mrs. Santiago said in a hushed tone and crossed herself. “When you’re old like me, people don’t notice, or maybe don’t care that you’re there. Sometimes that’s a good thing, other times it’s not.” She paused and lapsed into a long, thoughtful silence.

Getting impatient, Valerie started to press her, but Luca shook his head and signaled her to wait.

“Like that strange man I saw this morning,” Mrs. Santiago added at long last. “He hovered around at the edges of the crowd, watching the officers instead of trying to get a look at the body like the rest of the people there. I think he was more interested in the officers’ reactions than anything else.”

“What was he wearing?” Valerie asked immediately.

“A gray sweatshirt with a hood. He was probably a jogger trying to lose weight. He must have been sweating like crazy in that outfit.”

“Did you happen to get a look at his face?” Luca asked. “Was he Anglo, Indian, maybe black?”

“I didn’t get a close enough look. All I really noticed was the sweatshirt ’cause it struck me as odd in this heat. Then a deputy asked me a question. By the time I glanced back, the man was gone.”

“How tall was he?” Luca asked. He’d never seen the person standing still up close, and it was harder to estimate the height of someone who was running.

“He was about your size and weight. But that’s all I can tell you. My eyes…they don’t work too good at a distance.”

Despite that, their oldest witness had noticed more than most others had today. “We’ll need you to sign a statement, then we’ll be out of your way,” Valerie said.

“Good, because it’s time for me to get Oscar’s lunch ready. He gets crabby when he doesn’t get his tuna on time.”

Soon they left Mrs. Santiago’s, and, as they walked back to the scene, Valerie matched Luca’s strides. He was built for strength and endurance…. The possibilities sparked her imagination.

Almost instantly, Valerie pushed those thoughts firmly back, shaking her head.

Noticing it, he glanced at her. “Something wrong?”

Just with my brain. She scrambled for a way to cover for her lapse, and then answered. “You and I need a way to communicate out in the field,” she said. “We got separated back there while pursuing the suspect and things could have gotten out of hand in a hurry. Let me give you my cell phone number in case that happens again and we need to find each other fast.”

As she gave him her number, he wrote it down on a notepad he’d taken out of his jacket pocket.

Bringing out her PDA, she waited for him to reciprocate but he didn’t volunteer the information. After a moment she added, “I need yours, too.”

“I don’t have a cell phone. They don’t work well enough on the Rez to make them of any real use to us. We have radios in our department vehicles and carry handhelds.”

Valerie just stared at him. “No cell phone?” Had he told her that he’d just beamed down from an alien spacecraft, he couldn’t have surprised her more. Her cell phone was permanently attached to her ear. She’d almost worn it into the shower a few times.

“In that case, I need to get one for you,” she said after a beat.

“How about a handheld radio?”

“I’ll find both—a radio and cell phone for you,” she said, heading over to get the emergency spares in the crime scene vehicle.

After making sure he had one of each, Valerie arranged to get the surveillance tapes from the nearby businesses, especially those within a four-block stretch along Central Avenue. Maybe they’d get lucky and locate an image of Hooded Guy.

They continued to work the crime scene until midafternoon, viewing surveillance feeds from the various businesses by using the equipment in the crime scene van. Unfortunately, none of the cameras had revealed the passage of a man in a hooded sweatshirt. He had either not been wearing the sweatshirt when passing within camera range or had traveled along a side street.

Once the crime scene unit finished with their on-site work and began packing up, Valerie and Luca headed back to her unmarked unit.

“Do you know where you’re staying, or were you supposed to make arrangements once you got here?” Valerie asked him.

“I figured I’d track down a motel after I got here. Any suggestions?”

She paused, considering her answer. There was an empty furnished apartment next door to hers. She knew that her landlord would happily allow an officer to use it, too. Yet something told her that having nothing but a thin wall between them would make for some very long, restless nights. “Let me think about it while we go over to the university. We need to pay Professor Finley a visit.”

Chapter Four

Ten minutes later Valerie parked her department vehicle in the empty police parking space just a hundred or so feet from the anthropology administration office. While en route they’d called ahead and learned that Dr. Maurice Finley was chairman of the department and “somewhere” on campus. He’d be sent a text message to meet them at his office.

Luca stepped out of the passenger side, admiring the tall pine trees around the older pueblo-inspired structures of the UNM campus. Large expanses of grass and plenty of shade were a welcome relief from the places in the city he’d already been to today.

Valerie reached into her pocket, feeling for the photograph of the victim the crime scene tech had printed out for them back at the crime lab van. Somehow, she doubted that it would do them much good here today. Introductory classes like the low-numbered 100 courses tended to be very large at the university, where the enrollment exceeded 26,000 students. But they had to try.

“There are probably more students here than in the Navajo Nation’s largest town,” Luca said, mirroring her thoughts. “Unless the victim sat in the front row of the class, chances are the professor won’t have any idea who she was.”

“Probably so.” As Luca and she walked together, Valerie grew aware of the outdoorsy scent that clung to him. It fit him perfectly. There was something about Luca that reminded her of the rugged New Mexican desert. He belonged out in nature—just as much as she belonged in the city.

As they entered the air-conditioned building, she felt in her element. A few minutes later they were seated on comfortable padded chairs along a glass-paneled wall in the department’s main office. Several people came in, including an energetic dark-haired man who glanced at them with interest after noting their weapons. The older student, probably in his late twenties and carrying a briefcase, turned to the attractive dark-haired office assistant.

“Hey, Steve,” the young woman said, looking up at him and giving him a big smile. “What brings you by here?”

“I couldn’t find Dr. Becenti,” he said, “but the sign on his office door says he’s supposed to be there.”

The woman checked something on her computer monitor, then looked up and shrugged. “You’re right. It’s his office time according to his schedule. Maybe he dropped in earlier, but took off when nobody showed up. Did you have an appointment?”

“I didn’t think I needed one.”

“There’s an Anasazi dig going on up in Rio Rancho. He might have gone there to check it out. You could try there next.”

“Okay, Bernie, I’ll give that a shot,” Steve said, then left in a hurry after glancing at his watch.

A few minutes later, a fit-looking man in his late thirties, wearing slacks, a lightweight tan blazer and carrying a leather briefcase in his free hand, rushed into the office. A bicycle helmet was under his arm.

“You must be the police officers,” he said, spotting them instantly. “I’m Maurice Finley.” He nodded to Luca and shook Valerie’s hand.

“Sheriff’s Office. I’m Detective Jonas. This is…my partner,” she said, unsure about using Luca’s full name out loud.

Giving her an imperceptible nod, Luca answered, “Navajo Tribal Detective Nakai.”

“The text message from my secretary said you wanted to speak to me concerning one of my students. Is he, or she, in some kind of trouble?”

“Can we do this inside your office?” Valerie said, noting the department secretary and another student employee nearby within easy listening range.

“Works for me. This way.”

A few minutes later, Finley looked up from the photograph Valerie had handed him, a grim expression on his face. “Poor girl. And, yes, I do know who she is.” He looked at Luca. “I’m going to have to say her name. Is that okay with you?” he added, obviously familiar with Navajo fears concerning the recently deceased.

Luca nodded.

“This is—was—Lea Begay, a young Navajo woman who was enrolled in my survey course, Anthropology 101. With a lecture hall full of students I ordinarily wouldn’t know her name, but she and I had a private conference a few weeks ago.”

“And she wasn’t happy with the outcome of your meeting,” Valerie concluded, recalling the written comment Lea had made.

“How’d you know?” Finley asked, then, not waiting for an answer, continued. “She was having trouble with a class and wanted to drop out before her current grade could go into her records. She was afraid of losing her scholarship. As head of the department, I promised to bring up the matter with her professor.”

As he spoke those last words, he didn’t look at either of them, and that made Valerie suspect she wasn’t getting the complete story. Glancing over at Luca, she saw he hadn’t bought into it either.

“How far was she willing to push to get what she wanted?” Luca asked. “And did she end up making any enemies who were in a position to retaliate?”

“You mean like me? I barely knew the girl, and I never spent time with her except in class—and that one meeting. All I can tell you is that she didn’t drop out of my lecture. It was Dr. Becenti’s class that she was concerned about. Her friends or family might know more about that.”

As if sensing something still left unsaid, Luca continued to press. “This Dr. Becenti…Is he around?”

“He’s got class coming up at the top of the hour,” Finley said, checking the schedule.

“What can you tell us about him?” Valerie asked.

“He’s got a reputation for being a tough instructor. A lot of people, not just students, have had problems with him before.”

“Like you?” Luca asked.

“Yeah, like me. But I’m just one of many.” Finley took a deep breath then let it out again. “To give you an idea, last summer he went to the Rez to conduct research for a paper about some obscure tribal sect that traced its roots back to the Civil War. Although he’s part Navajo, and that should have cut him some slack, he managed to get everyone ticked off at him.” He shook his head then shrugged. “I don’t know what it was, but no one, from tribal historians on down, would even meet with him. The lack of trust he generated cost him a substantial grant.”

Several minutes later Valerie and Luca returned to the car. “We didn’t get the whole story on Lea…the victim,” she said, quickly correcting herself. “Did you see how he deflected and talked about Becenti instead?” Valerie asked as she climbed behind the wheel. “According to the person I spoke to when I first called, Finley had nothing on his schedule when we were chasing the suspect around the apartment buildings.”

“We should check out Dr. Finley’s background and see if he has alibis that’ll account for his time during either of the murders. He’s obviously familiar with Navajo customs, and he knew one of a hundred and fifty students by name. He also arrived here after a hot, sweaty bike ride—and maybe a run across a roof or two earlier in the day. It could all be coincidence, but it merits a closer look.”

“Those apartments near where we found the body are only a few miles east of the campus. He would have had plenty of time to ditch the sweatshirt and binoculars,” Valerie said, backing out of the parking space. “Finley appears fit, is younger than I expected and the victim was a pretty young woman. I’m going to have a deputy dig deep into the good doctor’s background—and have officers speak to everyone in the victim’s classes.”

“What about this Professor Becenti? He’s in a position to know something about the victim—and Dr. Finley,” Luca suggested. “Should we go back and track him down?”

“He’s supposed to be teaching a class right now. Let’s catch up to him later,” Valerie said.

“Okay. In the meantime, how about showing me the other crime scene?”

“Good idea. The first murder took place out in the county near an irrigation ditch.”

“So either our killer likes changes of scenery or he’s been targeting specific victims and the murders aren’t random,” Luca said.

“We’ll be looking for commonalities between vic one and two, but for now all I know for sure is that they both looked alike—same general description—hair color, height and weight and so on.”

Valerie took the freeway. “You okay if I make a stop to change? I got something sticky on my blouse when I slid down the pipe chasing the hooded perp.”

“Sure.”

Within minutes they arrived at her apartment.

She lived beside a small city park less than a mile west from I-25. Six units stood side by side, all part of a reconverted pueblo-style mansion in an old section of the city. The parking area that surrounded it was nearly empty at the moment.

“Most my neighbors work and are almost never home. Then again, neither am I,” she added with a shrug.

As they entered through the front door, boxes of all sizes and shapes greeted them. One coffee cup with the three little pigs emblazoned on it had been left on top of a large box next to an easy chair. A television stood about four feet in front of it against the wall.

“Just moved in?” he asked.

“Sorta—two months ago. Like I said, I’m never home.” She crossed the small living room and headed to the bedroom. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Valerie stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. There were more clothes on the floor than in the closet or drawers—meaning laundry day was long overdue. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than rinse out a few things in the bathroom sink for the past two weeks. Grabbing one of the few remaining clean shirts from the closet, she hurried back out to meet Luca and found him at the kitchen sink, his hand cupped beneath the faucet.

“Need something?” she asked.

He sipped the water in his hand. “I just wanted a drink,” he said, then dried his hand on a paper towel. “I couldn’t find any glasses.”

“I haven’t unpacked them. I use the Dixie cups,” she said, handing him a three-inch cup. “They were on sale,” she added with a sheepish smile. “See, the thing is I generally don’t have visitors. When I come home it’s just to sleep.”

Valerie knew she was talking too much. She often did that around people she didn’t know well. With so little idle time in her life, her socializing skills stunk. Yet, all things considered, there was no place she’d rather be than hip deep in a case. That was where she excelled.

As Luca entered the cluttered living room, he stopped by the sideboard and reached behind it. A small, broken picture frame was lodged between that piece of furniture and the wall. “Remnants of an old boyfriend?” he asked, fishing it out.

She looked at him in surprise, and laughed, seeing what he was holding. “No boyfriends—old or new. That was undoubtedly left by the previous tenant.” As a kid living with a single mom she’d learned one thing—happily-ever-afters didn’t exist. Everything came with an expiration date—relationships, jobs and even people.

By the time they walked out of her apartment, the sun was low in the sky and sinking fast. “I can take you to the crime scene, but it’ll be dark soon. I doubt we’ll be able to see much.”

“What was the victim’s time of death?” he asked.

“Around nine at night, according to the M.E.”

“This time of year that means it took place just after it got dark. The murder was premeditated, so he probably arrived earlier and waited for her to pass by. I’d like to go over there now and see the place as he did, at around the time the crime went down.”

“This guy felt safe enough at both places to stick around and set the stage, too. That means he must have spent some serious time selecting each site.”

“My guess is that long before the crimes went down, he checked out traffic patterns, people who live in the area and maybe even introduced himself to some of them as, say, a prospective home buyer, so they wouldn’t get suspicious seeing him around.”

“Sometimes serial killers will pose as utility workers, too, so keep that in mind as we poke around the area,” she said. “We’ll check out the first site then, afterward, we’ll get you settled in somewhere.”

“Can you recommend a motel close to your place? It’ll make things easier since we’ll be riding together.”

“The apartment next door to mine is empty for now since my landlord plans to have the place completely repainted. It’s convenient, but the walls are paper-thin,” she said, then with a quick grin added, “If you snore, the deal’s off.”

“Take the risk and find out for yourself.”

His low, husky voice teased her, and a shiver touched the base of her spine. The problem with Luca was that mystery clung to him like a second skin, and her imagination, always up to a challenge, was filling in the gaps in all sorts of interesting ways.

She switched off the ignition. “I’ll tell you what. Get your bag from the back. We can get the key from the landlord. We’ll leave your stuff here, then be on our way.”

A short time later she unlocked the apartment door adjacent to hers and showed him in. With no boxes lying about it looked roomier than hers, though they were exactly the same size.

“A word of warning—hot water’s in demand each morning,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “In other words, move fast or you’re liable to run out in the middle of a shower.”

He quickly placed his duffel bag on the couch then met her by the door. “Okay, let’s get going.”

She blinked. She’d fully expected a crack about conserving water. Most of the men she knew would have considered it a matter of macho honor.

No matter how she looked at it, Luca wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known. He was quiet control and vibrant sexiness all rolled into one exciting package.

Valerie locked the door and gave the key to Luca. As she turned around, their eyes suddenly met. The intensity mirrored in his gaze spoke to her without the need for words, awakening something nameless deep inside her.

Valerie tore her gaze from his quickly and headed to the car without looking back. The man was Big Trouble. No doubt about it.

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