“What made the lumber fall to begin with?” Ken set the mug down and leaned toward Julianna, face intent.

“Well, I-I don’t know.” How odd it was, that she hadn’t even thought of that. She’d been too focused on Ken’s safety.

“Neither do I. But I’m going to find out. That lumber didn’t accidentally fall just when I was walking by.”

Julianna rubbed her forehead. “You’re right. Those stacks are perfectly secure. One couldn’t collapse unless–”

“Unless somebody made it happen,” Ken finished for her, his voice grim.

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE-Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS-Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL-Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE-Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

In the Enemy’s Sights
Marta Perry

MILLS & BOON

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Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Marta Perry for her contribution to the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series.

This story is dedicated to my dear Love Inspired

sisters, with thanks for your love and support.

And, as always, to Brian.

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is the refuge of my life; of whom then should I be afraid?

—Psalms 27:1

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Kenneth Vance—He was shot down while on a mission, but would recovery in Colorado Springs prove even more dangerous for this Air Force pilot?

Julianna Red Feather—This expert in canine search-and-rescue was feeling burnt-out emotionally and spiritually, but her job wasn’t over yet….

Jay Nieto—The Native American teen Julianna had taken under her wing was a good assistant during the canine training, but was he also responsible for the vandalism at Montgomery Construction?

Maxwell Vance—Now that the mayor has taken a turn for the better, will the powers that want him dead finally succeed?

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you decided to pick up this book, the fourth in the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series. It’s been such a great experience to write this series with five such talented and dedicated authors.

As you know if you’ve read my earlier book, Hero in Her Heart, I have a great affection and respect for service dogs and their handlers. The research I did into the lives of FEMA urban search-and-rescue teams just increased my awe at what they can accomplish.

The love story of Ken and Julianna, two wounded, hurting people, put a lump in my throat as I wrote. I hope it does the same for you as you read.

I hope you’ll write and let me know how you liked this story. Address your letters to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, and I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookplate or bookmark. You can visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com or e-mail me at marta@martaperry.com.

Blessings,

CONTENTS

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

If he stayed inside for another minute, he’d probably explode. Grateful for the phone call that had distracted his friend, Kenneth Vance stepped from the office into the yard of Montgomery Construction Company. Behind the long, low office building loomed the old red barn that had been the original site of the company. Now, eight-foot-high chain-link fencing surrounded a whole complex of buildings.

Beyond the fence, Ken could see a steady flow of traffic on the industrial park road. Colorado Springs seemed to have grown in the years since this place, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, had been home to him.

When he moved beyond the shade of the overhang, the Colorado sunshine, fierce even in April at this altitude, hit him like a blow. He groped for the dark glasses he’d been forced to wear since the incident.

Incident. That was the term the Air Force used. The official verdict had been that his jet was brought down over South America by insurgents armed with a shoulder-fired missile. Somehow incident didn’t seem a strong enough word for something that ruined a man’s life.

He pushed the thoughts away forcefully and wandered farther into the yard. Quinn Montgomery, his longtime friend and owner of Montgomery Construction, had made progress in repairing the destruction done by an arson fire at the yard last month, but a jumble of broken concrete and charred timbers still marred the scene.

Ken stiffened, trying to will away the incessant blurring of his vision that was an annoying leftover from his injuries. Someone was moving around in the debris. No one should be there.

He strode quickly toward the spot. With all the misfortunes that had dogged the Montgomery and Vance families lately, he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” It was the command tone that was ingrained after eight years as an Air Force officer.

Maybe not much longer, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

A slight figure emerged from a fractured piece of concrete pipe. A teenage boy, he thought for an instant, maybe from one of the street gangs Quinn said had begun to appear on the usually placid streets of Colorado Springs in recent months.

Then the figure straightened, and he realized it was no boy. Slim, small, but certainly no boy. The woman had glossy, straight black hair in thick braids. High cheekbones increased the faintly exotic quality of her looks, and dark eyes met his with a startled wariness.

“What did you say?” Her voice was soft, a little husky. Something about it rang a bell, but he couldn’t place her.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

He took a step toward her and then froze. A dog came out of the pipe behind her—a big German shepherd that lowered its head and growled at him, pressing close to the woman’s side.

“Easy, Angel.” Her hand caressed the animal’s head. “He’s a friend.”

Something about the way she said the word increased that sense of recognition. He frowned, annoyed that he couldn’t remember. “Do we know each other?”

Her glance touched his face and flickered away. “We did. A long time ago. You’re Ken Vance.” She smiled faintly. “Everyone in The Springs has heard you’re back.”

True enough, he supposed. When you belonged to the Vance family and your uncle was the mayor, everyone knew too much about you. They probably even knew why he was here, out of uniform, instead of doing what he was born to do.

“You must have changed more than I have.” He tried to manage a smile. “I know I know you, but—” Recognition came then. “You’re Julianna Red Feather, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze squarely, without a hint of embarrassment.

“It’s been a long time.” He probably felt embarrassed enough for both of them, even though he hadn’t thought of that awkward incident in years. Still, meeting her again was easier since she’d obviously gotten over that foolish crush she’d once had on him. “You’ve changed.”

She shrugged, a smile lightening her grave expression. “I’ve grown up. We all have. And, by the way, I do have permission from Quinn to be here.”

“Right.” Of course she did. He’d been needlessly officious.

Julianna had changed. He remembered a girl so shy she’d nearly vanished into the woodwork in high school—one he’d thought had been ashamed of her Native American ancestry. Now she confronted him with confidence, head held high. Her thick braids with their woven ties and the turquoise emblem she wore at her throat seemed to announce pride in her heritage.

“So, you two remember each other, do you?”

He hadn’t heard Quinn approach, but there he was, grinning at them. Quinn bent to ruffle Angel’s ears, obviously friends with the dog.

“We’ve figured it out,” he said easily, wondering what the relationship was between Quinn and Julianna. He’d been away for years, except for flying visits when he was on leave. Anything could have happened, and he wouldn’t necessarily have heard unless his mother had thought to mention it in one of their frequent phone conversations.

“Julianna’s the newest member of Montgomery Construction Company,” Quinn said, answering the question in his mind. “She’s running the office for us now.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You expect your office manager to clean up the scrap yard?”

“Julianna didn’t tell you?” Now it was Quinn’s turn to raise his brows. “She and Angel are also members of a FEMA Urban Search and Rescue team. She thinks this mess I haven’t cleared up yet will be an ideal site for training exercises for her team.”

“No, she didn’t mention it.” He smiled at Julianna, relieved that they’d moved past a rocky beginning. “You’ve turned into a talented lady.”

She shook her head slightly, something guarded in her dark eyes.

“We’re proud to have her here.” Quinn patted her shoulder, not seeming to notice. “She and Angel have gone to rescue sites all over the place. They’re heroes.”

“I’m impressed.” He didn’t know how the dog felt about it, but Julianna was obviously embarrassed. Or was the feeling something deeper than embarrassment? He wasn’t sure.

Quinn gave him a challenging look. “You know, buddy, you could do worse than join the team here at Montgomery Construction while you’re home on leave. I could use you, and you’d like it here. Wouldn’t he, Julianna?”

The proposal startled him, but before he could respond, something else startled him even more—the look in Julianna’s face at the comment. Dismay filled her dark eyes before she masked her expression.

“I’m sure he would.” She turned, clicking her fingers to the dog. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I need to get back to work.”

Woman and dog moved quickly away. He watched Julianna’s slim, straight back for a moment before turning a frowning glance on Quinn.

“I’m not looking for charity.” His voice grated on the word. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Good thing,” Quinn replied evenly. “Since I’m not offering it.”

“Nice try, Q, but I don’t know a thing about the construction business and you know it.” He didn’t know about anything but flying. And if he couldn’t do that—“Did my mother put you up to this? Or Holly?”

It would be just like his twin sister to interfere. She was so eager to distract him from his troubles that she was driving him nuts.

“Nobody put me up to anything,” Quinn said. “You always were too stubborn for your own good.”

“You’re a good one to talk. Your father used to say you could give lessons to a mule.”

Once Quinn made up his mind to something, there was no moving him. Maybe that quality in common had helped forge their friendship.

Quinn shrugged. “Face it, buddy. You need something to occupy your time while you’re stuck on medical leave, or your loving family will drive you crazy fussing over you.”

True enough, but Quinn’s job offer still sounded like charity.

“And I need someone I can trust around here.” Quinn paused, his usual smile dimming. “You know that we seem to have become a target in the past few months, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard something about it. My mother keeps trying to protect me from hearing anything bad, but she couldn’t prevent my knowing about the fires. Or about Uncle Max getting shot.”

Maxwell Vance had been in a coma since the shooting, a continuing grief to the family. Some people said he’d made too many enemies during his brief term as mayor by taking a hard line on drugs.

“That’s been a tough situation. You know we’re all praying for him.”

“Yes. Thanks.” His throat tightened at the thought.

Quinn’s face darkened. “As for the fire, the investigators seem to think Neil O’Brien was responsible. You wouldn’t know him, probably. He was an assistant fire chief.”

“Was?”

“The department suspended him while the investigation’s going on. There’s even a rumor he may have been involved in drugs.”

“You’d think they’d have him under arrest, then.”

Quinn shrugged. “Suspicion isn’t evidence. On the surface, there’s no connection between that and your uncle’s shooting and the vandalism we’ve been having, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“I don’t know much about security, either.”

In fact, he didn’t know much about any job, other than flying. Bitterness washed over him. If God were really in control, why were all these bad things happening to them?

“Maybe not, but you’re smart and you’re tough. And I can trust you.” Quinn nudged his shoulder. “Anyway, you owe me. Think of all those times I got slammed to the turf protecting the quarterback so you could throw a touchdown pass.”

“If that’s how you remember it, maybe you hit the turf a few too many times.” He grinned, suddenly feeling a little more like himself again. At least Quinn didn’t treat him like an invalid. “All right, sign me up. I’ll do it.”

Quinn grabbed his hand and shook it, obviously pleased with his decision. Maybe now wasn’t the moment to add the reservation in his mind.

I’ll do it…for the time being. But when this injury heals, when I can see well enough to fly again, I’ll be out of here in a hurry.

He had to say when, not if. He couldn’t handle any other possibility.

Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. “Come inside, and I’ll go over the operation with you. We’ll tell Julianna to spread the word, so everyone knows why you’re poking around.”

Julianna. A faint unease entered his mind. Julianna had been dismayed at the prospect of Quinn offering the job. How was she going to react now that he’d accepted it?

Two days had passed, and Julianna still wasn’t used to seeing Ken every day. She frowned at her computer screen. It was tough to concentrate when he could walk in the door at any moment.

At least Ken seemed to spend most of his time out in the yard or at the site of the company’s biggest project, the new physical therapy wing of Vance Hospital. The ongoing cases of vandalism there had everyone on edge.

So he wasn’t here, and even if he were, she’d cope. She wouldn’t let herself think about what had happened between them once upon a time.

She stared at the figures on the screen, but they seemed to blur. Instead she saw a high school corridor, lined with lockers. Ken leaned against one, his red letter jacket standing out against the gray metal. She’d known that locker well—she’d certainly spent enough time lurking in the hallway to catch a glimpse of Ken.

She must have been crazy that day. It was the only explanation that made any sense. He’d noticed her, smiled at her, and she’d blurted out her love without a thought for the consequences.

Her face burned even now at the thought of his appalled expression. She’d whirled at the sound of laughter to find several of his buddies behind her. They’d heard. They’d laughed. And it had been all over school in a day.

To give Ken credit, he’d tried to be kind to her after that, but she couldn’t accept kindness from him. Since her grandparents wouldn’t let her quit school, she’d had to tough it out. She put on the poker face she excelled at, courtesy of the Zuni Pueblo side of her family, and pretended not to hear the whispers and snickers.

Somehow she’d gotten through the rest of that year. Eventually people had found other things to talk about, the excitement of graduation wiping everything else from their minds.

She’d survived. She’d made a success of her life. She wouldn’t let a high school mistake affect her job.

They’d both changed. She’d said something like that to Ken, and it was true. The lithe, smiling boy had turned into a strong, broad-shouldered man. The responsibility of command had put lines in his face, emphasizing his maturity, but his golden-brown eyes still seemed to look toward the skies.

Somehow she thought the lines of tension around his lips were recent, the product of the trials of the past few months. The crash had left a few visible scars on him, and probably many more that weren’t so visible.

Her heart seemed to wince at the thought. Be with him, Lord. He’s struggling now—I know it.

She could pray for him, but that was all she could do. Kenneth Vance was out of her league. He had been in high school, and he still was. She tapped the keys, determined to concentrate on the report and banish Ken from her thoughts.

Unfortunately for her concentration, the door banged open. Somehow she knew without turning around that it was Ken. Well, they were colleagues now. She could act like a friend.

“How’s it going?” He came to perch on the edge of her desk, looking as if all he had to do all day was sit there and watch her. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he had a casual charm. She could imagine how devastating he’d be in his Air Force uniform.

“Fine.” She perched her hands on the keys and tried to look busy. “Are things quiet down at the site?”

“Minor vandalism.” He frowned, lines forming between his straight eyebrows. “The cops think it’s just resentment from people who were relocated when the hospital took over that block.”

“That’s natural enough, I guess. No matter how rundown the houses were, they were home to someone.”

He rubbed the left side of his forehead, the side where the puckered scar was dangerously close to his eye. She shuddered a little inside. Holly, Ken’s sister, had told her that Ken’s vision was affected by the accident—that was why he couldn’t fly. Any closer and he’d have lost the eye entirely.

“What?” He was frowning at her now, and she knew she’d stared at him too long.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that you looked as if you have a headache. Maybe you should take a break.”

He stood abruptly, his posture straight. Military. He looked at her as if he’d never met her.

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” He wheeled and stalked out.

That went well. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

Ken didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t need anyone else to care about him.

What did she expect? He had hordes of friends and family just waiting to help him. But did they see what she saw? Did they see the scars the accident had left on his soul?

Maybe she recognized it in him because she’d been there, too. She knew what it was like to feel like a failure. To feel that God had deserted you.

Images rocketed through her mind, and she forced them away. She couldn’t control the pictures when they came to her in her dreams at night, but she could when she was awake. She wouldn’t let them in.

That made it all the more impossible for her to help Ken, even if he’d been willing. She’d just begun trying to stumble her way back to spiritual wholeness. She couldn’t help Ken, because she wasn’t even sure she could help herself.

The stained-glass windows of the church parlor were dark images at night, but the room was warm with lamplight and the buzz of soft conversation. Julianna had been attending the evening Bible study for only about a month, but already she felt at home here. Pastor Gabriel Dawson had the gift of making everyone who walked through the door feel welcome.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the parlor struck the hour, and at the signal people began finding seats. The older folks settled into the conversational grouping of couches and love seats. Julianna slid into the back row of folding chairs.

She glanced toward the door. Holly Vance, now Holly Montgomery since her marriage, was usually here by this time. Of course, with the excitement of having her brother home, to say nothing of her pregnancy and taking care of her husband and home, she could have decided to skip tonight’s session.

The door opened. Holly came in, the aqua sweater she wore laying smoothly over the rounded bulge of her pregnancy.

Julianna smiled, meeting her eyes, and waved. Holly waved back, a little wiggle of her fingers indicating they’d sit together.

And then Julianna saw who came in the door behind her. Ken.

Several other people saw Ken at the same time, and they began getting up, surrounding him to shake his hand or hug him. Their welcomes gave her the minutes she needed to compose herself.

She should have guessed Holly might bring him. She was Ken’s twin, after all, and she was probably the closest to him of all his numerous relatives. Right now Holly was beaming, obviously considering it a coup that she’d succeeded in getting him here. She looked up at her tall brother with such pride and pleasure that it made Julianna blink back tears.

By the time they sat down beside her, she was able to smile, appear composed and act as if it didn’t matter in the least that the object of her high school dreams was sitting next to her. But she was thankful when Pastor Gabriel began the study and she could focus her attention on him.

It wasn’t the fault of Pastor Gabriel’s excellent presentation on Psalms that her gaze strayed to Ken’s strong hand, clasped tightly on his knee. Judging by the set to his jaw and the tension in his hand, Holly’s plan to bring him tonight wasn’t as successful as she might have hoped.

It also wasn’t Pastor Gabriel’s fault that it was taking all her strength to keep the dark images at bay. Maybe she should blame that on Ken. It was his stress that was fueling hers.

She tried to focus on the psalm they were discussing. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” Was that what kept coming between her and God—fear? Fear that she couldn’t cut it any longer, that her courage was gone for good, that she’d let someone else die—

Now it was her hands that clasped tightly enough to hurt. And she felt Ken’s gaze on her, noticing, probing. Deliberately she relaxed her hands, not looking at him.

Pastor Gabriel asked for prayer requests as he ended the session. Several people mentioned concerns. She pulled out her notebook to jot them down so that she could continue to pray during the week.

Holly, voice lilting, asked for prayers of thanksgiving for Ken’s safe return. Then she turned toward Ken, as if inviting him to share a request as well.

He wasn’t going to. Julianna knew it and thought it strange that Holly didn’t. His bitterness washed over her in a wave, so strong that it almost obliterated Pastor Gabriel’s voice, raised in prayer.

When the prayers were over, people pressed around them again—to see Ken and Holly, not her. She picked up her coat and began to edge her way along the row of chairs. But before she could gain freedom, Holly linked her arm with Julianna’s, immobilizing her there at her side.

“It’s just been so nice to see all of you, but we really have to get going.” Holly beamed impartially at everyone. “See you Sunday.”

She hooked her other arm with Ken’s, leading them toward the door. The three of them stepped out into the cool, misty darkness.

“Rain coming,” Ken said, with the authority of one to whom the weather was an important consideration. “I think the little mother should get home.”

“Not yet,” Holly said. “Let’s go out for coffee. Jake’s working late tonight, and I don’t want to go home to an empty house.”

Somehow Julianna didn’t think that was Holly’s only reason, but she couldn’t find the words to refuse. Holly, chattering enough for all of them, didn’t give either of them time to object as she piloted them out the walk to the street.

A few minutes later, the three of them were ensconced in a cozy booth at the coffee shop on the corner. The rain Ken predicted had begun to streak the plate-glass window, and the place was empty except for them and an absorbed-in-each-other couple in the back booth.

Holly beamed at them once they’d ordered their coffee. “This is so nice—going out with two of my favorite people.”

Ken eyed her warily. “I’m glad you’re happy, Hol. But you didn’t need to finagle me into going to Bible study in order to spend some time with me.”

“I didn’t. I’m just so thankful you’re still with us that I have to praise God for it about every minute-and-a-half.” Tears made her eyes brilliant. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“I guess not.” Ken frowned. “But you know, Holly—”

Holly glanced at her watch. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ve got to get home.” She slid out of the booth before they could react. She divided her smile between them. “You stay, have coffee, talk. We’ll get together again soon.”

She whirled, her jacket flaring, and hurried out.

For a moment Julianna couldn’t speak. What was Holly thinking? Ken stared after his sister, a bemused expression on his face. Finally he shrugged, smiling a little.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“My sister, the matchmaker.” He shook his head. “She can’t seem to help it. She’s happily married, she’s having a baby and she’s busy trying to match everyone else up in pairs, too.”

“The Noah’s Ark syndrome,” Julianna suggested.

“Something like that.” He sobered. “She doesn’t realize—” He stopped, and she couldn’t guess what he was thinking. “Well, that everyone isn’t ready for that.”

“I guess not.” She stared down at the coffee she was stirring, not wanting to look at him.

“I hope it didn’t embarrass you.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Of course not. Why would it?”

His brown eyes were filled with nothing but kindness. “After what happened between us back when we were in high school, I thought it might. I’m sure Holly didn’t think about that.”

She managed a smile. “She didn’t, and I didn’t either. It was a long time ago.” Liar, her mind whispered to her. You’ve been thinking of it too often since Ken’s return.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t apologize for acting like a jerk.”

“I barely remember it, but I’m sure you didn’t do anything of the kind.” Please, don’t let him read anything in my voice. “Just forget it.”

“Okay.” He spread his hands, as if to show they were empty. Strong hands, with a barely healed scar across the back of the right one. “It’s gone. Tell me about you. I want to hear all about this search-and-rescue work of yours.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Ken seemed determined to bring up every painful subject he could tonight. “Angel and I have been working together for several years. She’s really the hero, not me.”

“Quinn said you’d worked all over the place.”

“That might be a slight exaggeration. We go wherever FEMA sends us. Usually we don’t stay more than ten days at a time on a job—after all, we’re all volunteers.”

“Must be a tough ten days, going to where there’s such devastation.”

“Yes.” The word came out short, because the images were drawing closer. “What about you? You must have had some exciting adventures in the military.”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but she’d been desperate to turn the conversation away from her own pain. His face tightened, and he stared down at the scarred tabletop.

“Some.”

Silence stretched between them, colored with pain. Frustration. Bitterness.

Poor Holly. She thought she was doing a good thing, trying to bring her friend and her brother together. She didn’t realize the truth.

The truth was that she and Ken were both fighting something that could very well beat them. She didn’t know what it was for Ken, except that it had something to do with his crash. She knew what it was for her, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

That was what Holly didn’t understand. Neither she nor Ken was ready for matchmaking. She didn’t know about him, but maybe she never would be.

TWO

“Okay, come on. One more time.” Julianna gave an encouraging smile to the new volunteer who was trying to master searching the debris field. They’d stayed on after the team drill for some private practice.

“It’s no good.” The young woman shook her head, wiping her face with a muddy hand. “I can’t get Queenie to cooperate.”

“Queenie’s doing fine.” Julianna patted the golden retriever’s head. “She’s depending on you for direction, Lisa. You just have to make it clear what you want. One more time, and then we’ll quit for the day.”

Jay Nieto, leaning against a pile of lumber, sighed elaborately, and Julianna shot him a reproving look. She was paying the teenager to assist her with the drill not because she needed help, but because Jay, like so many young teens, needed something to keep him off the streets.

“Okay.” Lisa straightened. “One more time.”

Jay, who’d been playing the role of victim, crisscrossed the muddy lot, moving between and over the debris piles. Then he ducked inside one of the concrete pipes and pulled a piece of plywood over the entrance.

Lisa waited a moment, watching Julianna. At her nod, she gave the order to Queenie. The two of them started across the field, Queenie’s plumy tail waving.

“Are they having problems?” Ken spoke for the first time, but she’d been aware of him, standing and watching, for the past hour.

Too aware. It had made her jittery, that steady gaze, and maybe the dogs had picked up on her feelings.

“Not really. Lisa’s a fairly recent volunteer, so she and Queenie don’t have much search experience. But they’ll work it out.”

She nodded, satisfied, as Queenie lifted her head and sniffed, then gave a soft woof.

“There, she’s got it now. Search-and-rescue dogs have to be able to pick up the scent from the air.”

“Angel looks as if she’s thinking she could do it better.” He bent to pat her dog.

“Angel always thinks that.” The dog looked up at the sound of her name, tail wagging.

Queenie had reached the pipe now. She pawed at the board Jay had pulled across the entrance, barking furiously. Lisa joined them and the two of them “discovered” Jay, who climbed out with a bored look.

“Good job, Lisa,” Julianna called. “Reward her now.”

Lisa, hugging Queenie, responded with a brilliant smile.

“You were right to push her to try once more,” Ken observed. “You never want to end a training session on a failure if you can help it.”

“I try. Sometimes it’s a tough call, but I knew they could do it if they just got out of each other’s way. They have a long way to go, but they have the right stuff.”

His smile flickered. “I usually hear that expression about pilots, but I guess it applies. How long will their training take?”

“Two years, if Lisa wants FEMA certification. I’m pushing her to do that. We don’t have nearly enough trained teams available.”

He whistled softly. “I had no idea there was so much to it. If it’s volunteer work, who pays?”

“The volunteer.” That was what most people didn’t understand. “Hours and hours and hours of work, and plenty of money for materials. We’re only paid when we’re actually deployed.”

“You have to be dedicated, don’t you?”

She thought she detected admiration in the glance he sent her way and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “We’re always scrambling to find places to train that won’t cost us. That’s why it’s so good of Quinn to let us train here.”

“Well, the Montgomerys and Vances owe you. We learned firsthand the value of what you do when you found my brother and his girlfriend in that mine collapse at the ranch.”

She ducked her head at the implied compliment. At least they were talking easily to each other now. After the way things had gone at the coffee shop a few nights ago, it was more than she’d hoped for.

Lisa came up to her then, and she was distracted from Ken’s presence for a few minutes while she gave the young woman some suggestions for their next practice. When she turned back, she found Jay Nieto looking up at Ken with something akin to worship in his eyes.

“Did you two introduce yourselves?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” Jay had lost the bored expression that was becoming habitual. “I know who he is. Major Kenneth Vance. He’s an Air Force pilot.”

The aliveness in Jay’s eyes startled her. It was the most interest he’d displayed in anything other than the gang of older kids he kept trying to impress.

That gang and their leader, Theo Crale, was the main reason she’d taken an interest in the boy. If she could keep Jay out of a street gang and keep him in school, he might have a decent future. Given Jay’s unexpected enthusiasm, Ken’s presence could be an incentive to keep Jay interested in working for her.

“That’s right,” she said. “He’s helping out here while he’s home on leave. Ken, this is Jay Nieto. He’s been giving me a hand with the training.”

“Nice to meet you, Jay.” Ken held out his hand and Jay took it, color deepening in his thin cheeks.

“You graduated from the Air Force Academy, didn’t you? There was a piece in the paper about you when—” He stopped, obviously embarrassed at having made reference to Ken being shot down.

“That’s right.” Ken’s smile was a bit strained, but probably Jay didn’t notice. “Are you interested in going to the Academy, Jay?”

Jay’s face turned wooden, and he shrugged, his gaze dropping to his sneakers.

She knew that look. She should. It was one she’d worn often enough when she was a teenager, afraid to reach for what she wanted.

“Jay, it’s okay to dream big,” she said gently.

He shrugged again. “School’s for wimps, that’s what Theo says.”

“Theo’s wrong.” She wanted so much to make him believe that. “Doing well in school opens doors for you.”

“Maybe I don’t want doors open.” Jay flung his head back defiantly, jet-black hair falling in his eyes. “Maybe I’d rather do things my way, not yours.”

“Jay—”

But he swung around and darted off, not even waiting to finish the cleanup work and be paid.

Ken looked after him with raised eyebrows. “Tough guy.”

“He’d like to make you think so.” She wondered how much to say to him. If she opened up a bit, maybe he’d be willing to take an interest in the boy. “My grandfather knew Jay’s family when he lived in New Mexico. Jay is Zuni, like us. When his mother died, his dad moved here, but Jay’s had a tough time adjusting to life away from the Pueblo.”

“So you’re trying to help him.”

She shrugged. “I remember what it feels like—not belonging. Unfortunately, Jay’s trying to impress the wrong people.”

“That Theo he mentioned?”

“He won’t get anything but trouble emulating somebody like Theo Crale.” She gave him a challenging look. “Now, if he had someone else to look up to, someone he admires—”

Ken’s expression turned bleak, his brown eyes seeming to darken. “Not me,” he said harshly. “He admires someone who can fly. And that’s something I may never do again.”

The only light in the abandoned tunnel came from a battery lantern on the rickety table, and the woman picked her way across the littered tunnel floor carefully. She wasn’t about to ruin a new pair of Italian shoes just because he had summoned her.

Most people had heard rumors of the tunnels that had once run from The Springs to what had then been Colorado City, the rowdy, wide-open town in frontier days. Colorado City had long since been absorbed into Colorado Springs proper, and the tunnels forgotten, until he had found a use for them. That was like him, to take something and pervert its ordinary purpose to something bent.

She stopped at the table. He’d have heard her come down—he had ears like a fox.

“Stop playing games and come out here. I don’t have much time.”

A footstep grated, and he appeared in the archway. “You always have time for me, don’t you, querida?”

She forced a smile, trying to show an affection she didn’t feel. “You sound even hoarser than usual. These tunnels aren’t good for your throat.”

“Yet another thing for which I have to thank the Vances and Montgomerys. Making me hide like a rat in these tunnels, while they live the high life.” He yanked out a chair and slumped into it. “I understand Kenneth Vance is back in town.”

“So I’ve heard.” She said the words cautiously, not wanting to stir his icy rage to life. He’d been livid at the failure of the attack he’d engineered on Vance’s plane through his drug contacts in South America.

“These Vances have more lives than a cat. Just like my new name.” He gave a bark of gravelly laughter. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“If you say so.” She shifted position, careful not to touch the dusty table. “You have something you want me to take care of?”

“Yes.” He slapped his palms down on the tabletop. “Kenneth Vance is about to discover that Colorado Springs is just as dangerous as his missions over South America. And since he’s spending so much time there, it will be a pleasure to bring Montgomery Construction down with him.”

She knew better than to argue, or to wonder how he knew so much about what Kenneth Vance was doing. He had his methods, and he didn’t tolerate disagreement with his plans.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Step up the vandalism—not enough to make the police take notice, just enough to make them nervous. I don’t want a full-scale investigation at this point. You can use that fool O’Brien.”

“He’s getting scared. The police are paying too much attention to him.”

He glared at her. “He’ll do as I say if he knows what’s good for him. So will you.”

She shrugged. “Of course. Don’t I always? I just don’t see the point of breaking windows and painting on walls.”

“I told you. Make them nervous. Make them wonder. And then, just when the Montgomerys and Vances think success is within their grasp—” He slammed his palm down on the tabletop again, so hard it shuddered. “Then we finish them.”

“When did you find this?” Ken barked the question at the night watchman.

Frank Collins bent, his belly straining over his belt buckle as he planted hands on his knees and stared at the slashed tires on the truck. “I told you. Around six this morning.”

“Why didn’t you call anyone then?”

The man shrugged. “I didn’t figure there was anything you could do about it then. I might as well wait until you got here.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You should have reported.” He gritted his teeth. It probably would have done no good, but he still wished the man had followed orders. “Did you find any sign of how they got in?”

Collins shot him a resentful glance. “Nah. Could have come over the fence, I guess.”

He suspected Collins hadn’t bothered to look. The first thing he was going to recommend to Quinn was that they hire someone else to take over the night patrol. Since that was Quinn’s car coming toward them, he wouldn’t have to wait long to tell him.

The car shrieked to a stop next to them. Quinn got out quickly, face tight with worry.

Ken glanced at the mechanic who’d been checking the rest of the machinery in the equipment yard. “Jess, did you find anything else?”

“Amateur hour,” the man said. “Sugar in a couple of tanks, but we caught it before any harm was done.”

Quinn reached them in time to hear that. He ran a hand through his hair, some of the strain leaving his eyes. “That’s good to hear. Double-check everything before any equipment goes out of the yard.”

“That’s going to put us behind at the hospital site,” Jess warned.

“Do it as fast as you can, but don’t skip anything. I don’t want any foul-ups.” Quinn turned on Collins. “How could anyone get in here without you spotting them?”

Collins shrugged, not meeting their eyes. “Can’t be everywhere at once, can I?”

Quinn made a dismissive gesture. “All right. You can go home.”

He waited until the man was out of earshot before snorting. “He was probably asleep in the office the whole time.”

“Replacing him is the first thing I was going to suggest,” Ken said. “How serious is it to fall behind at the hospital site?”

“Serious.” Quinn’s face grew tauter. “There’s been nothing but trouble there, and the hospital board is looking over my shoulder the whole time. There’s a substantial penalty for not completing on schedule. After the losses from the fire, we can’t afford to lose anything else.”

“I’m sorry, man. You counted on me.”

Quinn’s expression eased, and he punched his arm. “Forget it. Nobody expected you to spend your nights here. How do you think they got in?”

“Good question.” The thoughts that had been lurking under the surface came out. “No obvious break-in signs. I can’t help but wonder about the people Julianna had in here yesterday.”

Quinn gave a short nod. “Hard to believe, but you’d better check it out. Talk to her.”

Easy to say. Not so easy to do. He glanced at his watch. She should be here by now. He’d better get it over with.

Julianna moved away from the window when she saw Ken coming toward the office. It was hard to concentrate on work when everyone had heard about the vandalism, but standing around watching certainly wouldn’t help matters.

“How bad is it?” she asked as he came through the door.

“Not as bad as it could have been, I guess.” Concern set vertical crease lines between his eyebrows. “Sugar in the gas tanks, some slashed tires.”

Ken shrugged out of the denim jacket he’d worn against the early morning chill. Did he realize that the caramel color of the sweater he wore brought out gold flecks in his brown eyes? Probably not, and probably she shouldn’t be noticing that.

“Sounds like something teenagers would do.”

He nodded, coming to sit on the corner of her desk. “That’s what I thought, too. If someone really wanted to cause trouble for the company, they wouldn’t bother with such small stuff.”

“The police—”

He shook his head. “Quinn doesn’t want the police called. The company doesn’t need any more negative publicity to make clients nervous about hiring us.”

“I understand that, but surely we have to do something—at least try to find out who did it.”

“He seems to think I can do that.” Ken’s frown deepened. “I keep telling him I don’t know anything about security, but he won’t listen.”

“He’s known you a long time. He has confidence in you.” Odd, that she was reassuring Ken. She’d always thought he had more confidence in himself than anyone she knew. The accident must have dented that somewhat.

“Well, I’m trying.” He frowned down at her, and something inside her tightened at his grim expression. “How well do you know the people who were here yesterday for your practice drill?”

For a moment she was speechless. So that was the reason for this little conversation. He wasn’t confiding in her. He was questioning her.

She straightened. “How well? Very well. They’re people I’ve worked with for several years, for the most part. They’re the kind of people who volunteer their time to do a dirty, dangerous job because they care.” She was getting heated, but she didn’t care.

“Look, I realize you feel you know them, but—”

She couldn’t sit still and listen. She thrust her chair back, standing so that their eyes were level.

“I do know them. They risk their lives for something they believe in. People like that don’t go out and commit vandalism for a hobby.” How could he begin to think that?

His gaze was steady on hers. “We don’t always know people as well as we think we do.”

“I know them.” She saw them in her mind’s eye. “I trust my life to them when we go out on assignment together. Believe me, I know them.”

“What about Jay? Do you know him, too?”

It was as if a pit had opened under her feet, and she teetered on the edge. “I—”

She stopped. She couldn’t lie to Ken about the boy, even though she thought she understood him. “I told you. My grandfather has known his family for years. I’ve known Jay for about five or six months, since he moved here.”

“You said he ran with a gang.”

Her hands tightened into fists. “I did not say that. He’s not a gang member. He’s a good kid, a bright kid. He’s just looking for a place where he can belong.” She looked steadily at Ken. “I know how that feels. That’s why I’m trying to help him.”

“I’d like to trust your judgment on him, Julianna. But you have to admit, it raises questions. He was here at the yard yesterday, and you told me he’s been influenced by some undesirables. And you said yourself the vandalism sounded like something teenagers would have done.”

“Not Jay,” she said stubbornly, her heart sinking. “Look, if you accuse him of this, you’re going to ruin any chance I have of getting through to him.”

“If he vandalized your workplace, I’d say you’ve already lost him.”

She wanted to shake him, and she gripped her hands together to keep from giving in to the temptation.

“That’s so easy for you to say. You’ve never had to struggle to belong. You don’t have the faintest idea what it’s like to be someone like Jay Nieto.”

He straightened, his face tightening, giving back glare for glare. “Or Julianna Red Feather?”

“I know who I am.” If she were any angrier, she’d strike sparks. “I don’t need validation from anyone else.”

“Am I interrupting?” The lilting feminine voice from the doorway had both of them swinging around. “I certainly don’t want to, but I did think the construction company was open for business.” Dahlia Sainsbury lifted a perfectly arched dark eyebrow, looking at Ken as if he were a tall drink and she was thirsty. “Or was I wrong?”

THREE

Ken wasn’t sure who disconcerted him more, Julianna with her tacit accusation of prejudice or this woman, with a look that suggested enjoyment at their embarrassment.

Julianna recovered quickly, anger smoothing from her face as if it had never been. “Ms. Sainsbury. I don’t believe Mr. Montgomery is expecting you this morning, is he?”

So this woman was apparently a client. Her elegant suit and high heels seemed out of place at the construction company. She let the door click closed behind her.

“I’m sure he’ll spare a few minutes to see me. I’d like to discuss the display areas he’s designing for the museum. Just let him know I’m here, dear.”

There was a casual dismissal of Julianna in her tone. Enough to make Julianna bristle, he’d think, but somehow he was sure that she had already been annoyed from the moment she saw the woman.

Julianna smiled faintly. “I’m afraid Mr. Montgomery is not in the office just now.”

“Find him, then,” the woman said, her tone dismissive. Without sparing a sideways glance for Julianna, she advanced toward Ken, holding out her hand.

“We haven’t met. I’m Dahlia Sainsbury. I’m the new curator of the Impressionist Museum.”

He took her hand, aware of the delicate touch of expensive perfume in his nostrils. Everything about Ms. Sainsbury looked expensive, from the top of her sleek, dark head to the gloss of her leather heels. Being the curator of a museum must pay a lot better than he’d have thought.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kenneth Vance.”

She held his hand a little too long. “Of course. Our very own Air Force hero. Naturally I’ve heard of you.”

“Thanks,” he said shortly, attempting to draw his hand away.

She put her other hand over his, the gesture implying an intimacy that didn’t exist. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. We must get better acquainted. I know several members of your family already. And, of course, Quinn Montgomery.”

Julianna didn’t seem to be making an effort to find Quinn. “Ms. Sainsbury has asked our cabinetry department to create some display areas for the museum.”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted. “A job I can find someone else to do, if Montgomery Construction can’t handle it.”

“I’m sure we can,” he said smoothly, not having the faintest idea whether Quinn would agree, but not wanting a potential customer to walk out the door. What on earth was wrong with Julianna? “I think Quinn is out in the yard. I’ll just see if I can find him.”

Dahlia’s smile was triangular, like a cat’s. “Send the secretary. You and I can get better acquainted.”

Even if he’d been interested, he wouldn’t have cared for so blatant an approach. “I’ll get Quinn—”

“I’m here,” Quinn announced, coming in. “Ms. Sainsbury. How nice to see you. Surely I haven’t forgotten an appointment with you, have I?”

Ken stepped back with a sense of relief. Quinn could handle this—he was out of his depth.

“I had some wonderful new ideas for the display area.” The woman shifted that intense look to Quinn. “I simply must bounce them off you. I was just telling your girl that I was sure you’d want to see me.”

Quinn’s smile tightened a fraction at the condescending reference to Julianna, but he took the woman’s arm and turned her toward his office.

“I have a few minutes. Let’s get your thoughts down.” He ushered her into the private office and closed the door.

Julianna tossed the pencil she’d been holding across the desk. It bounced and hit the floor.

Ken picked it up and handed it back. “I gather you don’t care much for Ms. Sainsbury.”

“I suppose you think she’s gorgeous.” Juliana bit off the words as if they didn’t taste good. “Half the men in Colorado Springs have developed an interest in art since she took over the museum.”

He shrugged. “Frankly, I prefer something a little less obvious. Are she and Quinn an item?”

“I hope not.” Consternation dawned in her eyes. “I really hope not. But she does seem to be showing up a lot to discuss this project.”

“Quinn’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Did Julianna have a personal reason for her concern? “Is there something I should know about between you and Quinn?”

She seemed to forget her annoyance with him in her surprise. “Quinn? No, of course not. We’re friends, that’s all.”

He wasn’t sure why that should make him feel relieved, but it did. “Well, whatever she thinks, I’d say his interest in Ms. Sainsbury is strictly business. The company can’t afford to lose any jobs, from what I understand.”

“True enough. I shouldn’t let her get to me that way, but if she calls me ‘girl’ one more time, I might knock her off her high heels.”

“Wait till we’ve finished her project,” he suggested.

That earned him one of those rare smiles that lit Julianna’s face and made her eyes sparkle. He’d like to see that expression more often, but it hardly seemed likely.

He leaned against her desk. “Look, about what we were saying earlier. Please believe me. I don’t suspect Jay because he’s Native American.”

“Pueblo,” she said. “He’s Zuni Pueblo. Like me.”

“Pueblo,” he agreed. “Wasn’t your father—”

“My father was Anglo,” she said evenly. “I never knew him. He left before I was born. I barely remember my mother. My grandparents raised me after her death.”

Add that to the list of things he’d never bothered to learn about the shy girl who’d sat in front of him in senior English. “I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”

“Not at all. My grandparents were wonderful. Still are, in fact.”

She’d mentioned that her grandfather knew Jay’s family, he remembered. It was a link that probably made her unwilling to think anything bad about the boy.

“In any event, I’m not suspicious of Jay because of his ancestry. Just because he was here, and because of what you said about his connection to a street gang.”

She frowned, but at least she wasn’t reacting with anger. “I can see why you might think that. All I can say is that I know Jay, and I don’t believe he’d do anything that would hurt me. Surely he’d realize I’d be affected by vandalism where I work.”

“Teenage boys sometimes don’t think with their heads.” He grinned. “Believe me, I have vivid memories of the stupid things Quinn and I did at that age. Luckily our parents never found out about most of them.”

She smiled in response, but he could still read the concern in her eyes. “Just…be careful of what you say to Jay. He admires you.”

That admiration put a sour taste in his mouth, but somehow he’d have to deal with it.

“Look, I’ll be tactful, I promise.”

He put his hand over hers where it lay on the desk. A sensation of warmth spread up his arm, taking him by surprise, and for an instant he forgot what he was saying.

Then he straightened. “I’ll be tactful,” he repeated. “But I’ve got to get to the bottom of this vandalism. Quinn’s counting on me. I can’t let him down.”

She was late for work, Julianna realized as she pulled into her parking space on the gravel lot in front of the office the next morning. She’d had coffee, but still her mind felt fogged, as if the bad dreams that had plagued her all night long were affecting her ability to concentrate.

Well, maybe another cup of coffee would clear her head. She grabbed her bag and hurried toward the office. With any luck, no one else would be here to see her late arrival. Quinn often stopped at one of the job sites before coming to the office, and Ken—

Ken was already here, and he wasn’t alone. She stopped just inside the door, her throat tightening. Her grandfather and Ken between them seemed to fill the room—both big men, each with his own aura of power and strength.

Harvey Red Feather sat on the edge of her desk, while Ken leaned against the file cabinet. They each held a coffee mug, and they seemed to be chatting like old friends.

“Good morning, Grandfather. What are you doing here?”

She glanced from him to Ken, realizing that she was the only thing they had in common to talk about. What did Ken think of her grandfather, with his shoulder-length white hair and his serene, weathered face that seemed to have seen and accepted all the world had to offer?

Grandfather got up, smiling, and put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s good to see you, little one. I’m a delivery boy. Your grandmother sent lunch over for you. She thinks you don’t eat enough.” He nodded toward the basket that sat on her desk.

“Some traditional Pueblo dish?” Ken asked.

Grandfather chuckled. “Only if you’re from an Italian pueblo. It’s gnocchi. Grandma’s experimenting with her new Italian cookbook.”

“It’ll be delicious, whatever it is.” She couldn’t resist leaning against him. His solid strength reassured her, as it had as far back as her memory went. “But she shouldn’t have sent you clear over here just to bring me lunch.”

“What do I have to do that’s more important than seeing you?” He hugged her. “Besides, I hadn’t seen your new workplace yet. Kenneth offered me coffee, so we’ve been shooting the breeze while I waited for you.”

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She darted a sideways glance at Ken. He wasn’t her boss, but she disliked appearing less than competent in front of him.

He shrugged. “Only five minutes.” His gaze seemed to search her face. “You look tired. Maybe you should have taken a few more minutes.”

“I’m fine.” She evaded his gaze.

Grandfather tilted her chin up, and she couldn’t evade his wise, observant eyes. “You do look tired, Juli. Bad dreams again?”

“It’s nothing.”

She used putting her bag on her desk as a reason to turn away from him. This was why she didn’t want the two sides of her life touching. Ken, of all people, didn’t need to know about the dreams.

Her grandfather opened his mouth as if to pursue the subject, but Ken broke in first.

“Your grandfather was telling me about the powwow that’s coming up soon. I didn’t know about the Native American dance competitions. That must be something to see.”

He was talking at random, she suspected, trying to edge her grandfather away from a subject that he could see embarrassed her. She hadn’t expected such sensitivity on his part.

The least she could do was help skim over the moment. “Grandfather’s one of the best dancers. You’d think he was twenty when he gets into the arena. He puts the youngsters to shame.”

“Flatterer.” Her grandfather hugged her again. “I’d best get home, or your grandmother will wonder what I’m up to. Enjoy your lunch.”

“I will. Thank Grandma for me.”

He nodded and held out his hand to Ken. “It was a pleasure to meet you. If you’d like to visit the powwow, you’d be more than welcome. Get Juli to bring you.”

“Thank you, sir. I just might do that.”

Her grandfather went out, letting in a wave of cool morning air that cooled her warm cheeks. Once the door closed behind him, she glanced at Ken.

“It was nice of you to express an interest, but you don’t really need to attend the powwow. I don’t think it would be something you’d care for.”

“What makes you so sure?” He came to perch on the corner of her desk where her grandfather had sat. Unfortunately the feeling she had when he was that close was entirely different. “Sounds pretty interesting to me.”

She shrugged. “It’s mainly for Native Americans.”

“Your grandfather said I’d be welcome.”

Why was he so persistent about something that couldn’t possibly interest him?

“You’d be welcome,” she said shortly. “I just don’t think you’d enjoy it.”

“Is it that you don’t want to take me?” He leaned toward her across the desk. “Or are you ashamed of your heritage?”

Her head came up at that. Maybe she’d felt that way once, when she’d been a shy teenager desperate to fit into an Anglo world, but no longer. “I’m proud of who I am.”

“It’s me, then, is it?”

“No.” He was pushing her into a corner, and she didn’t appreciate it. “If you’d like to go, I’d be happy to take you.” She flashed him an annoyed look. “Satisfied?”

His lips twitched. “Pretty much. It’s a date.”

No, it wasn’t. But if she said any more about it, he’d think she attached too much importance to the whole idea of going somewhere with him.

She switched on her computer and opened her e-mail, hoping Ken would take the hint. He didn’t move.

“Your grandfather was right. You do look tired. Want some coffee?”

“I can get it—” she began, but he was already crossing to the coffee pot.

“I’ve got it. Hope you can drink my brew. I needed something to keep me awake.”

She took the mug he handed her. Now that she looked, she saw the marks of sleeplessness on his face that must also be evident on hers. Was Ken troubled by dreams, too—dreams of his plane spiraling toward the earth?

“What kept you up?” She sipped at the hot, strong coffee, and it nearly scalded her mouth.

“The new man Quinn hired for the night patrol couldn’t start for a couple of days, so we took turns doing some random checks overnight.” He ran his hand through his short brown hair. “Guess I’ve gotten out of the habit of working odd hours.”

“I didn’t realize.” Her thoughts darted to Jay. “Was everything quiet?”

His face tightened. “Quiet enough here. But while we were putting extra protection here, vandals went after the hospital site.”

“Oh, no.” They both knew the company couldn’t stand any more delays on the project.

“Quinn’s down there now, trying to get things moving again.” He shook his head, the lines etching deeper on his face. “I don’t know what’s going on, Juli. But I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“This vandalism has everyone jittery,” Julianna said, pulling back into her parking spot at the office that night. Angel, sitting beside her, gave a soft woof, as if to express interest.

“And it’s a good thing I have you to talk to, or I might start talking to myself.” She rubbed behind Angel’s ears, earning a rough, wet kiss from the dog’s tongue. “Come on, girl. I just need to pick up Gram’s basket, and then we’ll go home and have a run before bed.”

Maybe a good long run would tire her out enough to sleep tonight without dreams. One thing about having Angel along—she could run any time of the day or night without fearing for her safety. Nobody messed with a woman accompanied by a German shepherd.

The office was dark and quiet. She picked up the basket she’d left on the counter next to the coffeemaker. No one would appreciate coming in to leftover gnocchi congealing in the casserole dish. Good as it had been, she hadn’t been able to finish it. She’d intended to have the rest for supper, but she’d gotten busy and forgotten to take it home.

Well, everything seemed quiet enough tonight. She went out, Angel at her heels, and locked the door behind her. As she set the basket on the backseat of the car, Angel woofed softly. She glanced at her.

The dog stared into the shadowy yard, her ears pricked up, tail waving.

“What is it, girl?” She closed the car door, looking across the yard, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. “Do you see someone?”

No. Angel had heard something, and now she heard it, too—a soft footfall, somewhere beyond the circle of light cast by the fixture over the office door.

A frisson of apprehension slid across her skin. It was probably nothing—just the night watchman on his rounds. But with everything that had happened lately, she couldn’t ignore it.

Making a swift decision, she took the flashlight from the glove compartment and locked the door. She dropped the key into the pocket of her jean jacket and turned toward the yard.

Angel was with her. She didn’t have to fear any intruder—one snarl from the dog would probably be enough to send anyone running.

She started toward what she thought was the source of the sound, moving quietly, Angel close against her side. She strained her ears for any noise, even knowing that Angel would hear anything first.

Pallets of lumber, arranged in rows, innocent enough in the daylight, loomed over her like pallid giants, waiting to pounce. There were too many hiding places in the dark. She sent the beam of her flashlight probing along the row, lighting up the dark corners.

Nothing. Maybe she’d imagined the sound. Or it was the night watchman moving along on his lawful rounds.

But that rational explanation didn’t erase the apprehension that skittered along her skin, making the hair stand up on her arms.

Angel’s hair stood up, too, making a ruff around her neck. Because the dog picked up on her nervousness, or because Angel sensed something wrong, too? Impossible to tell, but dog or human, the response was the same.

They reached the end of the row of pallets, where an open space ran like an alley between the rows for access. She stopped, hand on Angel’s head, and aimed the light down the alleyway between the pallets. Lumber gleamed palely in the light, and down toward the far end, something moved.

For an instant her breath caught in her throat. Then she recognized that erect, military posture, the set of strong shoulders. It was Ken. He’d said he and Quinn were taking turns to patrol.

She could slip quietly away. He need never know that she’d been here.

But even as she started to turn, Angel began to bark. Not a soft woof—a full-throated alarm. She felt the dog’s muscles bunch under her hand.

Ken whirled toward them at the sound. She had a glimpse of the pale shirt front under his dark jacket. Angel strained against her hand, barking furiously.

“Angel—”

But the rebuke died on her lips. The stack of lumber that loomed over Ken—ten or twelve feet high at least—seemed to shudder. For an instant she thought it was an optical illusion. Then she saw that the whole stack was moving, gaining momentum as it went.

Her cry was lost in Angel’s fierce barking. The stack of heavy lumber toppled toward Ken. She saw his startled face, saw his arm flung up to protect his head.

And then the lumber fell, crashing to the ground with a roar that reverberated, shattering the night air with a million echoes.

She couldn’t see Ken any longer, just a cloud of dust that billowed into the air like a dense, malignant fog.

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