As Delaney nosed her leased red Jeep down the highway and picked up speed, her spirits lifted accordingly. When she’d woken that morning she’d wanted to dive into work. Instead, she’d forced herself to tend to the drudgery of chores that accompanied her arrival in a new place. Her number one priority yesterday had been getting her office organized and checking her cameras and equipment for possible damage suffered through shipping. But today there had been the inevitable unpacking, and-because she enjoyed regular meals-grocery shopping at Bashas’.
After the reception she’d gotten last night from Youngblood, she’d been a little wary about introducing herself at the store. Although a few of the curious expressions had gone flat and inscrutable, at least none of the locals she’d met today had matched the simmering animosity she’d sensed in Joe Youngblood. She was willing to label that a positive.
It felt good to have a sense of purpose again. She’d set an itinerary of sorts yesterday when Youngblood senior had picked her up at the airport. He wouldn’t be available to spend time with her until tomorrow, and she wasn’t scheduled to check in with Taos until late this afternoon. Which meant she still had hours left to satisfy a bit of the interest scorching a path through her system.
There would be plenty of occasions to immerse herself in the culture, the people, events and daily life that hummed quietly along on the Navajo reservation. But for the next little while it was the land itself that called to her.
Charley Youngblood had given her a packet, prepared by the council, that included a map of the Navajo Nation. Parts of it were highlighted. From the scrawled note attached, President Taos had had the foresight to receive permission from some property owners to allow Delaney access to their land. She’d been delighted with that discovery and anxious to make use of the consents.
Some would think the area desolate, she mused, setting the cruise after guiltily checking her speedometer. And it was barren in spots. Frequent gusts of breeze lifted red dust and then let it settle again over the vast stretches of sand. But every so often the terrain would be interrupted with spectacular rock formations of rosy sandstone, rising majestically skyward. There would be time later to explore Coal Mine Canyon or the mystical Canyon de Chelly. Today she didn’t want the disruption of tourists and crowds pressing in around her. There was no shortage of slot canyons and narrows dotting the reservation, and she had a full tank of gas, Norah Jones in stereo and, she hoped, unlimited air-conditioning. She continued to drive.
It was a good hour before it occurred to her that she was much farther north than she’d meant to go. She’d gotten off the main highway and the road she’d taken, although it had started out paved, had turned into little more than a dirt path about a half hour back. But there were some intriguing sandstone cliffs clustered ahead that jutted upward, brooding and massive, from the severe landscape. And if she read her map correctly, she had permission to explore the area.
She pulled over to the side of the road. Taking her Canon SLR out of its case, she selected a zoom lens and screwed it on. She made sure the scenic wide-angle lens was tucked in the case, then slipped the strap over her head, letting it dangle over her shoulder. Hanging the camera strap around her neck, she got out. There were no fences delineating the land from the road. She’d read that many property owners kept sheep, but this spot didn’t look appropriate for grazing. It was rocky, with only sparse vegetation.
Watching her footing, she scrambled down the steep incline to get closer. The sheer magnificence of the massive formation was breathtaking. She shot the area from all angles, using the zoom in her approach and quickly growing engrossed in her work. The isolation of the area made it easy to imagine being the first person to stand here thousands of years ago, marveling over the same sight.
As she got closer to the butte she paused long enough to switch lenses before continuing her work. It wasn’t until she looked back and saw how small her vehicle appeared in the distance that she realized how far she had come.
She meant only to round the cliffs, placing her between the faces of the two largest formations, before heading back to her vehicle. She ducked her head, intent on removing the specialized lens from the camera when the loud crack reverberated through the air.
Her body reacted before her mind did. Cradling the camera in her arms to protect it, she hit the ground. Logic followed more sluggishly.
Gunfire.
The second shot kicked up red dirt ten feet to her left. The third and fourth were no closer, but neither were they farther away.
She lay frozen against the sunbaked earth, her heart thudding wildly, the sound reverberating in her ears. For an instant past melded with present and a rush of déjà vu burst through her mind with crystal clarity.
The mortar fire that had been a constant backdrop of noise in Baghdad. The crack of a sniper’s rifle from the top of the government building across from the outdoor café that had killed the American diplomat she’d been having tea with. The terrific explosion that had torn through the hotel, killing her lover, her friends and colleagues…
The next shot split through the memories and brought her hurtling back to the present. There was no question of who the target was here. She was the only creature in sight. In plain sight, unfortunately.
An occasional saguaro bush dotted the landscape. Some medium-sized rocks. Neither would offer much in the way of cover, but her options were limited.
Force of habit had her protecting the camera as she rolled to her feet, and began running a zigzag pattern back toward her vehicle. She heard the solid sound of a bullet hitting stone and knew the shooter was still there. Still aiming for her. Still missing.
She was unwilling to stick around and discover whether that was due to luck or deliberation.
Delaney moved as fast as she could, dodging around the paltry cover the rocks or bushes afforded as she passed. Another shot sounded. She wondered grimly if it really was farther away or if that was wishful thinking on her part. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs. The sun was brutal overhead. Sweat snaked rivulets down her skin. The incline was getting steeper as she neared her vehicle. She hadn’t realized how sharp the slope was when she’d descended it. She’d been too intent on capturing the primitive beauty of the sandstone cliffs.
As another shot rang out, she found herself wondering if that primitive beauty was going to turn into her death trap.
The pounding of her heart sounded in her ears. Although her thighs ached with exertion, she took the incline at top speed. Finally the vehicle loomed large and comfortingly solid before her. Yanking open the front door she dived inside, keeping her head low, then pulled the door shut behind her. When she started the vehicle the noise of the engine was the most reassuring thing she’d ever heard.
Delaney threw the Jeep into reverse and drove it straight backward, away from the shooter. Away from the cliffs that concealed him. Then she did a Y-turn and headed back to the main road at a speed that was probably not totally safe.
But it was far, far safer than what awaited her back at the cliffs.
“Are we ready for a warrant?” Navajo Tribal Police Captain Jim Tapahe tapped the edge of his pen against the mound of paperwork on his desk. Though Joe saw the man diligently plowing through paperwork day after day, the pile was as much a permanent fixture of the office as the row of battered filing cabinets lining one wall.
“Karen Nez came through for us,” Joe replied. “The buy went down exactly where she said it would and we got the pictures.” Arnie rose, handed the small bundle of photos to the captain, who began flipping through them.
“And she’ll testify that Quintero is her supplier?”
Joe hesitated long enough to have the captain glancing up at him. “She says she will. But she’s scared. I can’t guarantee that she won’t change her mind if someone gets to her.”
Tapahe studied the photos closely, then gave them back to Arnie. “Well, we’ve got enough to go forward. Hopefully whatever you collect at Quintero’s place will be enough to nail him, with or without Nez’s testimony. I’ll get the request to the judge this afternoon, and I’ll ask for a rush on the-”
The intercom on the desk buzzed. “Frank Taos on line one, sir.”
Joe and Arnie rose as Tapahe reached for the phone. “I’ll let you know as soon as the paperwork comes in,” the captain said. Nodding, Joe closed the door after them.
“Think we’ll be able to move tonight?”
“I doubt it.” They walked toward their desks, and Joe scooped a fast-food wrapper off the top of Arnie’s littered desktop, crumpled it and shot it into the waste-basket. “It’s already past four. We’d be lucky to get it by tomorrow morning.”
“So maybe I’ll get home on time. Shock Brenda.”
Joe eyed his partner’s desk. “Shock me,” he suggested. “Clean off your desk first so when we do get that warrant it doesn’t get lost in the debris.”
“You’re a funny guy.” Arnie dropped down into his chair. “I have my own method of organization, which you can’t hope to understand, much less…”
The captain’s door opened. “Youngblood, in here.” Joe exchanged a look with his partner before turning to follow Tapahe into his office. The man closed the door and returned to his desk. “That was Navajo Nation President Taos on the phone. Seems someone took a few shots at that woman the council hired-the one who’s writing the book.”
A chill trickled down Joe’s back. “Delaney Carson.”
Tapahe looked down at the notes he’d scribbled and nodded. “That’s her. She was out taking pictures when the shots were fired.”
Joe had a mental flash of the woman he’d faced off with last night, visibly shaken but wielding a tripod, ready to defend herself against an intruder.
Throat tight, he asked, “Was she hit?”
“No. But Taos is pretty upset. There were plenty who didn’t approve of an outsider being hired, and he thinks this might be the work of one of them. He doesn’t want any more bad publicity about this project, so we’re to get on it right away and report back to him immediately. He asked specifically that you be the one to check it out.”
“Me?” Wariness mingled with surprise. “Why me?”
Impatience flickered in the captain’s eyes. “Your grandfather is going to be working closely with her, Taos said. She’s even staying at one of his houses, right? Seems logical he’d ask for you.”
Logical. It was the last word he’d use, given his own feelings about her hiring. Or his reaction to the woman herself.
Tapahe’s attention was drifting back toward his paperwork. “Is there a problem?”
Joe smiled grimly. “No problem. I’ll check it out and get back to you.”
Delaney reluctantly shut off the water. The house wasn’t equipped with air-conditioning and the fans didn’t do much more than stir the warm air inside. But there was plenty of cold water, and the pressure was good. The pounding shower had gone a long way to restoring her rattled equilibrium.
She stepped out and dried off briskly. Lying to herself had been one of the habits she’d kicked in the last couple years. So she could admit to the mind-numbing fear that had encased her at the cliffs, even as her mind had gone into survival mode. But greater than the natural fright of the circumstances had been her fear of its aftermath.
But the flashbacks, while present, hadn’t left her huddled and shaking, struggling to differentiate between the past and the now. She hadn’t had a panic attack or been left with that unquenchable desire to dive into the bottom of a bottle of Absolut.
And that felt like a victory of sorts.
She’d known she was getting stronger, closer to the woman she’d once been. But it was one thing to think it, and another to have that belief put to the test. Someone had tried to kill her. She still shuddered at the thought. But she hadn’t broken down and she hadn’t given in to the fear that had lived like a sharp-fanged beast in her mind for too long. She was entitled to feel just a little cocky about that.
Securing the towel around herself, she left the bathroom before coming to an abrupt halt, a strangled scream in her throat when her mind registered an intruder. This time, the uninvited man wasn’t standing in her office, however, he was lounging on her couch.
As recognition flickered, panic died. “Damn you, Youngblood.” She stalked toward him, half-tempted to snatch his gun out of its harness and use it on him. “What is it with you and locked doors? Do they represent some sort of challenge? You can’t pass one by without barging in?”
He’d risen at her approach, his mouth opened, but she never gave him a chance to respond. That first startled leap of fear had been elbowed aside by temper. “I can’t believe that rules governing civil behavior are so different here that it’s considered all right to break into someone else’s house whenever you damn well…”
He closed his hand over the finger she was jabbing into his chest. “Maybe we should continue this conversation after you get dressed.”
Delaney yanked away from his grasp but didn’t step back. “We’ll continue it now. What are you doing in my house again?”
“The door was unlocked…”
“The hell it was!” Her interruption had his eyes flaring but she ignored the warning sign and barreled on. “The screen door was latched. That’s an unspoken signal the occupant doesn’t want people just strolling in.” Her sarcastic tone had him tightening his lips.
“If you think that little hook and latch is going to keep anybody out, I guess you just found out otherwise, didn’t you? All I had to do was slip a credit card in there and flip it loose.”
His words incensed her further. “Normal people don’t go around doing that. What do I have to do to keep you from wandering in here at will? Put bars on the windows and retinal scans at the doors?”
Grimly, he ground out, “It isn’t me you should be worried about. I’m not the one who shot at you today, am I?”
It was her turn to be silenced. Fury receded, to be replaced by confusion. “How did you know about that?” When she’d called President Taos on her cell, she’d reported the incident to him, and he’d been noticeably upset, assuring her he’d take care of it. Delaney had assumed a police officer would be contacting her. It never occurred to her to expect Youngblood. She hadn’t thought a tribal police investigator would deal with routine calls.
When she said as much, Joe’s mouth twisted. “Apparently, you aren’t considered ‘routine.’ Taos wants this taken care of before it can become a full-blown incident, with political fallout that could cost him at the next election.”
It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his tone. Pointedly, she looked from him to the now-unlatched front door. “I’d have preferred another officer.”
The verbal swipe was lost on him. He no longer seemed to be listening. She followed the direction of his gaze and noticed that the towel had loosened, draping lower across the top of her breasts. She was still covered decently, but the sight reminded her that she was naked but for the towel, hair wet and already probably settling into its usual obnoxious waves.
The realization had her taking a step back. She hated being at a disadvantage around him. Hated the fact that his slow perusal of her form had thousands of tiny little flames flickering to life beneath her skin. She wasn’t backing down, but she knew when to beat a strategic retreat. “You can explain later. I’m getting dressed.” She turned her back on him and walked quickly toward her bedroom.
Delaney thought she heard him mutter, “Good idea,” which only fanned the flames of awareness. He didn’t earn any points for somehow turning this around so that she was the one embarrassed in her own home.
She pulled on a pair of lightweight khaki capris and a green tank top and slid her feet into matching tennis shoes. Raking her hair into a quick knot, she secured it and in record time joined Joe once again in the living room. He was seated in one of the armchairs.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.”
He was a master of taking her by surprise. She may have deserved an apology, but she hadn’t expected to get it. By offering one so freely, he defused a fraction of her anger, which made her slightly uneasy. She took a stance behind the couch to face him, as he continued.
“I did knock. Stood out on the porch for about fifteen minutes, as a matter of fact. When pounding on the door didn’t get your attention I thought maybe something was wrong.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I was taking a shower.”
His eyes glinted. “I didn’t know that until I was inside, did I?”
She considered the excuse for a moment and then shook her head. “Flimsy, Youngblood. Very flimsy. I can’t imagine breaking into your house in a similar situation.”
He was beginning to look annoyed. Under the circumstances, she was glad. Any reaction from him was better than the implacable expression he usually wore. “Someone shot at you. It wasn’t unreasonable to consider, when you didn’t answer, that maybe that same someone had shown up to finish the job.”
She blinked. That was a little scenario she hadn’t thought of. Since her knees felt a little shaky, she leaned against the couch. “I think the shots were fired to scare me off. To get me away from the area I was exploring.”
“Might have been,” he agreed. “Or it could have been someone recognized you and took the opportunity to express displeasure at your being on the reservation. Did you see anyone?” When she shook her head, he pressed, “Did you notice any other vehicles? Evidence that people had been using the area?”
Although she shook her head again, he didn’t relent, leading her through the entire sequence of events with a thoroughness that wasn’t lost on her. “What about the pictures you took?”
“How do you know I was taking pictures?”
“Another logical assumption.” His voice was dry. “It’s what you do, right? And you said you’d wanted some shots of the cliffs. Maybe we’ll see something in one of them that will give us a clue to the identity of the shooter. Or the reason he wanted you out of there.”
“I haven’t downloaded the pictures yet. I’ve been sort of busy.”
He nodded. “Okay, we’ll deal with that later. In the meantime, there’s plenty of daylight left. Why don’t you take me back to where it happened.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. Although his words had been couched as a suggestion, she knew him well enough to know there had been an order hidden in there somewhere.
“I could loan you the map I used, if you promised to return it,” she said grudgingly. “You could go check it out…”
“No need,” he said, heading toward the door. “You’re coming with me. We’ll take my Jeep.”
Joe took his eyes off the road long enough to slide a look at the silent woman in the seat beside him. He’d had hostile witnesses more talkative.
Delaney’s reluctance to accompany him had been obvious. But he wasn’t going to set off on a possible wild-goose chase when she could just as easily direct him herself. Despite the map, she couldn’t describe where it had happened. She’d need landmarks to find the exact area again.
The sun was still bright. Heat waves shimmered off the highway. He reached up to the visor, slid his sunglasses out from their holder and put them on. He wasn’t thrilled about spending the next few hours in her company, either. Especially when it was all too easy to imagine her in the brief yellow towel that had left enough bared skin to have his hormones flickering to life.
His mouth thinned. Hormones were primitive things, unhindered by judgment or good sense. All his body’s response really meant was that it had been too long since he’d last gotten laid. It had been hard to summon interest, or much else, since Heather had taken off with Jonny.
But in one of life’s cruel little ironies, interest, and a lot more, was raised by this woman. She was the last type of female he’d ever consider getting involved with. She was another belagana, like his ex, and his failed marriage had taught him that non-Navajos could never understand the link he had to this place, to the land where his ancestors had lived.
Logic, however, played a poor second to lust. None of those reasons mattered, because permanency was the last thing he was looking for. They didn’t have to like each other for Joe to act on the heat that flared in the pit of his belly whenever he thought of Delaney. Wild, hot, mind-numbing sex didn’t have to have a damn thing to do with the brain.
Resolutely, he shoved aside the wayward thoughts. He’d never been a man to be controlled by the area south of his belt. Nor did he seek out needless complications, which Delaney Carson had written all over her.
She leaned forward and started fiddling with the rearview mirror.
“What are you doing?”
“Changing the temperature button to the one marked compass.” She sat back. “This afternoon I didn’t end up where I was originally heading, but I know the directions I went. Pretty much.”
“Around here we call that lost.”
“Do you?” She aimed a dazzling smile at him. “I call it differently located.”
That smile hit him square in the chest with the force of a fast right jab. Any other woman would still be shaky and maybe a bit hysterical after what she’d been through. She shouldn’t be humorous, displaying an unmistakable charm that made him stop and wonder if there was more to her than he’d considered earlier.
And the fact that he did wonder irritated the hell out of him.
“Turn north on Highway 89,” she said.
He slowed, and turned as she requested. “How’d you happen to get lost if you were on the highway?”
“This isn’t the way I came, but I ended up on this road on the way back. Anyway, it was when I got off the main roads that I wound up…somewhere other than where I’d intended.”
It was safer to retreat behind a professional mask. “It’d be wise to take a guide with you the next time you get the urge to go exploring. A person can die of heatstroke pretty rapidly in this climate. Not to mention the chance of happening on a poisonous snake, scorpion or black widow.”
Her smile faded and she turned back to the window. “I’m aware of the dangers. I took the precaution of packing a survival kit for my vehicle.”
“If one of those shots had found its mark, you wouldn’t have had the chance to get back to the Jeep for the kit,” he replied grimly. “No one would have known where you were. Chances are you’d have died out there and it would have taken days for someone to find your body.”
“Nice thought,” she muttered, rubbing her arms. “You’ll be happy to know the Navajo Tribal Council has arranged to place a guide at my disposal.” She craned her neck to look out the window. “I’m not inexperienced in traveling in remote places, but this isn’t exactly Afghanistan or Iraq. There, women weren’t safe alone in public, so obviously I was never unescorted. Foreign journalists are obvious targets for kidnapping. Indonesia was just as volatile.”
Her words had him surveying her more carefully. He’d heard something of her background, but hadn’t familiarized himself with the details. “So why’d you keep going to those kinds of places?” Some people were adrenaline junkies. He could understand that. Police departments had their share.
Her face swung to his, genuine surprise in her expression. “For the stories, of course. How would you get your news about what’s happening outside our country if people like me didn’t report it?”
The reasonableness of her response was lost on him. “But why you? What was there about the job that made you take the kind of risks you did, day after day, for years?”
She seemed to be searching for words. “My father is a painter,” she said finally. “He makes a living with his portraits, but his love is the stills. I used to watch him mix his paints when I was little. He’d spend hours getting just the right shade of blue and I couldn’t understand that. Sky is blue. Just choose blue and get on with it, right? But he used to say, ‘the impact lies in the shade I use.’”
She pushed her glasses on top of her head, and Joe found himself distracted by her eyes, with their odd, exotic slant and curious wash of color. He couldn’t recall ever seeing that gray-green hue before, with the startling band of gold around the irises.
And he couldn’t recall the last time he’d bothered to analyze a woman’s eye color.
“Photography was my first love,” Delaney was saying. “I took journalism classes just so I could do something with it, but quickly figured out I got hooked on the story. Not only what happened, but why. Your job, it’s more cut and dried, isn’t it? Someone does something to someone and you find out who did it. Make them pay. But truth isn’t always black and white.”
“That’s what most of my suspects would say,” he replied wryly.
“I’ve seen the devastation, the poverty in some of those countries, the results of primitive governments and war. But the story, the truth, varies depending on whose eyes I’m telling the story through. In a time when news can be slanted to suit political purposes, it’s even more important to show all sides. That’s what my photos do. Put tangibles, faces to the news. Because the impact lies in the pictures I use.”
He heard the passion in her voice, and could appreciate the enthusiasm she had for her job, even if he couldn’t fully understand what drew her to it. But then, most people didn’t get why he’d chosen investigative work, when his college degree would have qualified him for a number of higher-paying occupations. People were lucky to feel that kind of commitment to any job. When they did, it was impossible to imagine doing anything else.
“I got the feeling from your grandfather yesterday that you and he are close.”
The shift in conversation caught him by surprise. “Yes.”
“But you don’t approve of my being here. Of his cooperation on this project.”
He kept his voice carefully neutral. “Did I say that?”
“Your reaction yesterday did. You didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when you figured out who I was.” When he remained silent, she prodded, “Has your difference of opinion caused problems between you and your grandfather? Because I wouldn’t want…”
“My relationship with my grandfather is none of your business,” he said succinctly. He didn’t need her reminder that he hadn’t yet spoken to the older man, hadn’t smoothed out the friction that had risen between them in the last week or so. “We aren’t two of the faces for you to add to your project. Our personal lives are off-limits.”
“Really.” She twisted in the seat to glare at him. “So it’s only questions about me that are fair game.” She nodded, as if in understanding. “Be sure and write these rules down for me so I don’t make the mistake of believing you’re capable of rational conversation.”
She couldn’t make him feel small. Not about this. “We were having a rational conversation.”
“Wrong. Since you were the only one allowed to ask questions, it was more of an interrogation. But don’t worry. The boundaries are clearly marked. I caught that. Take a right up here.”
He almost missed the direction, couched as it was with sarcasm. He took the corner a little fast and she slapped a hand on the dash to brace herself. But she didn’t say anything else. As a matter of fact, she lapsed into the same silence she’d kept earlier, and this time he wasn’t stupid enough to try to get her talking.
Tension all but crackled in the interior of the vehicle. Delaney spoke only to give him a direction to take. When she did, he could almost scrape the ice off her words.
That was okay. He gripped the wheel with both hands on the rough, uneven dirt road they’d taken. Ice was good. It would help maintain a distance between them that would defuse the heat.
He had the feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.