FBI Agent Dana Croft ducked beneath the yellow crime scene
tape snapping in the dry wind that whipped across the
construction site. She joined her partner, Agent Steve
Lubeck, squatting beside the body of a young woman—the
third in two months.
Dana had been planning a visit to the Southern Ute
Reservation where she grew up… just hadn't planned on
spending it tracking a serial killer.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Dana crouched next to
the woman's head, her dark hair matted with blood and
sticking to her cheek. Blood also stained the bandana
wrapped around her forehead.
"Do you know her?" Steve slid one gloved finger
beneath the victim's hair, lifting it from her face.
Dana scanned the woman's features—a pretty girl with
too much makeup and staring, lifeless eyes. She didn't
recognize her, but everyone else on the reservation would
know her and her business. The small-town atmosphere of a
reservation usually made solving crimes for the Indian
Country Crimes unit easy.
But this wasn't racketeering or casino theft; this was murder.
"Nope." Dana shook her head. "But then it's been
several years since I've been back. I probably know her
parents or grandparents, though."
Dana squeezed her eyes shut and gulped in a few breaths of
crisp autumn air. The young woman splayed out on the hard
earth with her long black hair and mocha skin reminded Dana
of her own daughter, Kelsey. Could she handle this
assignment? She'd been with the FBI for almost six years and
with the Indian Country Crimes unit for four of those years,
but she'd never investigated a serial killer on a
reservation. This hit hard. This hit home.
"The construction crew discovered the body when they got
here this morning. They called the sheriff of the Ute
Reservation, Emmett Starr. You know him?"
"Yeah, I know Emmett. Where is he?"
"He was tied up with something else, but he called me
right away and sent his guys." Steve waved his arm
toward the two cops combing the area for a footprint, blood,
a piece of clothing, any small piece of evidence.
"Emmett should be here soon."
"I think that's him now." Shading her eyes and
squinting at the squad car churning up dust on the road,
Dana pushed to her feet.
The car pulled up parallel to the crime scene, and Emmett
shot out of the driver's side. "Damn. I can't believe we
have another one. I guess it's official now—we have a
serial killer on our hands."
He strode toward Dana and swept her up in a hug. "Good
to see you, Dana."
"You don't seem surprised that I'm here."
Emmett jerked his thumb toward Steve. "Agent Lubeck told
me you were coming on the scene to help out. That's good
you're working in the Indian Country Crimes unit."
The passenger door of Emmett's squad car swung open, and
Dana swiveled her head around. One long, lean, denim-clad
leg appeared. The long, lean body followed.
Dana's breath hitched in her throat and her heart skittered
in her chest as the rangy cowboy in the white hat sauntered
toward her, sliding his cell phone into his shirt pocket. He
tipped his hat back from his face and grinned. "Hey,
Dana."
Dana swallowed, her throat tight, as she looked up into the
perpetually amused blue eyes of Rafe McClintock.
The man who still had a hold on her heart.
The man who haunted her dreams.
The father of her child.
"What are you doing here?" Dana folded her arms,
trapping her trembling hands next to her body. Rafe didn't
seem surprised to see her, either. Everyone on the
reservation must know she'd returned to assist in this
investigation.
Emmett moved to the side. "I'm sorry. You two know each
other, don't you? Rafe and I were in Silverhill, discussing
the second murder when I got Agent Lubeck's call. Agent
Lubeck, this is Sheriff Rafe McClintock. The second murder
occurred in his jurisdiction."
As Steve and Rafe shook hands, Dana zeroed in on the badge
pinned to Rafe's chest. Why hadn't Auntie Mary told her Rafe
was back in Silverhill? She might have had some time to
prepare, to steel herself against this rush of emotion
cascading through her body.
"Y-you're a San Juan County Sheriff?"
"Yeah, I moved back to Colorado about six months ago and
went through the academy. Silverhill elected me sheriff when
Sheriff Ballard retired after his son's murder."
"I heard about Zack Ballard's murder." She pursed
her lips as she shook her head. "I'm glad Sheriff
Ballard retired, but the good people of Silverhill sure
embraced an inexperienced sheriff for the top job quickly.
But then you
are a McClintock."
There. Better put Rafe in his place right here and now.
He raised his brows, laughter lighting his eyes. God, he saw
right through her. She'd fooled him once but he was no
longer the tall, skinny, sandy-haired boy she'd first
spotted in the hallway of Silverhill High.
She
would have to feel an insane attraction to the
richest and most popular boy in the school. She lived the
clichรฉ of every teen movie, featuring the all-American boy
and the girl from the wrong side of the tepee. Only their
teen movie didn't end with happily-ever-after.
"I'mnot inexperienced. I know Silverhill like the back
of my hand, and I worked as a cop in L.A. for almost four
years before moving back here. Of course, you wouldn't know
that since you disappeared right after high school.
Georgetown, right?"
"Yeah, Georgetown."
Emmett cleared his throat. "I hate to break up
this… er… happy reunion, but what do you have
on this latest murder? Is it like the other two?"
Steve and Dana led Rafe and Emmett to the body and Emmett
crouched down. "Dear God. This is Louella's girl,
Holly."
"Louella Sams?" Dana clapped a hand over her mouth.
Louella was about fifteen years ahead of her in school, but
Dana knew the family. The personal aspect hit her hard but
if she let it affect her, the Bureau would yank her off the
investigation. And she wanted in on this investigation.
"Louella Thompson now. She let Holly run a little wild,
but nobody deserves this kind of ending." Emmett
clutched his hat to his chest and mumbled a few words over
Holly's still form.
Dana recognized the Southern Ute chant for the soul of the
dead to speed its passage to the heavens. She bit her lip.
It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten the words of the
chant.
Steve cleared his throat. "The M.O. is the same as the
other two murders. The blood on Holly's face is from a split
lip. Looks like the killer backhanded her, but he strangled
her like the other two and dumped her at a construction
site."
"And he left his signature." Rafe pointed to the
bandana wrapped around Holly's forehead with the feather
stuck in the back.
Dana clenched her jaw. That's the detail law enforcement was
hiding from the media. The killer had placed the crude
Indian headband around each of the victims after he murdered
them. So far, all of the murdered women were full or half
Native American—like her. Was this maniac on some kind
of one-man ethnic cleansing spree? Apparently, his wrath
didn't extend to males or anyone over the age of thirty. All
of the victims were young, female and pretty.
Rafe gestured to the ground. "Tire tracks?"
Steve shrugged. "This area is crisscrossed with tire
tracks. Nothing stands out, and so far Emmett's officers
haven't found a damn thing… just like the other two
murders."
Scuffing the toe of his boot into the sand, Rafe said,
"Obviously, the construction site is just a dumping
ground. He does the deed elsewhere."
Dana appraised Rafe from beneath lowered lashes. His
handsome face creased into real concern, and Dana realized
she faced a man, not the carefree boy she'd loved enough to
leave ten years ago.
That knowledge scared the hell out of her.
The four of them discussed the details of the murders, two
now on the Southern Ute Reservation, until the ambulance
arrived. Any more evidence they hoped to find would have to
come from the victim's body. If the killer hit her before he
strangled her, maybe Holly put up a fight for her life and
scratched her murderer or pulled out his hair.
They agreed to meet later that evening at Rafe's office at
the sheriff's station in Silverhill to compare notes after
following their different leads. Rafe jogged to the
ambulance before the EMTs loaded the stretcher bearing
Holly's body.
Dana's heart picked up speed as Rafe bent his head in
conversation, a lock of sun-streaked hair falling over one
eye. She'd have to put aside her personal feelings to get
through this investigation. Since one of the bodies had
turned up outside the boundaries of the reservation, Rafe
had jurisdiction over that case and she'd have to work with him.
But not for long.
The FBI would move in and take over. Just like they always did.
But until then, she'd shove memories of Rafe and their high
school romance aside. And their daughter? Could she shove
her aside as well?
"What do you think, Dana?"
She spun around. Emmett stood behind her, his hands buried
in his pockets as he watched the EMTs collapse the stretcher
to slide it into the van.
Lifting a shoulder, she said, "Looks like our guy has
struck again, but Silverhill is a small town and everyone
knows everyone else's business on the reservation. We'll
find him."
"Can you help? Did you touch Holly with your bare
hands?"
Dana sucked in a sharp breath and froze. Emmett wasn't
referring to the help Dana could offer as an FBI agent. He
wanted her to use the "gift."
Closing her eyes, she ran a hand through her hair and
clasped the nape of her neck.
"You are gifted." Emmett's voice floated between
them, almost a whisper.
"Don't call me that."
"Sorry." He held up his hands. "But everyone
knows the powers of clairvoyance travel through the women in
our particular Southern Ute tribe. Auntie Mary is gifted and
her sister Fanny, your grandmother, had the gift, and your
mother, Ronnie."
"A lot of good it did my mother." Once Dana's
worthless stepfather had found out about Mom's sensitivity,
he had exploited it, forcing her to work during the summer
months selling cheap jewelry, telling fortunes and casting
spells of love and protection when Mom couldn't even find
those for herself.
Dana ran her hands across her face as if clearing cobwebs.
"Besides, I'm only half Ute, so the gift obviously
skipped me. See you at the meeting, Emmett."
As Dana swept past him, Emmett muttered behind her, "Or
you choose not to embrace it."
Dana stalked to her rental car, hands fisted. Her second day
back on the reservation and already her past was crowding in
on her.
"Dana."
She glanced up as Rafe waved and strode toward her, his
boots crunching the gravel beneath his feet. Her past was
crowding in, all right, from all directions.
"Can I pick you up for the meeting tonight? I haven't
seen your aunt Mary in a while. You are staying with her,
aren't you?"
She clicked her remote and settled her back against the car.
"I don't need a ride. This is a murder investigation,
not the high school prom."
"I know. You dumped me before the prom."
"You remember that?"
Big mistake. She did
not want to traipse down memory lane with Rafe. That path
would surely lead to one nine-year old, brown-eyed secret
named Kelsey.
Hooking his thumb in his belt loop, he grinned. "Like it
was yesterday. You were the only girl who ever shot me
down."
"Oh, I don't know. I remember succumbing to the famous
McClintock charm pretty quickly."
"Yeah, you had your way with me and
then shot
me down."
Dana almost doubled over from the sharp pain that stabbed
her gut. If they didn't catch this killer fast, allowing her
to escape Silverhill and the reservation, she'd fall under
this man's spell again. And once he found out she'd kept
Kelsey from him all these years, he'd shoot
her down.
"Let's not go there." She made a cross with her
fingers, holding it up between them. "We have a killer
to catch."
"I don't have a problem mixing business with pleasure."
Dana's gaze tripped over Rafe's sensuous mouth and got
hooked on his deep blue eyes. "I'll bet you don't."
But if Rafe ever discovered they had a daughter together,
there'd be nothing pleasurable about his response.
Nothing pleasurable at all.
Dana dropped into the overstuffed, floral chair and
stretched out her legs, resting her feet on top of the high
heels she'd kicked off before washing the dinner dishes.
Auntie Mary plucked the reading glasses from her nose and
folded her hands over the book in her lap. "You could've
left those for me. I didn't invite you to stay here to do my
chores."
Dana wiggled her toes. "I know that, but you do have an
ulterior motive."
"I don't need an ulterior motive to invite my niece,
who's working in the area anyway, to stay with me."
Auntie Mary widened her eyes in mock indignation.
"Rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh
string beans from your garden and homemade apple pie to
finish me off. You went to a lot of trouble, but it's not
going to work."
"Is Holly Thompson another victim of this serial
killer?"
"We think so, but I can't discuss the case with you."
"Interesting that the killer keeps dumping bodies of
young Ute women at construction sites. Maybe he's trying to
make a point." She shrugged and ran a gnarled hand
through her cropped, gray hair. "The old ways are
changing too fast, and all this money pouring in from the
oil down south only hastens the demise of our culture.
Dances, songs and worship have been replaced by reality TV
and Xboxes."
"Unemployment and poverty have been replaced by jobs and
a good standard of living."
"Do you have to throw out the baby with the
bathwater?" Auntie Mary cupped her hands in a scooping
motion.
"Nobody's trying to do that. I see that Ben Whitecotton
is completing the project of a Southern Ute cultural
center."
Auntie Mary leveled a finger at her, and Dana could almost
feel a shaft of heat scorching her from across the room.
"You approve of all the changes."
"I'm proud of my Southern Ute heritage." Dana
crossed her arms, bunching her fists. "I just don't
believe in all the mumbo jumbo stuff."
"You have the sacred gift." Auntie Mary dropped her
arm and closed her eyes. "And you choose to dismiss it."
"What about my mother?" Dana jumped from the chair
and took a turn around the small room. "She did worse
than dismiss it. She tarnished it, used it for monetary
gain."
"That was her husband's idea."
At the mention of her stepfather, Dana ground her teeth.
She'd detested her stepfather, Lenny Driscoll, ever since
she was five years old when he oozed his way into her
mother's life. "If I never see Lenny again, it will be
too soon for me."
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