Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

  I stepped out into the morning as Wilson pulled into the driveway. The air was still crisp and cool from the evening and the sun rode in low in the pale blue sky. It was a clear enough day to leave the moon still visible, a small silver accent in the blue sky. The sun riding above the eastern hills promised to heat up the day. Early fall in the desert held the promise of cooler weather to come while still heating up enough during the day to make you turn on the air conditioning. Morning and late evening were the best times to do anything outside. Mid afternoon could still reach temperatures in the nineties.

  Wilson wore a dark blue suit with a white shirt and a red tie. His dark brown hair was cut short and greying at the temples, very distinguished looking for a man. On a woman, grey hair just screamed old. Where the hell was the justice in that?

  “You mind taking your own car? I have a court date in Phoenix at noon,” Wilson called through the window of his SUV.

  “No problem, I’ll follow you out.” I fumbled with my coffee cup as I locked the door. It splashed over the edge and burnt my hand.

  “Son of a bitch!” I yelled to no one in particular. You’d think I’d learn to set the cup down by now, I spilled coffee on a regular basis. Like I said, I’m not a morning person. Once I got in the truck, I set my coffee in the cup holder, stuck my hand in my mouth to soothe my burn and started the engine. I’d bought the truck when I moved out here. A car would never last long on these rural roads and the truck was just plain fun to drive. It was black, which helps if your job occasionally requires you to follow another car at night and it had a hard top that could be removed; though I rarely did. The four-wheel drive got me in and out of places that a larger SUV or truck might have had a hard time with. It seated five, but I could count on one hand the number of times I’d used the backseat for anything other than storage. I kept a duffel bag with spare clothes, shoes and toiletries. It was nice to have a change if I was stuck doing surveillance for long periods of time or when the murder scene was messy. I’d never seen a clean murder scene yet, but hey, you never knew.

  The reservation was a short twenty-minute drive from my house. Cholla and prickly pear cacti hid under the sparse shade of Ironwood and Mesquite trees along the roadway. In the spring, poppies covered the desert floor in a golden blanket of flowers. The reservation was established in the early 1900s as an offering to Native Americans to move west and relinquish their hold on more fertile lands. The reservation was about 22,000 acres, roughly half of the original settlement. Once more pioneers moved west and needed the water for farming, the land was “restructured” which was a polite way of saying “taken back” from the Indian community. Water rights to part of the Colorado River enabled the land to be used primarily as agricultural. About four hundred people lived here.

  One less after yesterday’s murder.

  Wilson and I stepped into the Tribal Police Department just before eight. Officer Aaron Omusa stood from his desk as we walked in.

  “Leah, how the hell are you?” He wrapped his arms around me then took my face in both his hands. “You broke up with Joaquín, not the rest of the tribe, we miss you.”

  I’d known Aaron almost as long as I’d known Joaquín. He hadn’t changed in all the years I’d known him. He had the build of a runner, tall and wiry, nearly six foot, which put him a full half foot taller than me. He’d been a rookie when I met him. Fresh faced and eager. He still had that persona, which was hard to keep. After a couple of years on the force you tended to get jaded. His black hair hung just below the collar of the tan uniform shirt tucked loosely into the waist of his heavy jeans. His gun hung in the holster at his hip.

  “You remember Captain Wilson?” I took a short step back.

  “Of course, good to see you, Captain Wilson.” The two men shook hands before Aaron turned his attention back to me.

  “You really are missed around here, Leah. You should come visit more often.”

  “I’m sure the Tribal Council was glad to see me go.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Not all the council feels that way, it’s only the elders that…”

  “She doesn’t need to know about tribal matters anymore, Aaron,” Joaquín interrupted from the open door of his office.

  Aaron whispered, “Good luck,” then turned and went back to his desk.

  I strode into Joaquín’s office. “Good to see you, too, Joaquín.” I let the sarcasm weigh heavy in my voice.

  “Leah, Wilson. Thanks for coming by so soon but I didn’t bring you down here to discuss tribal politics with my staff.” He stood to his full height of six foot three, eye to eye with Wilson. His shiny black hair hung down his back in a tight braid between his wide, muscular shoulders down to his narrow waist. His body was toned with the muscles I knew he’d earned through long workouts at the gym and good genetics. He wore his tan button-down uniform shirt tucked tightly into the waist of his blue jeans. Dusty brown cowboy boots and his 9mm gun holstered at his waist completed the outfit.

  Anger colored the angular features of his face and his dark, almost black, almond-shaped eyes narrowed. He might have been a bastard, but damn, he looked good.

  “What did you call me down here for? What use does a Chief Detective have for an ‘unholy witch’ like me?”

  He winced at the barb. Good.

  Wilson put his hand on my arm and squeezed gently. Part comforting gesture, part warning, then spoke to Joaquín. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve had the report and crime scene photos faxed over to you. My department is cooperating fully. What else can we do, or more specifically, what do you want Leah to do?”

  Some of the anger left Joaquín. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I called you for help. I appreciate your assistance. The council can’t authorize the additional funds to hire more staff.” He cleared his throat. “They also feel that I’m too personally involved to be entirely objective.”

  Lily Armstrong the station dispatcher poked her head in the door. “Good morning, Chief.” She looked over to me. “Leah!” She walked over and hugged me. “It sure is nice to see your face around here again. How are you?”

  “I’m just perfect, Lily.” I hugged her back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “Lily? Leah is here on business. Perhaps you two can catch up later.” Joaquín’s voice was stern. He was jumpy or he wouldn’t have snapped at Lily.

  “Sure thing.” She gave me a confused look. “Sorry, boss. Anyone want some coffee?”

  “No,” Joaquín and Wilson answered simultaneously.

  “Yes, I’d love some.” I smiled sweetly.

  Lily looked from Joaquín to me, then glanced at Wilson. He shook his head. “Okay, one cup. I’ll knock before I bring it in.” On that, she closed the door and left.

  “Please, sit down.” Joaquín motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. Wilson sat.

  I leaned against a nearby bookcase.

  Wilson flashed me a look that clearly let me know I was being difficult. “Why, exactly, does the council think this is personal?” I asked anxious to get this over with.

  Joaquín sat in his chair, his eyes trained on the blotter lying across his desk. He spoke without looking up. “I dated her.”

  I chortled, almost laughed. Wilson took his notebook from his pocket, apparently anticipating something of interest to write down. “How long were you dating her?” Wilson looked at Joaquín expectantly.

  Rule number one in a murder case, the victim’s past or present boyfriend is always a suspect.

  “Once.” Joaquín looked up at him. “Just once. I haven’t seen her in months.”

  “By date her you mean…?” Wilson asked him while he studiously scribbled his own brand of shorthand in his notebook without looking up. He was getting agitated at Joaquín’s obvious evasion and I had a bad feeling that whatever he was about to tell us, I wasn’t going to like it. When Joaquín didn’t answer, Wilson cursed. “Dinner and movie, night at the casino, what?”

  Eyes back to the desk blotter, Joaquín spo
ke in barely a whisper, “Slept with her, I slept with her.”

  I stood up and walked to his desk, placing my hands palm down. My face inches from his, he kept his eyes lowered.

  Wilson stood.

  My throat was bone dry but I managed to croak out, “You said you haven’t seen her in months. When did you sleep with her?”

  The look on his face gave me the answer without him speaking a word.

  “When?” I all but growled at him.

  “Before,” he spoke softly and stood with a look of apology on his face. “You were in San Diego on a case, I met her at a bar…”

  I slapped him with everything I had. Yes, I knew it was the girly thing to do. I should have punched him. Still, a red imprint of my hand welted on his face.

  “I’m sorry, I know I deserved that. It was an accident. I was getting grief from the council about marrying outside the tribe, you were away, I had too much to drink…” He spoke quickly, his voice rising.

  “Don’t.” I started pacing the room. “An accident?” I asked incredulously. “A fucking accident. You just happened to have a hard on and ‘accidentally’ fell into her. Is that what you’re going to stand there and tell me? Fuck you. Fuck this.” I turned and nearly knocked Lily over as she was carrying coffee into the office. I stormed past her dumbfounded face and headed toward the parking lot. Someone grabbed my arm, I whirled around, my hand clenched into a fist, and my arm tense and ready to swing when I saw it was Wilson. He held his hands in front of him in a surrender pose.

  “I won’t take this case, Wilson. I’m sorry.” I blinked back angry tears.

  “No, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have brought you into this if I’d known.” His voice softened. “Go on home, baby. I’ll take it from here.” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead; then turned and walked back into Joaquín’s office.

  I walked out, ignoring the odd look on Aaron’s face.

  Had he known? Had everyone?

  I was getting into the truck when Joaquín caught up to me. This time I did swing. No opened-handed girly slap but a solid fist to his jaw. I ignored the urge to rub my sore knuckles and instead enjoyed the view of Joaquín rubbing his jaw. “Get the hell away from me.”

  “I got a letter written in runes before she died, you know, ancient symbols.”

  “I know what runes are, Joaquín. Did you give it to the council?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what it says. I don’t know about this shit, you do,” he said with a tone of accusation.

  “Go find another witch to help you.”

  “I don’t know another witch.”

  I swung at his face again but he blocked me and held on to my arm. “I didn’t mean it that way, Leah, dammit, you think this is easy for me?”

  “Oh, I am just so fucking sorry if this is uncomfortable for you. Had I known that it would upset you to tell me that you were fucking around behind my back while we were planning our wedding I would have been more sympathetic, you stupid son of a bitch! Get your hand off me.”

  My fingers itched. I so wanted to reach for my gun, but I couldn’t shoot him for being a lying, cheating bastard.

  Could I?

  I pulled open the door, hopped into the truck and jammed the key into the ignition. The truck sprang to life.

  Joaquín stood there with his hand on the open car door. “Leah, please. You’re the only one I know who can help me.”

  “Oh yeah. I’d make a hell of a character witness in court. ‘Yes judge, he’s an honest man, except for the time he got drunk and banged some wench in a bar while I was out of town. Yes, that’s right, sir, the same wench that is now dead.’ That’ll sound great to a judge, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sorry, Leah. I would have told you.”

  “When, before or after the wedding?”

  His voice grew softer. “You know I didn’t kill her, Leah.”

  “Do I?” I slammed the door shut and sped out of the lot.

  Did I think he could kill her? Joaquín Wildhorse, the man I’d shared a bed with, planned a home and a life with?

  No.

  Shit!

  No. I didn’t think he could have killed her. That left two questions. Who did, and what was I going to do about it?

  Chapter Three

  The phone was ringing as I shoved my key into the front door. I kicked off my shoes and slammed the door behind me. I threw my keys on the kitchen counter as I grabbed the phone, nearly sliding into the fridge on the slick floor. “Yeah?” I answered a little breathless.

  “I smoothed things over with Stan and he’s agreed to another date, this Friday. Leave your damn pager and cell phone at home this time. He’ll pick you up at seven.” Jess wasn’t much into hello and goodbye. She said what she had to say and hung up.

  I had to catch her before the line went dead. “Don’t hang up, Jess. I’m not going out with him again. Look, I know you mean well, but you’ve got to stop trying to set me up on dates. I’m happy with the way my life is now.” My voice quivered on the last part. I hoped that Jess didn’t pick up on that.

  I was wrong.

  “What’s happened? You sound upset.”

  “I’m fine, really. You just caught me running in the door.”

  “I know that tone, Leah. Something happened, what’s wrong?”

  Shit. Jess could always tell when someone was lying. She was like a damn human lie detector. It made her one hell of a lawyer and could come in handy sometimes on a case. But damn, just once I’d have liked to be able to get something past her.

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I just left Joaquín’s office. He called me in on a case. I refused.”

  “Of course you refused. What was he thinking? Oh, honey, you haven’t heard from him in months and out of the blue he wants you to work with him? Are you all right?” Her concern was obvious in her voice and I loved her even more for it.

  “I’m fine, or I will be anyway,” I added when she started to object. “I turned down the case. Wilson will handle it without me.”

  “Charlie brought you in on this, has he lost his mind?” Jess was one of the few people who could call Wilson “Charlie” and she took advantage of it on a regular basis.

  “Wilson didn’t know all the details until we got there. He was just as much in the dark on this as I was.”

  “Do you want to talk about it? I can be over in fifteen minutes. Just let me get the baby up and in the car. I’m working from home and the nanny has the day off.”

  “No, no. Don’t wake my godson. Let Oscar sleep.”

  Yes, Oscar. I didn’t name the poor little guy. Jess explained that it was his father’s name, not that any of us had met him. She was a single mom and happier for it was pretty much all she’d say on the matter. As Oscar’s godmother, I’d make sure he had the skills to take care of anyone who picked on him.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it right now anyway. I need time to process it,” I explained.

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, you know my number.”

  “I know. And thanks.”

  She hung up. True to form, she never said hello or goodbye.

  Process. Okay. How do you process the fact that your fiancé had a one-night stand while you were engaged? I had so many emotions to sort through. If I wanted to be honest with myself, and I rarely do, I’d say I was hurt. I loved him and we were engaged. He had sex with someone else.

  It was too much. I gave in and let the tears fall as I slid down the cabinets to sit hugging my knees on the kitchen floor. He’d not only had sex with another woman, he’d cast me aside because of a curse I didn’t ask for and couldn’t do anything about.

  I did not choose this dammit!

  Would he have told me if we’d gotten married; before or after? I didn’t know. Two hours ago I would have swore he would not have done it at all, ever, that he would have never lied to me or betrayed me.

  The phone rang. Fuck it! On the third ring t
he machine picked it up. At least I could rely on something. After a short greeting from my voice and a beep, Joaquín spoke.

  “I know you’re there, Leah.” He sounded sad and miserable.

  Good!

  “Please, I don’t have an excuse for this. Please, just, talk to me.” He was silent for a moment. “Okay, then just listen. It didn’t have anything to do with you. I loved you, love you still. The council threatened my job. They said if I married you…” The second beep cut him off.

  I stood and splashed some water on my face from the kitchen sink. It was over and it shouldn’t matter anymore. That was the beauty of a break up, I didn’t have to give a shit anymore. On one hand, we were not together anymore so why should it matter now? On the other, I should just cut the bastard’s balls off for cheating on me.

  Decisions, decisions.

  Anger.

  That was it. I’d hold on to the anger. That was an emotion I knew how to deal with. When in doubt, be pissed off. I’d grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry my face when I heard the front door open. My gun was in my hand, I don’t remember reaching for it; it was just there.

  Instinct?

  Practice?

  Who the hell cared? I had the safety off and aimed it toward the approaching footsteps.

  Alli came around the corner, saw the gun and dropped the bags she was carrying. “For God’s sake, don’t shoot me!”

  I clicked on the safety and holstered my gun. “I’m sorry, Alli. I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing here?”

  We both reached down to pick up her bags, now on the floor. “A little jumpy, are we?” she asked in her sing-song voice. Alli was thin and looked younger than her fifty-two years. The laugh lines around her eyes only made her more beautiful. She was about my height with pale blond hair and sparkling blue, almost grey eyes.