by Aimée Thurlo
“What makes you think you’re better at that than I am?”
“It’s what I do every day. I deal with tough issues, and when I’m faced with opposition, my job is to reach people by using reason and common sense.”
Daniel considered it, then nodded. “All right. We’ll see how that plays out.” He stopped for a traffic light, the first on the western outskirts of the town, then continued when the light changed. “Before we left, I spoke to Preston Bowman, the detective in charge of the case. He told me that they’ve already spoken to Clyde Keeswood, but turned up nothing.”
“Like I said before, I don’t think Keeswood’s our guy. There’s something else going on here, some other motive for all that has happened. What I’m hoping, is that this…stalker…will find out we’re tracking him. Then maybe he’ll make a mistake. If we can figure out who he is, we can turn him over to the police.”
“Just be aware of the risk. You can’t start questioning people without endangering yourself,” he warned. “The closer we get, the more likely he is to predict our next moves.”
“I’m already facing a life-or-death situation. Degrees don’t matter that much.”
“Okay, so now we need a list of people to interview. Start thinking of anyone you’ve had disagreements with, maybe a guy you cut off in traffic, or a neighbor who gives you prob lems. Look at your professional contacts, too, like maybe a person you didn’t recommend for a job, or beat out of an account. It doesn’t take much to anger someone who’s a little off-kilter already.”
She nodded, then took out a small notebook she kept in her purse. For several moments she stared at the blank page. “This is really hard.”
“That’s because you’re thinking of it as a list of suspects,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of the small, one-story building she’d given him as her office address. “Start by listing people you work with or encounter on a daily basis—anyone—friends, casual acquaintances or even people you meet in the hall regularly. Once you have something on paper, then you can start crossing out the ones who seem less likely to either be the man we’re looking for, or someone associated with him.”
“In a way, I hope it’s no one I can think of, because I can’t think of anything worse than being betrayed by a friend.”
Chapter Seven
A short time later Holly led the way inside her office. The interior was small and simple, and as she glanced at him she wondered what he thought of it. “It’s not fancy, but it’s quiet and has great high-speed internet. Most of my meetings take place at my clients’ offices. They’re usually more at ease in their own environment.”
Holly stopped by her desk, which was at the center of the room. “This is my pride and joy,” she said. “I bought it when the old Hartley Hotel on Butler Street was scheduled for demolition.” Although small, the front and side panels were intricately carved. The heavy, handcrafted antique had caught her eye instantly, and she’d been lucky enough to bring in the winning bid.
“Despite years of neglect, some of the furnishings up for sale were salvageable once I stripped off layers of old, flaked varnish and paint,” she said. “I bought the desk, some chairs and even the wooden file cabinets over there against the wall.”
He nodded, but when he didn’t say anything, she continued, “Am I talking too much? I tend to do that when I’m nervous. I’m boring you, right?”
“No, not at all,” he said, looking around at the framed oils on the walls depicting Southwestern landscapes. “I gather that you either can’t afford to pass up a good deal, or you don’t like to see waste.”
“Both,” she admitted.
“Your office looks…comfortable,” he said at last, his gaze taking in the two matching barrel-style oak armchairs with black leather upholstery. “I like it a lot more than I do Martin’s office, I can tell you that.”
She laughed. “His office is intended to remind his visitors that he’s a man of importance.”
“But you don’t want to be seen in the same light?”
“Our jobs are different. I don’t need to assert authority as much as I have to demonstrate competence. When I do have a client here the first thing I try to do is convince them that I can be an asset to their company. It’s not about how important I am, it’s about what I can do for them.”
“Tell me more about your work,” he said, taking a seat in the closest armchair.
She leaned back against her desk and faced him. “Most of the time I’m hired to help corporations sell themselves, not just their projects. The Four Corners, historically, has had so many disasters that it’s hard to earn the public’s trust.”
“What do you do when you meet protesters with closed minds?”
“I try to keep in mind that their reactions are usually based on fear. They’ve learned the hard way that you can’t trust words. So I stick to the facts and present them as clearly and simply as possible.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then I have to work around them. People like Keeswood belong to a different generation. They believed the ones who told them that the uranium tailings piled around the mines on the Rez were safe. The Diné paid a very high price for those lies. The mining companies eventually shut down, declared bankruptcy and moved on. The tribe was left to knit the broken pieces of their lives back together again. Now, as a result, many of them automatically oppose any form of industry. For them, trust isn’t an option.”
“So, basically, the protesters see you as their enemy,” Daniel concluded.
“Sometimes, but even Keeswood knows that I believe what I’m saying. He’s just afraid that I’m being duped, too.”
“What if he wanted to make you an example, a kill the messenger type of thing?”
“I really have a problem believing that. Clyde Keeswood is fighting to make sure the past is never repeated. He’s trying to save lives, not take them. He hates what he sees as a new threat to The People, not me personally. I don’t hate him, I don’t even dislike him. He’s got plenty of reasons for being the way he is, and I understand why.”
“Okay. The police have his name and will do all the follow-ups necessary, so let’s leave him to them,” he said. “Who do you work with on a daily basis?”
“Martin, of course, and Jane, too, but the person after me is a man.”
“Is Jane married?” he asked.
“She’s a widow. Her husband served in the New Mexico Army National Guard and was killed last year by a roadside bomb,” Holly said. “She’s still in mourning.”
“Let’s talk more about Martin, then. He’s physically fit, and about the same size and shape as the guy after you,” Daniel said.
“No way he’s behind this,” Holly said. “Have you forgotten that he’s the one who insisted I get protection?”
“That could be a smoke screen. I’ve seen him jogging and working out with our security people. Unlike most of those desk jockeys, he can hold his own.”
She shook her head. “Martin’s big and fit, but he’s also a wuss. He almost passed out once when his new office assistant, Joe Yazzie, cut his finger.”
“What about Joe? I haven’t met him yet.”
“He couldn’t run that fast if his life depended on it. He’s the size of a sumo wrestler with the strength to match. If he’d pinned me to the ground, that alone would have killed me.”
“Then let’s focus on Martin. The person who attacked you on the street didn’t try to stab you. He tried to strangle you—that’s bloodless,” Daniel said. “Martin also knows your routine and where you live.”
“Okay,” Holly said, giving up for now. “I have my doubts, but he’ll stay on the list.”
“Is there someone who might have a thing for you?” Daniel pressed.
“Thing?”
“The hots—romance, dating, sex.”
“There’s no one like that in my life. It’s been months since my last date, and I don’t dress the part or flirt. That tends to take care of things.”
“Not so much. Maybe you’re not aware of it, but men like looking at you.”
Her heart jumped and she hid a pleased smile. Not looking directly at him, she tried to focus, though what she really wanted to do was ask if that included him.
She took a breath. “Besides Clyde Keeswood, there’s another activist the plant’s had some problems with, Johnny Wauneka. He’s not the kind to shout out in a meeting, though. He’s a highly intelligent, quiet computer nerd. Martin told me that he hacked into the plant’s email accounts twice. They can’t prove it, but they know it’s him because he embarrassed the tribe in various blogs right after those incidents. I was also told that he made several suggestive remarks about me.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing threatening, just remarks suggesting that I’m Martin’s girlfriend and I’m scrambling his thinking—only written in a more graphic way.”
“Have you responded to any of those posts?” Daniel asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to legitimize them with a reply.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “Can I use your computer? I’d like to run Wauneka’s and Keeswood’s names through some databases. I’m also going to look up Jane Begay and Martin while I’m at it.”
She stepped aside and waved him to her desk. Daniel sat down and accessed a website she’d never seen before. A box asking for a password popped up and she looked away. “Do you want me to step outside for a moment?”
“No need,” he answered, typing away.
A new screen opened, and she saw Daniel enter Martin Roanhorse’s name.
“I can’t believe that you’re actually checking on the man you work for,” she said. “You know Martin.”
“Nobody really knows anyone else,” he said. “And for the record, I don’t work for Martin, I just report to him. The tribe hired me and I’m looking after my client’s interests.”
“Interesting point of view,” she said.
“You may not have noticed, but I’ve seen the way Martin checks you out when he thinks you’re not watching.”
“Martin? You’ve got to be kidding. His main interests are his wife, those quarter horses they raise and, of course, his ranch, just off the Rez. It’s huge. He invited a handful of us to a party there last June.”
“Big off-Rez acreage on a tribal bureaucrat’s salary?” Daniel asked, quickly looking up.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I was told that he got the money from his wife’s parents. They’re well-off,” Holly said. “Martin likes his lifestyle and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
He typed something else in, then nodded. “You’re right. Martin’s wife is a Markham. That family has ties to almost every major industry in the state. Bureaucrats can be vulnerable to corruption….” He let the sentence hang for several moments. “We can’t discount anyone until we’ve got a solid reason to do so, like an unbreakable alibi.”
“Okay. What about Johnny Wauneka?” she asked, looking at the monitor.
Daniel typed the name, then a new screen opened. “From what I see here, he has a few priors, but no felony convictions. The police never could get enough evidence to prove that he’d hacked into the tribal computer system.”
“Wait—are you accessing a police database?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got limited access. It’s a courtesy,” he said. “Detective Bowman arranged it for me.”
She knew the value of connections, but this kind of trust was usually based on something more than loose friendship. Questions filled her mind and she found herself more curious than ever about Daniel.
“I recognize that look. What do you want to know?” he asked, smiling.
The fact that he’d read her so easily bothered her, but not enough to keep from taking advantage of what she saw as a golden opportunity. “Why does Bowman trust you so much?”
“It’s earned. In every way that counts, Preston Bowman’s my brother. He knows that I’d never betray him.”
“Do you mean you’re as close as brothers but not actually related?”
“We’re part of a larger foster family.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” she asked. “Hosteen Silver, our foster father, brought a total of six boys into his home. We came two at a time because we were hard cases, but he changed all our lives. What binds us now is stronger than blood ties—it’s respect for the man who taught us about family and turned us into the men we are today.”
“I have a feeling you’ve lived a very interesting life.”
“Maybe so,” he answered, shifting his attention to the computer once again.
“Tell me one more thing,” she said, sensing he was reluctant to talk about himself. “If you had to describe yourself, what would you say?”
“Devastatingly handsome, sexy, available and incredibly good at his job.”
“And humble.”
He laughed. “Do you want someone who backpedals when asked if he thinks he’s good, or someone who knows he is?”
“Okay, then let’s skip to something I don’t know,” she said, laughing.
“In the Army I served with military intelligence. I was trained to gather and interpret information used to evaluate risks and protect targets,” he said, then looked up and met her gaze. “You can trust me. While I’m on the job, nothing’s going to happen to you.”
There had been no hesitation in his voice. If nothing else, she knew he believed it.
“Yet you’re still afraid,” he observed.
She looked away, avoiding his steady gaze. “I just don’t want to be completely dependent on your skills—or anyone else’s—to survive. I need to shoulder at least some of that responsibility myself. Feeling helpless…it’s no way to live.”
“I hear you, but you also need to trust me. I can equalize the odds against you.”
“The person after me is biding his time and studying our reactions. He’s searching for something that’ll give him a clear advantage. He wants to make sure that next time he strikes, he’ll succeed,” she said in a whisper. “I can’t tell you how I know that, but I’m right. I feel it in my bones.”
“Then we’ll have to use those tactics against him.”
“How?” Holly heard the fear in her voice and swallowed hard before continuing, “I’m a planner. I feel better when I look ahead and know what I need to do. That keeps me ready.”
“Plans and tactics are good, but only if they don’t hem you in and give you a bad case of tunnel vision. To stay safe you need to keep your options open,” he said. “We’ll need to stay flexible, move fast and change our plans on the fly. An unpredictable target is harder to hit.”
“Okay, so what’s next?” she asked.
“Let’s go see Johnny Wauneka right now,” Daniel said, standing. “We’ll take him by surprise and see what we can get out of him.”
“People open up to me because I don’t intimidate them. Let me handle this once we get there.”
He smiled. “Works for me.”
Chapter Eight
Daniel enjoyed the company of women. He liked the way they moved and the soft scents that clung to them, stirring his senses. They brought adventure and challenges into his life. Yet women invariably ended up wanting more than he was willing to give—of his time or himself—so he’d learned to avoid long-term relationships.
When Martin had first suggested that he provide security for Holly, he’d wanted to turn the job down. It wasn’t part of his contract and he wasn’t legally bound to accept. It was one thing to help Holly in a time of crisis, and another to actually stick around for the long haul. He wasn’t a bodyguard—he was an analyst and instructor.
Yet something deeper had kept him from walking away. He admired Holly’s courage, and that vulnerability she tried so hard to keep hidden tugged at him. He knew what it was like to feel targeted and alone. His days in foster care off the Rez, before coming to live with Hosteen Silver, were permanently etched in his memor
y.
Holly’s streak of independence and the way she didn’t give up, even when the odds were stacked against her, drew him to her. He knew nothing could ever come of it, but despite logic, when he looked at her, he found himself wondering what she’d be like if he kissed her. Would she fight him like a wildcat, or melt against him with a soft sigh?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
He clenched his jaw. He knew better than to allow himself to get distracted. “Did you know Clyde Keeswood has a brother?” he said, changing the subject. “His name is Nelson. It popped up when I was looking at your case file.”
“I’ve never met him,” she said.
“He has no priors, but there are other databases I can access that might tell us more about him,” he said.
“I have no problems visualizing you as someone who spear-heads war games and training exercises, but a techno-geek behind a computer? That’s a tough one,” she said with a smile.
He chuckled. “These days the most serious security breaches take place online via hackers. A thumb drive smuggled into a crucial facility can contain software and viruses that could do as much damage to an organization as a bomb. In a year or so, I plan to have people working for me who can deal with those threats while I stay out in the field. I’ll be expanding my company and opening new offices in Phoenix and Denver.”
“That’ll mean you’ll always be on the go,” she said.
“Exactly,” he said. “It’ll be perfect, traveling, always facing new challenges.” He smiled. “Will you eventually move on to bigger things, too?”
“Expansion isn’t for me. I’ve finally found a place to call home and I’m happy here.”
“You could call many places home,” he said, watching her for a moment, then focusing back on his driving.
“To me, if it’s really home, there’s only one.”