Winter Hawk's Legend

by Aimée Thurlo

  He kept his gaze on the road. So, despite the fact that she was a career woman with her own company, it appeared that inside Holly beat the heart of a nest builder. She was the kind of woman he normally avoided—the home-and-hearth type.

  “Were you already living on the Rez when you were taken to Hosteen Silver’s home?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She waited patiently but when he didn’t elaborate, continued, “Sorry. Sometimes I cross the line between curiosity and just plain nosiness,” she said, then in a no-nonsense tone, added, “Now that we’re on the road, is there something you’d like me to stay on the lookout for besides an obvious tail? We need to stick to business.”

  Was that also a warning to him? If so, she was right. He wasn’t the type of man she needed. Yet there was an innocence about Holly, an optimism about life, that urged him to protect her, particularly from himself.

  He clenched his jaw. Though she was sitting close enough for him to touch, in the ways that mattered she was destined to stay out of his reach forever.

  “Earth calling,” Holly said after a long silence.

  “I heard your question,” he answered.

  “Then it must be the way you listen. You don’t move a muscle. It’s as if you were miles away.”

  “Nope, I’m right here, but I’m also monitoring everything around us,” he said. “Stillness is part of active listening.”

  She glanced behind them. “No one’s following us, right?”

  “No. I don’t miss much, but it would help if you’d keep an eye on vehicles parked beside the road. If you see anyone pulling out as we pass, or just standing there watching passing cars, let me know.”

  He saw her squirm, worried. “It’s just a precaution,” he said.

  They soon entered a run-down residential neighborhood. “I’m glad it’s broad daylight. This is one off-campus area I wouldn’t want to visit after dark,” she said.

  “You’re safe.”

  “You’re trying to make me feel better and I appreciate that, but I’m smart enough to know that we can always meet someone who’s bigger than you or better armed.”

  “Even so, I can meet trouble and stay on my feet.” He met her gaze for a second. “I’ll make sure you walk away untouched.”

  Her eyes grew wide and she gave him a shaky smile. “I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”

  “The other guy has more to worry about. I’m well trained and at the top of my game. If I had any doubts about that, I wouldn’t have agreed to help you find answers.”

  “I believe you,” she said after a beat.

  “Tell me more about your business, your company,” he said, keeping his voice casual. If he was going to protect Holly, he needed to know more about her. “I never accept jobs that go counter to what I believe in,” she said. “I also refuse to work as a blame retardant—covering up a wrong by drowning it in fancy words and justifications. If a company wants to misdirect the public, they need to hire someone else.”

  “What if you take a job, then find out things aren’t as aboveboard as you thought?”

  “Then I do what I think is right, even if it means returning my fee and canceling my contract.”

  He nodded, liking what he heard. It confirmed his overall impression of Holly. After Martin had asked him to let her sit in on their latest security training exercise, he’d done a background check on Ms. Gates. Although he’d found nothing unusual about her, there’d been volumes on her father. A professional gambler, he’d lived life half a step ahead of trouble.

  Daniel had met men like Clayton Gates before. They were always looking for that one big score at the tables. Yet even when they had a run of good luck, they’d lose it all by going back for more. They were addicted to the thrill of gambling, and it trapped them and their families in an endless cycle of empty promises and broken dreams. It was a roller-coaster ride that always ended up at the bottom.

  “We’re here,” Daniel said at last, parking in front of a small apartment complex. To the right of that was what looked like an abandoned house.

  “Which apartment is his? I don’t see any mailboxes.”

  “Actually, Wauneka lives in the house,” he answered. “I don’t like to park directly in front of a suspect’s home.”

  “To avoid placing yourself in the line of fire?” she asked.

  He nodded, liking the way she could put things together. That might come in handy somewhere along the way. “They also tend not to see you coming, so the subject has less time to escape out the back door.”

  “Remember that we’re trying to avoid putting him on the defensive. Think persuasion, not confrontation,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said. “If I sense trouble of any kind, I’ll tell you it’s time to go. Don’t argue, then, just do it.”

  “What kind of trouble could there be—?”

  “Keep in mind that this could be the home of the man who tried to kill you and failed. If so, he might try again. Once we go in, we play it by my rules.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  They went to the front entrance and knocked. A moment later a Navajo boy in his late teens came to the door. Though it was cold, he was wearing a short-sleeved sweatshirt and a loose pair of jeans.

  “I know you,” he said looking at Holly. “And you’re what, tribal Secret Service?” he added, looking at Daniel. “Guys, if someone hacked into the tribal network again, it wasn’t me. You’re wasting your time.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I’m Holly, and that’s not why we’re here, John. Or do your friends call you Johnny?”

  “John will do. What’s up?”

  “We just want to talk, John.”

  “Really? Why do I have a problem believing that?”

  “Could we come in? It’s kinda cold out here,” Holly said, folding her arms in front of her.

  “Yeah, okay,” Johnny said, backing inside and letting them enter. “But the only reason I’m letting you inside my private residence is because, unlike you two, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  Except for the sheepskin rug reminiscent of what you’d find inside a hogan, the living room looked more like a cheap store-front office than a residence, complete with a glowing electric space heater against a bare wall. There were three wooden folding chairs and a large dinner table that doubled as a desk. It stood against the wall on the opposite side of the room and was covered with stacks of manila folders and a take-out pizza box. A desktop computer was placed in its center, and beside it, an ink-jet printer and an open bag of potato chips. Next to the keyboard was a mouse and a tall can of one of those high caffeine energy drinks.

  Johnny sat on the sheepskin rug and gestured for them to do the same. As Holly started to sit down, he gave her a slow, calculating smile. “I hope you like rats. Steve’s AWOL right now.”

  She met his gaze, trying to figure out if he was purposely trying to freak her out. Refusing to react, she smiled back pleasantly. “I’ve had pet rats before, mostly classroom refugees. One was Hooded, a white and brown variety, and the other a big Dumbo. They’re called that because of the size of their ears. Those are really cute. Tell me more about Steve.”

  He seemed surprised, but after a beat, answered, “He’s large and white, just a big lab rat. He was going to be euthanized, so I adopted him.”

  Holly could see that he was disappointed in her reaction. He’d probably hoped that just the thought of a rat would send her running. “Do you know what I do for the tribe?”

  “Yeah, spit out sound bites to mislead the public and keep the investors happy. How else can you suck them in?”

  “Sounds like you’re the one adding the spin. Smart decisions require objectivity. Have you bothered to search out and study the facts?”

  “Facts, or fiction? I’ve read the materials you’ve released, but as the Diné say, everything has two sides. I want to know the other part—what you’re not mentioning. The spin you put on the process makes it sound great, but peopl
e like me won’t be satisfied with just PR feel-good statements. We’ll keep looking until we find the whole truth.”

  “Everything I’ve presented is accurate,” Holly said, keep ing her voice soft and nonconfrontational. “You’re looking for problems where none exist.” Holly got up, walked quickly to his computer and reached behind it.

  “Hey! Hands off! What do you think you’re doing?” He jumped up, but before he could rush to where Holly was, Daniel blocked him.

  Holly turned around a second later holding a large, white, domestic rat in her hands. “Steve, I presume?”

  Johnny relaxed, and Daniel stepped back, allowing Wauneka to take the rat.

  “He might have chewed through your cords,” Holly said.

  “Yeah, he does that from time to time. I’ve wiped them with chile sauce to discourage him, but I think he likes it hot. I better put him back in his cage.”

  As Wauneka carried the rat down the hall, Holly followed. On the way they passed a small bedroom that also doubled as an office. A second computer was on a desk, and a large cork board and a dry-erase board were mounted on the back wall.

  Holly, hearing Wauneka putting Steve in his cage, stepped into the second office and read what was written on the dry-erase board.

  “What the—” Daniel said, standing directly behind her.

  “Hey, you guys have no right to go in there,” Johnny said a moment later from the doorway.

  Holly stood her ground, staring at the names. One of them was hers. The others belonged to people associated with the plant—everyone from energy companies, private investors, to Martin Roanhorse and the tribal president.

  “What’s this all about?” she demanded, pointing.

  “It’s exactly what you see—a list of the tribe’s enemies,” he said. “Didn’t the word Enemies at the top give it away just a little bit?”

  “You decided to include the tribal president?” she asked.

  “He’s the one pushing the new natural gas extraction process.”

  Catching a glimpse of a strange mobile in the corner of the room by the window, Holly stepped over for a closer look. Little corn-husk dolls were hung by their necks with cords tied in miniature hangman’s nooses. They each had initials printed on them. One held her own, H.G.

  “What’s that—some kind of vision of the future for those you consider your enemies?” Daniel said before she could find her voice.

  “Is it just wishful thinking, or part of a hit list?” she managed after a pause.

  Wauneka shrugged and gave them a mirthless smile. “Naw, just motivation for the cause. It’s also my way of amusing myself.”

  “Was attacking Holly last night your version of entertainment, too?” Daniel demanded, staring into his eyes.

  Johnny’s expression changed to one of total confusion. “Attacking who, her?” he asked, then quickly added, “Man, are you nuts? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Daniel growled, taking a step closer.

  “Someone tried to strangle me,” Holly said in a softer voice, pointing to the bruises on her neck. “Don’t you watch the news? Or did you already know?”

  As if a door had slammed shut, Johnny’s expression went from alarm to closed, and impossible to read. He turned away and stepped out into the hall. “That’s it. Time for you two to leave,” he said, gesturing toward the living room.

  “Are you saying that you’re guilty, and you’d rather not comment without an attorney present?” Daniel pressed, following him into the hall.

  “Leave.” Johnny went to grab Holly’s arm, but Daniel cut him off, forcing his back against the wall. “Careful,” he growled. “Don’t touch the lady.”

  “I want you two out of here—now.” Johnny gestured toward the front of the house. “Move.”

  “If you’re guilty, John, save yourself some time and a lot of grief. Come clean now,” she said in the same soft tone.

  He sidestepped her, his hands up near his shoulders for Daniel’s sake. Once he was back in the living room, he stopped by the front door and spun around to face them. “When I fight, words are my only weapon. You can believe that or not—your choice—but you’re going to have one heck of a time proving I’m guilty of anything. Last night I attended a very public forum at the community center for everyone who has concerns about the project. A lot of people saw me there, including Clyde Keeswood.”

  “In other words, people who’d alibi you anyway,” Daniel shot back.

  “Maybe, but the fact remains that you can’t prove I was someplace I wasn’t.” Johnny opened the door, then waited only until they stepped out onto the porch before slamming it shut.

  Holly glanced at Daniel as they walked to his SUV. “So much for a pleasant chat.”

  “It was worth the trip. We uncovered some interesting facts.”

  “Despite what we saw in there,” Holly said, getting into the passenger’s seat, “I don’t think he’s responsible. He strikes me as a loner, but not a killer,” she said as they drove away from Johnny’s place.

  “Why, just because he rescued a rodent?” Daniel made a face. “That thing was big enough to eat a cat.”

  “It’s harmless. They’re raised for docility. That’s why they can be handled in laboratory situations.”

  “I guess I’m used to the alley-trash-can-feral kind—complete with big teeth and the plague.”

  “That’s a different creature altogether,” she said. “Wild animals tend to act and react accordingly,” she said. “All things considered, I think Johnny’s just a lonely man who’s trying to find a sense of purpose.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard predators and killers described, even by their next-door neighbors, as really nice people who seemed perfectly harmless.”

  “Maybe so, but in this case, I think what we’re seeing is a man whose intellect and personality alienate him. All he’s really got are his computers, a pet rat and the hope that he’s doing something to protect the tribe. His home was…soulless.”

  “That’s precisely what makes him dangerous,” Daniel said.

  Chapter Nine

  As they reached the highway, Holly shifted in her seat and faced Daniel. “Why don’t we go see Nelson Keeswood next? Clyde isn’t going to give us anything useful, but maybe his brother will be more cooperative.”

  Daniel pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. Using his smart phone, he accessed a couple of databases. “Nelson lives with his brother, Clyde. I recognize the address. Clyde works at Car Magic in Shiprock, so he’s not likely to be there now, but Nelson’s a bartender at the Desert Oasis in Hartley. He works nights and might be at home.”

  It took them twenty-five minutes to reach a rectangular-shaped housing development several miles south of Shiprock, off Highway 491. Daniel drove up to the last house in the southwestern corner of the development. In the distance to the east was the southernmost tip of Hogback, protruding from the desert like the rock-hard spine of a sand dragon. To the south lay more barren, dry desert, punctuated by tabletop mesas.

  “This looks to be a new Modernist area,” Daniel said, after studying the isolated development.

  “Good, then we won’t have to sit in the car and wait to be invited in,” she said.

  As they got out of Daniel’s vehicle, a short, thin, young Navajo man came out of the house and stood by the front door, waiting.

  “I heard you drive up,” he said when Daniel and Holly reached the front porch. “Now that I see you up close, I recognize you, too.”

  “Have we met before?” Holly asked him.

  “No, but my brother and I are familiar with everyone who’s associated with the natural gas plant and the new projects.”

  “That’s one of the reasons we’re here. I wanted a chance to talk to you away from the crowds where you don’t have to play a particular position. Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do my best to give you an honest answer.”

  “What are the other reasons you c
ame?” he asked. “This isn’t a PR visit.”

  “I’m hoping we can help each other out,” Holly said honestly.

  “Why would I want to help you?” he countered.

  “After all the mistakes that have been made in the past, I can understand why your group is suspicious of new industries, but resorting to violence isn’t the answer.”

  He considered it for a moment. “All right. Come in and let’s talk.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and went inside the small foyer, Daniel half a step behind her.

  As soon as Daniel stepped into the house, Nelson blocked his way. “You’re the security expert the plant hired. Why are you here?”

  “To watch, listen and understand,” Daniel said.

  Holly could see that Nelson wasn’t satisfied with Daniel’s answer. “You mentioned security. Well, frankly I asked Mr. Hawk to come with me because I’ve never been to this neighborhood, which is out in the middle of nowhere. Threats have been made against me, you may have heard the news, so I didn’t want to come alone.”

  Nelson nodded, then led them into the adjoining living room and sat down. A half-dozen hand-painted protest signs attached to wood lath handles were stacked against the wall. “I get my share of threats, too.”

  She hadn’t expected this. “What do you mean?”

  “New gas exploration will mean jobs. Some say it’s better to have money for groceries today than it is to worry about some undefined future. What people don’t understand is that it all catches up to you.”

  While she was concentrating on Nelson, Daniel moved to a window and stood there, looking outside. Daniel’s apparent lack of interest seemed to help Nelson relax.

  “Have the threats against you been strictly verbal?” Holly asked, wondering if Daniel had purposely walked away, or whether he was searching for something or someone outside.

  “Yeah, just words, so far, anyway,” Nelson said. “The problem is that many of our people live day to day, barely getting by. The Rez has fifty-six percent unemployment and forty-three percent of us live below the poverty line.”

  “Then doesn’t the immediate need—that of jobs—supersede a danger that might never materialize?”