applewood-smoked pork. I have to say that boy can cook.”
Boy? Charly had to be at least sixty-five, but probably closer to seventy.
Of course, like everything else age was relative. These people acted as if they were barely forty, Sara thought. Maybe it was something in the water. Or maybe it was clean air, clear skies and basic human kindness.
She took down a plate, loaded two burritos and slid them into the microwave while Rosa studied her pajamas.
The older woman nodded. “Jesse likes pink,” she murmured. “He told me that last Christmas.”
Sara definitely didn’t need any matchmaking activity. “He’s nice, Rosa. I’ve been worried about my sister, and Jesse is helping me find her. But that’s all. It’s nothing...personal.”
“Isn’t it?” Rosa smiled and shrugged in a way that meant she wasn’t buying this casual story, not for a second.
Another car pulled up outside. Boots tapped across the porch. This time it was Jesse who put his head inside. “Sara, is everything okay?”
“Just fine. I’m making coffee and breakfast burritos, courtesy of Charly. Come in.” She crossed the room, frowning at him, and lowered her voice. “Did you sleep outside in your cruiser all night?”
“I did.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “I was worried about you.”
“You should have told me.”
“Why? It was the right thing to do. No need to explain.”
He was a hard man to argue with. The intense way he studied her face was impossible to ignore. Sara felt as if the ground shifted a little. They didn’t feel like strangers now.
There was more than trust growing between them. She saw that he had a scratch on his jaw, and she raised her fingers, touching it gently. “You cut yourself.”
The muscles at his jaw locked. Emotion swirled through his eyes for a moment. “Shaving. Not the easiest thing to do in the dark.”
Sara didn’t take her hand away, savoring the warmth of his skin and the ripple of muscles at his jaw. She shook her head. “Idiot,” she said softly.
He nodded. “You may be right.”
Rosa and Charly were talking next door in the living room. Sara realized she was standing very close to Jesse, and that he was staring at her mouth.
He had said that he liked her mouth. Sara wondered what he would do if she—
Outside, another car pulled up. A door slammed, and more boots crunched across the gravel drive.
“Jesse?”
Jesse opened the door to a man in a deputy’s uniform. “Right here, Miguel.”
“We need you in town. That paperwork you ordered just came in from Mexico. And there’s something from the NCIC.”
“I’ll be right there.” Jesse looked down at Sara and slid a curve of hair off her cheek. “Afraid I’m going to miss that burrito and coffee. I have to go. You can follow me into town.” His gaze slid over her from head to toe, and his eyes glinted as if he liked what he saw. “Nice pajamas,” he murmured. “I like pink. I especially like it on you.”
Then he took a step back.
Almost instantly his face became unreadable. He looked at the road and called to the two people in the living room, “Why don’t you two take Sara over to Liz Stone’s house before you go? You know where she leaves her key. Show Sara inside and let her look around. I’ve already searched the house, but maybe she’ll see something in there that I overlooked.” He studied Sara and a muscle moved at his jaw. “If you find anything, call me via the dispatcher. After that, you need to pack. Charly will get you settled. I don’t want you up here alone any longer.”
* * *
Jesse frowned at the papers spread over his desk.
The statements had come through from Liz Stone’s credit cards and cell phone.
There was nothing. Stone-cold zero. She hadn’t used her cards in the past six days. No one had stolen them and tried to use them in her place. Her cell phone activity had stopped eight days earlier.
Jesse scanned the other documents on his desk, including current data on illegal smuggling in the state. Ten days earlier a farm truck had collided with a drunk driver on a rural road outside Tucson. The drunk had been untouched, his car totaled. The only witness said that there had been a little drizzle when the farm truck had overturned, and people were crowded into the truck bed. Footprints at the scene confirmed that there had been almost two dozen people riding on the truck. All of them were gone by the time the police arrived.
Like water spilled in the darkness, lost in the quiet Arizona night.
Jesse stared down at the photographs from the accident site. Shoe prints were stamped in the damp ground. Boots, athletic shoes.
He saw another print. An ornate B above a capital V.
Sara had told him about a similar logo on the footprints she’d seen in the wash. Was this simple coincidence, or were they putting together another solid clue?
Miguel Rodriguez, the young deputy, cleared his throat. “There’s something else, Jesse. I sent the photographs of that blanket via e-mail to my cousin in Mexico City, just the way you asked. His specialty is textile art, and he said there’s no question about it. The blanket is Oaxacan. He can tell us the village and even the family specializing in that pattern.” The deputy rubbed his neck. “He asked a friend to check in the area. Only three families weave that kind of bird and mountain designs, and one of the granddaughters disappeared about two weeks ago. She’s only seventeen, Jesse. She had a three-month-old baby with her. They say she had a baby blanket with a pattern that sounds a lot like the one you showed me.”
Jesse felt a little wave of excitement as he finally made traction on the case. “Nice job, Miguel. Let’s get everything you can on this young woman. Where was she last seen? What do the police assume to be the cause of her disappearance? Any known relatives in Arizona? You know the drill.”
“Already working on it.” The young, handsome detective frowned. “Something else you should know.” He cleared his throat. “I saw Hannah Winslow up in Flagstaff a few times. She was doing research at the university library. We had coffee, talked. She’s—nice. Just thought I should tell you.”
Jesse rocked back in his chair. “How did she strike you? Did she seem worried or bored?”
The deputy shook his head. “Not bored. She was all fired up about this idea of a service-exchange program to help the elderly in Coconino County. I don’t need to tell you how hard it is for people who are isolated with no transportation. Hannah said she had been reading up on it, and she and Liz were trying to start something official. They hoped to visit Baltimore and meet the people who had set up a similar program there.”
“Liz never said a word about it to me. Nor to anyone else, so far as I know.”
Miguel shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. “Hannah asked me not to say anything yet. She said Liz didn’t want to fall flat on her face before they had all the details worked out. You know how stubborn Liz can be.”
“Tell me about it.” Jesse looked up as the dispatcher waved from the front of the office.
“Got something for you, Jesse. There’s a Navajo elder by the name of Albert Begay, lives up near Chinle. He says he needs to talk to you right away. Something about Liz Stone.”
“You can put the call through here to my desk, Maryanne.”
“Not a call, Jesse. He’s out in the waiting room with his daughter.”
Jesse ushered the white-haired man and his daughter into a quiet room, then sat down across from them. “Mr. Begay, I understand that you came here about Liz Stone.”
The elderly man nodded. “I do not like to bother anyone, but I am worried. Liz was to meet me in Flagstaff. She seemed anxious on the phone the day she called me. First she was excited. She told me she was working on a project to help older adults. I’ve never heard her so excited bef
ore,” the man said quietly. “She told me not to say anything yet, not until she was ready to make these things public. Then she asked me if I could meet her about something else. She grew worried then, but she would not discuss it on the phone. She planned to come north last week and meet me in Flagstaff, but she missed the appointment. I have tried calling her many times, but never had an answer.”
“What did she want to meet you about, Mr. Begay?”
“She asked me to bring my son, who is with the border patrol south of Tucson. I think she wanted to get advice from him.” He stared at Jesse for a long time. “She is a determined person, Deputy McCloud. When she did not contact me, I began to wonder. Now...I am worried. Maybe I should have come here sooner, but I kept hoping I would hear from her.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of problem she had?”
The old man shook his head. “Only that she wanted my son to be present. She changed the date so that we would be certain he could come. From this I think her problem involves immigration. I can tell you no more than that.” The older man stood up. “If I can be of help, please call me. My daughter has written down the number for you. Now I must go.” But he did not move. His dark eyes were troubled. “Liz Stone has been a good friend to me. Her generosity has helped many people. Find her, Deputy McCloud. She has much good work to be done. I can feel this clearly. But you do not have much time. This also I can sense.” The tall man looked at Jesse and then said another phrase. It was low and soft, ancient words in an ancient tongue.
After he left, Jesse turned to his daughter. “I appreciate you coming. We’ll do everything possible to find Liz Stone. But what was the last thing your father said?”
“It is an old saying among the Dineh,” the young woman explained. “‘The Coyote is always waiting, and the Coyote is always very hungry.’”
As Jesse held the piece of paper with the old man’s number, he had a sudden image of the official telegram notifying him of his sister’s death in Afghanistan, where she had been serving only a month as a humanitarian aid worker.
His hand tightened. He wasn’t going to lose Liz Stone or Sara’s sister. No matter if he had to walk every inch of that wash with Marlow, tracking them all the way to the next county, he would find them.
But every instinct told him that time was running out.
* * *
Clouds blocked the sun. Above the cliffs, a hawk cried shrilly.
Hannah Winslow’s throat was raw and her wrists hurt. She was in a dark room with her hands bound. She would have given her bank account for a full glass of water.
But the men with the rifles guarding the little shack at the mouth of the canyon kept the water jugs for themselves, offering only limited amounts to their captives. Their scant daily meal of bread and dried fruit left her stomach growling, but the thirst was starting to drain Hannah. Her head ached constantly and her mouth felt raw.
She glanced over at the woman sleeping restlessly at the opposite wall of the shed. Liz Stone was tough, but their climb through the canyons had nearly done her in. Despite Hannah’s arguing with their captors, they refused to release the older woman or give her a bottle of water for her own use.
Hannah’s argument had earned her a split lip and a bruised face. Now her mouth was covered by a gag. But even with her hands bound, she managed to turn and pull the torn blanket up to cover Liz. The sleeping woman reminded Hannah of her grandmother—tough, quiet and stubborn. Hannah was prepared to do anything to protect Liz from these vicious criminals who preyed on anyone in their path.
Someone in Sedona would discover they were gone and come looking for them, Hannah thought. And there was her sister. Sara would worry when she didn’t hear from Hannah. Her sister was a worrier, and no one was more reliable.
Hannah took a deep breath, remembering the message she had left back in the wash. She’d had only minutes to act before their captors herded them up, driving them into the wash like sheep. Hannah had heard the men mention a place in English and then again in Spanish. Her high school Spanish was limited but adequate for the translation.
Cross of the Eagles.
They were being taken to a remote canyon there. Hannah prayed that Sara would see her message in the wash and understand it.
Sara had to come.
Hannah closed her eyes as exhaustion hit her, more powerful even than fear. She needed to sleep while she could. Some of the men had left early that morning on an errand that seemed important. She hadn’t been able to hear what they’d said, but they’d seemed edgy.
She prayed that her sister would hurry.
* * *
Jesse was on the phone with Liz Stone’s son when Miguel sprinted down the narrow row of desks. “Jesse, the dispatcher has Charly on the phone. All hell’s breaking loose up on Navajo Ridge. Deputy Harris has been shot, and Rosa is hurt.” Miguel was already unlocking his desk drawer, digging for his rifle cartridges. “I couldn’t get a clear story because Charly was yelling.” The deputy pulled on his jacket. “But he said that Sara’s gone.”
CHAPTER
SIX
Jesse drove north, forcing his mind to stay calm and logical, but it wasn’t easy. These were his friends, people he’d known for years. Liz, Charly, Rosa, the deputy who had been shot.
And Sara...
No emotion. He couldn’t afford any distraction.
The dispatcher’s voice crackled over his car radio. “Jesse, I’ve got Charly on the phone again. He says that he’s going after her. He says he can’t wait—”
“Patch him through, Maryanne.”
Charly was still distraught, but his panic had given way to anger. “Jesse, I’m going up into the canyon. If I hurry I can probably find her and—”
“You’ll get yourself killed, Charly. I’m on my way. Stay there and keep an eye on Rosa.”
“But—”
“Do not leave.”
* * *
When Jesse pulled up the drive to the cabin, the first thing he saw was the wounded deputy sitting up against a tree. His right arm hung motionless at his side and his eyes were closed, but he was alive. Jesse stopped the car and knelt by the officer. In the distance he could hear the ambulance on its way. “How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better, Jesse. There were three of them. They must have been in a car parked nearby. Marlow heard them and set up a racket. Sara went after Marlow, and suddenly all hell broke loose. Someone started firing from beyond those cottonwoods over there. I returned fire, and then I was hit. I must have blacked out. I’m sorry, Jesse—they took her.”
“And we’ll get her back. Now you need to relax. There’s the ambulance.”
Jesse stood up and stepped back as two medics ran up the drive. Then he saw Charly stride around the side of the cabin, his face pale.
“They went north, Jesse. Up the wash.”
“You saw them?”
“No, but that’s where Marlow was, and I heard them in the grass. We need to—”
“I need you to stay here and help get things sorted out, Charly. I’m going on alone.”
Charly followed Jesse back to the cruiser, his face hard with anger. “You can’t do this alone. You’re going to need backup.”
Jesse was already changing into a camouflage jacket and tugging a big khaki bag over his shoulder. “I don’t have time to argue, Charly. Every second we waste gives them more time to hide. I need to go talk to Officer Rodriguez and brief him before I—”
Charly blocked Jesse’s path. “There’s one more thing you should know. Right before we were to leave, Sara told me she’d found something in a photograph she took yesterday. It was bothering her, so she went out to have one last look before we left for town. I should have stopped her. If only I had left fifteen minutes earlier—”
“No point worrying about what mig
ht have been, Charly. Now, go on. What did she find?”
“She said it was some kind of code she and her sister made up as girls. They’d hide from each other in the woods and leave messages using rocks and sticks to spell out words. Sara saw one of those messages in the wash. It was a pile of rocks not too far from the place where she found that baby blanket, but it didn’t make sense. The first part was three men and danger. Then it said something like bird and cross.” Charlie scratched his head. “She was going north into the wash to see if she could find any more messages from her sister. I could hear Marlow somewhere up ahead of her in the bushes. Then Rosa shouted, and I heard a rifle. When I looked around, Sara was gone.”
“I’ll find her.” Jesse shoved a pair of gloves and a compass into his pocket. Then he checked to be sure that his two canteens were secure. “Now I’ve got to go talk to Officer Rodriguez, Charly. You two can fill in the other officers when they get here.”
“But what did it mean? Is bird and cross some kind of code?”
Jesse stopped walking. “Not bird. She could have meant eagle—as in Eagle Crossing.”
Charly shaded his eyes and looked north where the red cliffs towered above the cabin. “There’s a box canyon in Eagle Crossing. It would make a good spot to hide, and there’s no way to get a truck in there, not even one with four-wheel drive. We’ll have to get horses.”
“Tell the officers exactly what you’ve told me, Charly.”
“What are you going to do?”
Jesse opened a pocket in the canvas bag. He pulled out a coil of rope and slid it over his shoulder. “I’m going up the one way they won’t expect me.” His fingers smoothed the heavy coils as he turned toward the trees. “I’m heading up past the old Sinagua ruins, over the rock arch and then straight up the cliff.”
* * *
They had taped Sara’s hands behind her. She was blindfolded, stumbling over gravel and ruts in the sandy trail. Every time she swayed a man cursed and dug a gun into her ribs.
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