“Who first?” Grace asked once they’d cleared the morgue. She checked her notes. “Sam Fisher?”
“Yes. He lives on the Hoh River. He used to make his living catching salmon but that was years ago. Not sure he still does, but at least we know where to find him.”
However, as they exited the building out the back door, they came face-to-face with someone Angelo wanted to see even less than Mya—her older brother, Sundance Jonson, who, judging by the uniform, was now the tribal police. Fabulous, the man hated him and he carried a gun.
“I wish I’d known they were going to call you. I’d have saved the Bureau the gas money and told them not to bother.” Sundance stood beside his Durango, as if knowing Angelo would be coming out that way, his face hard and unforgiving. Angelo swallowed a private sigh of annoyance. Was this a preview of what his time was going to be like here on the rez?
“Sundance,” Angelo said, giving the man the barest nod, which wasn’t returned. Forget this. They weren’t in high school anymore and Angelo wasn’t about to play a bunch of stupid posturing games. He started to walk past, but Sundance grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“Get your hand off me,” Angelo warned, his voice bordering on a growl. Grace stiffened, her hand snaking to rest lightly on her gun. He put Grace at ease with a glance.
“Or what?” Sundance said, not impressed or swayed.
“Or I’ll arrest you for you assaulting a federal agent,” Angelo answered coolly. Sundance smirked and dropped his grip, disgust written on every plane of the man’s face. “Got something to say to me?” Angelo asked. Oh, yes, the man had plenty to say and Angelo could tell none of it would be nice. He waited, not backing down an inch from that hard stare.
“Stay away from Mya,” Sundance said.
So much for keeping the questions to a minimum. There’d be no way in hell Grace would stop digging now. “Cool off, Sundance. I’m not here for anything other than the case.”
“So, am I to believe it was just plain bad luck that put you on this case?” Sundance asked, a subtle sneer to his tone.
“Yeah, something like that, but I’d say the bad luck was all mine. Don’t you think if I’d wanted to return I would’ve by now?”
Sundance shrugged. “I wouldn’t presume to understand anything you do.”
“Fine. Then take it from me, it wasn’t my choice to return. Are we through with the pleasantries?”
The weight of Sundance’s scrutiny bounced off Angelo’s shoulders. He’d long ago stopped caring what anyone from the reservation thought of him, and that included Mya’s brother. Sundance evaluated Angelo’s statement, and when he decided he believed him, some of the tension loosened from his taut jaw. “You on your way to talk to Sam?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Angelo said, but Sundance wasn’t backing down. He’d already climbed into his Durango, his mind set. Angelo swore under his breath and stalked to his own vehicle, Grace on his heels.
“Is there anyone on this miserable, wet piece of mud who likes you?” she asked when they’d climbed into the car. He refrained from answering. “That’s what I thought. What the hell happened here? I’ve always believed that old adage, ‘still waters run deep,’ but I never imagined that you might be the adage personified. You’ve got some major backstory, my friend, and I can’t wait to hear about it.”
“There’s no backstory worth listening to,” he told her, quietly stewing. He and Sundance had never been close but the man seemed to be taking Angelo’s return a bit more seriously than the situation warranted. Sundance had practically raised Mya when their alcoholic parents had bit the big one in a car accident, so Angelo had been facing down Sundance when it came to Mya since they were teens. He’d never imagined Sundance would still be this pissed off after fifteen years. Couldn’t anyone just let things lie?
“I disagree. I can’t wait to see who we run into next who likely wants to put your head on a pitchfork, or whatever it is you Indians do to your enemies.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered. “I never paid much attention to cultural-history lessons.”
That’d been Waylon’s forte.
Sam Fisher was easy to find, but on a reservation a square mile long, most people were.
“I just found him. I didn’t touch nothing and I called right away,” Sam said, biting the corner of his lip as if he were afraid the big, bad government was going to string him up for finding a dead agent on his property.
The river churned, swollen with spring runoff, the heavy current crashing into submerged rocks to erupt in violent spray. Nothing that went into that water was coming out alive, that was for sure. If the body hadn’t gotten caught on submerged tree branches, likely Byron Hicks would’ve washed out to sea.
Angelo roused himself to assure Sam he’d made the right decision. “Everything’s going to be all right, Sam. Just tell me what you know. Start from the beginning.”
Sam visibly settled, but Angelo could tell he was still shook up over the whole thing. “Nothing much to tell, I just come out here to do some fishing and there he was. At first I thought he’d fallen in somewhere upstream and just floated down here and maybe he was still alive, but when I got closer, he wasn’t the right color. He was all blue and pasty and I knew I was looking at a dead man. I called Sundance—he’s the law around here since Daniel retired—and I guess they called you when they found out he was an agent.” He twisted his fishing cap in his hand, peering up at Angelo to switch subjects. “So, does Mya know you’re in town? She’s a doctor, you know. Over at the clinic. She’s real good, too. Fixed me up when I got a lure stuck in my eyelid. Could’ve lost my eye,” Sam added, arching his brow for emphasis.
“Sorry, Sam. Not here for a reunion.”
Sam spared him a speculative look, then shrugged. “Not sayin’ nothing, just that she’s done good for herself. We’re all real proud of her.”
Angelo resisted taking the bait. Yes, the entire tribe was proud of Mya and ashamed of him. He got that message loud and clear, always had. But he wasn’t about to let Sam’s statement get under his skin. Not with Grace standing there soaking up every detail like a mop. Through the years, he’d been careful to keep his private life his own, yet within twenty-four hours of being on the reservation all his dirty laundry was spilling out for everyone to sort through and sniff. “Anything else, Sam?” he asked, adding quickly, “about the case,” when the older man looked ready to launch into something unrelated.
“No. That’s pretty much it.” Sam lifted his shoulders. “Not much I can say. I found him dead and don’t know how he got that way. Do you need anything else from me?”
“No. Thanks for your help,” Angelo said, noting the subtle shake of Sam’s head as he walked away, mumbling something under his breath that Angelo was certain he didn’t want to hear. Angelo returned to Grace. He was here to do a job, not play catch-up. Aside from the knowledge that Byron hadn’t been on duty when he’d died, there was little else he could find that would provide clues as to what had happened. He’d have to wait until forensics took a look at the trace evidence.
“What the hell was Hicks doing here in the first place?” Grace asked, clear distaste in her expression. The place had a melancholy charm, but only to those who didn’t mind being wet most of the time. Having grown up in the dry heat of Arizona, Grace wasn’t one of them. She shivered in her coat. “It’s not what I’d call a destination spot for vacationing. God, is it always this…dreary?”
“It has good fishing,” Angelo said, his gaze drawn to the river once more. Waylon had drowned in this river. Papa used to tell them the Hoh gave them life but it would take it too if they weren’t careful. Respect was the key to surviving. What a load of crap. Waylon had respected tradition and he’d still died choking on river water.
“There’s lots of places to fish aside from this tiny reservation,” Grace said, her mind focused on the case where his should’ve been but w
asn’t. “There had to be something else that drew him here. We ought to ask around.”
“Doubtful anyone even gave him the time of day. Whatever he was doing, he was doing on his own.”
“So I take it the tribe’s not big on tourists?” Angelo’s answering smirk caused her to chuckle. “Now I know where you get that sparkling personality of yours.”
At that Angelo allowed a small smile. Grace was right, though. While the fishing was decent here, outsiders weren’t welcomed with open arms and there were plenty of fishing holes elsewhere with more accommodating neighbors.
“What do we know about Hicks?” he asked, returning to the case.
“Decent agent, nothing on his record that stands out, good or bad. He did his job, kept his head down and clocked out at the end of the day. His wife said he left to go salmon-fishing and never came back. Then your buddy Sam found him dead, washed up on the bank.”
“He’s not my buddy,” Angelo clarified, irked that just because he was from the area, Grace—and everyone else in his department—assumed he was tight with the locals. If they knew the whole truth of it, they’d realize Angelo was the last person the tribe would open up to. Grace was getting the idea, seeing how the reception had been so far, but the cold shoulder was hardly likely to warm up.
In the eyes of the tribe, Angelo was a traitor.
Chapter 5
Mya finished her shift at the clinic and was at her locker changing to go home when Iris, her big, black wolf-hybrid, Saaski, on her heels, found her. Iris never went anywhere without the dog, including work, much to Mya’s consternation, but, seeing as Saaski had saved Iris’s life when a serial rapist had tried to kill her, Mya turned a blind eye to the dog as long as he didn’t bother the patients. “What a day, right?” Iris said, opening her own locker to grab her purse and keys. She reached in her purse to find a treat for Saaski who was waiting patiently for his venison jerky. “I’m still trying to wrap my brain around everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah, the caseload was pretty heavy. I thought for sure—”
“I’m not talking about the clinic,” Iris cut in, annoyed, pausing to feed Saaski the treat. “You know I’m talking about this stuff with Angelo and the FBI investigation. Don’t be deliberately difficult. You’re too smart for that and I would never buy it, so don’t bother.”
Mya stopped, aggravated that everyone had to talk about this topic when surely there were far more interesting things to consider in the world. Each patient she’d seen today had worn either a look of concern as if Angelo showing up was going to cause her to crack like an egg, or supportive anger, as if she needed their ire to bolster her own. By the end of the day, Mya’s nerves were frayed and she just wanted to go home. But she wasn’t about to let Iris know how deeply Angelo’s presence affected her so she lied through her teeth.
“Honestly, it’s just another day.”
“R-ii-ght, because finding a dead body on the banks of the river and your ex-fiancé showing up to investigate are things that happen all the time. C’mon.” Iris’s mouth twisted sardonically, as if daring her to go there. “Try again.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Okay, maybe not, but I meant it when I said Angelo being here doesn’t affect me. I’m more than over him,” she said, adding with a healthy dose of self-deprecation, “If I was still hung up on someone from fifteen years ago, I’d say I’ve got bigger problems.”
“You’re saying all the right things, but I know you. Angelo was a major part of your life and one that never gave you closure. Unresolved-love stuff is heavy, you know?”
Mya gave her friend a tired but wry expression. “Maybe for someone else. Like I said…I’ve moved on.” Iris didn’t seem convinced, but that was okay. Mya was more interested in getting home before some emergency called her back to the urgent care facility and completely ruined her plan for a long, uninterrupted soak in the bathtub with a glass of red wine in her hand and Moody Blues playing on the CD player.
“I still can’t believe he’s here,” Iris said, as if Mya hadn’t spoken. “In fact, when I heard, I thought for sure someone was pulling my leg, because why would he even dare to come back here after all this time? It’s not like he has a lot of good memories or even family to draw him home. Maybe if Waylon hadn’t died…”
Mya nodded, trying to appear unaffected, but it was difficult. Everyone on the reservation remembered that awful day when Waylon was pulled from the river with a bullet in his back and water in his lungs. He might not have died if he hadn’t fallen into the water. She’d been with Angelo when he’d received the news. It had been the worst shock of their lives. She couldn’t blame Angelo for wanting to leave, but he’d done more than leave, he’d abandoned them all. Angelo had been next in line to be hereditary chief, but he’d wanted nothing to do with his heritage and had made that abundantly clear when he’d split. She hitched a silent breath, trying to shake off the grip of her current mood, blaming it on fatigue.
“So…do you think you’ll talk to Angelo while he’s here?”
Mya shot Iris a cool look. “Why should I?”
“You were engaged,” Iris said simply, as if that carried any weight. “And crazy about each other. Like stars-in-your-eyes-in-love kind of crazy. I think this would be a golden opportunity to gain some closure.”
“It was a long time ago,” Mya reminded Iris with a hint of the irritation beginning to boil over. It had been fifteen years, she thought, gritting her teeth. Get over it already. “Oh,” she said, pretending she’d just remembered something important in the hopes of throwing Iris off her current track. “Tomorrow we have the second shipment of flu shots coming in. They were on back order so we have a lot of people waiting for them. Maybe you could—”
Iris stopped Mya with a dark look. “Nice try. If you’re so over Angelo why is your neck flushing?” Mya startled and her hand rose to her neck. Iris continued, “Listen, I’m worried about you. I hate to think that you’re hurting and holding it all inside. You’re right, fifteen years is a long time and it’s time to close the book on Angelo Tucker, don’t you think?”
“I closed the book the day he left,” Mya said, her teeth gritting even as tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not here, not now. “But I certainly don’t need everyone staring at me like I’m some kind of mental patient who’s going to lose her mind at any given moment. Everyone is making it far worse than it truly is. Remember how you felt when everyone seemed to know your business after the attack?” Iris stiffened but nodded. “Well, it’s just as uncomfortable for me. What I went through with Angelo was private and very painful. I don’t need anyone telling me how to handle my business.”
Iris took a moment to think over what Mya had said, and, when she nodded again, Mya knew she’d gotten through and relief followed. Of all the people on the reservation, Mya needed Iris solidly on her side, and that meant believing in her, too.
“Okay,” Iris conceded, apology in her eyes. “I’m just trying to help.”
“I know, but you don’t need to worry. I’m over Angelo. I promise.”
For the most part everything she was saying was true. Most days she could—and did—forget about Angelo. But there were other days when she could almost hear his voice in her ear, promising always to be with her, and feel his touch on her body, igniting a firestorm along her sensitive nerve endings. It was far too easy to fall into the trap of nostalgia, but she could always rely on the pain that would follow to jerk her back to reality.
Angelo had done more than break her heart. He’d betrayed their people. That wasn’t something she could forgive over a short, hey-how-you-been lunch date.
She grabbed her coat from her locker and slammed the door shut with perhaps more force than was necessary. “It doesn’t matter to me if Angelo is here. My interest in his comings and goings died the day he ran like a coward.”
Iris followed Mya as she exited the locker room, not quite ready to let it go, though she was considerably
gentler in her approach. “I know there’s a part of you that still cares, and that’s okay to admit.”
“What are you talking about?” Mya asked, not slowing her pace; if anything, she quickened it. “Angelo is part of my past, not my future. Should Sundance be worried about every old boyfriend you happen to run across?” she asked her friend pointedly, but Iris shrugged it off.
“If that’s so,” Iris continued, “why don’t you give Porter a real chance? I know for a fact that he likes you a lot.”
Porter Jacobs, a nice, endearingly straightforward man without a mean bone in his body…solid, dependable…nothing like Angelo. He didn’t stand her up, he didn’t have a temper, didn’t harbor bitterness from his childhood—and he didn’t make her heart race like Angelo once had. “What makes you think I haven’t?” she countered. The truth of the matter was that Porter had been slowly falling in love with her while Mya had simply been pleasantly enjoying his company. She had a feeling that if they continued along this vein, he’d pop the question, and she didn’t know what she’d do. If she were smart she’d say yes, because Porter was an excellent catch and she’d be stupid to let him go. She bit back a guilty sigh. If only her feelings about Porter were as strong as his were for her. She returned to Iris, smiling sweetly as she approached her car. “Iris, honey, I love you, but drop it, all right? I don’t care if Angelo is in town and I don’t care why he’s here. My association with that man ended a long time ago. As for Porter… I’m taking things slowly but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to the possibility of something deeper.”
Iris nodded and seemed to catch her drift well enough until Mya climbed into her car. “I’ll bet Angelo is staying at his grandfather’s,” she said in a rush, just as Mya closed the door. Mya glared from behind the glass and Iris shrugged. “Not that you care…just saying. In case, you know, you change your mind.”
Cold Case Reunion Page 3