by Aimée Thurlo
Preston nodded approvingly. “Sometimes following protocol is the only way to go.”
She shrugged. “Evan Thomas, my supervisory inspector, put two deputy marshals on me, but they couldn’t find any evidence that I was being followed. Neither did I. Eventually I was called to Evan’s office. The consensus that came down the chain of command was that I’d been working the Lester case too long and hard. I was given a choice. I could take leave and see the shrink, or accept another case, like the hunt for Miller.”
“You were making certain people nervous,” Paul said.
“Yeah, that’s the way I saw it, too, but all I had was a gut feeling and a few random glances at a careful stalker—a man.”
“Could it have been Miller?” Paul asked.
“Maybe, I only got a glimpse or two. Without solid evidence, there was no way for me to prove any of it. But the guy had some serious training. Three of us couldn’t work him into a corner.”
“And now your supervisory inspector is assuming you’re paranoid,” Preston said. “But based solely on the facts, his theory about tonight’s shooting at least has some merit. In the shooter’s eyes, Paul’s an easier target once his backup is taken out.”
She shook her head. “Experienced snipers learn to focus and filter out distractions. If Paul had been his target, the bullets would have been directed toward him first. He wouldn’t have wasted the opportunity to take him out. More details—Paul was closer, and I was moving away from the shooter’s location. If Paul was the target, I certainly wasn’t in the way, blocking his line of fire. If anything, it was the other way around.”
“I agree with your conclusions,” Daniel said.
“So here’s what I think we should do, though admittedly, it carries some risk,” she said. “I want to gather up photos of local criminals with the right weapons training and background, then take those to Annie. Let’s see if she can ID any of them as ‘Chuck.’ If she can’t, then we go back to searching for Miller.”
“That’s a good idea,” Paul said.
“Why don’t you access the photos from my computer here?” Daniel asked Preston.
“Yeah, might as well. It’ll save time,” he said.
“I’m going to call the rehab center and get an update on Annie,” Paul said, reaching for his cell phone and moving away.
Kendra remained with Preston and Daniel, and a few minutes later, Paul rejoined them, a somber look on his face. “Bad news.”
Something in his tone made Kendra’s blood turn to ice. “What’s wrong?”
“Annie’s gone.”
Chapter Nine
Kendra swallowed hard. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
“It looks like she just split,” Paul said. “She was at a group counseling session when she excused herself. They never saw her after that, so they think she may have slipped out the side door.”
“That wouldn’t have been hard to do,” Preston said. “She was in protective custody—she wasn’t a prisoner. A street-wise person like Annie Crenshaw would have found it easy to give them the slip.”
“The center reported her absence to the P.D. about an hour ago. The D.A. was notified since Annie is a material witness to a crime,” Paul said. “Officers checked out the gym where she’d been crashing, but they didn’t find her.”
“What about her cell phone?” Kendra asked. “Let me call her, or better yet, Paul, you do it. You had more of a connection with her.”
He dialed, but no one answered. “All I’m getting is her voice mail. Let’s stop by the alley where we first found her. Maybe she’s working the streets again. Or maybe we can find somebody who’s seen her and pick up a fresh lead.”
“Good idea,” Kendra said. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll put a BOLO out on her,” Preston said.
Daniel was the last to speak. “Wait a minute, guys. I’ve got an idea. Give me her cell number, Paul. If her phone’s still on, I may be able to track the signal.”
“You’ve got equipment that can do that?” Kendra looked over, eyebrows raised.
Daniel shrugged.
“Don’t ask,” Paul said, leading Kendra to the door. “Let’s go. If he gets something, he’ll let us know.”
They were on their way a short time later. “We’ll be getting there while people are still out on the streets so that’ll help. If she’s not there, we can ask around,” she said.
They arrived a short time later and walked the alley from Third to Fourth Street, but couldn’t locate Annie. Although they searched the area themselves and talked to the working girls, no one had seen her.
Soon they began cruising the neighboring streets in Paul’s truck. There was heavy traffic around a city park sheltered on all four sides by multiple-story buildings.
“This is a good place for the street people to hang out away from the cold,” he said.
“This park is more sheltered than the area around Fourth Street. With those scanty outfits, the women must be freezing this evening,” she said. “I just don’t understand what makes them choose the life.”
“They tell themselves it’s temporary, and that things are going to change for them real soon. That hope is sometimes all they’ve got to hold on to. Remember the movie Pretty Woman? The little girl who dares to dream of bigger and better things is still inside these women. That’s what gets them through the day.”
It was the gentling of his voice that captured her attention most. The way he’d treated Brandy and the others may have been rooted in something more than compassion. She had a strong feeling that there was a lot more to Paul’s story. She wanted to ask him about it, but this wasn’t the time for distractions.
“There’s Kat, the brunette we saw before,” Kendra said. “She just came out of that apartment building.”
Paul pulled over to the curb. Kat and two other women were standing near the street corner as he and Kendra approached.
Kat looked over at them and managed a shaky smile. “Slow, cold night,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You still looking for Annie?”
Paul nodded. “Have you seen her?”
“She came by about ten minutes ago. She said she needed quick cash to get out of town. Got lucky, I guess, ’cause she scored a ‘date’ almost immediately.”
“You get a good look at the vehicle—and the john?” Kendra pressed.
“It was an old van, Chevy or a Dodge. The guy had a beard, neatly trimmed, matching dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses.”
“What about the van? Can you describe it?” Paul asked her.
“Like from the eighties. It was faded blue with one of those chrome ladders in the back and a luggage rack on the roof.”
“Did you happen to catch the license plate?” Paul asked.
“No, sorry,” she said, shivering.
Paul fished a few bills from his wallet. “Here you go, Kat. Call it a night, go home, and get warm.”
“Thanks, Paul. If you ever need anything, information...or whatever...just drop by.”
“Take care of yourself, Kat.”
As she walked off, Kendra gave Paul a gentle smile. “You’re not an undercover minister or something like that, right?”
He shook his head, chuckling. “No. I just know what it’s like to be alone, miserable and afraid. It’s something you never forget.”
She wanted to know more, above and beyond the cold compilation of facts that were in his file, but before she could ask, he got down to business again.
“We need to work this block and talk to anyone who might have seen that van,” he said.
“Let’s split up. It’ll go faster.”
Kendra asked everyone she saw on her side of the street, but no one wanted to talk to her or get involved. By the time she joined Paul again, she knew at a glance he had nothing new to share either.
“I have a real bad feeling about this,” Kendra said.
He nodded slowly. “There are hundreds of old vans in the Four Corners. Finding on
e based solely on the description we got is going to be tough.”
“Even if we did, it doesn’t mean the owner was driving it. It could have been stolen.”
“Let’s follow up on it from that angle, but meanwhile let’s get out of this wind. I’ll call Preston as we walk back to the truck and have him check the hot sheet. He’ll put out a BOLO on the van, too,” he said.
Paul brought out his phone but was forced to leave a voice mail.
Kendra’s teeth were chattering by the time they got inside the truck. She wrapped Paul’s leather jacket even more tightly around her and aimed the heating vent toward her. “Gusts like those get inside your clothing and chill you to the bone.”
“The Navajo People say Wind’s the messenger of the gods. Very little deters him.”
“Is Wind supposed to bring good news or bad?” she asked.
“It brings...change.”
“A nasty wind like this one, cold and bitter, can’t bring anything good,” she said, and shuddered, still cold.
“To those who’ll remain outside, probably not. Be glad we’ll have food to eat and a warm place to sleep tonight.”
Again she heard that haunted tone in his voice. “You sound like someone who knows firsthand what it’s like to be hungry and cold.”
“I do. It happened to me more times than I care to remember.”
She started to ask him more, but just then Paul’s phone rang. It was Preston.
Kendra watched Paul, lost in thought. Before flying down to New Mexico she’d studied former Deputy U.S. Marshal Paul Grayhorse’s file extensively. Yet the longer she was around him the more she realized that those cold facts didn’t really tell Paul’s story.
Paul glanced over at her as he was placed on hold. “Preston’s checking the local and regional hot sheet. Let’s see if he gets a hit on that van.”
They didn’t have long to wait, and with Preston’s permission, Paul put him on speaker.
“Okay, here’s what I got,” Preston said. “We’ve had no reports of a stolen blue van in Hartley, but I broadened the search and found one in Durango, which is less than an hour away. The report is about two hours old, and, according to a witness, the van was last seen heading south.”
“Toward New Mexico—and here,” Paul said.
“So what are you thinking, bro?” Preston asked.
“Annie would have avoided ‘Chuck’ at all costs—unless he wore a disguise, which is one of Miller’s areas of expertise,” Paul said. “The fact that the john who picked her up had a beard and glasses...” He paused for a moment. “If we don’t find Annie, she’s as good as dead.”
“I’ll send additional units to the area, but we had a shooting outside a restaurant on the east side less than an hour ago. That gunman’s still at large, so most of our available officers are there.”
“Annie’s an important witness,” Paul said. “She’s our only link to whoever’s after me.”
“I know, bro, but she’s missing because she skipped out on our protection. We offered her a deal—we’d drop the B&E against her in exchange for her testimony and her ID’ing this ‘Chuck’ guy. Now that she’s on the run, she’ll lay low,” Preston said. “I’ll get a cruiser to work a grid pattern originating from the park, but for now that’s all I can do.”
After the call ended, Paul weighed their options. “I want to keep searching the area south of the bus depot for that van.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Paul drove slowly around the old, run-down neighborhoods south of downtown. It was late. The few businesses around were closed, and most of the residences had only their porch lights on.
“The wind’s really picked up,” Kendra said as a hard gust slammed against the pickup. “I think we’re in for snow.”
He looked at the fast-moving, dark gray cloud bank low to the ground, coming in from the west. “The cold front is passing through, but all it’ll bring will be blowing dust and virga—rain that never makes it to the ground. We’re going into the third year of drought in New Mexico.”
Paul hit three red lights in a row as he drove toward the old river bridge. As they approached the Turquoise Lights Motel, he slowed down and surveyed the parking lot.
“Over there, on the café side, by the trash bins,” Kendra said, pointing.
Paul turned the truck around, then approached the big green Dumpsters. As he drew closer, a faded blue van became clearly visible in the floodlight mounted above a small loading dock. “It matches the description perfectly, down to the luggage rack and ladder in the back.”
“We need to move in,” Kendra said, reaching for her weapon. “Call for the closest backup.”
“No,” Paul said. “Let’s not divert a unit unless we’re sure. No one’s visible in the van, and it’s just sitting there with the driver’s side window rolled down. Maybe it belongs to someone who works in the café. Let’s go take a closer look.”
“Okay, but be ready for surprises,” she warned.
After parking so his own vehicle provided cover for them, Paul brought out his pistol.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Slipping around, he advanced from the rear of the van toward the passenger’s side, his head low. If anyone raised up to look out, he’d see them in the side mirror.
Seconds later, he reached the window and looked inside. The keys were still in the ignition, but the bench-style backseat was empty.
“Clear in front,” he called out.
Kendra was at the back of the vehicle, her weapon ready as Paul came around to join her.
Giving her a nod, Paul reached for the back handle and yanked it open. Kendra stepped up, her gun aimed at the interior.
“Crap.” She lowered her weapon slowly. “We’re too late.”
Chapter Ten
Paul expelled his breath in a long hiss as he looked at Annie’s lifeless body crumpled on the floor of the van. She was fully clothed, her hair in disarray. The loop of wire used to strangle her had cut deeply into Annie’s neck, leaving a caked over pool of blood on the thinly carpeted floorboard.
“She hasn’t been dead for long, and she fought him. See the defensive wounds on her arms?” Kendra said softly.
“I’ll call it in.” Paul spoke to his brother, then after about a minute, ended the call. “Preston told us to stay and protect the scene until officers arrive. After that, he needs us back at the station so he can take our statements.”
“Better step back. We need to preserve the evidence,” Kendra said.
He did as she’d asked. “We can still take a look from here,” he said, then went back to his pickup and returned with a powerful flashlight. Standing about ten feet away, they both studied the interior.
“There’s no blood splatter or scuff marks on the floorboard. He must have killed her outside the van, then tossed her into the back,” Kendra said.
He turned off the light and stepped farther away. He was no Navajo Traditionalist, and he wasn’t worried about the chindi, the evil in a man that was said to linger earthbound after death. Yet being around the dead still gave him the creeps.
Paul returned to his pickup with Kendra, then leaned back against the cab watching the van. From here, neither of them could see the body, which was a good thing.
Kendra sighed. “Maybe she’ll find peace now. The life she led must have been pure hell.”
“When you have nothing, you have to fight to get out of that hole. If you don’t, all you’ll find is misery, or worse.”
Kendra watched him closely for a while. He was all male, rugged and hard-muscled, yet his masculinity came with an amazing gentleness that could touch even the most jaded of hearts.
She tore her gaze away. “We need a new lead. Maybe in death, Annie will point the way. She’s got the killer’s DNA under her fingernails.”
“We don’t have Miller’s DNA, or at least we didn’t when I was in the marshals service,” he said, looking at her.
“We still don’t,” she answe
red, “but this crime fits his profile. In a close-up kill, he likes getting his hands dirty.”
Before he could comment, a patrol vehicle raced up. Behind it, halfway down the block, they could see the emergency lights of the crime scene van.
Kendra and Paul helped the officers secure the scene, then drove to the station.
Preston, who was talking to another detective in the area known as ‘the bullpen,’ saw them and waved. “My office, guys.”
Kendra walked through the building, aware that she was under the scrutiny of every officer she passed. It was nothing unusual. No local law enforcement agency ever wanted a fed on their turf, especially a Deputy U.S. Marshal with jurisdiction virtually everywhere in the country.
“Don’t let them psych you out,” Paul said.
Surprised, she turned her head. She hadn’t voiced the thought out loud, so she wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“You’re thinking the locals are giving you the usual mad-dogging stares reserved for feds, but that’s not why they’re looking at you,” he said.
Just then Kendra reached the end of the hall. Preston waved her inside the open doorway.
“Take a seat,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to talk to the captain.”
Once they were alone and seated, Kendra answered Paul. “I’m used to getting some hostility from local departments. It goes with the job.”
“They weren’t sizing you up. They were checking you out, Kendra,” he said with a smile. “Even wearing my clothes, you’re a beautiful woman.”
She was surprised by the impromptu compliment and his uncanny ability to read her. “You’ve got to tell me how you do that. I’ve never met anyone who can read people like you do. It’s not just body language either. I know that already.”
“It’s Lynx.”
“I don’t know who or what Lynx is, but can I have some?”
He chuckled softly, but before he could say more, Preston walked back into the room.