Secrets of the Lynx

by Aimée Thurlo

  A few minutes later they entered a large, ground-floor room close to the rear exit of the main structure. “Fancy model laptop,” Preston said, glancing at the corner desk across from them.

  Kendra walked across the thick carpet, then stopped and studied the computer without touching it. “This could have information that’ll lead us to whoever hired Miller. I’d like to take a quick look.” Seeing Preston nod, she turned it on with a gloved hand.

  As they waited for the computer to boot up, she helped Paul and Preston search the room. In the closet were two gun cases, one with two nine millimeter autoloader pistols and spare, loaded magazines, and the other containing a .308 caliber bolt action Remington rifle with fifty rounds of hunting ammunition. There were also several small pistol and rifle targets, a hunting knife, New Mexico large game hunting flyers and two forest service maps of area woodlands.

  Kendra noticed the hunting jacket and red vest on a hanger in the closet. “With deer season coming up, no one around here would have questioned all this stuff.”

  Kendra returned to the computer screen and tried to access the files, but kept getting an enter password screen. “It’s encrypted. I can’t get in without risking triggering a program that’ll wipe everything clean,” she said at last. “Do either of you know anyone who can hack into this thing?”

  “Daniel,” Preston and Paul said at once.

  “Your brother’s a computer geek?” she said.

  “That’s not how he’d express it, but, yeah, you bet,” Paul said. “He’s also got some top-notch techs on his payroll.”

  “The fewer people involved, the better,” she said. “Did you happen to include an electronic device search on that warrant of yours, Preston?”

  “Sure did. With today’s criminal element, it’s almost automatic when we conduct a search. And there’s no problem using Daniel. The Hartley P.D. hires him all the time to do specialized work, so it’s mostly a matter of getting the right signatures on the paperwork.”

  “This should have gone to the marshals service directly, but without knowing the good guys from the bad, I don’t want to risk it,” Kendra said. “I’ve got to think outside the box now.”

  Preston reached for the computer, but just then his cell phone rang. He took a step back, spoke hurriedly, then hung up. “Miller’s awake,” he said. “The doc says we can question him, but not for long. Supervisory Inspector Thomas is already out of recovery and has been moved into a private room.”

  “Miller’s a target now, and with an informant on the inside, his employer may already know where he’s at,” Kendra said. “We have to move him to a secure location before all hell breaks loose.”

  “Here’s what I can do,” Preston said. “If his doctor consents, we can move Miller to a small but well-equipped clinic on the Rez. I’ve got a place already in mind. I’ll tell only a few key people, including my boss, and keep the relocation under wraps that way.”

  “He’s my prisoner. I have to be in on the transfer,” Kendra said.

  “All right. I’ll set it up. Where will you two be sleeping ?” Preston asked.

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Kendra said.

  “I have an idea. You’re both still in the crosshairs, and I’m betting neither of you has had a good night’s sleep in days,” Preston said. “I know a place where you’ll be safe. The Wilson brothers have a large, secure house. One’s a former cop, and the other two are currently with the department. They let us use the place whenever we have a high threat situation. It’s strictly for emergencies, but you’ll have two cops keeping watch, plus George.”

  “George Wilson went blind after an accident and was forced to retire, right?” Paul said.

  “Yeah, but he can hear someone breathing at twenty-five yards. In the dark he’s more aware than either you or me.”

  “Refocused senses. It works that way sometimes.” Paul glanced at Kendra. “George’s brothers, Jake and Hank, could bench press a horse, too. Those guys are big.”

  “No one messes with them,” Preston said, “but you two won’t be able to use the same room. The Wilsons are very straitlaced about things like that.”

  “I remember. Their dad’s a preacher,” Paul said, then added, “I see no problem with that. They’ve always shown respect for Navajo ways, and I can do the same for theirs.”

  “Me, too,” Kendra said. “Give us the address.”

  * * *

  THERE WAS A big iron gate at the walled entrance to the Wilson home, but as Paul and Kendra drove up, it swung open to the inside and Paul was able to drive in without stopping. Their headlights soon swept past an enormous, blue-uniformed cop standing on the far side of the covered porch.

  “Talk about security, it’s barely four in the morning and they’ve already got someone outside. Which of the brothers is he?” Kendra asked.

  “That’s Hank. He must have been pulled off duty.” Paul parked his pickup next to a Hartley patrol car. “Come on. I’ll introduce you,” he said, stepping down from the truck as the gate clanked shut behind them.

  When Hank came up to meet them, flashlight in hand, Kendra suddenly realized just how big he really was. Paul was over six feet tall, but Hank Wilson was half a head taller, and must have weighed two fifty. He was the kind of backup someone like her would have wanted when walking into a Denver biker bar. If Hank had played sports, she could easily imagine him as a defensive end.

  Paul bumped fists with Hank, then introduced Kendra.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Hank said, his voice almost soft despite the deep tone. “It’s all copacetic out here at the moment. I’ll be watching the grounds but I’ll try not to make any noise. You two don’t have to worry. Just catch up on your sleep, okay?”

  “Thanks. Jake and George inside?” Paul asked.

  “Copy that. Just ring the bell when you go to the door, okay? Anyone who knocks gets a pistol waved in their face.”

  “Good to know,” Kendra said. “Nice to meet you, Hank.”

  “You too, ma’am. Good night.”

  As they stepped up onto the porch, Kendra waited while Paul reached for the doorbell. “If the other brothers are like Hank, they’re really on the ball. And polite,” she added with a smile.

  The door opened just a crack, and they both turned at the sound. “Preston?” a deep voice asked.

  “No, Paul and Marshal Armstrong,” Paul said, noting Kendra’s puzzled reaction.

  “Just testing to make sure everything’s okay. Come on in, you two,” Jake said, opening the door. As they stepped in, the man, maybe an inch shorter than Hank, placed his handgun back into his holster.

  “I’m Jake, Shorty to my brothers,” he said with a smile, nodding to Paul, then offering his massive hand to Kendra.

  “I’m Kendra, Kendra Armstrong. Thanks so much for your hospitality on such short notice, Jake,” she said, surprised by the gentleness of his handshake.

  “Pleased to be of help, ma’am,” Jake said. “Make yourself at home. You two will be as safe as babies tonight.”

  “Appreciate your help,” Paul said, looking around at the big room. The overstuffed chairs and two sofas in the living room were arranged in a half circle around a cozy, blazing pellet stove a few feet from a brick wall. Mounted on the wall itself was a big screen TV, and against another wall were a digital music center and wooden shelves with CDs.

  “Thought I heard a racket,” a soft, pleasant voice called from the kitchen side of the room. Kendra turned and saw the oldest giant of the Wilson brothers. George wore shaded glasses and picked his way past a massive oak table and chairs with certainty.

  “Would you two like something to eat? I’m a good cook, if I say so myself. When you can’t see, taste becomes more important.”

  “Actually, I’m beat. If you don’t mind, I’d rather call it a night, or morning, I guess, and get some sleep,” she said.

  “Sure.” George led the way down a short hall, then opened the door.

  There
’d been no hesitation. “You knew precisely where the door and the knob would be,” Kendra said, surprised.

  “I know this house like my own heartbeat. I can tell when something doesn’t sound right, or if anything’s been taken away or added to any of the rooms,” George said. “If anyone’s outside beside my brothers, I’ll know that, too, maybe even before Hank and Jake. When blindness took away my sight, the good Lord gave me other gifts.”

  “This room is great. Thank you,” Kendra said, glancing around.

  “Clean sheets, fresh towels. If you need anything else, just call. I won’t be far.”

  “Thanks,” Kendra said. “There is one thing. I’ll need to be up at eight. Is there an alarm clock?”

  “Jake will knock on your door at that time,” George said.

  “Great. Then we’re all set.”

  As the men left, Kendra sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed. This could be the last night she’d be working with Paul. The thought felt like a heavy weight over her heart. She hadn’t come to Hartley wanting, or even hoping, to fall in love, but her heart had made other plans.

  After undressing down to her underwear, she crawled beneath the covers and switched off the light.

  Despite her exhaustion, for a long while all she could do was stare into the dark. Everything inside her hurt. She didn’t want to go back to her empty apartment in Denver, then try to tell herself that Mr. Right didn’t exist. He did—he’d just come with pre-existing conditions.

  Paul couldn’t give her his whole heart, and even if she could have accepted it for herself, it wasn’t fair to the family she’d eventually have. When it came to love and family, it was all or nothing.

  With silent tears running down her face, she gradually faded into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  SHORTLY AFTER BREAKFAST they left the Wilsons’ home and headed to the hospital. Things were already well underway there, and soon, they were ready to transport Miller.

  Two vehicles pulled out of the ambulance port, a sheltered bay that provided quick access to the emergency room. Preston and another officer led the way in a large black SUV with tinted windows. Paul followed, driving the ambulance, with Kendra at his side.

  Kendra wore a protective vest, and the short barrel of a shotgun rested between her feet, visible to anyone who passed by on the passenger side of the ambulance in a high-profile truck or van.

  “This time of the morning we won’t be facing much traffic. Most of the coal mine and power plant employees have already changed shifts,” Paul said.

  “We’ve got a good plan, and even if we do draw fire, we have the advantage. They’ll assume Miller’s with us and that’ll buy your brother time to get him away safely. I only wish we could have had an escort behind us, as well, but Preston’s right. It would have looked like a VIP motorcade and attracted too much attention.”

  Soon they were rolling down the four-lane highway ten minutes west of Hartley. Traffic flow and bad timing forced them to stop at a light in the small community of Kirtland, just north of the Navajo Nation boundary. It was the last stop before Shiprock, a dozen or so miles farther west. Traffic was heavier here than before, but their small convoy stayed together.

  Paul checked the rearview mirror. “There’s a white van behind us. It’s probably a service or utility vehicle, but I can’t see a company or agency name from this angle.”

  “There are two men inside wearing baseball caps and big shades. We’ve got the sun at our backs, and that makes the use of shades a bit odd. They look more like spooks than anything else,” Kendra said.

  Kendra checked out the new-looking pickup that pulled up beside them at the light. There were two men in the cab there, also wearing ball caps and sunglasses. “To my right,” she said, “another pair of spooks in heavy jackets.”

  Paul looked over. “Something’s not right. They’re not the least bit curious about us.”

  “Yeah, and here we are in this ambulance.”

  As the light changed, Preston’s SUV surged ahead. Paul accelerated to keep up, but suddenly the pickup beside them veered into their lane.

  “Hang on!” Paul swerved the heavy ambulance to the left, lessening a blow to the right front bumper, but the ambulance still shook hard on impact. As he pulled the wheel back to the right, he caught the pickup’s rear bumper as it tried to cut them off. The truck fishtailed, almost catching an oncoming car, then straightened out, rocketing ahead.

  “Behind us!” Kendra grabbed the dashboard.

  The white van slammed into them with a bone-jarring thud. Kendra bounced forward, but the seat belt kept her from hitting the windshield.

  Paul looked ahead. The passenger of the pickup was leaning out his window, pointing a gun. “Duck!”

  A bullet shattered the windshield, striking the rearview mirror, which broke loose and bounced off the back of the cab. Paul tried to hold the wheel steady, but the van hit them again on the right rear bumper and sent them skittering down the highway, tires screaming. Paul yanked the wheel to the right, avoiding an end-over-end rollover.

  Kendra drew her gun as the van pulled up on her side, but it instantly dropped back into their blind spot.

  Paul yanked out his pistol, back in control of the ambulance, but by then the pickup was speeding away. The van behind them cut its speed, whipped across the median, and also raced off.

  “What the hell?” Paul looked at Kendra. “They had us pinned. Why did they bail?”

  Kendra looked out the side mirror. “There’s something stuck on our side panel back there. Get off the road, fast! There, that empty lot,” she said, pointing.

  Ten seconds later, she leaped out of the cab and took a quick look at the object.

  “Bomb!” she yelled to Paul. “Run!”

  They were barely twenty feet away when the blast shook the ground. Enveloped in a wave of heat and pressure, they were thrown forward onto the gravel.

  “You okay?” Paul said.

  “Yeah,” she said, coughing.

  They rose to their feet slowly and turned to watch the mass of flames that covered the ambulance. Billowing black smoke rose upwards in dark waves.

  Paul looked over at Kendra. “You can bet they’re watching us with binoculars right now and think they killed Miller.”

  “Good thing Miller’s safe and sound in Preston’s SUV.”

  “We bought some time, that’s all,” Paul warned.

  “It may be a small win, but it’s one that counts.”

  Daniel, his head out the window, pulled up in a second SUV, this one blue. “Come on. Get in!”

  Paul and Kendra didn’t hesitate. “What are you doing here?” Paul asked, waving Kendra in first. “I never told—”

  Daniel gunned the engine the second they were both inside. “Preston asked me to cover the move but stay well behind so I wouldn’t be made. When I saw you running from the ambulance, I figured out what was going down. Now let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  FORTY-FIVE minutes later they arrived at a reservation clinic south of Beclabito in the piñon/juniper hills. Preston was outside waiting for them.

  Kendra looked around. “Good choice. No way to sneak up on this place. There’s not much cover around here.”

  “That, and we’re thirty miles deep on the Rez so a white man sticks out like a sore thumb,” Preston said, leading the way inside. “One good thing—the bomb attack rattled our prisoner. He wants to cut a deal—immunity in exchange for his testimony.”

  “He killed a U.S. Marshal and Annie Crenshaw. Those defensive scratches found on his arms are going to seal a conviction when the DNA under Annie’s fingernails comes back from the state lab. His only hope is a life sentence,” Paul growled.

  “Yes, but to survive even behind bars he’ll need our help. That’s going to be our leverage,” Kendra said. “Of course any deal will be up to the federal prosecutor.”

  As they went down the short hallway, the doctor who’d ridden with Miller a
nd Preston came out of a room to meet them. “Miller can be questioned whenever you’re ready,” he said, “but I’m going to stay in the room, monitoring his vitals, just in case there’s a problem.”

  “Hold that thought, doc.” Kendra took Preston aside. “How carefully did you vet out this doctor?”

  “I’d trust him with my life. He’s with the New Mexico National Guard and was wounded during a mortar attack on his medivac unit in Iraq. I chose him because I knew he could handle himself under fire.”

  “Okay.” Kendra nodded to the doctor, then went inside the treatment room where Chris Miller lay on a hospital bed.

  “You ready to cut me a deal?” Miller asked as Kendra came in. “I’ve got plenty to trade.”

  “Give me something big to take to the prosecutor, then we’ll see what we can offer you.” Kendra brought out her digital recorder and set it on the table next to the bed. After recording the date and time, she gave Miller a nod. “Okay, make it good.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kendra waited as Miller sipped some water. He was taking his time. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to back out or if he was just playing them.

  “First, let me make one thing clear,” Miller said at last. “I was hired to wound—not kill—your supervisor, Thomas.”

  “What?” Kendra sat up abruptly.

  “You heard me,” Miller said. “I was shown a photo, given the address, then ordered to make the hit once he got out of the car. I was paid to target an arm or leg—no head or torso shots.”

  Kendra shook her head in disbelief. “What a minute. Are you telling me that your client told you specifically not to kill Thomas?”

  “Yeah. I was instructed to use a pistol caliber round with a full metal jacket. Less damage if it went through and through,” he said. “It didn’t matter to me, I got paid the same. But I was set up, too. I was told to expect one fed inside the house and the target, not a full security team.”

  “Your bad luck,” Preston said. “How long have you been in town?”

  Kendra knew he was trying to tie Miller to the earlier events.

  Miller shook his head. “That’s all I’m saying for now. What I’ve given you is just a taste of what’s to come. Give me immunity—in writing—and we’ll talk again.”