by Tanya Stowe
“Navajo still live in the canyon?”
“Some stay there year round. But most just live there in the summer when it’s warm then leave during the winter. Some traditional folks have hogans, round houses made of logs with mud roofs and a door facing the east. A stream runs right down the middle of the canyon so there’s water for their sheep and crops. Navajo sheep are still important to the people. They say their wool is the best for weaving. Many families make their living from weaving rugs and blankets. Abey’s grandmother was a weaver.”
His voice dropped off as thoughts of his wife flooded his mind. He’d talked about Abey more today than in the past year. Dulcie seemed to do that to him, ignite thoughts he’d tried to suppress. He wasn’t sure he liked the feelings those thoughts uncovered.
“Abey...it’s lovely. What does it mean?”
“Leaf. It means leaf. Her grandmother wove a blanket for us using wool from her own sheep and natural dyes from plants. The pattern she used is called a storm design, geometric shapes all in earth tones, but she put green leaves in places. It’s a true piece of art.”
“Where is it?”
“Packed away. I haven’t brought it out since I moved.”
Dulcie shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds like a beautiful tribute to Abey and her culture. You could hang it on that empty wall in your living room. It would probably look spectacular.”
His jaw tightened. She did it again, challenged all the protective barriers he’d put in place, and now he was certain he didn’t like it. “It would be a constant reminder.”
She nodded. “Yes, but it would be the right kind, a reminder of the good things in her life, not the tragedy of her death.”
Austin sent her a sharp glance. “That’s strange advice coming from a woman who still suffers panic attacks and freezes every time she gets a reminder of her own past.”
The words were out before he could stop them, and he instantly regretted them. Dulcie’s features faded and she looked away. But her hurt response only lasted a moment. She turned back to him. The color was gone from her cheeks, but her lips were set in a firm line.
“Who better to give you that kind of advice than someone who constantly fights to keep the fear at bay?”
His shoulders sagged. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was out of line. I just... I don’t talk about Abey.”
Her expression was achingly honest. “I understand, Austin. I truly do. I couldn’t talk about my childhood for years. It was too horrible. But finally, I started remembering some good times. And that’s how I fought the bad. I try to remember the wonderful blessings the Lord sent to comfort me through the bad times. Sometimes I struggle to find the good things, but it’s worked...until now.”
He was certain she was referring to her recent bout of dangerously debilitating fear when faced by Delacroix. He wouldn’t add more fuel to the fire of her disappointment. Right now, she needed encouragement more than truth...especially after his unkind comment a moment ago. “Give yourself a break. It’s not every day a person’s life is threatened. It’s not surprising you’ve suffered a setback.”
She sighed. “Maybe, and maybe the Lord has a new lesson for me.”
Austin smiled in spite of his conflicted emotions. “You’re finding the good in your bad situation, right?”
She laughed, a sweet little sound he hadn’t heard come out of her. She had laughed little, if at all, since they’d met. “I guess. See? It’s a good habit to form.”
He tilted his head. “It’s not a habit I need. Blessings don’t come my way.”
“Or...you’ve forgotten how to recognize them when they do.”
He slowed the Jeep as they came into Chinle, the town leading to the canyon.
“I think we need to grab some lunch. There’s a drive-through up ahead. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.”
He pulled in and ordered some burgers and fries. Keeping busy gave him an excuse not to talk. He handed her the bag and pulled onto the road. Eating also gave him an excuse for not talking, but it didn’t shut down his mind from churning.
Was she right? Had he forgotten how to recognize the Lord’s hand moving in his life? He never gave up believing that God was out there...somewhere. He just felt that the Lord had stopped working in his life. He’d clung to his pastor’s counsel, attended church most every Sunday and yet...his faith life had been empty. He felt like God had abandoned him the night Abey died.
Is that how he really felt...? Abandoned? Had he just been going through the motions of his faith?
He couldn’t remember a single instance where he’d felt loved by God...even felt the Lord’s presence. Dulcie was wrong. He hadn’t forgotten how to see God. He had been abandoned. One dark night, on a lonely stretch of highway, God turned His back on Austin Turner.
“Doris alerted the ring about our visit, didn’t she?” Dulcie’s question broke into his thoughts. Her tone was so low, he almost couldn’t hear her.
In spite of her determination, it seemed she couldn’t keep her concerns completely under control. His mind searched for the right way to answer, one that wouldn’t trigger her into a frozen state. “She didn’t come home to find her ‘roots.’ We still don’t know who she’s hiding from, but she’s definitely hiding.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Why would she call them? How could she help the men who murdered her daughter?”
“She blames her husband for her daughter’s death, and since he’s in jail for that crime, I don’t think she sees it as helping them. Besides, she’s afraid to end up like her daughter. She’ll give those men what they want to protect herself, even if what they want is us.”
Dulcie slowly nodded. “I understand that. My note said I’d become a Missing One too. It frightened me into unexpected actions.”
Austin tried to reassure her. “Look, the reservation is a big place and the canyon has a lot of visitors. People will surround us and it’s almost a three-hour drive from Durango. By the time any of our suspects can reach the canyon, we’ll be long gone.”
His phone rang. McGuire’s name flashed on the screen. He punched the button on his console to answer.
“Hello.”
McGuire’s gruff voice rang over the air. “Glad I caught you. I’ve got some bad news. The municipal police got a call last night to investigate a break-in. Someone trashed Ms. Parker’s apartment.”
Cold washed over Austin. He looked at Dulcie. Concern was reflected in her gaze.
He gripped the steering wheel. “They were looking to snatch her and destroy her research.”
“That was my thought.”
“Who called in the report?”
“The couple in the apartment below Ms. Parker heard banging, things falling and reported it. By the time the officers got there, the intruders were gone. I’ve asked for a complete report from the munis.”
“I’ll be surprised if Officer Shaw doesn’t try to suppress the info.”
“Officer Shaw hasn’t reported for duty in two days. According to one of his fellow officers he’s missing.”
“A missing police officer? That didn’t trigger an all-out search?”
“It did. It was good to have the munis on board and...they found some suspicious activity on Shaw’s computer.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t wipe it clean before he left.”
“Maybe he didn’t know he was leaving.”
Austin’s churning thoughts came to an abrupt halt. If Shaw was missing... “What about Delacroix? Did the officers question him?”
“They tried but there was no answer at his apartment. A resident said they saw him leaving the day before around three p.m. This morning his car was found at the bottom of a cliff on Wolf Creek Pass. There were skid marks and two sets of tire tracks.”
Austin knew exactly what that meant. Delacroix wa
s dead...probably at the hands of his partners in crime. He glanced at Dulcie and tried to frame his words in a way that wouldn’t terrify her.
“Sounds like they’re eliminating all their weak links.”
“And all our leads.”
Austin took a slow breath. All their leads except Dulcie. His efforts to reframe his words failed. She’d connected the dots and was afraid.
“Did they find anything in Dulcie’s apartment that might lead us to the perpetrators?”
“No prints, nothing tremendously helpful except for one thing. It wasn’t a break-in. Someone picked the lock, a professional job. I had Bolton create a list of all the local criminals with that skill.”
McGuire read the names but Austin knew one that would be on there before his lieutenant even said it. Austin was very familiar with Walter Benally and his career of crime. The man’s involvement sent another spike of worry through Austin.
He glanced at Dulcie, fearful that his concern might show. She’d clamped her lips tight with tension and turned her gaze away.
“Things are getting dangerous, Austin. I want you and Ms. Parker back as soon as possible.”
Austin hesitated. “We’re twenty minutes out from Bea Yazzie’s place. So far Susan Yazzie is our only lead. We need to find her.”
McGuire was silent for a lengthy pause. “All right, but you need to make Ms. Parker aware. It should be her choice. If she decides to go on, I want you to stay in touch.”
“We won’t have reception in the bottom of the canyon but I’ll do my best.”
Austin clicked off. The gang was sending their members into hiding or maybe even killing them off. They were risking exposure to cover their tracks and eliminate any evidence. Those actions increased Dulcie’s danger incrementally...not to mention the fact that if Benally was involved, there was a good chance Johnny Whitehorse was involved too. Benally worked for Whitehorse, who owned The Round Up bar located just off the reservation. The men after Dulcie could be closer than he thought and he’d just talked McGuire into letting them go farther away from safety. Was he wrong? Was he taking too big a risk, expecting too much from Dulcie...and maybe even himself?
He glanced her way again...once...twice. She wouldn’t meet the unspoken question in his gaze and her lips were pinched in a tight line.
“You heard about Delacroix?”
She nodded, a tight dip of her head. “But I’m not sure I understand the significance of two sets of tire tracks.”
Austin inhaled. “The skid marks mean Delacroix tried to brake and stop his descent. The other set of tires means another vehicle was behind him, pushing him off.”
She jerked. “You think his partners in the ring pushed him off the road?”
“That looks like a possibility, yes.”
Shock washed over her features. “He was one of them...he tried to kidnap me...for them. If they’ll do that to one of their own...” The obvious conclusion hung in the air between them.
“We don’t know exactly what turned them against him, Dulcie. He might have done something wrong. Maybe he felt guilty about his treatment of you and wanted to speak out. McGuire has put in a request for a search warrant for Delacroix’s apartment. Perhaps we’ll find an answer there.”
She looked ahead, her churning emotions clearly written on her face. Then her features froze. “I was his project,” she murmured.
Austin turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“When we were standing outside my door, Joey said he was about to finish a long-term project. I was his project, Austin. He’d been spying on me, watching me the entire time I lived there. When I discovered the ring, he was about to turn me over, but I escaped. He failed and now he’s dead.”
Austin nodded slowly. “It makes sense. He tried to run so they followed him.” Reaching across the space, he grasped her hand. “Dulcie, they’re eliminating all their loose ends and you are a loose end. They’ll be even more focused on catching you now.”
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Austin linked their fingers and squeezed.
“McGuire gave us permission to go on but like he said, the decision is up to you. We can go to Bea Yazzie’s hogan or we can turn around and head back to safety right now.”
He gripped her hand tightly. His touch seemed to give her strength.
“No,” she murmured, struggling to find her voice. “We have to go on. Susan is a loose end too. She’s somewhere out there, hiding or running or maybe in their grasp. We have to find her.”
Relief swept through Austin. He released her and gave her a one-sided smile.
“That’s my girl.”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if a sudden chill had entered the Jeep cab. He was happy she agreed to go on but concern assailed him. If her fears finally overcame her, he’d have to leave her in the vehicle while he hiked down the two-mile trail by himself.
Wait...could Dulcie even hike down the trail? Right now she looked about as fragile as a porcelain doll. Maybe she wasn’t up to that kind of strenuous activity. How could he have been so stupid as to not consider that possibility? If she wasn’t up to it, he’d have to reformulate his plans.
“Hey, I forgot one little detail. The trail is two miles down and back. Are you up to that kind of walk?”
Dulcie took a deep breath, looked at him beneath lowered brows and sent him a mysterious, sort of flirty smile that knocked his socks off. Where did that come from?
She pushed her long russet-colored locks over one shoulder and said, “I can probably beat you down and back up.”
Austin chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. What had suddenly made her so confident?
“Was that a challenge?” He couldn’t keep the teasing out of his tone and he didn’t try. He liked this slightly sassy, flirty Dulcie.
She flashed a brilliant, hundred-watt smile that literally took his breath away. This...this was the wild, untamed woman hiding beneath the waiflike little girl. Here was the real Dulcie, the woman she kept tamped down with tight hairstyles and ugly, baggy clothes. The real woman afraid to come out from behind the frightened child. Did she know how her sun-burnished curls and brilliant smile could light up a day...his day?
“I think it was a challenge. Are you up to it, Deputy Turner?”
His chuckle was out before he could stop it. How did she do this...keep him off-balance and pull emotions out of him...emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time?
He wasn’t sure. He only knew that for a change, he was enjoying himself. “Just so you know, in my division, I ran the fastest mile in our POST...peace officers standards test.”
Her eyebrows perked up and she tilted her head back and forth in another sassy movement. “Was it faster than nine minutes? Because that’s my best.”
“Whoa, are you serious? That’s pretty good for a woman of your stature.”
A sad smile wavered over her lips. “What you really mean is a scaredy-cat like me.”
Not giving him time to answer, she said, “You shouldn’t be surprised. Heavy-duty exercise means good endorphins to fight depression. I’ve been a runner since my first therapist recommended it when I was fifteen. I admit most of my running these days is on the treadmill in my apartment complex’s gym. But I do love hiking too. If I’d known about Canyon de Chelly’s trail, I would have tried to make it here before now.”
Austin eyed her askance. “Do you really think the trail could have lured you away from your needy women?”
She turned to him, her expression wide open and so vulnerable it was almost painful to see. “No,” she said. “Probably not the trail by itself.”
Austin’s breath hitched. Was she hinting that he might coax her out for a hike? All his teasing fled and he focused his gaze on the road. What was he doing?
Encouraging a broken woman to open up to a man who had nothing to give was wro
ng, just wrong. He needed to stop this right now. He couldn’t think of anything to say, a way to apologize or explain, so he just kept silent. Fortunately, they’d arrived at the parking lot of the trailhead.
He pulled into a parking space among the others. Many visitors stood near the ledge overlooking the canyon. Dulcie walked toward the lookout as Austin pulled two bottles of water from the box he kept in the back of his Jeep and tucked them in his jacket pockets. Living and working in such isolated places, he’d learned to keep water and supplies on hand.
A cool breeze swept up from the bottom of the canyon and lifted the ends of Dulcie’s burnished curls. A slight smile wavered over her coral lips as she stared at the sight on the sandstone cliff across from them. Dark pigment washed down from the canyon rim above and covered parts of the cliff, giving it the shiny gleam called desert varnish. Six hundred feet below the rim, tucked in a narrow, horizontal slice in the bluff were the ruins. Time-washed plaster turned white covered some towers and upper buildings and had earned the site its Navajo name, Kinii’ ni gai... White House. Below the cliff rooms, on the canyon floor, were more abodes.
“Archaeologists say the towers were once tall enough to reach the top level. That’s how the builders got to the upper rooms. That’s unusual for pueblo ruins. Usually the inhabitants used ladders and hand-and footholds to climb up and down.”
“It must have been a difficult way to live, and yet...”
Her gaze travelled up and down the canyon below. A wide sandy wash swept down the middle, dotted with water-loving cottonwoods. Both those trees and the willows along the bank of the arroyo had lost most of their leaves. But the empty branches had a regal look. Even with winter nipping at its edges, the canyon still carried a beauty all its own.
“It’s unique and amazing,” Dulcie said.
Her words sent a spike of pleasure shooting through Austin. He was glad to know she valued the canyon in the same way he did. But it was also one more thing Austin needed to ignore. If he wasn’t careful, Dulcie would break through his protective wall and that was not a good thing. She wouldn’t understand that his wall was there for other people’s protection. The man behind that wall was empty, drained, living a half life. Dulcie and her innocent ways needed to stay on the other side for her own emotional safety.