“I know. You dumped me before the prom.”
“You remember that?” Big mistake . She did not want to traipse down memory lane with Rafe. That path would surely lead to one nine-year old, brown-eyed secret named Kelsey.
Hooking his thumb in his belt loop, he grinned. “Like it was yesterday. You were the only girl who ever shot me down.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I remember succumbing to the famous McClintock charm pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, you had your way with me and then shot me down.”
Dana almost doubled over from the sharp pain that stabbed her gut. If they didn’t catch this killer fast, allowing her to escape Silverhill and the reservation, she’d fall under this man’s spell again. And once he found out she’d kept Kelsey from him all these years, he’d shoot her down.
“Let’s not go there.” She made a cross with her fingers, holding it up between them. “We have a killer to catch.”
“I don’t have a problem mixing business with pleasure.”
Dana’s gaze tripped over Rafe’s sensuous mouth and got hooked on his deep blue eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t.”
But if Rafe ever discovered they had a daughter together, there’d be nothing pleasurable about his response.
Nothing pleasurable at all.
D ANA DROPPED into the overstuffed, floral chair and stretched out her legs, resting her feet on top of the high heels she’d kicked off before washing the dinner dishes.
Auntie Mary plucked the reading glasses from her nose and folded her hands over the book in her lap. “You could’ve left those for me. I didn’t invite you to stay here to do my chores.”
Dana wiggled her toes. “I know that, but you do have an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t need an ulterior motive to invite my niece, who’s working in the area anyway, to stay with me.” Auntie Mary widened her eyes in mock indignation.
“Rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh string beans from your garden and homemade apple pie to finish me off. You went to a lot of trouble, but it’s not going to work.”
“Is Holly Thompson another victim of this serial killer?”
“We think so, but I can’t discuss the case with you.”
“Interesting that the killer keeps dumping bodies of young Ute women at construction sites. Maybe he’s trying to make a point.” She shrugged and ran a gnarled hand through her cropped, gray hair. “The old ways are changing too fast, and all this money pouring in from the oil down south only hastens the demise of our culture. Dances, songs and worship have been replaced by reality TV and Xboxes.”
“Unemployment and poverty have been replaced by jobs and a good standard of living.”
“Do you have to throw out the baby with the bathwater?” Auntie Mary cupped her hands in a scooping motion.
“Nobody’s trying to do that. I see that Ben Whitecotton is completing the project of a Southern Ute cultural center.”
Auntie Mary leveled a finger at her, and Dana could almost feel a shaft of heat scorching her from across the room. “You approve of all the changes.”
“I’m proud of my Southern Ute heritage.” Dana crossed her arms, bunching her fists. “I just don’t believe in all the mumbo jumbo stuff.”
“You have the sacred gift.” Auntie Mary dropped her arm and closed her eyes. “And you choose to dismiss it.”
“What about my mother?” Dana jumped from the chair and took a turn around the small room. “She did worse than dismiss it. She tarnished it, used it for monetary gain.”
“That was her husband’s idea.”
At the mention of her stepfather, Dana ground her teeth. She’d detested her stepfather, Lenny Driscoll, ever since she was five years old when he oozed his way into her mother’s life. “If I never see Lenny again, it will be too soon for me.”
Auntie Mary gripped the cane resting against the arm of her chair and pushed to her feet. “I may as well tell you since you’ll be here for a while. Lenny’s been hanging around the reservation.”
Dana choked, her throat suddenly dry and constricted. “Lenny’s here? What does he want? No, don’t answer that. He wants a piece of the oil proceeds.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Mom died before the oil was discovered. Even if she hadn’t, I don’t think Lenny is entitled to any of the profit. He doesn’t have one drop of Southern Ute blood.”
Except on his hands .
“He’s working all the angles.” Auntie Mary glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the kitchen wall. “Isn’t it time for your meeting with Rafe McClintock? You didn’t mention you’d seen him this morning.”
Dana jerked her head up and met her aunt’s steady gaze from luminous dark eyes. Auntie Mary always could read her mind, and Dana didn’t believe it had anything to do with that gift thing.
She pulled the keys out of her purse and swung them around her index finger. “Yeah, I saw him. You didn’t tell me he was Sheriff McClintock of Silverhill.”
“When are you going to tell him about Kelsey?”
“Who said I was?”
“He deserves to know, Dana. He’s a good man.”
“He didn’t come after me.” Dana clutched her purse to her chest with clammy hands. She’d already come to the same conclusion as Auntie Mary, but the thought of telling Rafe about his nine-year-old daughter scared the hell out of her. Rafe hated secrets and lies.
“He was a boy and starting college himself.” She tapped her cane on the floor. “Besides you hurt him deeply. His mother abandoned him and his two brothers when she left Ralph McClintock. When you took off without a backward glance or explanation, he must’ve felt that abandonment all over again.”
Tilting her head back, Dana laughed. “Please. As I recall, he recovered pretty quickly with Melanie. Or was it Belinda or Shari? He could have his pick, and I’m sure Pam approved of those girls.”
“Don’t let his stepmother scare you off this time. You’ve turned out nothing like your mother. To draw comparisons between the two of you is ridiculous.”
Dana crossed the room and planted a kiss on her aunt’s weathered cheek. “Let me worry about Rafe. Thanks for dinner. I’ll probably be home late. Don’t wait up.”
Auntie Mary straightened her spine and narrowed her eyes. “Be careful out there. There’s a killer on the loose, and you’re in danger.”
A chill rippled along Dana’s flesh and she gripped her purse tighter. Unlike Dana, Auntie Mary did use her gift and she was right more often than Dana cared to admit. Pure coincidence.
“There’s always an element of danger when you’re investigating a series of murders. It comes with the job.”
Shaking her head, Auntie Mary collapsed in her chair. “But this is different, isn’t it? This killer is targeting young Native American women…and you’re half Ute.”
“Don’t worry.” Hitching her purse over her shoulder, Dana waved. “See you later.”
Dana locked the dead bolt behind her. As she approached her car, a low growl rumbled from the underbrush at the edge of the driveway. She spun around, gripping her car keys in one clenched fist. Squinting into the