He turned to look at her fully, remaining silent for a minute. “Tell me about your escapes.”
She laughed. “My what?”
“Roan told me you’ve pulled yourself out of the fire so many times, he feels the urge to bury you under a mountain of paperwork so you’ll survive to see thirty. Details, please. Start with the robbery you interrupted six months ago.”
“He’s exaggerating,” she said with a scoff. “I dodged a few bullets, that’s all. The perps were lousy shots.”
“But you’re obviously not,” he remarked with the ghost of a smile.
Van shrugged. “I have a good eye. It’s probably inherited, but I’ve practiced a lot, too. My grandfather was a sniper in ’Nam. Taught me a few tricks.”
“Enough to qualify for the Olympic team, apparently. What about the fire after that bomb went off in the casino? They thought you were trapped.”
“It was jump off the roof or burn and it was only two stories, not necessarily a fatal leap. What would you have done?” Van hated talking about that. Fire was her worst nightmare and had nearly finished her off. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and flexed her left leg. “No serious injuries, thank goodness.”
“And you saved two people by pushing them off that roof.”
She shook her head impatiently. “Yeah, but I had to coldcock one and shove him off unconscious. Poor ol’Bobby Rock has a bad fear of heights. I worried that the fall would break his neck, but it was that or let him go up in smoke.”
“What about last year, the hostage thing at the school? You did okay, Roan said. Hard to think with a gun to your head, but you managed to talk the perp into surrendering.”
She made a face. “He was just a kid.”
“With a .45 full of hollow points. You’ve faced death square in the face several times now. I’m interested. Which time destroyed your fear of it?”
“Who says one did? But I will say this, I believe I’ve survived for a reason. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
His look was intense when she glanced over at him.
“Are you a loose cannon?” he asked quietly.
She faced the road again. “No. If we get into a dicey situation, you can count on me to react appropriately. Are you worried?”
“If you’re convinced that you’re destined to do something so great that a higher power is keeping you alive against all odds, then, yes, I am definitely worried.”
She laughed. “Get real. Don’t you think I know God helps those who help themselves?”
“So you’re religious?”
“Most people in law enforcement are. Aren’t you?” she asked.
“Let’s not get into that. Sorry I brought it up.”
“Well, you did, so brief answer, please. Do you believe in that higher power you mentioned, yes or no?”
He paused. “Yes, but if God’s a woman, she could change her mind on a whim. Maybe decide to let someone else perform whatever task you think you’re programmed to do, so I wouldn’t trust fate too far if I were you.”
Van laughed, but it was a little bitter. “My, my, here I was thinking you’re so politically correct and then you come out with something weird like that. Women are inconstant, gods or not, huh?”
“It was a joke to get you off the topic of religion.”
“Well, you can forget comedy, my friend. Some chick dumped you, right? Now you’re down on the whole female gender.”
He was hiding a smile, she could tell. “I’m thirty-six and unmarried. How do you know I ever liked women to begin with?”
“Because when you checked out my breasts, your expression did not indicate envy,” she explained, her reaction deadpan.
He laughed out loud. The sound was new and Van liked it. She was shaking up that stoic warrior image to hell and gone. It was what she did best, making men laugh. Even the boss unbent a little when he wasn’t ready to throttle her about something.
“See? You’re no match for me,” she told him, turning the Explorer down the dirt road outside Cool Spring that led to Lisa Yellowhorse’s house. “We’re almost there. I’ll introduce you, but you do all the talking. I have her on tape and we’ll compare notes later.”
From the corner of her eye, she could actually see him morph into agent mode again. She suspected that was his usual state. She hoped her joking around had helped him to relax a little. After the interview, he had another surprise coming, so she definitely wanted him in a good mood.
On impulse, and because it was more convenient than stashing him in one of the tourist traps, she planned to book him at Hotel Walker, her grandparents’ house.
She had figured that a stranger from D.C. might enjoy soaking up a little Cherokee culture while he was here. She hadn’t known ahead of time that he probably was already steeped to the eyeballs in it. Who would have thought they would send an Indian?
That was okay, though. She would pass it off as hospitality of the People. No way he could refuse that.
Clay found Lisa Yellowhorse to be a plain woman, round-faced and a bit sullen. She wore a mismatched shirt and slacks, a pair of tube socks that had seen better days and no shoes. She had obviously been in the process of braiding her hair after a shampoo; he caught the scent of apples wafting from it. She greeted them cordially and offered them a chair.
She was a practical woman who made her living renting out the upstairs rooms and the basement apartment of the old clapboard her mother had purchased twenty years ago. Clay wondered whether she was the type to take up with a man like James Hightower, and, if she had, was she vindictive enough to frame him for something after a breakup? That scenario didn’t seem likely, but he wasn’t discounting it yet.
Ms. Yellowhorse proceeded to describe her reasons for calling Vanessa. Small bits of what appeared to be detonation cord and other discarded paraphernalia had led to her suspicions. There were empty boxes that had once contained a garage door opener and a set of screws, an empty roll of duct tape and an actual piece of fuse. You had to wonder where a woman like Yellowhorse would get this sort of stuff simply to use for a frameup. No, Clay believed she was legit and had the public’s best interest in mind when she’d called this in.
The woman had called Vanessa because she was aware that Vanessa worked for the Bureau and had been instrumental in Hightower’s former conviction.
“I wanted to stake out the Yellowhorse place just in case Hightower comes back, but Roan didn’t think it was necessary,” Vanessa said as she drove back to the main road.
“He told me what he thinks,” Clay admitted. “You want to fill me in on your history with Hightower?”
“He killed my cousin.”
Clay nodded. “Roan mentioned you might have a little vendetta going against Hightower because of that. Do you?”
“Well, it’s not as if I know Lisa Yellowhorse well enough to conspire with her to frame James for this. If Roan seriously believed that, he wouldn’t have agreed to let me investigate.”
Clay noted she didn’t appear to be upset by his questions, so she’d probably defended herself before on this issue.
She seemed confident. “After the bogus call that got me to the casino for the big blast and Lisa’s finding the fuse pieces, things just sort of fell into place.” She shot him a wry smile. “He’s the one. He has no compunction about killing, I can tell you that.”
“What’s the story on the murder?”
She