“That’s his chopper,” said Kee.
“Harley?” she asked, raising her voice as the rumble became a roar.
“Indian,” he said. “Wait. That’s a new bike.”
Ty made an entrance. Up until today, Ava had only heard about him. The family black sheep, currently under investigation for his role in the abduction of Kacey Doka. They had statements from both his youngest brother, Colt, and Kacey, but neither could testify as they were in witness protection. The signed statements implicating Ty in Kacey Doka’s kidnapping from the clinic should be enough to convict him in tribal court. So why were they letting him run around free?
The roar grew louder and Ava had to shout to be heard.
“Isn’t he bringing the dog?” she asked.
Kee nodded and pointed. In rolled Ty Redhorse on a coffee-brown-and-cream Harley Davidson motorcycle laden with so much chrome she could see reflections of the sky and road and man all at once.
At first she thought he was riding double, and he was, after a fashion. The dog sat behind him, paws on his shoulders, with goggles on his massive head. As Ty pulled forward, she could see the shepherd sat in a bucket fixed to the rear seat and wore some sort of restraining belt.
The engine idled and Ty fixed his stare on them both. No smile, she realized, and he looked less than pleased to be here. Ty’s hair was shoulder length and cut blunt. He resembled Kee but for the cleft in his chin. He also sent all her cop senses into high alert. That challenge in his eyes as he met her gaze would have made her pull him over if she had her cruiser.
Badass didn’t cover it. And he wore black, of course.
Ava regarded the dog, with its lolling, pink tongue and—what appeared to be—a wide grin.
“Looks like a wolf,” said Ava.
“German shepherd mix,” said Kee.
“Mixed with wolf,” she said and Kee laughed.
The deep masculine rumble did crazy things to her insides.
“Ty thinks it’s funny because he’s riding with his bi...” Kee changed his mind about what he was going to say and motioned to Ava. “Shall we?”
Ty rocked the bike onto its kickstand. He greeted Kee with a bear hug that nearly lifted Kee off his feet. Ty was taller, broader and more intimidating.
Kee had a cell phone clipped to his clean, fitted jeans and he wore a blue button-up shirt with a turquoise bolo and brown lace-up shoes. Ty had a knife clipped to his leather belt and had a wallet connected to a belt loop by a stainless-steel chain. He wore black leather chaps over jeans, high moccasins with the distinctive toe-tab marking them as Apache footwear and a black muscle shirt that revealed a tribal tattoo circling each arm. What he didn’t wear was a helmet.
She watched Ty stroke his dog’s pointed ear, momentarily bending it flat before releasing her from the bucket-style pet transporter. The dog came forward to sniff Kee and then turned to Ava. She extended her hand, but the dog stopped short of her and dropped to all fours, lying alert before her.
She glanced first to Kee and then to Ty, who was narrowing his eyes at her.
Kee made introductions but Ty remained where he was. Her skin prickled a warning. She was made. She knew it.
Ty gave her a hard look.
“She a cop?” he asked Kee.
She narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was her appearance or his dog that had tipped him off.
“No,” said Kee. “A neighbor.”
“You packing?” he asked.
She nodded and showed her sidearm.
Ty’s eyes narrowed and Kee gaped.
“You can’t carry a weapon here,” said Kee.
Ty held her gaze a long while and Kee shifted restlessly. Finally, he broke the silence.
“We brought something of Richard’s for Hemi,” said Kee. “Let me get it.” He retrieved a pair of gray bike riding gloves.
Kee offered them to Ty and Ava noted that his younger brother was a few inches taller than Kee, but likely hadn’t been originally. The surgeries had taken three inches from his healthy leg.
Ty took the gloves and offered them to Hemi. The dog stood and was all business when she checked out the neoprene gloves and then lowered her head to the ground, making straight for the Subaru.
She jumped so that she stood on her back legs, with her front paws pressed to the door.
“Good girl,” said Ty, in a tone that seemed out of place from such a tough character. It gave her hope that he might be more than he appeared, because he appeared to be a gang member. But he had come at Kee’s request and that allowed her to continue to operate covertly.
Ty waved his dog toward the trail.
“Track,” he said.
Hemi put her nose to the ground and bounded away straight for the path that cut through the pasture toward the lower ruins.
Ty used Richard’s gloves to wipe away the paw prints from the Subaru. Ava’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, he suspected foul play and was removing evidence of Hemi’s contact with the vehicle. Was he just keeping his involvement secret or did he have something to hide?
They headed up the trail with Hemi darting ahead. She fell in beside Kee.
Kee asked Ty about Colt, how he was doing and if he was still talking. Ty paused to give him a long inscrutable look and then told Kee that he was but failed to mention that Colt was not on the rez. Kee didn’t seem to know that and Ty didn’t tell him.
Very odd, she thought.
“When you see him last?” asked Ty.
“The Saturday when you took him to Darabee Hospital.”
Almost two weeks ago. Kee had let his work erode his connection to family. He was right here on the rez but seemed to have little idea what was happening under his nose.
“Is he getting some help?” asked Kee.
“Yeah. Lots of help.”
Help relocating, thought Ava.
She had read in Ty’s file that he had driven a ’73 Plymouth Barracuda when he allegedly kidnapped Kacey Doka, the only girl to escape her captors. But the car was never found. No car, no physical evidence connecting Kacey Doka to Ty Redhorse. Just the statement by Kacey, who was no longer here to back it up with her physical presence during testimony in tribal court, and the tribe’s council had declined the FBI’s request for custody of Ty. That in itself was not unusual. Most tribes were exceedingly reluctant to allow outsiders to try their defendants. Considering the history between the Tonto Apache tribes and the federal government, few would blame them.
“What kind of a car does Ty drive?” Ava asked.
“I can’t keep up,” said Kee. “He changes cars like I change surgical gloves. I think he’s working on a ’67 Pontiac GTO.”
“Fast car. What color? Black?”
“No, gold.”
Gang colors, she thought. Yellow and black. Those were the colors worn by the Wolf Posse here.
So Ty was a gang member, and his brother Jake was a member of the tribal police force. Which side was Kee on?
When they reached the trailhead with the marker of regulations and the one of historical information, they paused. It delineated the rules in bullet points including no fires and no firearms.
Hemi flashed by, circling the ruins. The red stone walls still stood rising ten feet