“I’m no bodyguard.”
Jack seemed to know where his mind was going. “You couldn’t get to him, Ray. There wasn’t time.”
Ray never missed a beat as he skipped to Iraq and the night that none of them would ever forget.
“But I could have let him ride with Mullins. Mullins wanted him. But I stuck him with Tromgartner.” The prank had not been funny. Instead it had cost his best friend his life. If only that had been all.
“I didn’t get to them either,” said Jack. In fact, Jack had held Ray back and let go only to grab his brother Carter. Then he’d run them both out leaving Hatch behind.
Ray blew out a breath. Jack scratched at the stubble on his jaw and smoothly changed the subject.
“She doesn’t seem to know anything about the money.”
“Who knows what she knows,” said Ray. You would think a detective would be more suspicious.
“Let me talk to her when she gets back and you wash the blood off your hands.”
“This is a mistake. Kenshaw should call Dylan Tehauno. He’s clean-cut, responsible. And he’s not crazy. That’s for sure.”
“Maybe she needs crazy to protect her from bigger crazy.”
Ray sighed. He’d never felt less prepared for a job.
“One thing I know,” said Jack. “Morgan Hooke will be in danger until that money is found.”
Ray couldn’t dispute that because it was true. Her father had made a mistake going to a bank so close to home. Maybe it didn’t matter. That kind of money would bring trouble even if trouble had to travel long distances.
“Fox guarding the hen house,” muttered Ray.
“Yeah, well that hen got plucked a long time ago.”
Ray was interested in this conversation. “Who?”
“Don’t know. No rumors even.”
Ray frowned. In a small place like this, there were always rumors. “See if you can find out.”
“Because?” asked Jack.
“Because I’m curious, is all.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
He sounded so shocked it pissed Ray right off.
“Yeah.”
“Not your type, Ray.”
“I know that, Jack.”
“Fine, I’ll see what I can find out.”
Jack followed his officer, leaving Ray in Karl Hooke’s empty bedroom. Ray ducked into the bathroom to wash his hands and then returned to set Karl’s room in order. First, he righted the dresser. Jack returned as Ray was sliding the mattress back in place.
“Where would you put it?” asked Jack.
“Not in the room beside where my granddaughter slept.” As if he’d ever have a granddaughter, Ray thought, which he wouldn’t. He was actually shocked he’d lived this long.
“You think Kenshaw knows?” asked Jack.
The two shared a hard look. He understood what Jack was asking. Detective Jack Bear Den wondered if their shaman knew about the money when tribal law enforcement did not. Ray knew Kenshaw had some information because he’d asked Ray to find out if Morgan knew who hired her dad. That meant Kenshaw either knew or suspected that Morgan’s dad did not act of his own volition. Did Kenshaw also know about the money?
Is that why his shaman had sent him? Was it more than a stranger’s interest in Morgan that caused Kenshaw to send Ray to her? He couldn’t send a detective to investigate this because Jack had an obligation to uphold the law and investigate crimes. Meanwhile Ray was blissfully free of such responsibility—any responsibility really, including taking care of houseplants.
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” said Ray. “Might be that Kenshaw saw Hooke make the withdrawal at the bank or Hooke contacted him to look after his girls.”
Jack made a face. “Or maybe Carter was right.”
Jack’s twin brother, Carter, was currently in federal protection with his new wife, Amber Kitcheyan, who was Kenshaw Little Falcon’s niece. They were witnesses in a federal case involving an eco-extremist group called WOLF. Carter had been sent by Little Falcon to deliver a message to their shaman’s niece. As a result, his niece had survived the slaying that had killed everyone else in her office, and Jack’s brother was now gone from the rez as the Feds prepared their case. Jack feared Carter might have to enter witness protection after the case settled because of possible threats from the extremists. Jack believed the timing of Carter’s mission was evidence that their spiritual leader and head of their medicine society had foreknowledge of the mass slaying. If he did, Jack was obliged to arrest him.
“I’m back,” called Morgan from the open doorway.
“Wait here,” said Jack to Ray.
He did as he was told, setting the drawers back in the dresser and then piling the scattered clothing on the bed. He wondered about Morgan’s father. He understood the need for a payday. But he did not understand risking his freedom and his daughter’s life in the pursuit of money. Whether it had been his intention or not, Morgan’s life was now in danger because Ray just knew that branch manager Andrew Peck was not the sort of man who could keep a secret. The minute he figured out he needed help to get his greedy mitts on the loot, he would tell someone—someone more competent and more dangerous.
More would come for the money and when they couldn’t find it, they’d come after Morgan and her daughter. Their troubles were far from over and Ray wondered again if he was up to the task Kenshaw had set for him. Keeping Morgan safe just became a full-time gig.
Morgan felt suddenly unsure about entering her own kitchen. Officer Wetselline had accompanied her from the Herons’ home back here. And she knew her attacker was gone. But still her heart hammered as she stood poised to cross that threshold.
Flashes of the attack exploded like fireworks in her mind. Lisa’s scream. Her own voice. Run! The man growling as he yanked her backward against his fleshy body. Where is it?
“Ma’am?” asked the young patrolman behind her.
She glanced back at him, enfolding herself in a hug and rubbing at the gooseflesh that lifted on her arm.
“Getting cold,” she said, making excuses for her chattering teeth.
“Would you like me to walk you in?” he asked.
She smiled and was about to tell him that was unnecessary, but her stomach tightened and she felt dizzy at just the thought of walking down that hallway.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Thank you.”
His skeptical look told her she hadn’t fooled him.
She glanced about the empty interior. Her daughter’s checked nylon lunch bag sat on the counter with the sack of milk and groceries. The red-and-white soup can had rolled halfway across the dull surface. Otherwise everything looked normal. She stepped gingerly inside and felt the terror close in as she realized how close her daughter had been to the intruder. Her shoulders gave an involuntary shudder. She swallowed and then called out to Detective Bear Den.
“I’m back.”
Morgan glanced out the door, past the officer to the lights of her neighbor’s kitchen. She knew that Lisa was safe with Trish and Guy Heron. Her neighbors had naturally been concerned about the