“Tell me about your clients and your business.”
“I run a small bookkeeping firm out of my home. I don’t have employees—so basically, I’m it. My firm is my livelihood and I’ve worked hard to get it off the ground. Being accused of stealing is about the worst thing that can happen to someone in my profession. Make the victim a church, and you can pretty much write off your career. But ask yourself one thing—what kind of creep would be willing to hunt down a woman and kill her for two thousand dollars—money that, from what you’ve said, hasn’t even been reported missing? There are more blank spaces in that story than there are in my memory.”
“I know,” Daniel answered quietly. “But no one will hurt you while you stick with me. You can count on that.”
Hannah believed him. From everything she’d seen, Daniel Eagle was a man of his word. When he offered his protection, he meant it. To get to her, they’d have to kill him. And from what she’d seen of his fighting skills, it would take a lot to do that.
Like the stereotypical Navajo warrior, Daniel was cool under pressure, quiet and highly dangerous to an enemy. He also possessed a vibrant maleness that only a woman without a pulse could resist. Though at the moment he was a reluctant ally, there was something infinitely seductive about having a man like Daniel protecting her.
Yet that could all change, and she had to remember that. Once he found out the details of her past, would he still believe she was telling him the truth? That was a question she just couldn’t answer, and one she had every right to worry about.
“So how much farther is this safe house?” Hannah asked.
“We have less than a half hour of drive time before we get there. The house actually belongs to a buddy of mine. It’s near Hogback, just inside the Reservation. No one’s living there right now. Mitchell’s away for the next two months. He’s participating in law enforcement training back east. Nobody will bother us there.”
“Is Mitchell part of Gray Wolf?”
“All I can say is that he and I got to be friends when I worked as a cop a lifetime ago.”
“But what if the neighbors see us?”
“They know me. We won’t have any problems. You’ll be safe. It’s a tight community with a lot of cops or former cops, and ex-military.”
Hannah took a deep breath, then let it out again. “You realize that I don’t have a wallet, money, ID, or anything on me except the clothes on my back, and the shirt isn’t even mine. Is there any way I can get a few things from my home?”
“No, that’s out of the question. It’s probably being watched.”
She nodded. “Okay, fair enough. But I’ll still need a change of clothes and a few personal items.”
“We can stop at the trading post near where we’re going. You stay in the vehicle with Wolf. Give me a list with sizes, and I’ll get whatever I can find.”
The stop to buy the things she’d asked for was quick. After that, they continued the drive that took them past harvested cornfields west of Hogback and dry desert above the river valley. Daniel remained silent throughout and, after a while, Hannah decided to do something to break the unsettling quiet that was grating on her nerves.
“I’ve heard of the brooding hero, but I think I’d rather have a more talkative one,” she said, a wry smile touching the corners of her mouth.
“I don’t brood, and I’m no hero,” he muttered.
“Well, you handled yourself pretty well against those two men who came after me.”
“It’s part of what I do.” He paused, then added, “And, to be honest, I don’t like to lose.”
Hannah knew that already. Daniel wasn’t a man who took second place easily—if ever. “Then you may have picked the wrong side to be on this time. The odds seem to be stacked against me at the moment.”
“I follow my own judgment about what’s right and what’s not. Odds are never the issue. And I never shy away from a fight I believe in,” he answered, giving her a crooked smile that made her pulse beat faster. “Besides, your chances aren’t as bad as you think, providing you’re as innocent as you say you are.”
Hannah didn’t miss the disclaimer. “So, you still have doubts?”
“Under the circumstances, do you blame me?”
She sighed softly. “No, I suppose not. What can I do to change that?”
“Work with me. Let’s concentrate on what we know and try to piece the rest together. That’s the only way we’re going to find the truth.”
It was shortly after 3:00 p.m. when Daniel pulled off the main highway, drove a quarter mile south, then parked in front of a wood frame house located in a semirural residential area alongside the river. There were at least five acres between neighbors. “Let’s go inside. Mitchell has a computer program designed to make suspect drawings. I helped him install it a while back. If we work together, I think we can come up with a sketch of the man who abducted you.”
Hannah went into the house and looked around. It was a simple home with a bare minimum of amenities. A man’s house, and a spartan one.
As Daniel sat down at the computer, she tried to keep her spirits up, but it was hard. She couldn’t blame Daniel for harboring doubts. And it was going to get worse. Someone was clearly out to frame her and even the apparent kindness of keeping the police out of it was making it easier for her hidden enemy to systematically destroy her. If the missing money wasn’t found, she was sure that eventually she’d be arrested.
She’d lose everything but, in the process, she’d also blacken her uncle’s reputation as well. He’d vouched for her when she’d taken over the church’s accounts and their connection would mean that no one would ever trust him again either. He’d be ruined personally and professionally. A real estate broker needed people’s trust.
“I’m not guilty. I’m certain of that, even though I can’t remember what happened,” Hannah said.
Daniel nodded absently as he switched on the computer.
“And I’m not crazy.” She saw the thoughtful look he gave her, and realized that he already knew quite a bit about her history. Just how much, she was afraid to ask, but unless she could make him understand that her illness had only been a result of her parents’ death and that it was all in the past, it would shadow everything she said or did.
As she glanced over at him, she noticed the way he was looking at her and forced herself not to react. “I’ve spent my whole life trying not to let long, thoughtful looks filled with speculation—like the one you just gave me—get to me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, quickly looking down at the computer.
“It’s a certain expression that people get that says without words, ‘Poor thing. She looks normal, but she’s a little touched.’” She paused for a moment. “I hate it, but it’s followed me all my life.”
“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that that’s what I was thinking or doing,” he hedged, fully aware that she’d hit the mark squarely.
“So you weren’t assessing me, wondering what makes me tick?”
He started to deny it, but then decided against it. “Your uncle told me that you’re prone to fugue states where you don’t remember things, and that you spent time in a hospital for depression.”
“I went through six months of therapy after my father committed suicide. I was there when it happened and I went into shock. I was only thirteen at the time, and it was just too much for me to handle.” She took a deep, steadying breath then continued. “It took a while for me to find