Redhawk's Heart Page 3

  “Good. Keep me informed every step of the way, especially regarding any evidence you uncover. And remember, I want some arrests ASAP.”

  Prescott drifted over to another unfortunate officer as Casey refocused her attention on what Ashe was doing. Ashe’s gaze was riveted on the contents of a file scattered on the floor near the desk. Having put on rubber gloves, he was sifting through the papers carefully. But it was the pain mirrored on his face that drew her to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “These are adoption papers. According to them, Fox was not my foster parents’ natural daughter. I never knew that. I never thought of my foster parents as people with secrets, but it looks like I was wrong.”

  She heard the sorrowful disappointment lacing through his words, and every fiber in her body responded to it. She wanted to offer this man some comfort, but knew she could not. Power, grace and strength defined him. For now, his own courage would have to be enough to keep him going. But, as he turned his gaze on her, she felt herself drawn to him on a level she’d never experienced before.

  It was all she could do to force herself not to reach out to him, and to look away. “Do you think the adoption is somehow connected to the murders?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m certain this was something Fox was never told. She wouldn’t have kept it from me or my brother.”

  Casey heard an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  “Too many secrets,” he added in a whisper-soft voice.

  Emotions she couldn’t quite define flickered on his face and then, in a heartbeat, were gone.

  Casey watched him move through the room. As he passed through the different shades of lighting, his face became a fascinating blend of clearly defined angles and planes. He was the most striking man she’d ever met. Yet it was his composure in the face of chaos—that ultimate proof of his courage—that drew her the most.

  Instinct warned her that danger lay ahead for her in this case, but her course was set. She’d been sent to find answers, and she would start by learning more about this enigmatic, compelling man.

  Chapter Two

  After a fruitless two-hour search for Fox, and a futile attempt to reach his brother, frustration gnawed at Ashe.

  He’d hoped at least to talk to Travis and share the burden of sorrow with him. Instead, he’d been forced to leave a message asking that his brother call home as soon as possible. Travis’s Army Ranger unit was on maneuvers, their location classified, and there was no telling how long it would be before Ashe heard from him.

  He’d almost been relieved when Casey had called, asking that he return to his foster parents’ home. She needed his help now that the crime team had almost finished processing the scene.

  Ashe now sat at Katrina’s desk, an old oak teacher’s desk from the forties that Nick Johnson had restored. He ran his hand over the smooth, hand-rubbed, light oak finish. Nick had given Katrina this desk on her birthday, soon after she’d started middle school. Ashe remembered Travis and he had helped Nick Johnson carry it out from its hiding place in the garage.

  As if that one memory had unlocked a door, others rushed to fill his mind. He remembered their school vacations with special fondness. There were summer trips fishing along the Dolores River in southern Colorado, visits to the State Fair in Albuquerque in the fall, rodeos near the high school and Babe Ruth baseball.

  “Is there anything missing from her desk?” Casey asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Not that I’ve seen so far.” He could sense her frustration over the lack of damning physical evidence. Except for two nine-millimeter shell casings recovered above the arroyo, there wasn’t much to go on except the plaster impressions. None of those would be any use until they had a suspect, a pistol and a motorcycle.

  Casey would need his help on the case—probably far more than she realized just yet. But first he intended to learn the real reason she’d come to the Johnsons’ home when she did. What she’d told him and wanted him to believe might have had elements of truth, but it wasn’t the whole story. His gut feelings were seldom wrong. Her presence here, so soon after the call, had been more than coincidence. He didn’t believe she’d had anything to do with the crime—he had gathered enough facts to discount that—but he still had some serious questions about her that needed answers. If he couldn’t get them from her directly, he’d have to find another way.

  He picked up Fox’s address book and leafed through it. “A few pages have been torn out of here.”

  Casey pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Fox might have taken those herself. If my theory is right, she may have decided to hide out at a friend’s house. As I figure it, the only way we can protect her now is to find the killer.”

  Ashe studied Casey’s expression, trying to figure her out. For whatever the reason, she was only intent on finding the perp, not Fox, who could clearly be the next victim. “It’s time to try a different tack.”

  “Like what? And, for the record, there’s no ‘we.’ This is my case.”

  He met her gaze for a moment, then shrugged and headed for the door. “Okay. Good luck on your case.”

  She had to jog to match the speed of his long, powerful stride. “If you withhold any information relevant to this investigation, I’ll have you up on charges so fast you won’t know what hit you. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term ‘obstruction of justice.”’

  Ashe regarded her coolly as she stood dangerously close to him, blocking his way. He had learned a long time ago to lock away his feelings, but Casey still managed to heat his blood to a boil. Few men ever dared to challenge him, yet this woman did so with nothing more than determination and courage to back her up.

  “I’m going to the station,” he said. “You may leave your car for one of the officers to bring back and come with me, or follow me in your own car, or stay here. As you say, it’s your case.”

  “Wait for me.” She hurried back inside and returned a minute later. Casey opened the door on the passenger side of his tribal police carryall as he started the engine. “Tell me about this lead you want to pursue.”

  He paused, gathering his thoughts, but with characteristic Anglo impatience, she misinterpreted his silence as lack of cooperation.

  “The Bureau has access to state-of-the-art equipment, and our agents have the best training in the nation,” she added. “All of that can be brought to bear in this case. If you try to handle the investigation on your own, you’re going to give the criminals a big head start.”

  “Crimes aren’t solved by technology alone, here on the Rez. You have to know your territory and the people you’re dealing with. Clearly, you do not.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, Detective. I always get the job done. I have a reputation for making things happen. People who cross me find out real fast my rep is well deserved.”

  The challenge was made with the unshakable confidence that came only from experience. It was clear that she was a born warrior—something he both understood and respected.

  “I do have one lead,” Ashe said. Casey was right about one thing: She would make a good ally. Her resources at the Bureau would give him an edge. Nothing meant more to him than catching the killer and finding Katrina. “There’s a file with Fox’s name on it at the station. I’ve seen it.” He filled her in, including his captain’s refusal to give him access to the file.

  “That’s your lead?” she asked, surprised. “But you said your captain told you that file had nothing to do with Fox. What makes you so sure you didn’t just make a mistake?”

  “I know what I saw.”

  Ashe turned his thoughts inward, seeking harmony, but anger blocked his efforts. The image of his foster parents’ bodies would stay with him until the day he, too, died. One way or another, he’d find the killer. An image of Fox flashed before him. She had to be okay. The alternative was too painful to contemplate. He’d become a cop to protect others. The knowledge that he’d failed to protect his foster family gnawed at him, threatening to undermine the work he now had to do.

  Ashe led Casey to the squad room of the small-but-modern tribal police station a short time later. A tense silence filled the room as he stepped inside. He was used to people looking to him for answers but, now, when it mattered the most, he could offer them none.

  Captain Todacheene came out of his office and gave Ashe a nod of acknowledgment. “I’m sorry to hear about your family. If you need any time off, the paperwork is ready. All you have to do is say the word.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Ashe replied. “May I speak to you in private?”

  “Of course.”

  Ashe glanced back at Casey. “Excuse me for a minute.” Ashe could see she wasn’t happy about being excluded, but surprisingly enough, she didn’t protest.

  He didn’t have time to consider it further, however, as Captain Todacheene led the way into his office and closed the door behind them.

  “Okay. What’s on your mind?” the captain asked, walking to his desk.

  “You know about Agent Feist?”

  He nodded. “We’ve met. She’s in charge of this case now, if that’s your question. You know the law.”

  “We don’t have a motive for the killings yet, but I believe Fox may have been kidnapped. I’d like to work on that aspect of the case. Earlier today, while going through the victims’ papers, I discovered my foster sister was adopted. I’d like to subpoena any records—”

  “You’re not going to sneak anything by me with double-talk. I said this is not your case. The Bureau is in charge.”

  “Agent Feist has requested my help. That’s what I’m trying to do, without interfering with the homicide investigation she’s taken over.” He was stretching the truth, but not very far. “Normally I’d need a cour
t order for agency adoption records, but there is one place I could search for answers immediately. I’d like to search through her file—the one I saw here on your desk.”

  “I don’t have any file on Fox. I told you that.” Ashe’s hands clenched around the arms of the chair, but he kept his body perfectly still. “I saw the file.”

  Todacheene’s eyes narrowed. “You saw a file, Detective.”

  Seconds passed by slowly. The silence was so thick it became a tangible presence between them.

  Todacheene finally stood, shaking his head and adjusting the belt that circled his ample girth. The massive turquoise-and-silver belt buckle he wore caught a beam of sunlight that came through the window, and cast a strange bright reflection on the wall.

  “You’re out of line, Detective. Way out of line. If the file you saw contained anything that would give you a lead on the killer, I would show it to you in an instant. There shouldn’t be the slightest question about that in your mind. You’ve had a shock, so maybe your instincts aren’t working right. I’m willing to cut you some slack because of the circumstances, but don’t push me. That would be a serious mistake.”

  Todacheene held the door open. “Now, send Special Agent Feist in here. She and I need to get a few ground rules worked out.”

  Ashe walked out and gestured for Casey to go in. As her gaze met his, he felt a tug on his senses, like the vibrations from a lightning strike nearby.

  He let his breath out in a hiss. The agent was, like most women, a distraction—nature’s way of bringing another imbalance into his life. He shut her out of his thoughts.

  Yet, as he sat down at his desk, she stayed at the edges of his mind, offering him some respite from the pain that weighed on his spirit.

  CASEY FELT ASHE watching her as she walked into the captain’s office. Even after she closed the door she remembered those eyes—they made her heart forget to beat and her skin tingle in places it had no right to. But she had no time for this. Bringing her attention back to business, she sat down and urged the captain to begin.

  “The detective will not be easily dissuaded,” Todacheene warned.

  “You know him better than I do. Will he at least follow orders and stay out of my way?”

  “His foster parents have just been brutally murdered. On duty or off, Redhawk’s involved, regardless of what either of us may wish.”

  Casey nodded thoughtfully. “To what extent can he be trusted?”

  Todacheene leaned back and regarded her. “If you’re asking me whether he’ll follow orders mindlessly, the answer is almost certainly no. But if you’re asking me if I believe him to be totally honest, the answer is yes. You should keep one thing in mind, though. He’s a man who acts on his principles, regardless of how dangerous it gets.”

  Casey exhaled softly. “A wild card, then.”

  The captain shrugged. “If you choose to see it that way.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “You might find his insight and his contacts useful. He could be the best of all possible allies for you, especially here on the Reservation where he is known and respected.”

  Todacheene’s statement had been matter-of-fact, but the message was clear. She’d been warned by her superiors that an Anglo would not receive the tribe’s unconditional cooperation. It was obviously a battle she’d have to fight, and it would be up to her to figure out what, if any, concessions to make.

  “I will tell you, right now, that nothing short of locking him up will prevent Detective Redhawk from searching for the Johnsons’ daughter,” the captain continued. “And when his brother hears about what happened today, we’ll have to deal with him, too. Ashe and Travis are very different, but in times of trouble, the Redhawk brothers are a formidable team.”

  Hearing a knock, the captain stood and opened the door. When Prescott, the D.A., came into the office, Ashe followed him.

  “I thought it was time for a meeting,” Prescott said, standing in front of Todacheene’s desk. “I had to give the newspapers a statement. Admittedly I was extremely vague, but I don’t think they’re going to let this just drop. Have you got any leads yet?” Prescott looked at Casey.

  “Except for continuing the search for the gunman who ran away, and who remains unidentified, we don’t have much,” she replied. “We have footprints, a few nine-millimeter shell casings, three squashed cigarette butts and tread marks from the motorcycle seen at the crime scene. The room was vacuumed for hair and fibers, which will be examined to see if they may have come from the assailant. That’s it. But keep in mind that the murders were discovered only a few hours ago, and an analysis of the physical evidence takes time.”

  Prescott turned to look at Ashe. “What about you, Detective? Have you got a lead yet on the location of Katrina Johnson?”

  Ashe shook his head. “I’m still working on that.”

  “I’ve been making some calls on my own,” Prescott said. “The Johnsons had no known enemies—none that I’ve managed to uncover.”

  “I don’t know of any, either,” Ashe admitted. “But this situation proves that they did. This was no random killing, or botched robbery. The timing, and the way the murders were carried out, suggests organization and premeditation.” He paused, then added, “Another unanswered question is how Agent Feist managed to get to the scene so quickly. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of an FBI agent cruising the area, listening to our police frequencies.”

  Casey met Ashe’s gaze, forcing herself not to react. Despite his dislike for the D.A., he was purposely using the man’s questions as an excuse to bait her. She had no intention of rising to it. “The Four Corners area is new to me. I was trying, and still am, to get to know the Reservation.” She focused on the D.A., giving him a cold stare. “And, Mr. Prescott, in the future, please refrain from giving statements or questioning witnesses regarding this ongoing investigation. If you feel you must, please consult with me first. I am in charge of this case.”

  Prescott said nothing, but his eyes told Casey he wasn’t happy with her reprimand.

  “I think we’d be better off dividing the case,” Ashe said, looking at Casey. “How about if you concentrate on the murders, while I search for Fox?”

  Casey considered his offer carefully. It might serve to keep him out of her hair and let her do the work that she was here to see through. The key to everything lay in finding the killer, and that had to be her top priority. “Okay, but if you turn up a lead I can use in the murder case, I want you to turn it over to me immediately. Deal?”

  Ashe shot a glance at the captain, who shrugged. He then turned back to Casey and nodded. “If you find anything that will help me find Fox, please do the same for me.”

  As he held her gaze, another delicious shiver touched her spine. Casey suppressed it quickly, but not fast enough to mask it from his eyes. She looked away, angry at herself. Instinctively she moved a few steps farther away from Ashe and looked at Captain Todacheene. “I know we just got them, but have we learned anything about the shoe imprints left by the suspect near the murder scene? Also, was there anything useful or distinctive about the motorcycle tread marks?”

  Todacheene looked down at some papers on his desk. “We know that the motorcycle was a dirt bike. The tires are particularly knobby and easy to recognize. But the make and model are still unknown. The footprints came from a size-ten boot. That’s not that unusual, but the brand was. The tracks were identical to a model made by a big-name outdoor-wear company that does a lot of mail-order business. Few around here can afford to spend the kind of money this company gets for their footwear.”

  “I’ll want to check out any local stores that might carry that brand,” Casey said.

  “There aren’t any on the Rez, but there are one, maybe two places in Farmington. The crime team can get you the information you need by tomorrow morning, at the latest.”

  Casey glanced at Prescott, who was taking notes, then at Ashe. “If Fox’s disappearance is, as you suspect, directly connected to the murders, then our cases will overlap. I suggest you start by checking into the possibility of a stalker or a jealous boyfriend. You know Fox and who her friends are. Ask around. We don’t have any evidence at this stage to support that explanation, but it’s an avenue worth pursuing. I saw her photo back at her home. She’s very attractive.”