Wild Wild Death (28 page)

Satisfied, I sat back on my heels for a wel -deserved breather.

Too bad breathing was something I never got the chance to do.

Before I knew what was happening, and long before I could react, a rope looped around my neck and the person holding it—someone I hadn’t heard come up behind me—tugged and twisted. Hard.

I gagged and fought for a breath that wouldn’t come. That’s when instinct and panic took over. My hands shot up and I struggled to wedge them between the rope and my neck, but my attacker’s hold was too strong. I thrashed and flipped, and behind my eyes, stars exploded and sparkled like a thousand supernovas. The last thing I remember seeing were the black-and-white stripes painted on my assailant’s legs.

That and the hole I’d dug in the dusty New Mexico earth. The one I landed in, face first.

S

puttering is not attractive. Then again, being choked to death isn’t al that good for a girl in the looks department, either, so I guess the fact that I was sputtering—and alive—was a big plus. So was Pete Olivas, who was standing over me when I came to.

Apparently, he’d already used his radio to make the cal about the wel -dressed woman unconscious on the ground, and clearly, Jesse knew
well-dressed
could only mean me.

When I pul ed myself out of the dirt and sat up, Jesse was sprinting in my direction. He was winded, his hat was missing, and when he saw me breathing and conscious, a look of such relief swept over his face, I swear if I hadn’t already fal en for him, it would have happened right there and then.

He was on his knees beside me in an instant, directing Pete to get the paramedics over there at the same time he gently fingered the abrasion on my neck, checking for damage. It hurt like hel and my guess was that what felt like a rug burn al along the front of my neck didn’t do much for the overal look of my outfit. But then, neither did the coating of New Mexico dust I was wearing like a second skin. I scraped my hands over my arms, brushed my skirt.

Trying to swal ow was another matter.

“Water,” Jesse instructed Pete, and when he gave me a bottle of it, he looked into my eyes. “Can you tel me what happened?”

Water, huh? It felt like fire going down, and I coughed and forced myself to take another sip. In the great scheme of things, the pain gave me the chance to develop my strategy because, let’s face it, the truth wasn’t exactly going to put me in a shining light, law enforcement–wise. “I was…” Another sip, another cough, and lucky for me, a couple paramedics showed up just at that moment, and while they checked me out, it gave me a little more time to stal .

Thank goodness, this time no one insisted I go to the ER. They cleaned up my neck and put some ointment on the abrasion, then they transported me back to the police station in an ambulance. I think this last bit was because Jesse insisted more than because anyone thought I real y needed it. His arm around my shoulders, Jesse walked me to his office.

More water, and thank goodness an officer (it was a woman, of course, because only a woman would think of it) gave me some wet paper towels. I did as much damage control as I could without the benefit of running water, shampoo, and a hot oil treatment, and by the time I was done, Jesse had made me a cup of tea and added a couple spoonfuls of honey.

“It wil help soothe your throat,” he said.

I smiled my thanks but the expression didn’t last long. It hurt. And besides, it was time to explain.

“I found Goodshot’s hand,” I said. “His skeleton hand. It was in the pocket of the—”

I looked around the office. The blue windbreaker wasn’t there.

Yeah, there was stil fire in my throat. But now, it shot through my veins, too, I jumped out of the chair.

No easy feat considering I’d just nearly met my maker at the end of a rope.

“The windbreaker.” Holding on to the chair for balance with one hand, I pointed with the other at the nothing that should have been on the chair next to me. “Pete… the paramedics… did they… what did they do with my windbreaker?”

Jesse cal ed Pete into the office, and Pete swore that when he found me, there was no windbreaker anywhere nearby. Just to satisfy my sputtering protest that he must be wrong, he even went back to check out the dusty corner of the pueblo where I’d been attacked. A few minutes later, his voice crackled over the radio. “Nothing here, Chief. No windbreaker.”

The fire faded and ice settled in my stomach.

Jesse was standing nearby and I grabbed his hand.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You get to go shopping for a new blue windbreaker?”

I forgave him for being obtuse, but only because I’d seen how upset he was when he thought I was in real trouble. Of course he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Forget

the

windbreaker!

I

hate

that

windbreaker!” I didn’t need to muffle my screech windbreaker!” I didn’t need to muffle my screech since my throat was raw and it came out sounding froggy. “It’s not the windbreaker that guy was after, it was what was in the pocket of the windbreaker.”

“You said…” Jesse plunked down on the edge of his desk. “Goodshot’s skeleton hand. But why were you out there with the bones and what—”

“Long story.” I waved away the question as if it didn’t have federal-penitentiary significance. “The night I… er… borrowed the bones, the hand ended up in my pocket, and I forgot al about it, but I found it this afternoon and I took it out… you know, just to look at it…”

“And if whoever has the rest of the bones knew the hand was missing and was fol owing you in the hopes of finding it…” Three cheers for Jesse. He’d gotten to the heart of the matter and done it in a way that avoided the whole messy tampering-with-Taopi-land thing. He was already at the door and had already told Pete to get together whatever officers could be spared from the feast before he turned back to me. “He’s got the entire skeleton.”

Yeah, exactly what I was thinking.

“And now,” I said, “he can perform that magic ceremony and cal the spirits out of the kiva.”

“Cal ing the spirits, huh?” Jesse put on his Stetson. “Sounds exactly like something Dan would do.”

He just wasn’t going to let it go.

I forgave Jesse. But that was only because we were already racing out of the office and there wasn’t time to bicker.

F

or the second time, we made the trip out to the ancient pueblo. The route was just as dusty, just as rocky, and bumpier than ever thanks to the fact that Jesse drove it at as much of a breakneck speed as he was able. No doubt he felt the same sense of urgency that was pounding through me. And the same gnawing frustration. What with the crowds at the feast and the fact that another sacred dance had started just a few minutes before we set out to gather everyone Jesse wanted to bring along, it had taken more than an hour to locate the elders and Strong Eagle, the shaman.

What that meant, of course, was that the person who attacked me and took Goodshot’s hand had the jump on us.

By the time we arrived at the entrance to the steep, winding path through the two cliffs, the clouds had parted. Just what I’d been waiting for, except that the sun was already sinking over the horizon, and it was chil ier than ever. Not that I missed the blue windbreaker or anything, but I was grateful when Pete reached into the back of the SUV and tossed me a Taopi police officer’s jacket. It was too big, but at least it was warm. Good thing I’d stowed my cowboy boots in the Mustang before I left the motel and had time to retrieve them while Jesse was gathering his troops. No way I ever would have made it up the trail in my high-heeled sandals. Then again, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, anyway. Jesse set a punishing pace and I stumbled along behind him, watching the bobbing beam of his flashlight as he led the way.

By the time we stepped out onto the mesa, the sky above us was the color of grape juice and dotted with a mil ion stars. Directly above us was the smudge of the Milky Way. Too bad I didn’t have time to be awestruck. At least not by the Milky Way.

But then, I was pretty busy being awestruck by what was happening over on the flat-top roof of the kiva. One of the excavation worktables had been set there and turned into a makeshift altar with chunky candles burning on either end of it. The flames flickered in the breeze, tossing flapping shadows on what was laid out on the table—a human skeleton.

Goodshot.

There was a bowl of sage next to the bones. The tips of the branches were smoldering, and the smoke from them swirled around the altar like restless banshees.

Maybe it was the smoke that got into my brain and made me see things. Maybe that’s why I was suddenly feeling even more winded than I had on the mountain path, and a lot like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

Maybe that explained why I saw Dan Cal ahan standing at the altar.

Big points for Jesse. When he turned around to give me a look, he didn’t say, “I told you so.” In fact, the only emotion I saw in his brown eyes was concern. “Are you going to be al right with this?” he asked me.

“Al right?” It wasn’t my raw throat that caused me to sputter over the words, it was the lump of emotion that blocked my breathing. A lump that dissolved in a flash thanks to what felt like a wal op to my midsection.

Oh yeah, there’s a lot to be said for anger. It’s a great alternative to the pain of betrayal.

I was headed over to the kiva before anyone could stop me.

“You son of a bitch!” I guess my throat wasn’t hurt so badly after al , because I managed to bark the words at Dan and I watched him flinch and spin to face me. “That whole baloney about you being kidnapped… that whole thing about how I had to dig up Goodshot’s bones and bring them here to save you… and what happaned to Norma and Arnie and Brian…” I was nice and close now and I took advantage of the fact that Dan was stil so surprised to see me, he hadn’t moved. I punched him right in the nose. “You son of a—”

No way Jesse was going to let things dissolve into a ruckus. I would have given Dan another wel -

deserved smack if Jesse didn’t come up behind me and grabbed hold of my arm. “You’re Dan Cal ahan,”

he said. He was just being official, I think, since the he said. He was just being official, I think, since the fact that I’d thwacked Dan probably told Jesse al he real y needed to know.

Dan had snapped out of his daze the moment my knuckles met his nose, and from behind his now bent wire-rimmed glasses, he blinked like a stunned owl at us and the Taopi who gathered around us.

“Pepper? What are you… How…”

“Oh, no!” I was in no mood to be placated. Or held on to. I ripped my arm out of Jesse’s grasp, the better to point a finger directly at Dan’s already puffy nose. “Don’t you try to play innocent,” I growled. “Al this time, I’ve been desperate to find you. And I’ve been defending you up one side and down the other.

And al this time, you’re the one who’s been behind it al .”

Dan fingered the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t mean…” He looked over his shoulder toward the skeleton. “If you’re talking about this, I’ve got to admit, I don’t understand it, either. There’s a legend about the bones of an Indian who knew the secret hiding place of the sacred bowl, but these can’t be them. I mean, how could they? Those bones are buried back at Garden View. You’ve got to believe me, Pepper, I’m just as confused as you are.”

“Oh yeah?”

So okay, it wasn’t exactly a stinging comeback, but apparently Dan didn’t notice because he snarled right back at me, “Yeah.”

Not the tender reunion scene I had always envisioned having with Dan someday. But stil too leisurely for Jesse. In one smooth movement, he stepped behind Dan and slapped on his handcuffs.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Dan actual y might have tried to wriggle away if Jesse hadn’t had such a tight hold on him. “I’m the victim here. These four guys kidnapped me and—”

“Save it.” It wasn’t until he final y spoke that I realized Jesse was even angrier than I was. There was a knife-blade edge to his voice, and his eyes glinted in the light of the flickering candles. “You can tel your story to the tribal council. And the FBI. And a couple federal prosecutors. Maybe by then you can figure out a way to explain how you forged those phony excavation papers.”