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Laurie could barely suppress a smile as she walk-ran down the road from her house. Danny had texted her this morning. He was back—back on the Rez.
They hadn’t been together since last year. Since her father had run Danny off the reservation. Just because his old man had been into some shady stuff didn’t mean Danny was. He had issues he had to work on—who didn’t—but he wasn’t the thug her father made him out to be.
When she reached the end of her road she turned right and started down the main road that would take her into the area around the Little River Casino. She stuck out her thumb just in case she could hitch a ride. Walking twelve miles in boots would suck.
The last year had been the loneliest since she’d arrived here four years ago—since her mother’s death. She didn’t like to think of the before. But now with Danny back everything would be copacetic. She liked that word—straight out of the dark ages. Whistling, she practically skipped down the road.
A fancy black truck with chrome wheels flew past. Its brake lights glowed red as it came to a stop. Reverse lights lit as it sped backward toward her. She leaped to the side of the road. Smooth as silk, the truck’s passenger window slid down.
“Want a ride?” The driver’s face was partially in shadow but his voice, oiled and smooth, sent a shiver down Laurie’s spine—not a hot guy kinda shiver but an I wear a pinkie ring kinda shiver.
“Aw... No. I’m only going down the road a bit.”
A pause. She could almost feel his gaze slid over her.
“Suit yourself.”
The truck was in motion before the words were completely out of his mouth.
Afraid he’d change his mind and come back, she dragged her feet, ready to run.
He didn’t come back.
She walked for another twenty or thirty minutes. Her feet hurt. Maybe she should’ve asked Danny to pick her up down the road from her house. But it was too risky. He didn’t want her father to know he was back.
She hiked another fifteen minutes. The chug and sputter of another vehicle approached from behind.
Her eyes slid sideways. A stake truck with a rusted-out body passed. Bales of hay poked out between the slats of the truck bed. The wind blew bits of straw back toward her. She just knew some of it landed in her hair.
“Hey,” she shouted. The word snatched away by the wind.
The truck slowed. No brake lights.
When she got level with the passenger door, the driver reached across the seat and rolled down the window. The pane stuck half way down with the glass crooked in the frame.
An old guy of about fifty asked in the language of the people, “Want a lift?”
Laurie blew hay off her lips. If she took this ride, she’d have to comb her hair and put on lip gloss before she met Danny.
“Sure.”
The driver swept the papers and food wrappers from the passenger seat and motioned for her to get in.
A short guy with thick-fingered hands, the driver put the truck into gear. It barreled down the bumpy road with Laurie bouncing on the springless seat.
∞
John stared at a pad where he’d drawn a heavy circle around Destiny Little Feather’s name. The appearance of the Little Feathers at police headquarters had rattled him. He’d become so involved with the criminal element on the Little River Reservation, he hadn’t a clue what was happening with the law-abiding citizens.
When he’d taken the job, he’d had such dreams of how he’d make a difference for his people. For a while he’d achieved those dreams—giving painting lessons at the Boys and Girls club, mentoring some of the younger boys. Now he worked twelve, sometimes fifteen, hours a day, slept, got up, and started the process all over again. He hadn’t painted in over a year. He’d given up on the idea that the Council would hire more officers. He’d been asking for four years, and for four years he’d been given the same answer—no money.
His pen circled Destiny’s name. Round and round. He drew another circle representing the dead girl. Inside this circle, he placed a question mark.
Two females. One dead. One runaway.
Sitting back in his chair, he stared at the paper. The dead girl was just that—dead. Destiny’s fate was unknown. She could have just decided that life in the big city was better than life on the reservation with two old people. He’d have to ask Milton where Dorrie Mae and Destiny had lived and have the police in that area keep an eye out for her.
He wondered if Maggie had remembered to check for missing person reports that might fit their Jane Doe. He pushed back from his desk.
“Maggie?” He strode down the hall. “Maggie—”
Thomas Crow stood before the dispatcher’s desk, fingers hooked in his belt loop, rocking on his heels. Face flushed and eyes sparkling, Maggie gazed at Crow like a rock star groupie. John didn’t know why. The guy’s smile was too big and too insincere. When she saw John she blushed and picked up sheets of pink paper.
“Messages,” she said, extending them to him. She couldn’t meet his eye.
“What do you need, Crow?” John asked, his tone sharp.
Crow gave John a grin as shiny and fake as the belt buckle at his waist.
“Just wanted to come by and let you know I’m running for Police Chief.”
“Noted. Until you’re sitting in this seat, I’ve got work to do.”
John flipped through the pink slips, not seeing any of the words. Without looking up he asked, “Is there something else I can do for you, Crow?”
John shifted his focus from the pink slips of paper to the man who wanted his badge.
“Nope. Just wanted to tell Maggie that she won’t lose her job when I’m elected. I know she practically runs this place.”
He winked at her then turned and sauntered toward the exit. He reached the door just in time to open it for two males in dark suits.
John recognized one of the men—Special Agent Howard Iles of the FBI. He and Iles had worked uneasily together on a couple of assignments.
“Iron Hawk.” Iles acknowledged John. “This is Agent Watanabe.”
The other male, an Asian somewhere in his early thirties, extended his hand to John. They shook.
Iles stared down Crow, who lingered at the door. He scurried out faster than a badger with a big cat at his heels.
Iles turned his attention back to John. “You found a body?” Always impeccably dressed, Iles held himself stiffly as though his molecules would fly apart if he loosened up just a little bit. His jacket was buttoned over a white shirt and dark blue tie. John’s jeans, boots, and long hair had more than once drawn a raised eyebrow from the agent.
“I did.”
“Can we step into your office?” Iles asked.
John shook his head. “You’ll be more comfortable out here.” This was the agent’s first time in the office.
Iles glanced over at Maggie, her small eyes gleaming with unsuppressed excitement. “Your office, Captain.”
John clamped down on his irritation and led the way. He could have told Iles he was wasting his time. Maggie would know more about this case than Iles before the investigation was over. And the informant wouldn’t be John.
His office, once a supply closet, held one desk and one chair. The file cabinets that once had lived in the space now lined the outside corridor. John leaned against the wall, watching as
Iles attempted to close the office door. The agent gave up when the frame jammed on John’s desk.
Iles pulled out a small notebook. “Details?”
The younger agent hadn’t said a word. He stood with his hands folded in front of him, legs slightly apart. The image brought to mind the Secret Service standing at attention when the POTUS attended functions.
“Young female between eighteen and twenty-two. Buried out at Eagle Crossing Quarry in a shallow grave. Throat slashed. Body’s at the morgue in Rapid City.”
“ID?” Iles asked.
“None. We fingerprinted her. Haven’t heard back yet.”
Iles pulled up his jacket sleeve and studied a large nautical-looking watch. He glanced over at Watanabe with a raised brow. Without a word, the younger agent left the office. His steps could be heard receding down the short corridor.
“Was she Native American?”
“She was.”
“But you didn’t know her?”
John shook his head. “Impossible to know everyone. The population is transient. Moving on and off the reservation as circumstances in their lives change.”
Iles’ lips thinned. “Any indication drugs were involved? Any of that kind of activity on the reservation?”
John almost laughed. “The residents are poor and desperate. There’s always something going on.”
The agent snapped his notebook closed then tapped it against the palm of his left hand. “Might want to check into that angle.”
John bit down on his irritation. “This isn’t my first murder investigation.”
Iles smiled tightly. “Oh, yeah. You came from the Minneapolis PD, didn’t you? Detective, right?”
John didn’t shift from his position on the wall. Something in Iles’ tone made heat rush through John’s veins. He took a deep breath. Iles was an ass. John had dealt with other non-Indian officers like Iles, who didn’t have respect for the job tribal officers did. He tried not to let it get to him.
Watanabe stepped back into the office, defusing the tension. “Nothing yet.”
Iles turned to John. “Let’s see the murder scene.”
John let the two agents precede him out of the office. With an election coming up, he didn’t need the added pressure of working with someone who had an agenda. There were enough people wanting a piece of him. Iles could step to the end of the line.
∞
Laurie sipped a Coke she really didn’t want. Her stomach churned. Her right leg bounced. She smoothed her hair back from her face and resisted the urge to gnaw on her nail. She glanced around the open-air market.
Where was he? Her heart stalled and sputtered. Maybe he wouldn’t show. Maybe her father had found out. Maybe—
He strutted toward her as cocky as Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, long black coat fluttering in the wind. Laurie couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she had her pride. She hadn’t heard from him in thirteen months and six days. He’d just left without a word. Her eyes stung at the memory.
“Hey, baby,” he said as he stood over her.
Her knees were too wobbly to stand. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself by collapsing at his feet. He’d love that.
“Hey.” She kept the excitement out of her voice.
He pulled out the iron rod chair and straddled it. “You want that?” He pointed at the Coke.
She shook her head. He downed it in two long pulls through the straw. His eyes smiled at her as he sucked. She couldn’t stop the goofy grin that spread across her face.
He placed the glass down on the table. “What’s been happening? Where’s the crew?”
She shrugged. “Not much. The gang’s gone. Gilly and her mom moved away. Mac disappeared right after you did.” She could have bitten off her tongue. Now he’d think she thought he’d snuck away like a thief in the night.
His face darkened. “It was your dad’s fault. He was on us for no reason. Just like he was on my dad. If—”
Laurie’s leg started to bounce again. His tirade played on around her. There was nothing she could say when he got like this. If she tried to stop him he might walk away, and she’d never see him again.
A big truck with tinted windows glided down the street. Laurie’s pulse leaped. The guy from the road. She turned to tell Danny about the guy but shouldn’t have bothered. The truck had his full attention. He liked tricked-out vehicles.
Her gaze took in the hair that was a little longer than he usually wore it and the black stud in his right ear.
He stood up almost knocking his chair over. “Got to go.”
“You...you okay?” she asked.
He smiled, but the gesture seemed off. Reaching out he stroked her arm. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I missed you, baby.” He ran a tongue over his lips and winked at her. Her panties became moist. He’d been her first and only. If her father had known she wasn’t a virgin anymore, Danny wouldn’t have left Little River alive.
“I’m staying at the Starlight. Why don’t you come over later?”
“Why don’t I go with you now?” She’d have a hard time getting to the motel without a car.
Danny shook his head. “Got business to take care of first. Come by later.” He pushed back his sleeve and stared down at an expensive watch. How had he gotten the money for bling like that? He caught her looking and winked. “Come by around three.” He stuck out his tongue and wiggled it suggestively. Goosebumps broke out over her skin. It wasn’t from the cold. She remembered the things he’d done to her with that tongue.
“Okay.” Her voice came out cracked and breathy.
He rose, leaned over the table, and planted a wet kiss on her lips. She hoped her lip gloss hadn’t worn off.
“Later.” He turned and strutted off.
She’d have to find a way to the motel. And she had to make sure, when he left the reservation, she left with him.
