Chapter Three

The coroner hadn’t returned her call yet. Norah frowned and tapped her nail against the keyboard. She needed the details to pick up Josh’s quilt before she returned to the shelter. She’d wait another five minutes, but no more.

Squinting at her computer screen, she zoomed in on the limestone cliffs covered with sooty patina. She enlarged the petroglyphs, images of hunters and wild game etched throughout the Southwest a thousand years ago. Tall and prominent, a shaman figure held his staff high as he trailed a snake toward a crevice in the rock. She could almost hear the magician chant as he journeyed into the spirit world.

She studied a diagram of grave goods from Walnut Canyon. That Magician’s staff was different from the wriggling serpent in Grandfather’s lodge. There were carved eagle totems, but no snakes.

A cough broke her concentration, and she looked up at the tall, solid man filling her office doorway. He stood off center with a charcoal sport coat hooked over his shoulder on one finger. Even with her shields solidly in place, she smelled his testosterone. Damn he was hot, but why had she even noticed?

She clicked off the screen and met smoky gray eyes framed by sinfully lush, black lashes. “No dreads today, Sergeant?”

“Cute.” His smile cut a dimple into one cheek. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Didn’t see anyone in the outer office, so I came on in.”

“My secretary’s at lunch. I was just surfing while I wait for a call.” She had to ditch this guy and leave quickly. Making a show of checking her watch, she stood. “Oops. Sorry, but I’ll be late unless I hurry.”

“Won’t keep you long.” Jackson settled onto the chair in front of her desk and flashed her another broad grin. Despite her curiosity, she refused to open herself enough to read his aura, but earthy red-oranges leaked through. The damn man oozed sex.

Her lower body felt warm, almost liquid. Heat rose on her face, and Norah dropped into her chair. She swallowed quickly, shuffling the papers on her desk to give herself a mental breather. Why did he trigger these crazy sensations?

Rolling his shirt cuffs over his well-muscled forearms, he stretched out his long legs and surveyed her private office, stalling briefly on her landscape of the Black Hills. “Nice space.”

Her gaze skated across his broad shoulders and hard chest, but snagged on his full lips. Her stomach jittered. Those damn butterflies were turning somersaults again. She grabbed her iPhone and added an impatient edge to her voice. “Thanks. Do you want to make an appointment, Detective, or is this a social visit?” She stared at her calendar. What a stupid comment.

One dark eyebrow quirked with humor, and his smile lit his eyes. He rubbed a big hand along the crease in his slacks. “Business first. We can make it social some other time.”

Damned if her heart didn’t do a back flip. She pinched her lips together. Ridiculous. “I can come by the station later this afternoon.”

“Captain sent me over about the boy.”

She straightened her shoulders and spine. “Josh? What have you learned?”

“Probable hit on the truck.” He handed her a photo.

“I think you found it. I remember the dented fender.” She studied the background of the grainy shot. “But that’s the hospital.”

He passed another photo, scrutinizing her. “A boy was admitted Friday night. First name, Tyrell. Recognize him?”

She shook her head. The atmosphere in the room had sharpened, almost as if she’d been shoved under a high-powered microscope. She tried not to squirm. Why had he transformed into an interrogator? She sneaked a peek at his aura. Sure enough, the orange glow around his head and shoulders was capped by a glacial blue-green.

Feeling like a bug he’d dredged from a mud puddle, she shifted in her seat. To hell with it. Let him read her body language. She folded her arms over her chest and crossed her legs. “Will Tyrell be okay? He looks very ill.”

His frown answered her question.

“This woman brought him in.” The next shot zipped across her oak desk. His eyes narrowed, pinning Norah in place. “Know her?”

“No.”

He gathered the pictures into a pile and zoomed in on her face with a higher magnification.

A queasy feeling gripped her insides. Boys in danger. One will soon be lost. The blood left her face, and she leaned back in her chair, cradling her forehead.

“Help them now,” Grandfather bellowed.

Damn. Where were those mental earplugs? An itch formed behind her solar plexus, urging her to ask. “Do you have any other leads?”

“We’re working a missing child alert from Southern Utah. Some of the details match, but we haven’t verified prints.” His mouth drawn down, he scraped a hand across his chin. “Remind me what your link is to Josh.”

Norah’s gaze slid sideways as she scrambled for a response. She wrenched her focus back to his face and volunteered a thin slice of the truth. “He appeared to be in an abusive situation, but after the man pushed me, I was so stunned, I froze.”

His eyebrows arched, and he tipped his chin slightly. “Your cheek doing better?”

She caught herself rubbing the spot and gave him a sharp nod.

“Ever get his last name?”

Fidgeting, Norah winced at the gruffness in his tone. “The boy’s name is Joshua Kwail.” She pointed at the artist’s sketch she’d helped with and a fuzzy security photo. “That man is dangerous.”

Jackson studied the drawing. “Mouth’s tight. Mean.”

“Yes, but the police artist didn’t quite capture the predatory coldness in his eyes.”

“Something lost in translation?”

“Exactly. The rattlesnake quality.” The urgent itch in the center of her chest expanded.

“The boys,” Grandfather chewed at her.

She couldn’t delay any longer. Still feeling like a dung beetle pinned in a display case, she slipped on her heels and rose. She needed to return for Josh immediately, so she’d have to explain herself to this pushy cop. “I left a message for Nate a few minutes ago. I found Josh at the Shelter this morning. His mom died over the weekend. I’m on my way to see him.”

A smile ghosted across his lips. “I’ll drive.” He grabbed her raincoat, helped her into it and opened the door.

Surprised, she murmured, “Thanks,” while she zipped her briefcase.

His hand dropped to the small of her back, spreading tingles. She pulled away, hurrying toward the elevator.

He trailed her without comment, but once outside, he herded her toward his car.

Norah hesitated. “I’ll follow you.” She pointed to the hybrid in a nearby space. “I have to pick up Amber at 3:30 for soccer.”

“Nope,” he said, giving his head a decisive shake. “You’re coming with me. I’ll have you back here by 3:00.” He opened the door and handed her into the passenger seat before loping around to the driver’s side.

Frowning, she yanked her seat belt into place. At least he hadn’t handcuffed her and stuck her in the back seat.

He slid in and closed his door, studying her as he started the car. “County Children’s Shelter?”

She gave him a quick nod.

After a few minutes, he broke the strained silence. “So you coach?”

“Yes. For Amber’s team.”

“She’s your daughter?”

“Amber? No, I’m single. I mean she’s not…” Babbling again. She fisted her hands in her lap. What was it about this guy? Tonight, she’d take a long, hard run and work him out of her system. “Amber’s my niece. She came to live with me a year ago August, after my sister died.”

****

A giant lump strangled his throat. Where was it? Josh tossed the black plastic bag on his bunk and dug through his stuff. He pulled out his shirts and jeans and threw them on the floor. His comb. His toothbrush. Where was his Hacky Sack?

He blinked away the tears. Had to be here. He dumped everything on the floor and searched the whole pile again. There, mixed with his dirty underwear.

Joy blazed through him. Grabbing the multicolored toy close to his chest, he sucked in air despite the pain squeezing his throat.

Mom.

Calming memories flowed along his fingers and soothed all the nerves in his body.

Mom. On the couch. A pile of bright yarn on her lap. Her crochet hook weaving, she radiated love.

Josh shoved the toy into his pocket and walked back toward the playroom. Touching it would help him fight the visions that battered him.

He climbed into his window seat, careful to sit on the right side. Too much pain had soaked into the other corner. He couldn’t stop the despair from leaking out the bright blue cushions and into his mind.

He leaned his cheek against the cold glass. Would Ms. Redfox really come back? He gazed through the window toward the street. The rain had stopped. The sun peeked between the clouds, and sunlight glared off the wet sidewalk.

A blonde woman charged across the parking lot. Josh sat up straighter and studied the way she walked. His heart dropped into his belly. Aunt Gina? Why was she wearing that stupid frizzy blonde wig?

She stopped outside the door and rubbed a tissue under her nose. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and chills spread to his toes. He stood on the bench and searched for Uncle Kenny’s white truck. Not in the parking lot. Or out on the street. He double-checked and heaved a sigh. She’d come alone.

She hurried across the lobby toward the counter. He ducked behind a palm tree and spied on her through the glass wall between the playroom and the lobby. With the door propped open, he’d be able to hear them.

Aunt Gina plunked a plastic grocery bag on the counter and sniffed into the tissue. “I came for my nephew, Joshua.”

The receptionist looked puzzled and pushed her big round glasses up her nose. “Who are you?”

“Gina Swank, Stacy Kwail’s sister. Josh was brought in yesterday.” She sniffed loudly again.

“Oh, yes, you’re his next of kin from Arizona. Dr. Milligan has been trying to contact you.”

“I was out of town.” Aunt Gina turned and shot a quick glance outside.

Josh followed her gaze. A big black camper van had parked near the entrance, but he still didn’t see the white truck.

“I didn’t know Stacy was…” with a muffled sob, Aunt Gina dug out another tissue and blew her nose.

The receptionist pulled some papers from a file drawer and hurried around her desk. She patted Aunt Gina’s shoulder. “You sit here. Dr. Milligan will return from lunch in a few minutes. He’ll need to speak with you, but you can start filling out these forms.”

“Please, I’m so upset. Can’t I take Josh home and worry about that later?”

Josh crossed his fingers and prayed the receptionist wouldn’t give in.

“It’ll only take a few minutes. Didn’t Dr. Milligan say your phone was disconnected?”

“Yes, I moved to be near Stacy.” Aunt Gina blew her nose again, sounding like a warped kazoo.

“With the judge’s okay, the Doctor can sign Joshua out to you overnight and schedule a hearing in the next few days. I’ll need your ID.”

Aunt Gina grabbed something out of her purse. “That’s my old address. I haven’t had time to change anything.”

The woman studied the card through her glasses, her eyebrows squeezed down and her lips pressed together. For a moment he had hope.

Aunt Gina scribbled on a paper and held it out. “My new place. Can’t you please hurry? I want to go back to Stacy’s apartment and lie down. The shock…”

After glancing at the clock, the receptionist stood. “Let me take you to see Josh while we wait.”

He charged across the room and climbed into the corner window seat, holding his breath while the receptionist approached. The room was nearly empty except for two big kids stretched out on the couch, watching Nickelodeon reruns.

Aunt Gina hurried over to him with her high heels clicking on the tile. “Oh, you poor baby.”

He cringed, but she grabbed and nuzzled him anyway. She didn’t smell like Mom, and the hollow place in his chest ached. He squirmed out of her hands and stared at her. His eyes felt gritty.

Sniffing loudly, she patted his cheek. “I got here as soon as I could, Josh. We can go home right now.”

The receptionist laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Swank. We need to wait for Dr. Milligan. There has to be an official release.”

“Why?” She yanked Josh against her side, squeezing the air out of him. “I’m his only relative. Aren’t I, baby?”

He clamped his mouth shut and tried to shrink away. Her touch felt jagged. Painful. Not calming like his mother’s.

“Just wait here while I see if Dr. Milligan has returned. We should have everything cleared up very quickly.” Frowning, she gave Gina a long stare and left the room.

Aunt Gina grabbed his arm. “Come on, kid. We’re outta here.”

Chills raced over him, and he looked around nervously. His pulse thundered in his ears. “But she said to—”

“I don’t care what she said. Come on! Now’s our chance.” She jerked him to his feet and hustled him across the playroom, her nails digging into his arm.

Panic clutched at his throat. He fought her grip and dragged his feet to stall for time. “I need to wait for—”

Her face pinched like she had a mouthful of lemons. “Who? Some social worker? You want to be stuck in this hell hole forever?”

“No, but I’m scared of Uncle Kenny.”

“I’m divorcing that creep. I left him in Las Vegas. But no judge will ever let me raise you. You’ll be trapped here for the rest of your life.”

Afraid he’d barf all over the floor, he stared at his shoes. He hated this place. But Ms. Redfox had said she’d come back, said she’d help him, said he had to stay here and wait for her. “I mean…I need to pack my stuff. My new jacket—”

“Forget your stuff.” She reached into the grocery bag and pulled out his mother’s quilt. “Look, I brought this for you.”

Josh buried his face in its folds, and his eyes swam with tears. Oh, God. It smelled like Mom.

Gina lifted her fake blonde bangs off her forehead and showed him a big purple bruise and goose egg. “I’m scared of Kenny, too. But I’m the only family you’ve got, Josh. I’ll stay here and take care of you. You can take care of me.”

Yes. Family. Protective warmth welled inside his chest, and he met her gaze. And if he stayed here, maybe he could see Ms. Redfox and get her help with his gift. “Can we keep the apartment?”

She smiled at him, and her dark brown eyes seemed kind. “Sure. I need you Josh.” She grabbed his arm and hurried him across the lobby.

He didn’t struggle, but he searched the entry hall for the security guard and forced down the bitter taste in his mouth, clutching the quilt closer.

She punched the button behind the guard’s station, and the door opened. Grinning, she tugged at him. “Come on. We’re going to Disneyland. I’ve never been there.”

As they rushed outside, he glanced at her. Maybe everything would be okay. She’d brought him the quilt.

When he hesitated, she snatched the quilt from his hands and opened the door to the big black truck.

Josh’s heart raced so fast he couldn’t breathe. His hands clenched into fists.

Uncle Kenny grabbed him and heaved him inside.

“Let me go, you liar!” he yelled and kicked out.

But Uncle Kenny just laughed and backhanded him across the face.

Josh crumpled into a heap, pain searing his cheek. He tasted blood.

Uncle Kenny started the motor. “What took ya so long?”

“Stupid receptionist.”

“Sit on the floor, runt.” Kenny yelled at him and gunned the engine. They bolted from the lot almost hitting another car.

Aunt Gina pulled the blonde wig off and ruffled her dark hair into place, chuckling. “The bitch wanted to check with a judge.”

Uncle Kenny snorted. “Fat chance.”

Sticking a cigarette in her mouth, Aunt Gina lit it and blew out puffs of smoke.

Josh wrapped his mother’s old patchwork quilt around his shoulders and huddled on the floor. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up, runt. I got driving to do.”

****

A camper van squealed out of the parking lot in front of the car. Adrenaline spiked Jackson’s pulse rate. Swearing, he stomped on the brake and waited for the rig to finish a left turn. Big. Black. Shiny. No plates? Probably missed the paper tags.

He glanced at Norah’s shocked expression and her white knuckles gripping the chicken bar. Then he whipped into the last empty space in the Shelter parking lot.

“Niece?” he repeated, lips twitching upward.

“Yes.” Norah stared at her hands.

Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. The lady wasn’t married. But there was a kid in the picture. Could he deal with that? He yanked the parking brake harder than necessary.

When he opened her door, she stepped out and bent to collect her briefcase from the floor. Oh, yeah. She had one very nice, lithe, female body. Toned, but curvy. Almost lush. A world-class ass and her legs. Man! Long and tan and leading directly to heaven.

When she straightened, his gaze dodged away, but he couldn’t suppress the grin. Yeah, he’d figure out how to deal. Once she finally decided to tell him the truth, he’d let her know he was interested.

Jackson slanted a glance at her. “Nate didn’t say if Josh was your case.” His palm drifted to the small of her back again, guiding her along the landscaped walkway to the modern building. Sunlight glinted off the wide, rain spotted windows. A hint of warmth from her skin seeped through the thin raincoat, and the gentle sway of her hips promised magic.

She walked briskly, but this time she allowed him to escort her. “Josh is my responsibility.”

“Why?” His brows folded into a frown.

She stepped back and studied him carefully. “Trust me, he’s in trouble, and I can help.”

He watched her from under hooded eyes, and his mouth firmed. She’d sure dodged that question. But she twitched like a perp on the verge of confessing. Her eyes blinked and shifted, her hands jittered. The pulse at her temples jumped. Standing next to her, he caught the faint scent of fear. No need for a polygraph machine. She was lying her ass off.

She glanced at the ground, at the building, back at the car, anywhere she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze and swiped moisture from her forehead.

His blood pressure soared. More lies. Shit. What was she hiding?

A middle-aged woman wearing a beige suit that matched her cropped hair slammed out the front door, blinking through her oversized, round glasses. “Did you see a boy?”

Jackson stared at the frantic woman and shook his head.

Norah stood silent beside him, suddenly absolutely still. “No,” she moaned and covered her mouth with her hand.

The woman craned her neck, scanning the parking area. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. I left for just a minute to go get Dr. Milligan. Gina Swank must have snatched him.”

****

“Joshua Kwail is gone,” Norah spat into her cell phone, studying Jackson’s unreadable face as he drove. She inhaled a deep breath and quieted her tone. “I saw him this morning, and now he’s gone.”

“Who took him?” Nate Kapulani asked over the crackling connection.

“His aunt.”

“Not much we can do if she has legal custody.”

“But she doesn’t, officially. She sneaked him out, right past the idiot receptionist. I warned Milligan not to let the uncle near Josh, but she didn’t read the memo.” Norah clamped her jaw, glaring at the cop behind the wheel. “I missed Josh by two minutes because your sergeant camped out in my office and grilled me.”

Jackson’s shoulders lifted in a how-the-hell-was-I-supposed-to-know shrug.

Rubbing her temples, she leaned against the headrest. Her head pounded, and her hands shook with fear. At least she didn’t have to drive. She probably couldn’t, with the spirit voices clamoring. “The judge refused to step in. She blamed their actions on grief and scheduled a hearing for Thursday.”

“Nothing official we can do till then.”

“Josh can’t wait until Thursday,” she said, more certain than ever she had to act quickly. “The situation stinks. All Josh’s clothes were left behind, even his sketch book full of drawings.”

“Hmm,” Nate mumbled.

She hung on to the panic bar while Jackson made a quick right and then left. “At least Dr. Milligan assigned me his case officially. Detective Marino’s taking me over to the mother’s address on South Fourth. Maybe we can still catch the Swanks.”

“Keep me posted.” Nate broke the connection.

Norah flipped her phone shut. She hated feeling vulnerable, without a guide or road map.

“Go after him.” Grandfather shouted.

“I know, I know,” she mumbled, her voice terse.

“Wanna tell me what you know?” Jackson parked at the curb across from a tan stucco four-plex straight out of the seventies. He looked sideways, and she felt the cool sweep of his gray eyes.

Heat rose on her neck. “What? No. Nothing.”

“Uh huh.” He trailed her silently to Stacy Kwail’s front door.

Norah peeked through the frosted glass sidelight but couldn’t see much in the unlit interior. “The apartment wasn’t sealed?”

“Death ruled natural causes.” Jackson pounded on the door again, rattling the aluminum-framed windows. He shrugged and leaned on the buzzer. “No one’s home. Let’s try next door.”

They wove through a thicket of potted plants, and he knocked loudly on the thin door.

A short, elderly woman in a bright pink and purple housedress peered out.

He flashed his shield. “Detective Marino. This is Norah Redfox, Joshua Kwail’s custody advocate. And you are?”

“Gloria Rittenberg.” Her hands fluttered to her cheeks and then smoothed her salt and pepper hair. “I’m so relieved someone official has come. That poor boy. Those swindlers cleaned out dear Stacy’s things this morning. Trashed the apartment. I just called the landlord about the damage.”

Norah’s knees weakened, and she grabbed Jackson’s arm for support.

Mrs. Rittenberg shook her head, searching their faces. “What’s wrong? Is Joshua okay? They didn’t steal him, too, did they?”

“Mrs. Swank left before signing Joshua out officially. She needs to bring him back until the custody hearing on Thursday,” Jackson explained.

“We were hoping to speak with them.” Norah stepped forward.

The woman gave a loud snort and crossed her chubby arms. “Fat chance. They haven’t been back. I’d lay odds those thieving rats won’t return.”

“Do you have any idea where they might have gone?” Norah asked.

“They talked about Las Vegas.” Mrs. Rittenberg tapped a nail on her lip. “But Gina said they went there last weekend for their anniversary.”

The woman’s brows knitted. “Wait a minute. Joshua told me once they used to live in Arizona. Give me a sec, and maybe I’ll remember the town.”

Norah closed her eyes briefly. Grandfather’s nagging had grown to a roar.

“Can we see the apartment?” Jackson folded his notebook.

“No problem, but I can’t stand to go in there again with you.” The woman rummaged in one pocket, coming up with a wadded tissue and the key. “Just drop this back before you leave.” Shaking her head, she closed the door.

Norah followed Jackson into the Kwail’s apartment and stood stock-still, her heart in free fall. Trash and torn papers covered the worn shag carpet. Every cupboard in the tiny kitchen had been ransacked. The phone dangled from wires ripped out of the wall. A glacial wave of fetid odors crashed over her and she shivered. “What a disaster.”

Seeming unaware of the cold, Jackson snapped on latex gloves. He crossed the room, grabbed the cord, and held the headset up to his ear. “I’ll see if I can put this puppy back together. Might be a message. Have a look around, see if something strikes you.”

She reached for a coffee mug full of old cigarette butts.

“But be careful,” he added, pulling a second pair of gloves from his pocket. “We’ll send the crime scene detail over for a look.”

She nodded and snapped on the gloves. Rubbing her arms to ward off the goose bumps, she stopped by the gold and brown flowered couch and wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

Jackson laid a hand across her shoulders and sniffed. Then he froze for a second, blinking like she’d blindsided him. He cleared his throat. “Uh, sex.”

Her face flamed. “Oh.” She pivoted and escaped toward the bedrooms.

As she walked down the hall, the violent residue lurking in the air buffeted her senses. Tension coiled inside her. She fought to keep her tenuous composure by concentrating on Jackson’s solid presence in the kitchen.

She sucked in a breath and staggered backward. The destruction in the first bedroom made her flesh crawl. The vile emanations were concentrated in there. Unwilling to face the evil yet, she crossed the dingy hall.

Josh’s bedroom was even worse than the living room. Clothing dumped in heaps. Books shredded. Video games smashed. Vicious anger permeated the room. Even though it had been hours since Kenny Swank had been there, his stench clung to everything.

She kicked aside a pile of clothes and picked up a torn paper. Unfolding the drawing, she recognized the ancient, Sinagua symbol for the sun she had seen on the website.

Kneeling, she dug through dirty socks and schoolbooks and searched for other drawings. Only one. A small picture of a saber-toothed cat lay crumpled at the bottom of the heap. She smoothed it against her leg and rose.

By now Josh could be anywhere. Her stomach pitched and plummeted. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. If only that damn, stubborn detective had let her do her job, she’d have been at the shelter in time to prevent the kidnapping.

She hesitated in the doorway of the larger bedroom. Nausea raced through her body. A rancid taste rose in her throat. But she had to confront the evil leaking from Stacy Kwail’s room and find out what happened.

Icy fear flooded every pore, but Norah stepped over the threshold and saw an otherworldly flash. A ghostly female form convulsed on the bed. Then love and concern flared from her despite the vicious reek.

Norah stumbled and fell to her knees, transported to the spirit sweat lodge. Waves of heat rose from the bright fire and coarse sand sifted through her fingers.

Grandfather towered over her, scowling. He wore an odd robe and that creepy staff squirmed in his hand again.

She bunched her shaky muscles and stood, struggling to bank down rising hysteria. What had shifted her world on its axis?

Grandfather’s black eyes and long white braids were familiar, but he spoke with an odd voice and in an unfamiliar tongue.

Norah gasped. Across the fire pit, a young woman with dark hair sat cross-legged in the shadows. She wore a patterned tunic and shawl over high buckskin boots. Tears coursed down the woman’s cheeks as she begged for help with sherry-colored eyes. Josh’s eyes.

Grandfather waved a hand, and a great cat spirit screamed. The top of his staff congealed into a serpent’s head with glittering obsidian eyes, and Norah suddenly understood his words.

“You must follow the boy to his ancestral lands, child. To the Sinagua. But you cannot complete your task alone. Your destiny—”

“Norah!”

Her eyes snapped open. Why was she huddled on the floor?

Jackson shook her once more. “You fainted. What’s wrong?”

“I need to go after Josh. His mother was murdered.”

“What do you mean?” He helped her stand, but she collapsed against him, trembling.

“He’s in danger.” Her fingers curled around his jacket lapels, and she gazed up at him.

Something hot, primal flashed in his eyes. He tilted her chin. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Her heart rioted like cherry blossom petals in a spring wind. She dropped her lashes and buried her face against his chest.

After a moment, she peeked up at him, her face aflame and pushed away. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but I can’t explain. I have to pick up Amber now. Then I’m going to Arizona.”