The Warrior's Way

“Yeah, we don’t have a hotel, or rather we do and it is connected to the casino, but it’s being renovated. Grand opening is this November. Maybe you can come back.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Don’t worry, I have a bed for you.”

Agent Rivas was out of the car and marching toward the station before he could turn off the ignition. He didn’t see her again until he reached the squad room and that was only her back as she entered his chief’s office without knocking.

He slowed as Olivia, their dispatcher, gave him a look.

“I wouldn’t,” she advised.

He took her advice and waited. It didn’t take long. Rivas emerged red-faced and panting, her fists clenched. She cast him a murderous look and continued past him. He let her stride away, following until he returned to his seat beside her in his SUV.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Not even close,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me that we would not be alone?”

“You didn’t really give me a chance. It’s on our tribal gathering grounds. There are several cabins. I’ll be there along with some of the members of Tribal Thunder. But you’ll have a private cabin. It’s a beautiful place beside the river and we have a lodge with a generator for gathering at nights.”

“Nights? I only packed an overnight bag. You think there will be more than one?”

“Tinnin said we’d have you until Tuesday. Time enough to see all four dams, inside and out.”

She rubbed her slender neck and looked straight ahead. “Four days. After that I’m going home, even if I have to walk.”

They sat in silence, the A/C blowing in their heated faces. The air between them seemed to move with currents all their own. He hadn’t felt this kind of attraction, ever.

“Can I call you Jack?” she asked.

“Sounds fine. Shall I call you Sophia?”

“Fine.”

“You want to know why I’m stuck up here in the hinterland instead of working on a case?” she asked.

Jack shifted in his seat. “Sure.”

“I was involved in an incident of fatal force.”

That was a euphemism that told him she’d killed someone. Likely shot them.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“So I’m on administrative leave until they finish the investigation and clear me.”

“FBI conducts their own investigations, right?”

“Yes.”

“So you should be fine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think they’ll sweep any mistake I made under some rug bearing the FBI seal?”

He shrugged and set his vehicle in motion.

“Well, they won’t. I could be relieved of duty, permanently. And that can’t happen.”

“If you say so.”

“And they wanted me to see a shrink. When I said no, they extended my leave.

“It wasn’t even the assignment I’m working, which is going to hell, I’m sure. Luke thought I might like to go home to our rez.” She shook her head. “Can’t do that so he came up with this to distract me. A welcome diversion. Ha. Oh, anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m stuck here until they take me back.”

“You can’t go home?” he asked.

She cast him a look and then turned to stare out the window. Only then did he realize he had asked Luke nothing about her upbringing. All he knew was that she was of the Black Mountain people, butterfly born of spider.

But who was she deep down, where it mattered? Jack wanted answers.

“You want to talk about it—the investigation?”

She shook her head.

“Okay. I’m a good listener. Just saying. So, do you have brothers and sisters?”

She didn’t look at him. “Yeah. And tons of cousins. My mom came from a big family. Where are we going?”

“Top of the canyon. I thought I’d give you an overview. Okay?”

She nodded.

“I’ve got three brothers,” said Jack. “Carter is the oldest. He’s my twin and he’s coming home soon. He’s under protection by the Department of Justice.”

That sure got her attention. Her posture changed and she half turned to stare at him.

“Why?”

“Witness. He went with his wife, Amber, who survived the mass shooting at Lilac copper mine. She was going to testify in a federal case against Theron Wrangler.”

“But Wrangler is dead and so they don’t need witnesses.”

“That’s right.” She was quick and pretty.

“Then there are Tommy and Kurt. They are younger. Kurt flies in the air ambulance out of Darabee. Next town over. And Tommy is a Shadow Wolf on the border.”

“Border patrol?”

“They work under Immigration and Customs Enforcement—ICE. But he works with border patrol, too.”

“Shadow Wolves. That’s the all–Native American outfit, right?”

“Exactly. They’re on the Tohono Oodham lands.”

“I’ve been down there. It’s hot.”

“Most of Arizona is.”

“But not here and not Black Mountain.” She seemed to have lost some of her bristle. “Listen, I’m sorry your people feel threatened by BEAR.”

“What’s your take on it?”

“I’m not briefed. Really, I only know that group has been connected with the Lilac shooting and might be involved with the Pine View wildfire in July.”

On the drive he told her what he could. Carter had rescued Amber Kitcheyan from the Lilac copper mine and placed himself between her and BEAR’s assassins, and the Lilac shooter had been caught. She knew that the mass murderer had been subsequently executed and that the assassin was a member of the Turquoise Canyon Apache tribe, Detective Bear Den’s tribe. She did not know that the shooter had been terminally ill, or that his death had brought suspicion on his daughter, Morgan Hooke.

“Our men set up protection for Morgan Hooke as a precaution.”

“What happened?”

“She helped us recover the blood money paid to her dad. And she and her daughter are safe. You’ll meet Ray Strong soon. He’s one of our men and her assigned bodyguard. Soon he’ll be her husband.”

She made a face that showed her disapproval of that turn of events.

“You know about Meadow Wrangler?” he asked.

“More than you do, I’d suspect.”

“She witnessed her father’s death.”

“I know that. I also know she has a history of substance abuse resulting in rehab.”

“She got drunk at eighteen and swam in a country club’s fountain.”

“She’s an unreliable witness.”

“We believe her.”

Sophia shrugged. “Your prerogative.”

They crested the top of the canyon rim and Jack brought them to a halt.

“This is it. From here you can see Skeleton Cliff Dam above our land and also Piñon Forks and Koun’nde, our two main settlements. Turquoise Ridge is out of sight and also above flood level.”

“Let’s have a look.” She exited the vehicle and their doors closed simultaneously.

Jack walked easily to the edge of the rim, where the rock bluff ended, leaving the dizzying drop to the valley below. The river had once cut this canyon from solid stone and spanned the gap where the town of Piñon Forks now stood. He had never seen the river roar with the yearly monsoonal rains because the dam and reservoir system had been installed in the 1920s, long before the stretch of his memory. But the old ones remembered. Few had seen it tumble and rage and then shrink like the belly of a woman after giving birth. The floods left rich fertile soil deposited yearly. They also left wetlands that burst with mosquitoes and that brought yellow fever. Crops were raised in the rich earth, but now the land was fit only for grazing livestock and none died from yellow fever. Was it better now than before the river was tamed?

He didn’t know. He only knew it was different. They had electricity, mobile phones and no crops.

“That’s quite a drop,” she said.

“Nine hundred meters from that point above us. Over a half-mile deep.” Jack smiled. “See that spot over there?” He pointed to the arched cut in the yellow sandstone. From here it looked close to the water. “That’s just short of eleven meters—higher than an Olympic diving platform. We used to jump off it into the deep water.”

“That’s foolish.”

“Fun. It was fun.”

“You and your friends sound reckless. I don’t take such chances.”

“Too bad. It was a thrill. What did you do up on Black Mountain for fun?”

Her eyes went sad and then she looked away, leaving Jack to wonder what kind of a childhood she’d had on her rez.

“So what do you want to show me?”

Back to business then. He pointed out the landmarks, towns and road system along the river and bridge east of the reservation. Beyond sat the great gray wall of Skeleton Cliff Dam that allowed just enough water to keep their livestock alive and their towns above the waterline.

“That looks like a very healthy vein of turquoise,” she said, motioning to the line of blue threading through the canyon wall beyond the river.

“Yes. It is good quality, too. We don’t mine by the river anymore. Too much overburden,” he said, pointing to the dangerous overhang of rock created by undercutting the hill to retrieve the turquoise below. “But we have some nice veins farther north at Turquoise Ridge. Very hard and nice nodules. Turquoise varies by looks and quality. That over there is brilliant blue with a webbing pattern called ‘bird’s eye.’”

“I know it.”

“We also have bright blue with flecks of iron pyrite up on Turquoise Ridge. That’s our main mining sight now. It’s pale blue to dark blue. We get a little green sometimes. But that’s rare.”

“You wear it on your belt,” she said.

He tilted the buckle. “Yeah. This is from that ridge,” he said, grazing a thumb over the brilliant blue outer inlay that surrounded the medicine wheel. Then he lifted his hand to brush the grey Stetson on his head. “My hatband, this paler blue with the fleck of black chert matrix, this is from Turquoise Ridge.”

“Chert?”

“Those are the blackish inclusion of the host rock that makes the cut stones more valuable, similar to spider web veining. Some collectors prefer the veining and inclusions to the solid blue stone.”

“You know your turquoise,” she said.

“Major biz here. Digging it, selling it at the rock-and-mineral shows. We go as far as Australia for shows. And we make jewelry.” He looked back over the rim to the blue river of turquoise that threaded through the dark stone. He pointed. “We derived our name from that vein of turquoise. It would be a shame to cut it all away. We do collect what erodes and you’d be surprised.”

He followed the direction of her gaze as she glanced from the mineral vein down to Piñon Forks and then returned her attention to the opposite rim a mile up from where they stood, pausing on the yellow rim of rock. This was the narrowest section of the canyon. Here the walls became pinched so the canyon was wide enough only for the river that touched the cliffs on both sides. He always thought that this spot must have been a heck of a rapid before the dam.

He tried to picture the surging torrent that once climbed far of the smooth walls and hoped he’d never see the water forced through that narrow gap.

Now her attention flicked to the wide flood plain, where his rez had placed their major settlement, Piñon Forks, then lifted to fix on the Skeleton Cliff Dam.

“That is really close,” she said, folding her arms before her. The gesture lifted the tops of her breasts so that he saw the mounds of firm tempting flesh over the scoop of her maroon blouse. His mouth went as dry as the cliff stone.

She turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, then caught the direction of his stare. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her amber eyes and sinking brows sent a clear message of displeasure.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I was about to say that the reservoir system in total is at a high-water point for the year. August rainfall set a new record and so a break in any of the dams would theoretically compromise the one below. If I was trying to destroy the system I would focus on Alchesay Canyon Dam because it’s the largest and holds back Goodwin Lake.”

“Your cousin told us that the FBI presence is focused on that dam as well. But what if they hit this one? Skeleton Cliff Dam is very close to our land. It wasn’t even land before they dammed this river.”

“Listen, with the force of that water and the speed, I have to be honest. If the dam goes, there would not be time to evacuate. And that break would carry enough water and debris to at least overflow Red Rock Dam below your lands. Likely Mesa Salado Dam, too.”

“That one is above the Yavapi Indian Reservation.”

“It would shut down the power grid for Phoenix.” Her hushed voice relayed the gravity of her thoughts.

“Your cousin told us he can’t discuss the surveillance methods on the dam system, just that they do have eyes on all the dams, have taken preventative action and established rapid response for various scenarios.”

“We do our job, Jack.”

“So what steps do we take?”

“Other than evacuate all low-land areas indefinitely, I can’t really offer suggestions.” She waved her hand toward the opposite rim. “Your best hope is to protect the dams.”

“They aren’t our dams. We can’t protect them.”

“We’re protecting them.”

Jack sent a look her way that he hoped relayed his lack of faith in the government protecting his people—history was on his side on that one. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the flood plan.

“Evacuate now,” she said.

“We have nowhere to go.” She made a face. Then she shook her head and her voice took on a sarcastic edge. “Well, you could blow up that entire ridge up there. That would stop anything. Theoretically.”

He’d never considered fighting an explosion with another one. But it could work.

Her eyes rounded. “Jack, it was a joke. Just a stupid offhanded remark. You can’t blow up that canyon wall.”

“I can’t. But you could.”

Chapter Three

“That’s crazy. I’m not blowing up anything. I’m here to advise you,” said Sophia. She was sweating now, but it was a cold sweat and her skin had gone to gooseflesh.

One thing she knew with certainty—there was no way in hell she was ever, under any circumstances, doing anything that could affect the outcome of her fatal force investigation. Destroying federal land in a massive unauthorized explosion qualified.

“No,” she said. “No way and hell no.”

Jack’s smile told her that this wasn’t over and she felt like kicking herself for opening her big mouth. What if they did something incredibly stupid, like tried to blow that opposite wall and then they told her supervisors that it was her suggestion?

“You can’t be seriously considering this.” She tried to make her voice reflect her incredulity, but instead there was a definite tremor.

“I’ll consider anything that keeps my people from drowning.”

“We’re protecting the dam system, Jack. You and your warrior society don’t have to do anything. This is federal land. All of it. It falls under federal jurisdiction.”

He pointed toward Piñon Forks. “That’s Apache land and we will protect it as we see fit.”

“I hope you like federal prisons, because that’s where you’re heading if you blow one single rock of this canyon. This is a wetland system. It’s crucial to the power grid and it’s beautiful.”

“You have a better idea?”

“That wasn’t an idea! It was a joke.”

“How would you set the blasts, in your joke?” he asked.

“You must think I’m crazy to answer a question like that. Besides you don’t have access to the kind of explosives you’d need.”

“We have mining explosives, det cord, blasting caps and rolls of shock tubing.”

He used the abbreviation for detonation cord, used to trigger explosions of the main charge and his knowledge caused her to lift her brows in surprise. “Turquoise mining,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “The community operation is mostly underground now, following the veins as they run deeper. Plus we have lots of smaller claims. My friend Dylan Tehauno has a really good one up there on Turquoise Ridge. Lots of blasting material here.”

“If you are considering this, I have to report you.”

He smiled as his eyes challenged her. “Just a joke. Like yours.” He glanced toward the west. The town below was already cast in shadows, but up here it blazed orange as the sun made its final descent.

He sat on the canyon rim and glanced up at her. “Want to watch the sunset?”

She sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body but not quite touching him.

“Turns the river into a ribbon of gold.” He pointed to where the river flowed a deep orange color that changed by the minute.

“Jack, I’m in the middle of a fatal-force investigation. I cannot be involved in blowing anything up. This is a consult. Remember?”

“Back to the investigation again. Why are you so worried? Did you screw up?”

“No. I—well, I don’t think so. Maybe.”

“You can tell me, Sophia.”

She lowered her head, staring at nothing that he could see.

“I’m a former US Marine. I’ve shot people before.”

“That’s different.” She waved a dismissive hand. Then squared her shoulders and drew a breath. She was going to tell him and the realization filled her with both hope and terror.

“Do you know that there is not one person in my office that has even discharged their weapon, let alone been engaged in a significant-use-of-force incident? Well, Mel drew on a pit bull but he didn’t shoot because he got over a fence in time.”

“It happens to a lot of us,” he said again. “And if you can’t sleep or think or eat, that’s all just part of it. The crappy part, but it’s necessary. Eventually, you live with it. Mostly the memories stay down.”

He sat beside her overlooking the river as the clouds changed colors before her eyes. Clouds, she thought. That meant more rains would be coming.

“I shot a young Hispanic male,” she said.

He nodded. Saying nothing but somehow his silence encouraged her to continue.

“Here’s what happened. I’m going to say it fast so I don’t have to think about it all night.” She drew a breath as if preparing to submerge in deep water, then let it out. “Okay, I was off-duty and in my new car. I had just leased a BMW, black, Two Series. I mean I just left the dealership and I got bumped. I considered that it was a scam and so I had my weapon out when I left the vehicle. The male driver told me to step away from my BMW. Actually he said, ‘Give me the keys.’ And then he called me a...well, it doesn’t matter. He demanded the keys and reached for something in his coat. I saw the handgun before I fired. He died at the scene.”

Jack scratched his chin, feeling the stubble growing there. Seemed like a home run to him. She’d defended herself and from her version he saw no reason for her to worry.

“Seems justified.”

“But it wasn’t a handgun. It was a phone. He did have an unregistered handgun on his person. But that was not what he pointed at me. And he kept the phone pointed at me, even when he went to his knees.”

“You think he meant to photograph the damage?”

“I’ll never know.”

“Sophia, he told you to give him your keys. There is only one reason to hit a new Beamer and then demand the keys. He was boosting your car.”

“Probably.”

Jack’s anger took him totally by surprise. He tried to understand why he was so furious at this unknown perp. And then it struck him. He’d be murderous with anyone who threatened her. How had she gotten under his skin so fast?

She could have died and he would never have had a chance to know her. He wanted that chance. Trouble was, she didn’t. She had made it very clear that she could not wait to be out of here and back on the job.

“Does he have a criminal record or history of stealing cars?”

“I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything, and I don’t have access to the system. I do know his name. Nothing else yet. I’ve made my formal statement. I met with the union rep and our attorney. They gave me the protocol.”

“Referral to mental-health professional?”

“Sure. And contact with an agent who also had a deadly force encounter in Phoenix. But he was on a raid of a grow house and everyone inside was dirty and heavily armed. Not the same.”

A grow house was a home, usually abandoned, taken over and converted to an indoor greenhouse to grow marijuana. The drug producers were often well armed and prepared to defend their crop.

He said nothing. No one’s life experiences were the same, but all could be used to help every person find their path.

The silence stretched as the first star, Venus, appeared in the western sky.

“They’ve been investigating since Sunday. SAC said he’d keep me updated. He really hasn’t.”

“SAC?”

“Special agent in charge. He’s my liaison to the thirteen-member SIRG. That’s ‘shooting incident review group.’”

“Really?” Thirteen seemed like overkill. But this was the FBI. He knew that their investigation would be exhaustive and in-house.

“I haven’t heard anything since Thursday, when he told me the autopsy had been completed and that I should get my personal weapon back next week.”

“Any results from the autopsy?”

“He’s still dead.”

Jack almost laughed, but reined it in. She looked so grim.

“So what’s next?”

“Interviews with the two witnesses. Photographs. Diagrams and the report by the administrative director of the office of inspections.”

“That’s a real thing?”

She cast him a scowl. “Of course. He’s chairman of SIRG.”

“Supervising the cast of thirteen.”

“Twelve, minus himself.”

“I can see why you’re nervous.”

“No. You can’t. Your shooter had fired at you. My shooter was pointing a camera. One of the witnesses also had a phone and may have taken a photograph or video.”

“More evidence.”

“Yes.”

“You feel you made a mistake?”

“No. But what matters is what SIRG thinks. If they rule my actions unjustified, I could lose my job. Everything.”

There was a definite note of panic in her voice.

“All the schooling, training, work...gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that. And I’m not going back...” Her words trailed off.

Back where? To her reservation? He cast her a questioning look, but Sophia had clamped her mouth shut and laced her fingers so tightly in her lap her fingernails were going blue.

Jack offered her the only thing he could think of. “You have his name. I can run him through our system.”

Her eyes shifted to him.

“You’d do that?”

Jack didn’t say so aloud, but he’d do a lot more than that for her because despite knowing that she could not wait to put him and his tribe in her rearview mirror, he was desperately attracted to her.

“I would.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. He lay a hand on her shoulder and she stilled and glanced up at him.

“Thank you.” She placed a hand over his. It wasn’t until her hand slid away that he could breathe again.

“Yeah. Don’t mention it. Name?”

“Martin Nequam.”

Jack asked for the spelling and she provided it.

The light had changed again, casting the sky in bright fuchsia and red. He glanced away from her, taking in their surroundings.

“It gets pretty dark up here at night,” he said. “And the road can be tricky. We’d best head down. Get you settled. And I want to introduce you to the others.”

She followed him back to the SUV. “What others?”

“The men of Tribal Thunder, Dylan, Ray and my brother Kurt. Carter, when he gets home. And Ray’s wife, Morgan.”

“You’re not talking about the daughter of the man who murdered the Lilac gunman?”

“The very same. Also Dylan’s fiancé, Meadow Wrangler.”

“The Meadow Wrangler? As in, daughter of the murdered prime suspect and leader of BEAR.”

“It’s her mom. Even Meadow says so.”

“Interesting attack team. You have at least two members who might be working for BEAR.”