Secrets of the Lynx

Struggling to find the courage to face what still lay ahead for him, he’d stood alone, waging his solitary battle, when he’d heard the low, throaty growl of the cat. Lingering in the shadows, unwilling to come out into the open, was a lynx.

In the animal’s caution, one born of fear, he’d seen his own inability to move forward, and realized then that life was all about choices. His days as a U.S. Marshal were over, but he was still very much alive. He could choose to let his injury define him or build a new future for himself.

Facing the best and worst in himself that night had given him the ability to go on. A few months later, he’d opened his own private investigations firm.

Tonight, as he looked down at the cat and saw the kill the creature had just made, Paul realized that the animal’s focus was his meal. The moment was all that mattered to him.

He, too, wanted to live in the present and stop looking to the past. Yet the sound of Judy’s startled gasp as the bullet passed through his shoulder and into her body continued to haunt him. Until her killer was caught, he’d never be able to move on.

He clutched the lynx fetish in his hand until the wood bit into his skin.

“Don’t move!” Kendra snapped from right behind him.

The animal disappeared in an instant. As it always had been, the cat showed himself to no one except him.

Having recognized Kendra’s voice, he turned around. “Relax—”

She reacted automatically, raising her gun.

Instinct kicked in, and he countered without thinking, sweeping her gun hand, twisting her around, and pulling her back against his chest. With her gun hand pinned to her side, he held her steady, his arms locked around her.

“It’s me,” he repeated, dodging a kick to his instep.

She relaxed instantly. “Paul? I told you to tell me if you left the house. I thought you were in another room and that someone was tampering with the vehicles—or worse! What the heck are you doing out here?”

“I came to see an old friend,” he said, noting that she wasn’t trying to break free.

“Where?” she asked, trying to wriggle out and look around.

Reluctantly, he let her go, noting she had fit just right against him. “Not a person, an animal.”

“You feeding the coyotes or something?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s more complicated than that.”

She searched the area trying to see what he was talking about, but it was too dark. “Come on, let’s go back inside. I don’t want to stay out here any longer than necessary. This is the best time for a sneak attack.”

“Yeah. It’ll be dawn soon,” he said, letting her take the lead in the walk back around the house. “Why don’t you get a little more rest?”

“Can’t. I’m wide awake now.”

“So, how about a real early breakfast then?” he asked.

“Thanks, but, no. It’s too early for me to even think of food,” she said, glancing at her watch. It was a little after five. “Unlike my brother, I’m not a big fan of breakfast. But our father, the colonel, used to insist on it. Personally I feel more primed for work if I have a mug of strong coffee and something sweet, like a doughnut.”

He laughed. “Not much for health food, are you?”

“Hey, I grab a sandwich at lunch. My anchor is a good dinner, when I’m not on the run.”

When they stepped back into the house, Paul walked over to his chair and picked up his jacket. “Since we’re both up, why don’t we get an early start and head back?”

“If we start too early, we’ll have to wake people up. We want them relaxed, not cranky, when we ask for their cooperation,” she said. “Besides, you need to get some rest, too. I need you alert.”

“I grabbed some shut-eye before you arrived here. I’m not tired, and right now there are some things I need to do, like contact Nick and tell him I won’t be at home. I need him to steer clear of my apartment.”

“Nick?”

“He’s the son of the man who owns my rental unit, which is over his coffee shop. Nick also cleans for me and makes sure my fridge is stocked.”

“With my crazy work hours, the food at my place is usually leftover takeout with a coating of green fuzz.”

“So you’re not exactly a domestic goddess, I take it?”

She laughed. “Not even close. You know what it’s like, working double shifts, pulling all-nighters, traveling the red-eye with a prisoner at your side. When I first started out, I put in long hours, but there was time off the clock, too. Then somewhere along the way, the balance shifted.”

He nodded, setting his jacket down again. “It happens like that.”

“One day I discovered that whether I was on the clock or not, my mind was always on the job.”

“Law enforcement is like that. It starts out as a job you love, but pretty soon it’s your life,” he said.

“It gets under your skin,” she said, nodding. “What I love most about it is that every day brings its own challenge.”

“I miss the constant change of pace,” he said. “When I started my agency, my shoulder was still holding me back. All I could really do was set up security, conduct interviews, and manage surveillance monitors for my clients. I spent most of my time pushing paper or watching screens.”

“And it drove you crazy?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m a lot happier in the field.”

“I asked you about painkillers before. How much trouble does your shoulder give you these days?”

“It aches from time to time, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s healed up nice.” Rather than have her wonder, he stepped over by the fire and shrugged out of his wool shirt. “Take a look.”

She drew closer to him, started to touch his shoulder, but then changed her mind and dropped her hand to her side. “Through and through, though it must have taken out a lot of muscle. A rifle bullet can do a lot of damage. Rehab must have been tough,” she said softly.

He nodded. “It was, but the daily grind of exercises helped me get everything working again.”

He saw her gaze drop from his shoulder and run slowly down his chest. Women generally liked what they saw, and he was man enough to know when they did. As Kendra licked her lips, a flash of heat shot through him. His shoulder had taken a hit, but the rest of him worked just fine.

“It’s cold. You better put your shirt back on,” she said, her voice husky.

Following an instinct as old as time, he curled his fingers beneath the curtain of her auburn hair and pulled her closer to him. His kiss was gentle, coaxing, not forcing, and as her lips parted, he deepened the kiss, tasting the velvety smoothness inside.

Kendra moaned softly, then pulled away, sucking in her breath. “Whoa!”

“My fault,” he said.

She shook her head. “If I wasn’t working a case I wouldn’t have pulled back. That felt...really nice,” she said, then took a steadying breath. “Paul, you’re a player. I’ve already picked up on that. But I’m here to take down a high-threat fugitive. Getting sidetracked could cost us our lives, so this stops now. What happened is just the result of tension and fatigue. You know that, right?”

He said nothing, but in his gut, he knew differently. The attraction between them was real, and it was strong. He watched her for a moment longer. It was exciting to see the play of light and shadow in her hazel eyes. Kendra wanted more, just as he did, but she was right, the timing was all wrong.

“I’m going to get myself something to eat. Fresh coffee for you?” he growled, walking toward the back counter.

“Please.”

“No doughnuts in the house, so how about leftover fry bread and honey?”

“That sounds great,” she said.

An hour later, though it was still early, she’d finished her report, stowed away her laptop, and was on the phone with Paul’s brother, Detective Preston Bowman, who was en route to the station from his home. “If you turn up any connection between Ms. Sharpe and Chris Miller I want to be there for the interview. Let me know what you get as soon as possible.”

When Paul came into the front room moments later, Kendra was putting her cell phone back into her jacket pocket. As her gaze took in his backpack, she stood. “Shall I follow you into town?”

“I have an idea. We’ve already agreed to work together, so it makes a lot more sense to ride together, too. My four-wheel drive pickup will get us anywhere in the Four Corners that a vehicle can go. Your sedan—not so much. Why not just leave it here?”

“All right,” she said after a beat.

They collected her gear and headed to his truck. “While you stow away your stuff I want to make a quick call to the kid who takes care of my place,” he said. “I already left a voice mail for Nick, but I want to talk to him and make sure he got the message.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Kendra said, placing her luggage behind the front seat.

Paul placed the call from his truck while the engine was warming up, and a few seconds later Nick answered. “Hey, Mr. Grayhorse, you want me to bring breakfast up now?”

“No, Nick, I’m not at home. There’s something else I need you to do. If you notice anyone hanging around my place, or if someone comes by asking about me, call my brother, Detective Bowman, ASAP. Then call me,” Paul said, and added, “Avoid anyone who looks the least bit suspicious or dangerous. I’ve made some enemies, and I don’t want you involved. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Paul ended his call, but before they were halfway down the dirt road to the gate, Kendra’s phone rang.

“Armstrong,” she clipped, then listened for a moment. “Good job, Preston! Keep an eye on her, but hang back till I get there if possible. If Miller’s at the apartment, I want in on the takedown.”

Kendra placed her phone back in her jacket pocket. “Your brother’s got it together. He’s tracked down Yolanda Sharpe. She’s home right now and, according to her neighbor, has a new boyfriend visiting. Preston doesn’t have the guy’s name, but the description he has of the subject doesn’t exclude Miller.” She paused, then continued, “The way Miller managed to disappear until now makes me think he’s changed his appearance again, but what’s hard is faking height. Miller’s six foot one.”

“So you want to meet Preston at Sharpe’s place?” Paul asked.

“Yeah. Let’s head there,” she said, giving him the address.

“When you question them, let me sit in. If either Yolanda or her boyfriend lies to you, I’ll know,” he said.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“I am,” he answered, feeling the weight of the lynx fetish around his neck.

Chapter Four

Although she’d placed her small carry-on in the rear of the cab, she’d kept her laptop with her. While Paul drove, Kendra worked on the updated report she’d have to file tonight.

They’d reached the outskirts of Hartley when Paul finally broke the silence between them. “I know you’ve been working and that’s part of the reason you’ve been so quiet, but I have the feeling that something else is bothering you. If you tell me what it is, maybe I can help.”

“One thing at a time,” she said, closing the laptop. “Right now let’s concentrate on the operation underway.” She checked the GPS on the dash. “Turn right. Yolanda’s apartment complex should be just ahead.”

“There’s Preston,” he said seconds later, and gestured to an unmarked police car parked behind a cable company van.

“From that location, the complex’s vehicle entrance and exit are both covered,” Kendra said with an approving nod. “They can be blocked off in a few seconds.”

“You can bet he’s got backup already in place too,” Paul said, and parked.

Preston glanced at them as they approached on foot, then got out of the cruiser. “Yolanda’s apparently been traveling and got in early this morning. According to the DMV that’s her SUV over there—the green Ford with mud on the fenders. Not a blue pickup, obviously.”

“Which one’s her apartment?” Kendra asked.

“Two-oh-four, second floor, toward the middle,” Preston said.

“Have you found any connection between her and Miller?” Kendra asked.

“Not so far. I also haven’t been able to confirm the presence of a second person inside the apartment. My men are watching her, and she’s been unloading the vehicle by herself.”

“All right. Let’s go upstairs and pay her a visit,” Kendra said.

She led the way, walking briskly. As the three of them approached apartment 204, Kendra pushed back her jacket so that both her service weapon and badge were clearly visible.

Paul remained beside Kendra. Preston, who’d crossed to the other side of the doorway, gave Kendra a nod. She knocked loudly, but before she could identify herself, a female voice from inside called out.

“Hold on, Alex. I’m putting the beer in the fridge.”

There was a clanking sound, then steps across the floor. The door opened a second later and a dark-eyed, long-haired blonde in her mid-twenties answered.

Seeing them, her expression changed from a grin to a scowl. “Whadda ya want? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m Marshal Armstrong, Ms. Sharpe. This is Detective Bowman of the Hartley Police Department, and I believe you’ve already spoken to Mr. Grayhorse.” Not giving her a chance to reply, she added, “We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Show me your ID. Anyone can buy a badge these days,” Yolanda snapped at Kendra.

Kendra reached into her pocket and brought up her ID.

Yolanda shrugged. “Yeah, okay. So what’s this all about?”

Kendra watched her closely. “You can start by telling us why you wanted to hire Mr. Grayhorse.”

“What do you mean, ‘hire’? I’ve never seen or spoken to that guy before in my life.” She took Paul in at a glance and smiled. “Looks like I may have been missing out.”

“Are you telling me that you’d never heard of Mr. Grayhorse?” Kendra pressed, watching the woman’s expression.

“That’s right, but if you want to set us up...” She winked at Paul.

“Where were you yesterday between four p.m. and, say, nine at night?” Kendra continued, undaunted.

“Camping up at Navajo Lake with a friend. We spent the past three days there. The weather was cold and lousy, but it was plenty hot inside the tent, if you get what I mean,” she said, giving Paul another smile.

Paul, who’d deliberately hung back, heard footsteps coming up the stairs. As he turned his head to look, a short, barrel-chested man wearing a plaid shirt came into view.

“Hey, Alex,” Yolanda said, “tell them where we’ve been.”

Alex looked at Paul first, then as his gaze traveled to Kendra and Preston’s badges, he spun around and raced back down the stairs.

“Police officers. Stop!” Preston yelled.

Paul knew instantly that it wasn’t Miller. The guy was too short. Though unsure who Alex really was, he raced after him.

Alex had a lead and was as fast as lightning. By the time Paul reached the stairs, the man was stepping onto the parking lot. Paul took the stairs in three steps, but Alex was already climbing into the Jeep.

“Preston, he’s heading north!” Paul yelled as he ran to his pickup.

The guy’s vehicle was already on the move. The Jeep’s tires squealed as Alex swerved, scraped a carport support pole, then sideswiped a parked motorcycle.

Suddenly a police cruiser raced up, blocking his exit.

Alex hit the brakes, sliding to a stop inches from the squad car, and ducked down, reaching for something on the floorboard.

“Gun!” Kendra yelled, approaching in a crouch from the passenger’s side of the Jeep, her pistol out.

“Police!” Preston yelled, taking aim over the hood of the cruiser. “Put your hands up where we can see them.”

Alex’s arms shot up into the air. As he rose to a sitting position again, Kendra rushed up, pistol aimed at his chest.

“Who is this idiot?” Preston said as he came around the front of his unit.

“Not Miller, that’s for sure, but from the way he took off, I’m guessing he’s got a record.” Paul glanced at Kendra. “Where’s Yolanda?”

Kendra cocked her head back toward the staircase. “Unless she’s got a lock pick, she’s still handcuffed to the railing.”

After Alex had been read his rights, Kendra examined the ID Preston had fished out of the man’s pockets.

“Alex Jeffreys, make it easy on yourself and explain why you ran,” Kendra asked.

“I want a lawyer,” came the clipped, clearly practiced reply.

As Preston turned Alex over to a uniformed cop on the scene, Kendra holstered her weapon. “He’s all yours, detective. That isn’t the fugitive I’m after.”

“Let’s see who we’re dealing with.” Preston went back to his cruiser and ran Alex’s name through his computer. “Jeffreys has an outstanding warrant for check fraud and ID theft. He’s never been with the department,” he added, obviously remembering Yolanda’s story about her boyfriend being a cop.

“We still need to know how Yolanda’s connected to what happened to Paul last night,” Kendra said.

“I’ll place her under arrest, then meet you at the station,” Preston said.

Paul remained silent long after they were back on the road. “Alex is going to be a hard nut to crack,” he said at last. “And I’m thinking that Yolanda may not be the same person who called. Her voice sounds different, for one.”

“Maybe she was disguising her voice on the phone,” Kendra said. “Either way, it’s still possible Alex used his girlfriend to set you up.”

“Maybe,” he said. “If you let me sit in during questioning, I’ll be able to tell you for sure.”

Kendra remembered one report she’d read. Paul’s first partner, the one before Judy Whitacre, had claimed that he had an almost uncanny ability to separate lies from the truth. “Your foster father was a medicine man, and I know there’s a lot of psychology involved in healing rituals. Did he teach you how to read people?”

“No, it’s not like that.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “What Hosteen Silver did was open my mind so I could use the gift he’d given me.”

She gave him a curious look. “I don’t understand. When you say ‘gift,’ are you talking something supernatural?”

He shrugged. “I can get you results. Do you want my help or not?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, but I’ll take lead. Agreed?”

“Sure.” He pulled into the parking lot beside the police substation. “You don’t really trust me, do you?”

She weighed her answer carefully. “Intuition tells me that there’s more to you than meets the eye, and intangibles make me uneasy.”

“Just remember we’re on the same side.”

“I know. That’s the only reason I’ve allowed you to get actively involved.”

“No, there’s another reason—one you’re keeping to yourself.”

His insight was right on target and took her by surprise. She suspected that Paul held the key to taking down Miller. If Miller was really in the area, and he’d come after Paul ten months after his initial attempt to kill the judge, there had to be a reason. Providing she could figure out what that was, she might be able to use it to draw Miller out of the shadows.

She looked at Paul with new respect. No one had ever been able to read her like that, yet Paul had somehow guessed that she’d been holding out on him.

“See? That’s part of what I do,” he said.

“How? Will you ever tell me how you developed your...skills? I’d be interested.”

“Maybe someday,” he said quietly. “For now, let’s go see what we can learn from Yolanda and her boyfriend. Hopefully, they’ll actually know something of value.”

* * *

T HE ROOM USED to question suspects was purposely kept just a little too warm. The subject was meant to be uncomfortable. The straight-backed wooden chair and simple wooden table were other ways of cutting creature comforts.

Paul and Kendra were in an adjacent room with Preston. Standing next to the two-way glass, they watched Alex, who was sitting alone in the room.

“He’s an old hand at this,” Preston said. “He’s only said one word—‘lawyer.’ You’ll have more leverage with Yolanda. She wants to cooperate. It’s clear to her that she could go to jail if convicted of harboring a fugitive.”

“It’s good that you have her thinking about that. I’ll interview her now,” Kendra said.

“You going in, too?” Preston asked his brother.

“Yeah.”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Preston said, indicating the direction with a nod.

They walked into the room several seconds later and found Yolanda pacing like a caged lion.

“Sit down!” Kendra snapped.

Yolanda obeyed instantly. “You’ve got to believe me. I had no idea there was a warrant out on Alex. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone within a mile of him.”

“The fact remains, you were harboring a fugitive. We could send you right back to jail.”

“No, listen, I didn’t know!”

Kendra sat across the table from Yolanda while Paul leaned against the wall, watching them.

“You called Paul Grayhorse yesterday afternoon and asked for his help. You claimed to be afraid of your boyfriend, a police officer, but Alex isn’t a cop. So what’s the deal, Yolanda? What were you trying to pull?” Kendra demanded.

“I didn’t call anyone yesterday. My cell phone didn’t even work up by Navajo Lake,” Yolanda said.

“You weren’t at Navajo Lake. You were home. You telephoned me from your house phone,” Paul said. “I recorded the call, which came at 4:27 p.m.”

“I never made that call! I wasn’t here,” she said, her voice rising. “And I don’t have a boyfriend who’s a cop. I hate cops. N-o offense,” Yolanda told Kendra quickly, clearly regretting the comment. Looking back at Paul, she added, “Dude, I never even heard of you before today.”

“Did anyone actually see you over at Navajo Lake?” Kendra asked her.

“No, we were in the tent most of the time. Remember I told you—” She stopped, then added, “Wait a sec. You said I called you yesterday from my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Paul said.

“Then someone must have broken in,” she said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. Maybe it was the landlord. He’s kinda creepy.”

Kendra said nothing. Sometimes, unnerved by the silence, a suspect would talk and in the process reveal something important.

Prepared to wait, Kendra glanced casually at Paul and saw that, although his face was void of expression, his eyes were alert. He was taking in everything around him.

For a moment she wondered what lay just beyond that steel-edged resolve. Paul kept his emotions well hidden, yet she knew just how close he’d come to being killed twice in the past year. He’d also lost his partner, and she suspected that beneath the surface he was concealing a lot of anger. Paul carried himself well and was the sexiest man she’d ever met, but was he also a dangerous man, now on the edge?

Kendra stared at the floor for a beat, forcing herself to concentrate, then focused back on their suspect.

The interview continued. “I’d like to believe that you had nothing to do with that phone call to Paul Grayhorse, but you’re going to have to convince me, Yolanda,” Kendra said. “A woman called, so it couldn’t have been your landlord. He’s male.”

Paul came up and stood behind Kendra. “She’s not lying,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Surprised, Kendra turned and saw the utter calm she’d come to associate with Paul etched clearly on his face. With effort, she tore her gaze from his and looked back at Yolanda.

“You said you had a recording of the call I supposedly made to you?” Yolanda asked Paul.

“Yeah, it’s in my voice mail,” Paul said.

“Let me hear it.”

Paul pulled out his cell phone and played it for her.

“That’s not my landlord, and not his wife either. Her voice sounds gravelly. But you can tell it wasn’t me!” Yolanda protested.

“She was whispering,” Kendra said. “For my money, it was you.”

Yolanda shook her head. “Play it again, louder this time,” she asked Paul. As he did, she smiled. “Now I know who it is. That’s Annie, Annie Crenshaw. We used to be friends, but she’s got so many problems now I can’t stand to be around her. I forgot she still has a key to my place.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now I know what happened to some of my Navajo jewelry. I thought I’d misplaced it, but Annie probably ripped me off. She’s hooked on meth and always needs cash to make a buy.”