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The Sheriff of Silverhill
Carol Ericson


Her proximity to the cowboy scrambled her thoughts, weakened her resolve.
Like now. She should be knocking his hand from her shoulder. Shrugging him off. Assuring him she could handle anything.
Instead she tilted her head, brushing the back of his hand with her hair, allowing the warmth of his touch to spread through her body like a salve to her frayed nerves.
She breathed out a soft sigh. “Maybe I don’t have a choice, Rafe. Maybe something’s headed my way whether I like it or not. And this time I can’t stop it, can’t run away.”
He wedged a finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back. The gaze from his blue eyes burned into hers. “Whatever comes at you, Dana, I’ll be right beside you to take it on.”
He brushed the whisper of a kiss across her lips before slamming the car door.
Placing a fingertip on her burning lips, Dana wondered if Rafe realized he posed as great a threat to her as this serial killer.

The Sheriff of Silverhill
Carol Ericson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To the wonderful ladies of GIAM.
Thanks for your motivation.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carol Ericson lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her Web site at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dana Croft —An FBI agent with the Indian Country Crimes Unit, she returns to the Ute reservation outside of Silverhill, Colorado, where she grew up, to investigate a serial killer. But the investigation becomes complicated by the powers of clairvoyance she rejected years ago…and the man she left behind.
Rafe McClintock —The sheriff of Silverhill must join forces with the FBI, including his high school sweetheart, to solve a series of murders. Can his love for the woman who walked out on him save her from her own dangerous secrets?
Lenny Driscoll —Dana’s stepfather exploited her mother’s powers, which led to her death. Dana wants to make sure she doesn’t meet the same fate at his hands.
Joshua Trujillo —An old friend of Dana’s, but his jokes about her dumping him start getting a little too serious, perhaps serious enough to send him over the edge of reason.
Ben Whitecotton —He’s intent on preserving the Southern Ute culture and seems to have disdain for those Native Americans who don’t embrace their heritage as he thinks they should.
Alicia Clifton —The one victim of the Headband Killer who doesn’t seem to fit the profile…until her secret is revealed.
Auntie Mary —Dana’s great-aunt and a Southern Ute shaman, she sees danger in Dana’s future but is powerless to stop it.
Kelsey Croft —Dana’s daughter doesn’t know her father, Rafe McClintock, and Rafe doesn’t know her. Will Kelsey’s gift of clairvoyance destroy her before Rafe can claim her as his own?

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue

Chapter One
FBI Agent Dana Croft ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape snapping in the dry wind that whipped across the construction site. She joined her partner, Agent Steve Lubeck, squatting beside the body of a young woman—the third in two months.
Dana had been planning a visit to the Southern Ute Reservation where she grew up…just hadn’t planned on spending it tracking a serial killer.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Dana crouched next to the woman’s head, her dark hair matted with blood and sticking to her cheek. Blood also stained the bandana wrapped around her forehead.
“Do you know her?” Steve slid one gloved finger beneath the victim’s hair, lifting it from her face.
Dana scanned the woman’s features—a pretty girl with too much makeup and staring, lifeless eyes. She didn’t recognize her, but everyone else on the reservation would know her and her business. The small-town atmosphere of a reservation usually made solving crimes for the Indian Country Crimes unit easy.
But this wasn’t racketeering or casino theft; this was murder.
“Nope.” Dana shook her head. “But then it’s been several years since I’ve been back. I probably know her parents or grandparents, though.”
Dana squeezed her eyes shut and gulped in a few breaths of crisp autumn air. The young woman splayed out on the hard earth with her long black hair and mocha skin reminded Dana of her own daughter, Kelsey. Could she handle this assignment? She’d been with the FBI for almost six years and with the Indian Country Crimes unit for four of those years, but she’d never investigated a serial killer on a reservation. This hit hard. This hit home.
“The construction crew discovered the body when they got here this morning. They called the sheriff of the Ute Reservation, Emmett Starr. You know him?”
“Yeah, I know Emmett. Where is he?”
“He was tied up with something else, but he called me right away and sent his guys.” Steve waved his arm toward the two cops combing the area for a footprint, blood, a piece of clothing, any small piece of evidence. “Emmett should be here soon.”
“I think that’s him now.” Shading her eyes and squinting at the squad car churning up dust on the road, Dana pushed to her feet.
The car pulled up parallel to the crime scene, and Emmett shot out of the driver’s side. “Damn. I can’t believe we have another one. I guess it’s official now—we have a serial killer on our hands.”
He strode toward Dana and swept her up in a hug. “Good to see you, Dana.”
“You don’t seem surprised that I’m here.”
Emmett jerked his thumb toward Steve. “Agent Lubeck told me you were coming on the scene to help out. That’s good you’re working in the Indian Country Crimes unit.”
The passenger door of Emmett’s squad car swung open, and Dana swiveled her head around. One long, lean, denim-clad leg appeared. The long, lean body followed.
Dana’s breath hitched in her throat and her heart skittered in her chest as the rangy cowboy in the white hat sauntered toward her, sliding his cell phone into his shirt pocket. He tipped his hat back from his face and grinned. “Hey, Dana.”
Dana swallowed, her throat tight, as she looked up into the perpetually amused blue eyes of Rafe McClintock.
The man who still had a hold on her heart.
The man who haunted her dreams.
The father of her child.
“What are you doing here?” Dana folded her arms, trapping her trembling hands next to her body. Rafe didn’t seem surprised to see her, either. Everyone on the reservation must know she’d returned to assist in this investigation.
Emmett moved to the side. “I’m sorry. You two know each other, don’t you? Rafe and I were in Silverhill, discussing the second murder when I got Agent Lubeck’s call. Agent Lubeck, this is Sheriff Rafe McClintock. The second murder occurred in his jurisdiction.”
As Steve and Rafe shook hands, Dana zeroed in on the badge pinned to Rafe’s chest. Why hadn’t Auntie Mary told her Rafe was back in Silverhill? She might have had some time to prepare, to steel herself against this rush of emotion cascading through her body.
“Y-you’re a San Juan County Sheriff?”
“Yeah, I moved back to Colorado about six months ago and went through the academy. Silverhill elected me sheriff when Sheriff Ballard retired after his son’s murder.”
“I heard about Zack Ballard’s murder.” She pursed her lips as she shook her head. “I’m glad Sheriff Ballard retired, but the good people of Silverhill sure embraced an inexperienced sheriff for the top job quickly. But then you are a McClintock.”
There. Better put Rafe in his place right here and now.
He raised his brows, laughter lighting his eyes. God, he saw right through her. She’d fooled him once but he was no longer the tall, skinny, sandy-haired boy she’d first spotted in the hallway of Silverhill High.
She would have to feel an insane attraction to the richest and most popular boy in the school. She lived the cliché of every teen movie, featuring the all-American boy and the girl from the wrong side of the tepee. Only their teen movie didn’t end with happily-ever-after.
“I’m not inexperienced. I know Silverhill like the back of my hand, and I worked as a cop in L.A. for almost four years before moving back here. Of course, you wouldn’t know that since you disappeared right after high school. Georgetown, right?”
“Yeah, Georgetown.”
Emmett cleared his throat. “I hate to break up this…er…happy reunion, but what do you have on this latest murder? Is it like the other two?”
Steve and Dana led Rafe and Emmett to the body and Emmett crouched down. “Dear God. This is Louella’s girl, Holly.”
“Louella Sams?” Dana clapped a hand over her mouth. Louella was about fifteen years ahead of her in school, but Dana knew the family. The personal aspect hit her hard but if she let it affect her, the Bureau would yank her off the investigation. And she wanted in on this investigation.
“Louella Thompson now. She let Holly run a little wild, but nobody deserves this kind of ending.” Emmett clutched his hat to his chest and mumbled a few words over Holly’s still form.
Dana recognized the Southern Ute chant for the soul of the dead to speed its passage to the heavens. She bit her lip. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten the words of the chant.
Steve cleared his throat. “The M.O. is the same as the other two murders. The blood on Holly’s face is from a split lip. Looks like the killer backhanded her, but he strangled her like the other two and dumped her at a construction site.”
“And he left his signature.” Rafe pointed to the bandana wrapped around Holly’s forehead with the feather stuck in the back.
Dana clenched her jaw. That’s the detail law enforcement was hiding from the media. The killer had placed the crude Indian headband around each of the victims after he murdered them. So far, all of the murdered women were full or half Native American—like her. Was this maniac on some kind of one-man ethnic cleansing spree? Apparently, his wrath didn’t extend to males or anyone over the age of thirty. All of the victims were young, female and pretty.
Rafe gestured to the ground. “Tire tracks?”
Steve shrugged. “This area is crisscrossed with tire tracks. Nothing stands out, and so far Emmett’s officers haven’t found a damn thing…just like the other two murders.”
Scuffing the toe of his boot into the sand, Rafe said, “Obviously, the construction site is just a dumping ground. He does the deed elsewhere.”
Dana appraised Rafe from beneath lowered lashes. His handsome face creased into real concern, and Dana realized she faced a man, not the carefree boy she’d loved enough to leave ten years ago.
That knowledge scared the hell out of her.
The four of them discussed the details of the murders, two now on the Southern Ute Reservation, until the ambulance arrived. Any more evidence they hoped to find would have to come from the victim’s body. If the killer hit her before he strangled her, maybe Holly put up a fight for her life and scratched her murderer or pulled out his hair.
They agreed to meet later that evening at Rafe’s office at the sheriff’s station in Silverhill to compare notes after following their different leads. Rafe jogged to the ambulance before the EMTs loaded the stretcher bearing Holly’s body.
Dana’s heart picked up speed as Rafe bent his head in conversation, a lock of sun-streaked hair falling over one eye. She’d have to put aside her personal feelings to get through this investigation. Since one of the bodies had turned up outside the boundaries of the reservation, Rafe had jurisdiction over that case and she’d have to work with him.
But not for long.
The FBI would move in and take over. Just like they always did.
But until then, she’d shove memories of Rafe and their high school romance aside. And their daughter? Could she shove her aside as well?
“What do you think, Dana?”
She spun around. Emmett stood behind her, his hands buried in his pockets as he watched the EMTs collapse the stretcher to slide it into the van.
Lifting a shoulder, she said, “Looks like our guy has struck again, but Silverhill is a small town and everyone knows everyone else’s business on the reservation. We’ll find him.”
“Can you help? Did you touch Holly with your bare hands?”
Dana sucked in a sharp breath and froze. Emmett wasn’t referring to the help Dana could offer as an FBI agent. He wanted her to use the “gift.”
Closing her eyes, she ran a hand through her hair and clasped the nape of her neck.
“You are gifted.” Emmett’s voice floated between them, almost a whisper.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry.” He held up his hands. “But everyone knows the powers of clairvoyance travel through the women in our particular Southern Ute tribe. Auntie Mary is gifted and her sister Fanny, your grandmother, had the gift, and your mother, Ronnie.”
“A lot of good it did my mother.” Once Dana’s worthless stepfather had found out about Mom’s sensitivity, he had exploited it, forcing her to work during the summer months selling cheap jewelry, telling fortunes and casting spells of love and protection when Mom couldn’t even find those for herself.
Dana ran her hands across her face as if clearing cobwebs. “Besides, I’m only half Ute, so the gift obviously skipped me. See you at the meeting, Emmett.”
As Dana swept past him, Emmett muttered behind her, “Or you choose not to embrace it.”
Dana stalked to her rental car, hands fisted. Her second day back on the reservation and already her past was crowding in on her.
“Dana.”
She glanced up as Rafe waved and strode toward her, his boots crunching the gravel beneath his feet. Her past was crowding in, all right, from all directions.
“Can I pick you up for the meeting tonight? I haven’t seen your aunt Mary in a while. You are staying with her, aren’t you?”
She clicked her remote and settled her back against the car. “I don’t need a ride. This is a murder investigation, not the high school prom.”
“I know. You dumped me before the prom.”
“You remember that?” Big mistake . She did not want to traipse down memory lane with Rafe. That path would surely lead to one nine-year old, brown-eyed secret named Kelsey.
Hooking his thumb in his belt loop, he grinned. “Like it was yesterday. You were the only girl who ever shot me down.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I remember succumbing to the famous McClintock charm pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, you had your way with me and then shot me down.”
Dana almost doubled over from the sharp pain that stabbed her gut. If they didn’t catch this killer fast, allowing her to escape Silverhill and the reservation, she’d fall under this man’s spell again. And once he found out she’d kept Kelsey from him all these years, he’d shoot her down.
“Let’s not go there.” She made a cross with her fingers, holding it up between them. “We have a killer to catch.”
“I don’t have a problem mixing business with pleasure.”
Dana’s gaze tripped over Rafe’s sensuous mouth and got hooked on his deep blue eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t.”
But if Rafe ever discovered they had a daughter together, there’d be nothing pleasurable about his response.
Nothing pleasurable at all.

D ANA DROPPED into the overstuffed, floral chair and stretched out her legs, resting her feet on top of the high heels she’d kicked off before washing the dinner dishes.
Auntie Mary plucked the reading glasses from her nose and folded her hands over the book in her lap. “You could’ve left those for me. I didn’t invite you to stay here to do my chores.”
Dana wiggled her toes. “I know that, but you do have an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t need an ulterior motive to invite my niece, who’s working in the area anyway, to stay with me.” Auntie Mary widened her eyes in mock indignation.
“Rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh string beans from your garden and homemade apple pie to finish me off. You went to a lot of trouble, but it’s not going to work.”
“Is Holly Thompson another victim of this serial killer?”
“We think so, but I can’t discuss the case with you.”
“Interesting that the killer keeps dumping bodies of young Ute women at construction sites. Maybe he’s trying to make a point.” She shrugged and ran a gnarled hand through her cropped, gray hair. “The old ways are changing too fast, and all this money pouring in from the oil down south only hastens the demise of our culture. Dances, songs and worship have been replaced by reality TV and Xboxes.”
“Unemployment and poverty have been replaced by jobs and a good standard of living.”
“Do you have to throw out the baby with the bathwater?” Auntie Mary cupped her hands in a scooping motion.
“Nobody’s trying to do that. I see that Ben Whitecotton is completing the project of a Southern Ute cultural center.”
Auntie Mary leveled a finger at her, and Dana could almost feel a shaft of heat scorching her from across the room. “You approve of all the changes.”
“I’m proud of my Southern Ute heritage.” Dana crossed her arms, bunching her fists. “I just don’t believe in all the mumbo jumbo stuff.”
“You have the sacred gift.” Auntie Mary dropped her arm and closed her eyes. “And you choose to dismiss it.”
“What about my mother?” Dana jumped from the chair and took a turn around the small room. “She did worse than dismiss it. She tarnished it, used it for monetary gain.”
“That was her husband’s idea.”
At the mention of her stepfather, Dana ground her teeth. She’d detested her stepfather, Lenny Driscoll, ever since she was five years old when he oozed his way into her mother’s life. “If I never see Lenny again, it will be too soon for me.”
Auntie Mary gripped the cane resting against the arm of her chair and pushed to her feet. “I may as well tell you since you’ll be here for a while. Lenny’s been hanging around the reservation.”
Dana choked, her throat suddenly dry and constricted. “Lenny’s here? What does he want? No, don’t answer that. He wants a piece of the oil proceeds.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Mom died before the oil was discovered. Even if she hadn’t, I don’t think Lenny is entitled to any of the profit. He doesn’t have one drop of Southern Ute blood.”
Except on his hands .
“He’s working all the angles.” Auntie Mary glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the kitchen wall. “Isn’t it time for your meeting with Rafe McClintock? You didn’t mention you’d seen him this morning.”
Dana jerked her head up and met her aunt’s steady gaze from luminous dark eyes. Auntie Mary always could read her mind, and Dana didn’t believe it had anything to do with that gift thing.
She pulled the keys out of her purse and swung them around her index finger. “Yeah, I saw him. You didn’t tell me he was Sheriff McClintock of Silverhill.”
“When are you going to tell him about Kelsey?”
“Who said I was?”
“He deserves to know, Dana. He’s a good man.”
“He didn’t come after me.” Dana clutched her purse to her chest with clammy hands. She’d already come to the same conclusion as Auntie Mary, but the thought of telling Rafe about his nine-year-old daughter scared the hell out of her. Rafe hated secrets and lies.
“He was a boy and starting college himself.” She tapped her cane on the floor. “Besides you hurt him deeply. His mother abandoned him and his two brothers when she left Ralph McClintock. When you took off without a backward glance or explanation, he must’ve felt that abandonment all over again.”
Tilting her head back, Dana laughed. “Please. As I recall, he recovered pretty quickly with Melanie. Or was it Belinda or Shari? He could have his pick, and I’m sure Pam approved of those girls.”
“Don’t let his stepmother scare you off this time. You’ve turned out nothing like your mother. To draw comparisons between the two of you is ridiculous.”
Dana crossed the room and planted a kiss on her aunt’s weathered cheek. “Let me worry about Rafe. Thanks for dinner. I’ll probably be home late. Don’t wait up.”
Auntie Mary straightened her spine and narrowed her eyes. “Be careful out there. There’s a killer on the loose, and you’re in danger.”
A chill rippled along Dana’s flesh and she gripped her purse tighter. Unlike Dana, Auntie Mary did use her gift and she was right more often than Dana cared to admit. Pure coincidence.
“There’s always an element of danger when you’re investigating a series of murders. It comes with the job.”
Shaking her head, Auntie Mary collapsed in her chair. “But this is different, isn’t it? This killer is targeting young Native American women…and you’re half Ute.”
“Don’t worry.” Hitching her purse over her shoulder, Dana waved. “See you later.”
Dana locked the dead bolt behind her. As she approached her car, a low growl rumbled from the underbrush at the edge of the driveway. She spun around, gripping her car keys in one clenched fist. Squinting into the darkness, her gaze tumbled across bushes and scrub, the glow from the lamppost touching their leaves with a blurry light. Auntie Mary’s house sat on the edge of the reservation and blackness smothered the rest of the landscape where ominous shapes hunched and waited.
Would wild animals from the mountains venture this close to a populous area? Her gaze swept from side to side, taking in the unrelenting wilderness hugging the clearing of reservation homes. The reservation didn’t exactly occupy the hub of civilization.
She grasped the door handle of her rental car and tugged. A louder, more menacing growl sent a river of chills up her spine as she yanked open the car door. Her keys slid from her clammy hand, and she swore as she crouched to retrieve them.
A rush of damp air surrounded her. Cold fingers gripped the back of her neck, pushing her to the ground, immobilizing her. She froze in place, her knees grinding into the rough gravel. Her jaw locked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
A whisper as soft as the wind brushed her ear. “Go away. You might be next.”

Chapter Two
The hand grasping Dana’s neck melted away, and she hunched her shoulders against the cold vice that lingered even as her attacker relinquished his grip. The bushes rustled, and she rolled her head to the side, picking out two golden orbs glowing in the night as if suspended in the darkness.
Feral eyes.
As the eyes faded in the darkness, Dana seemed to recover from a trance. Her rigid muscles relaxed and she slumped forward, leaning her forehead against the car door.
A footstep crunched the gravel next to her and a scream ripped from her throat.
“Dana, what the hell happened? What are you doing on the ground?”
Blinking, Dana tried to focus her gaze on a pair of cowboy boots. Safety. Security. Rafe.
“S-someone attacked me.” She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the handle of the car door to struggle to her feet.
Rafe cursed and hooked his arms beneath hers, pulling her up and into his embrace. She sank against his broad chest, inhaling his clean, masculine scent, which seemed to revive her senses.
“Where’d he go?”
She raised her arm and with a shaky finger, pointed toward the underbrush. Rafe withdrew his weapon and gripped her shoulder. “You’re going back inside.”
“Dana? What’s going on?” An oblong of light appeared where Auntie Mary opened her front door.
“Go.” Rafe gave her a shove from behind and stalked toward the bushes.
“No!” Dana lunged toward him, grabbing his forearm. “Don’t go in there, Rafe.”
He cupped her face with one hand. “Don’t worry. Get inside the house.”
Dana stumbled toward Auntie Mary, who encircled her waist with one sinewy arm and drew her onto the porch. A beam of light from Rafe’s flashlight pierced the darkness as he crashed through the underbrush.
Dana held her breath, watching the foliage engulf him. Would Rafe’s gun be any match for what awaited him in the darkness?
Auntie Mary patted her arm. “He’s going to be fine. What happened?”
“A man attacked me from behind while I was getting into my car.”
Auntie Mary gasped and squeezed Dana’s hand. “He’s come after you sooner than I expected.”
“He didn’t come after me, at least not with murder on his mind. He whispered a warning. He may not even be the killer. Maybe it’s some sicko playing a joke. A serial murder investigation brings all the wackos out of the closet.”
With each sensible phrase she uttered, Dana gained a foothold back to reality.
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No. He came at me from behind, grabbed my neck.”
“You didn’t twist around to see him or go for your weapon?” Auntie Mary’s dark eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, and Dana turned away to stare at the bushes where Rafe disappeared.
She didn’t want to tell Auntie Mary about the growling or the yellow eyes or her trancelike state. She shook her head to dispel the images from her youth at Auntie Mary’s knee, listening to the tales of the Ute spirits who took the forms of animals—birds, rabbits, bears and the most powerful of all…the wolf. The hand that grabbed the back of her neck and the voice that uttered the warning belonged to a man…a dangerous one. She may have imagined the rest in her terror.
“My gun was in my purse. I figured if I went for it, he’d kill me.”
Rafe crashed back through the underbrush, saving her from another assault of Auntie Mary’s questions.
He holstered his weapon and brushed bits of leaves and twigs from his shirt. He walked to the porch and balanced one foot on the first step. “Nothing. What happened out here, Dana?”
She recounted her story about dropping her keys and being grabbed from behind, leaving out the wolf bits. She didn’t need Rafe questioning her sanity. “And then he warned me to go away, that I might be next.”
“It’s the killer.” He scooped her back into his arms, and it felt so right. But she was an FBI agent here to do a job, not a love-struck teenager.
“Maybe not.” She disentangled herself from his warmth, his protective embrace. “He might be some nut who knows I’m investigating the murders.”
“Either way, you need protection. Why didn’t you use your weapon?”
Dana didn’t want to tell Rafe about her trancelike feeling. “My gun’s in my purse. I didn’t want to risk going for it.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “What are they teaching you out there at Langley?”
Dana folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here, anyway? I told you I didn’t need a ride into town.”
“I had business on the reservation. I figured I’d pick you up on the way. Emmett’s already in Silverhill. It’s a good thing I came out here.”
Dana turned to Auntie Mary. “Are you going to be safe here tonight? Maybe you should stay with Alice and Gerald next door until I get home.”
“Nonsense.” Auntie Mary’s hands fluttered. “I’m neither young nor pretty. I don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, the aura of danger I see encompasses you, not me.”
“Aura of danger?” Rafe jerked his head up.
Dana shot Auntie Mary a look through narrowed eyes and snorted. “Vague superstitions. That’s all. Just vague superstitions.”
As Rafe placed his hand on her back to guide her toward the car, Dana stared into the blackness and saw…nothing.
Nothing at all.

D ANA HAD A SECRET .
Rafe clicked his seat belt into place, started the engine and glanced to his right. Damn, despite her recent scare, the woman looked good enough to lick up one side and down the other.
Her appearance at the murder scene this morning hadn’t surprised him. Emmett told him she was coming out to assist the other agent, Steve Lubeck, in the investigation of the murders of two Southern Ute women—and then the murderer struck again on the day after her arrival. Coincidence?
After the attack on Dana tonight, the protective instinct that landed him in trouble with her ten years ago surged through his veins once again. She didn’t like being coddled. Maybe that’s why she broke it off with him…he’d smothered her with too much attention. Strong women didn’t like smothering. That’s why his mom left.
Her aunt Mary obviously hadn’t told her about his return to Silverhill, but then why should she? He and Dana had a high school romance that didn’t last. Nothing earth-shattering about that.
At least that’s what he’d been trying to tell himself these past ten years.
Dana sighed and tucked her dark, stylishly cut hair behind her ear. The hairstyle, longer in the front and bobbed in the back, gave her a polished, sophisticated look, as did her silk wool pantsuit and sky-high heels.
But Rafe remembered the leggy girl with the cutoff shorts, bare feet and the long, almost black hair that hung right down to her behind. He recalled how she trailed her hair down his naked body as they made love in the caves above Silverhill, the secrecy of their desire heightening their passion.
He sucked in a breath, jerking the steering wheel of the car.
“You okay?” Dana drew her straight, dark brows over her nose.
“What really happened outside your aunt’s house?” Rafe relaxed his grip on the wheel and shifted forward in his seat. “From what I know of you and from what I’ve heard, you don’t back down from a fight so easily.”
“Easily? The guy came at me from behind and clamped his hand around the back of my neck. I didn’t know if he had a gun or a knife on him, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way.”
“Sorry.” He brushed her arm. “You’re right. You played it safe.”
Too safe. Without visible evidence of a weapon, most trained law enforcement officers would’ve tried to take the guy down. Something didn’t click. He tightened his jaw. Growing up in a household full of lies and secrets taught him to hate deception.
She snorted. “I guess it’s not how a McClintock would’ve handled it, huh?”
Rafe raised his brows. She made McClintock sound like a dirty word. When had she developed such a dislike for his family?
After their relationship during their high school years, she dumped him, even before graduation. Pam, his stepmom, told him Dana probably just dated him for his family’s money and connections and dumped him when she got that full scholarship to Georgetown, but that didn’t make sense. Dana was the smartest girl in school. There was no question she’d get a full ride somewhere. She didn’t need his family’s money or connections.
“I’m not second-guessing you, Dana. We all do what we have to do out there to survive. Just be careful. Maybe you shouldn’t stay on the reservation with your aunt Mary.”
Without turning around, Dana said, “Who appointed you my guardian? Auntie Mary worries enough.”
“I remember.”
She swung around and tilted her head. “Do you?”
“Like it was yesterday.” He continued recklessly, “The blanket I spread out in the cave. The flower petals you showered all over to mask the dank smell. Your sexy, smooth skin under my fingertips.”
“Stop right there.” Dana held up her hands and he captured one in his own.
“Why did you run, Dana? What were you afraid of?” He gripped her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles.
Dana turned her head toward the window and blew out her breath, creating a patch of condensation on the glass. “Your stepmother didn’t approve of our relationship.”
Rafe shrugged. “Yeah, Pam kind of had it in for you. Never stopped me though.”
Dana drew an X through the moisture on the glass. “Rafe, your stepmother is a bigot. She didn’t like me because I was half Ute Indian.”
“Pam’s not my favorite person, either, but nothing she ever said made a damn bit of difference to me. Is that why you left, because my stepmother was a bigot?”
She snatched her hand away and pointed out the window. “Look. Emmett and Steve are already here.”
Rafe clenched his teeth. Looked like Dana didn’t have any interest in replaying their failed romance, or was it just a high school crush?
As soon as he swung his car into the reserved parking space in front of the station and pulled to a stop, Dana pushed open the door and launched out of the car. Whatever she’d feared from him ten years ago, it still existed.
By the time Rafe got out of the car, Dana had already apprised Emmett and Steve of the evening’s activities. Rafe stood at the edge of their circle, listening as Dana finished her story. They didn’t seem to find anything amiss in the fact that she hadn’t tried to nail her attacker. The FBI always did things a little differently from local law enforcement anyway.
Emmett scratched his chin. “Did you see anything out there after the attack, Rafe?”
“A few freshly broken twigs and trampled underbrush, but the road into the reservation doesn’t pass that way. Dana’s assailant either took off on foot into the hills or he doubled back into the reservation.”
Steve swore. “Cocky SOB, isn’t he? FBI agent comes to town and the next day he’s warning her.”
“Wait a minute.” Dana wedged her hands on her hips. “What makes you all so sure this is our serial killer? We all know the nuts and wannabes come out of the woodwork during an investigation like this. Maybe this guy just wants to get close to the action.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But you need to be more aggressive in the use of your weapon, Agent Croft.” Rafe patted his own gun, holstered over his shoulder. “If you’d gone for your gun, we might be interviewing a suspect right now…or bagging a dead body.”
Rolling her eyes, Dana pushed past him. “Well, we’re not doing either, Sheriff McClintock. So why don’t we go inside this little hovel you call a sheriff’s station and get to work.”
Okay, maybe he deserved that after his own cheap shot, but she’d bruised his ego on the ride over here. Rafe shrugged his shoulders at the other men, their mouths hanging open, and followed Dana across the sidewalk to his…hovel.
Once inside, Rafe tossed his hat onto his desk and introduced the others to Brice Kellog, who was manning the station and the phones. The other sheriff’s deputy on duty had patrol. Silverhill couldn’t afford to put more than one officer on patrol at a time and Shelly, their dispatcher and receptionist, worked the day shift.
Like it or not, that’s why they needed the FBI for an investigation like this, but Rafe planned to solve the case before the fibbies called in their big guns. He didn’t want them to upstage him in his own town where he accepted full responsibility for the residents’ safety.
Rafe gestured toward a round table next to the single interview room. “We can work over there.”
Brice shot up from his chair. “Can I sit in on the meeting, Sheriff?”
“You can listen in, but I need you manning the phones and finishing that paperwork.”
A flash of anger distorted Brice’s features for a moment before he dropped his gaze. “Okay.”
Rafe knew the young sheriff’s deputy wanted in on the murder investigation, but he couldn’t afford to spare him from the other duties. “I’ll fill you in later.”
They all dragged their files out of their briefcases and bags and dropped them onto the table.
Emmett started since some local boys found the first body in his jurisdiction—on the reservation. “Lindy Spode grew up here, went to Silverhill High School and worked as a waitress at the Miner’s Café. She liked to party, and she frequented clubs in Durango. Two days before her murder, she’d been club hopping there.”
“Holly Thompson, the victim today, also hung out at clubs in Durango.” Steve hunched forward. “Did you show Lindy’s picture around in Durango?”
“One bartender remembered her, but she was with girlfriends. Came with them, left with them.”
“But this club scene could be a connection.” Dana shuffled through some papers.
“I hate to be the spoiler here, but Alicia Clifton, the second victim. was no club hopper.” Rafe tapped his finger on the desk. “She was in college, had a part-time job and helped out at the reservation school.”
“Great, two party girls and Mother Teresa.” Steve slumped back in his chair.
They continued to discuss the women’s friends, hangouts and ex-boyfriends, and made a plan to share all their information going forward. The FBI’s restraint surprised Rafe. Usually they moved in and took over, but Steve seemed willing to listen to what he and Emmett had to say about the cases. Maybe Steve was relying on Dana to lead the way, since this was Southern Ute territory, but Steve had been with the Indian Country Crimes unit for over fifteen years. He knew his way around a reservation.
If they all continued to cooperate, they’d nail this guy without further interference from the FBI.
“What about the calling card?” Dana bit her lip, her eyes darting around the table. “What’s the significance of the crude Indian headband?”
Emmett splayed his hands on the tabletop and blew out a long breath. “So far he’s been targeting Southern Ute women. Could be one of our own, could be some white guy on a mission.”
Dana hunched her shoulders. “I hope not. Do you hear any rumblings on the reservation, Emmett?”
“There’s a lot of fear, a little anger and some speculation since you came to town, Dana.”
Dana shoved back from the table, almost knocking her chair to the floor. “Is there a bathroom around here, Sheriff?”
“Around the corner.” Rafe pointed to the hallway on the other side of his desk.
As Dana turned the corner, Rafe swiveled his head back toward Emmett. “What speculation are you talking about?”
Emmett rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans and shot a glance toward the bathroom. “You know Dana’s gifted?”
“Sure. She was the smartest girl in school, valedictorian even.” Rafe scratched his chin. Did the entire reservation think Dana was going to catch this killer because she was valedictorian?
“I don’t mean gifted that way. The Southern Ute, like most Native American tribes, have shamans. They can see the future, cast spells and communicate with the spirit world. In our tradition, we call this having the gift and those who have it, gifted. Only women are gifted in our tribe, and it’s passed down through families. The females in Dana’s family are all gifted, but Dana chose to reject that part of her heritage.”
Rafe’s brows shot up. Maybe that’s why Dana left him. She saw a vision of their future together and it stunk. “She never told me any of that.”
“She wouldn’t. Her stepfather Lenny exploited the gift in Dana’s mother by having her go on the road to tell fortunes and cast love spells. That didn’t sit well with Dana.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it didn’t, especially after that drunk driver struck and killed her mother at one of those roadside stands.” He’d heard about the accident when he was a kid, but he didn’t know Dana then. She attended the school at the reservation until she enrolled at Silverhill High.
During their senior year in high school, he believed they’d shared everything about themselves. Apparently not. What other secrets had Dana kept from him?
“Anyway,” Emmett continued, “folks on the reservation, who know about Dana’s gift, are wondering if she’s going to use it to solve these crimes.”
“Did you know about this?” Rafe tilted his chin toward Steve, who looked as mystified as Rafe felt. Something else. Fear, like a flame, leaped in Rafe’s chest, and he crossed his arms to squelch it.
“Emmett,” he began slowly, “does everyone on the reservation know Dana’s gifted?”
“Maybe not the younger ones, but the elders all know it because they know the Redbird family has the gift.”
Rafe swore and pounded the table with his fist. “You need to keep that piece of information under wraps as much as you can. If it gets out to the general public that Dana can read minds or see into the future and our killer finds out, she’ll be in more danger than ever.”
His words hung in the air as the clip of Dana’s heels echoed down the hallway. She stopped at the table and rested her hands on the back of her chair.
“I see Emmett’s been spinning Native American ghost stories.”
Steve said, “Why didn’t you tell me you had this gift, Dana?”
She snorted, her nostrils flaring in anger. “I know you have a little Cherokee blood in you, Steve, but do you really believe all that spiritual claptrap?”
“The FBI has used psychics before, and we’ve gotten some valuable information from them. You should’ve told me.”
“Okay, stop.” Dana held up her hands. “I don’t have the gift. I’ve never been able to predict a lottery number, I can’t cast spells and I don’t see dead people.” She lifted one shoulder and said, “I guess it skipped me.”
Rafe stood up next to her and grabbed her hand. “Does everyone on the reservation believe that?”
Her eyes widened as she grasped his meaning. “I—I don’t know. The Redbirds never made a big deal out of it, except my stepfather. The older folks know, but it’s not something I ever discussed…with anyone.”
“Don’t start now. We don’t need this psycho believing you can identify him through dreams.” Rafe squeezed her hand, resisting an urge to pull her into an embrace. She’d welcome that about as much as she had welcomed that trip down memory lane.
At least she didn’t yank away from him. She briefly leaned against his arm and said, “It’s not something I bring up in everyday conversation.”
Standing up, Steve unzipped his briefcase and slid his files inside. Without looking up, he asked, “Have you ever tried to use your powers of clairvoyance, Dana?”
She disentangled her hand from Rafe’s and smacked it on the table. “I told you, I don’t have that ability.”
Steve cleared his throat. “From what I understand, it’s something you need to develop and practice. You have to make yourself susceptible.”
“Well, I’m not making myself susceptible.”
“If it could be useful for this case, if it could save some lives?” Emmett shoved to his feet and gripped the edge of the table.
The three of them created a semicircle around Dana. She pulled her shoulders back and widened her stance, but her lower lip trembled. Rafe’s protective instincts shot into overdrive.
“Forget it. Dana told you she can’t see into the future or read minds. Are you boys so afraid of a little old-fashioned detective work that you have to rely on the mystical dreams of a reluctant psychic?”
Everyone around the table let out a sigh, and Steve rapped his knuckles on the table. “You’re right, Sheriff. Dana and I are going out to Holly’s house tomorrow. Since her mother was out of town today, I had to give her the bad news over the phone.”
Emmett coughed. “And I’m following up on that lead from one of Lindy’s coworkers about the customer who kept requesting Lindy’s table at the restaurant.”
Dana shot him a grateful look from beneath lowered lashes, and Rafe squeezed her hand again.
They stepped outside the station, and Emmett put on his hat and said, “I noticed you drove in with Rafe, Dana. I’m going back out to the reservation. Can I give you a ride back to your auntie Mary’s?”
“Sure.” She glanced at Rafe. “Thanks for the ride over and…”
“My pleasure.” Rafe took her hand, running his thumb across her smooth skin. He knew she wanted to thank him for standing up for her in there and not allowing Steve and Emmett to bully her into using some powers she didn’t even think she possessed.
He watched through narrowed eyes as Dana climbed into Emmett’s patrol car. It felt natural and right to be Dana’s protector again. And if it ever got out that she could identify the killer through supernatural powers, Rafe would do everything in his power to shield her from danger.
He didn’t have the gift, but he had a gun and he’d go to hell and back to keep Dana Croft safe.

Chapter Three
“Guess who I saw last night?” Rafe shook the container of orange juice with one hand as he took a bite of toast.
His brother, Rod, grunted from behind his newspaper, and his stepmother, Pam, raised her eyebrows as she poured coffee. “Who?” Pam asked.
“Dana Croft.”
Rod answered by rustling his paper and cursing. Rafe was pretty sure the curse had nothing to do with Dana. His brother only half listened to what anyone said unless it pertained to the ranch.
Pam responded with a curse, too. She’d poured too much coffee in the cup and the steaming liquid had run over the sides and pooled in the saucer.
Rafe grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to her. “Do you remember Dana? She went off to Georgetown, went to the FBI Academy at Quantico, and now she’s working in the FBI’s Indian Country Crimes unit. She’s in town to investigate those three murders.”
Pam’s brow furrowed as she dropped the dish towel on the counter to soak up the coffee. “Dana Croft?”
“You remember Dana, Pam.” Rod folded his newspaper and shoved back from the table. “She’s the pretty Ute girl you tried so hard to pry away from Rafe during his senior year.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Pam slid the wet towel into the sink. “I never interfered with you boys.”
Rafe clenched his jaw as Rod rolled his eyes at him before exiting the pot he had just stirred.
Looked like Dana was right about Pam if Rod had noticed. His stepmother probably told Dana to back off when they were in high school, but the fact that Dana actually did back off shocked the hell out of him. He’d meant it when he told her he never knew her to run from a fight.
Unless the fight concerned something she didn’t really want.
Rotating his shoulders, he kicked his boots onto the chair Rod vacated and leaned back. Dana had flitted across his mind a few times in the past several years; why was he allowing her to take up residence now like a big, white elephant in the corner of his brain? Correction. A dark, sleek panther. A sexy cat of a woman.
He gulped his juice. Once they caught this killer and wrapped up the investigation, she’d go back to whatever kind of life she had in Denver. And that suited him just fine. As long as he could keep her safe while she worked the case.
Pam dropped a single rose into the small glass vase on Dad’s breakfast tray. Gripping the handles of the tray, she hoisted it from the counter and turned toward Rafe. “You don’t believe Rod’s nonsense about that girl, do you? With your father’s health deteriorating, Rod’s had more than he can handle at the ranch. He’s always angry about something, and has a sarcastic tongue.”
Rafe shrugged. Even at eighteen years old, Dana could stand up to Pam…if she’d wanted to. “That was a long time ago. How’s Dad this morning?”
“The flu hit him hard, and it takes him longer and longer to recover from an illness. Doc Parker thinks Ralph needs to retire to a different climate.”
Rafe’s cell phone rang and he checked the display, which flashed Steve Lubeck’s number. His heart skipped a beat. It was too early in the morning for Steve and Dana to have uncovered anything at Holly Thompson’s house. He hoped it wasn’t another body. “I have to take this.”
Pam backed out of the kitchen with the tray almost groaning under the weight of Dad’s favorite breakfast. Pam may have broken up his parents’ marriage, but she catered to his father in a way his biological mother refused to do. His mother hadn’t possessed one nurturing gene in her body. She hadn’t contacted one of them since leaving over fifteen years ago.
Shaking his head, Rafe flipped open his phone. “Hey, Steve, anything new?”
“No, unless you count my burning ulcer. I need to see a doctor today. Do you mind going out to the Thompson residence with Dana to talk to Holly’s mother? We’re supposed to be there at eleven o’clock.”
Rafe pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. “Sure. Were you picking up Dana or meeting her there?”
“I was going to swing by her aunt’s house to pick her up. The Thompson place is on the other side of the reservation from Dana’s aunt’s house.”
“I’ll be there. Did you tell Dana yet?”
“Not yet. Do you want me to call her? I can give her a ring on my way to the doctor in Durango.”
“That’s okay. I’ll call her.” Rafe wanted to gauge her response to working with him. His presence seemed to put her on edge, and he planned to find out why.

A FTER THREE UNSUCCESSFUL phone calls to Dana, a three-mile run and a conversation with Alicia Clifton’s agitated boyfriend, Rafe pulled into the reservation. His patrol car rolled to a stop behind Dana’s rental, and as he opened the door, the wind snatched it from his hand and flung it wide. The winds always kicked up on the reservation. Before the oil money started pouring in, the winds stirred up a lot of dirt from the undeveloped lands. The winds still stirred up dirt, but now it came from the construction sites that dotted the reservation—dumping grounds for a killer.
Rafe’s gaze darted toward the thick foliage where Dana’s attacker had disappeared last night. One of Emmett’s officers had scoured the area this morning, but didn’t turn up one clue. The “Headband Killer,” as they’d secretly dubbed him, seemed to move about silently and stealthily, snatching women, murdering them and dumping their bodies without leaving a trace of evidence.
Rafe stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the sudden chill in the air. If it was their guy who accosted Dana, thank God all he had in mind for her was a warning. But why just a warning? Why didn’t he drag her off and strangle her like all the others?
For some reason, despite her Ute heritage, Dana didn’t fit his pattern. Or he didn’t want to mess with an FBI agent. Or maybe Dana was right—a wannabe attacked her, not the real killer.
He huffed out a breath in the cold air and stomped up the two steps to Mary Redbird’s door. Even though she’d married a Croft, everyone called her Mary Redbird or Auntie Mary. After Dana’s mother died, her aunt had raised her, since her stepfather, Lenny, was useless. He hadn’t been back in town two weeks, and he’d already caused a ruckus at the Elk Ridge Bar the other night.
He knocked on the door and Dana opened it, wearing slacks and a blouse. This time she had a shoulder holster with her weapon tucked inside, not packed away in her purse.
“What are you doing here?” She grasped the door and the doorjamb, blocking his entrance to the house.
“Steve’s ulcer is acting up. I’m going with you to interview Mrs. Thompson.”
“Oh, I thought maybe you were just in the neighborhood again.”
“I tried calling you on your cell phone a couple of times, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“We don’t have the best reception out here.” Her grip on the doorjamb loosened. “You should’ve tried my aunt’s number.”
Rafe jerked his chin forward. “Are you going to invite me inside this time?”
“We need to get going. I’ll get my jacket and…”
Auntie Mary ducked beneath Dana’s arm. “Nonsense. Come on in, Sheriff McClintock.”
Dana’s jaw tightened but she threw open the door, and Rafe squeezed past her to clasp Auntie Mary’s clawlike hand. “You can call me Rafe, ma’am. You’re looking as spry as ever.”
Thumping her cane against the floor, Auntie Mary chuckled. “Spry is only ever used for ancient people who haven’t dropped dead yet. It’s good to see you, Rafe. Haven’t seen much of you since you returned to Silverhill, but I did vote for you for sheriff.”
“That’s good to hear, ma’am. I’m just sorry such sad business brings me to the reservation.”
Auntie Mary shook her head. “It’s a tragedy for those girls and their families. As much as I like having my great-niece here, I hope you catch this killer quickly.”
“We will.” His gaze meandered around the cozy living room, settling on the crackling fire in the grate. He stepped toward the fireplace, holding out his hands. “It’s chilly outside. I think we’re going to have an early winter.”
Leaning forward, Rafe peered at the framed photos on the mantel—Dana’s high school graduation picture, Dana with the FBI director and several pictures of Dana as a young girl.
He reached forward to pluck one of the photos from the mantel and Dana shouted, “Let’s go.”
Jerking his head to the side, he almost dropped the frame. “What’s your hurry?”
Dana held her breath as Rafe clutched the picture of his daughter, Kelsey, in his hand. She should’ve seen this coming. The man traipsed around Silverhill, and even the reservation, as if he owned the place. Obviously, he figured he could show up on Auntie Mary’s doorstep day or night. She should’ve insisted Auntie Mary put away all the pictures of Kelsey.
She yanked her suit jacket over her holster. “It’s almost eleven. We need to get over to the Thompson house.”
Rafe placed the frame back in its place, and Dana let out a slow breath. She needed time to tell him about his daughter, safely at home in Denver with Dana’s cousin. She’d wait until the investigation ended because once he found out she’d been keeping this secret for ten years, they’d never be able to work together.
Raising his brows, Rafe glanced at Auntie Mary and she rolled her eyes and said, “You know Dana. Prompt. Punctual.”
“Just like you taught me.” Dana grabbed her coat from the closet. She had to propel Rafe out of this house—away from the photos, away from the memories.
Rafe turned his back on the fireplace and Kelsey. Dropping an arm around Auntie Mary’s shoulders, he bent to kiss her cheek. “We’ll catch up another time.”
Two circles of color dotted Auntie Mary’s cheeks as she smiled up at Rafe. Dana shook her head. Rafe’s easy charm affected all women, young and old. She’d figured out later, after a few psych classes, that the abandonment of his mother drove him to conquer every woman he met.
Did her desertion of Rafe after high school really hurt him like Auntie Mary suggested? He sure seemed to move on quickly.
“Ready?” Dana shrugged into her coat and shrugged off the memories.
Rafe tossed his keys in the air while they walked toward his patrol car. “Do you want to drive over to the Thompson place or walk?”
Normally, she enjoyed a nice, brisk walk, but if Rafe left his car here, they’d have to come back for it and he’d have another excuse to get inside Auntie Mary’s house. Dana couldn’t allow that. Not with those pictures of Kelsey adorning the mantel.
“It’s too cold for a walk.” She rubbed her hands together. “And I’m wearing high heels.”
“Good point.” He jabbed at his remote and opened the passenger door for her, placing his hand on the small of her back. Through her coat, suit jacket and blouse, the man’s touch scorched her. When he shut the door, she dragged in a deep breath and whispered, “Get a grip.”
He slid onto the driver’s seat and cranked on the engine. “Emmett told me one of his guys canvassed the area here this morning but didn’t find anything from the attack last night. Have you had any more trouble?”
“No. Emmett had Jimmy patrolling the reservation last night, and I think he made lots of loops around Auntie Mary’s place.”
“Good. I’m hoping that was our killer. It shows he’s cocky, too self-assured. That’s going to land him in trouble.”
“And if it was the killer who attacked me, he didn’t have murder on his mind. So even though I’m half Southern Ute, I don’t fit his profile for whatever reason.”
“The first two victims were full-blooded Ute.”
“The first two, but not Holly.” Dana chewed her bottom lip. “There has to be some other connection.”
A few minutes later, Rafe pulled his patrol car in front of the Thompson house. Dana shoved open the car door, grateful for the biting chill in the air. Sitting in close confinement with Rafe did a number on her senses. He didn’t even have to turn on the charm for her, his very presence, the timbre of his voice and his clean, masculine scent made her knees weak.
Weak knees—just what she needed for a serial murder investigation.
Rafe pushed open the gate in the front and it banged closed behind them, its latch broken. They climbed up the two steps to the sagging porch and Rafe rapped on the screen door since two pieces of dirty tape crisscrossed the doorbell. Louella Thompson obviously hadn’t used the money from the oil wells for home repair.
The door creaked open, and a tall woman, clutching a glass in her hand, peered at them through the screen door. “Sheriff McClintock? I thought the FBI was coming.”
“Afternoon, ma’am. One of the agents got sick. I’m his replacement, but I’m with the other agent. Do you remember Dana Croft? Mary Redbird’s great-niece?”
“Sure.” Mrs. Thompson clicked open the screen door. “I’d heard you were with the FBI, Dana.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Thompson. May we come in and ask you a few questions about Holly?”
Mrs. Thompson nodded and held open the door, ushering them inside. The smell of booze hit Dana like a sledgehammer. It rolled off Mrs. Thompson in waves. She gestured toward a small, plaid sofa. “Have a seat. Do you want a drink?”
Rafe held up a hand. “We’re officially on duty, Mrs. Thompson, but thanks anyway.”
Dana shooed an orange tabby from the sofa and sank onto the soft, worn cushion. Rafe perched on the edge next to her and swept off his hat.
Mrs. Thompson laughed, a hoarse sound, as if that laugh had been a long time coming. “I’m not offering you the bourbon, Sheriff. That’s all mine. I need it now more than ever. Would you like some coffee or water? That’s about all I got. How about some hot tea? I have that tea Auntie Mary likes, Dana.”
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
Dana replied, “I’ll have some tea.”
Mrs. Thompson lurched toward the kitchen, and Dana pushed up from the sofa. “I’ll help.”
“You sit down. I need something to keep me busy.”
Dana exchanged a look with Rafe. As she settled back on the sofa, she whispered, “Do you think we should come back later? How much help will she be in this condition?”
“Maybe this is the only condition she has. Besides, the alcohol might loosen her tongue, bring down her guard.”
Mrs. Thompson appeared in the kitchen doorway, propping her shoulder against the frame. “The kettle’s on. What do you want to know about Holly?”
Dana cleared her throat. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Holly liked boys…maybe too much.” Mrs. Thompson swirled the amber liquid in her glass. “But she didn’t have one boy in particular. She dated around like a lot of twenty-one year old girls. Even dated that young sheriff’s deputy you have working for you.”
A muscle in Rafe’s jaw twitched, the only sign that this bit of information surprised him. His stoicism, the mark of a good cop, impressed Dana.
Rafe fished a notepad out of his breast pocket along with a pencil. “Can you give us a list of the guys Holly was seeing, including Brice Kellog? Any of them upset about not having an exclusive relationship with her?”
“Not that I know of.”
The teakettle whistled and Mrs. Thompson disappeared back into the kitchen. She called out, “Do you want any sugar?”
“No, thanks.” Dana mumbled to Rafe, “I’d better help her with that.”
She met Mrs. Thompson at the kitchen door and took the saucer from her unsteady hand. “Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. Thompson? Sheriff McClintock left a piece of paper on the table for you to jot down Holly’s male friends.”
She helped Mrs. Thompson take a seat, placing her glass of liquid comfort on the table in front of her. Balancing her cup and saucer, Dana settled next to Rafe again. She inhaled the fragrant tea before taking a sip. Mrs. Thompson must have gotten the tea from Auntie Mary because it tasted and smelled like her own special blend.
Rafe asked, “Did your daughter seem worried about anything the past few weeks? Did she complain about anyone following or harassing her?”
“My Holly never worried about a thing. She was a high-spirited girl who liked to have fun.” Mrs. Thompson sniffled and took another gulp of bourbon.
“Did she keep a diary? Have a computer? Send e-mails to friends?”
“She spent a lot of time on the computer. Would you like to see it? It’s in her room.”
They followed Mrs. Thompson as she weaved down the short hallway, the cat threading between her ankles. She threw open the door to a small room, crowded with furniture and plastered with posters of tattooed singers and grungy-looking bands.
Dana stepped into the room. The heavy perfume of the wilting roses by the window saturated the air, and Dana massaged her temple against a sudden pain. She hoped her allergy to cats wasn’t kicking in.
Photos lined the edge of the dresser mirror, and she bent forward to study the smiling faces. Holly had a lot of friends, and a lot of those friends included men. If they planned to track down all of these guys, they had a huge task in front of them. But they could start with Brice.
Mrs. Thompson backed out of the room. “You two can look around. I’ll start working on that list.”
Dana noticed her empty glass and figured Mrs. Thompson probably needed a refill, or maybe she just couldn’t face her daughter’s bedroom.
“Are you surprised that Brice was seeing Holly?”
“Not really, but I’m surprised he didn’t mention it. I’ll be having a conversation with Brice about his relationship with Holly and about police protocol.”
Rafe straddled the chair in front of the computer and brought up Holly’s e-mail. “It’ll take a while to go through these. I suppose Mrs. Thompson will let us take the computer with us, or we’ll get a court order to confiscate it.”
“I’m sure she’ll let us have it without a court order.” Dana flipped up the lid of a small pink box on the dresser and a tiny ballerina sprang to life, spinning to Tchaikovsky. A warm flush spread across Dana’s skin, and she lifted the back of her hair and fanned herself. Where’d that cat go?
Rafe tapped a few keys on the keyboard and said, “I wonder if she has one of those My Space pages. Your cyber crimes unit could probably get us a password.”
“Mmm.” Dana smoothed her palm along Holly’s bedspread, and her hand tingled. Must be a little static electricity in the room .
She sat on the edge of the bed and rummaged through the nightstand. Didn’t look like Holly kept a diary, but she did have a variety of sex toys and a few condoms. Dana picked up a decorative hairbrush with strands of long, dark hair clinging to the bristles.
Running her fingers across the bristles, she closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened, and Rafe’s voice sounded as if it were coming from miles away.
An unseen force jolted her body and her hand curled around the carved handle of the brush as an explosion of lights flared behind her closed eyelids. The roaring in her ears blocked out all her other senses. Her body went rigid and then floated, weightless, timeless.
Then the vision took control of her mind.

Chapter Four
“All these password-protected files are beyond my computer skills, but I’m sure your guys can get in.” Rafe clicked the mouse a few times to shut down Holly’s computer. He pulled open a desk drawer and grabbed a handful of loose papers and photos. “At least there’s no shortage of pictures to study. I don’t see any of Brice.”
A soft moan brushed the back of his neck, making the hair there stand on end. He jerked his head around and drew his brows over his nose. “What are you doing? Taking a nap?”
Reclining on Holly’s jungle-print bedspread, Dana clutched a hairbrush to her chest, her wide eyes staring at the ceiling. Her lips moved as if repeating a phrase over and over, but Rafe couldn’t hear any sound.
“Dana!” His voice exploded in the room, but Dana didn’t move a muscle except for her mouth forming silent words. Rafe charged to his feet, Holly’s papers and memorabilia scattering on the hardwood floor.
He reached the edge of the bed in two steps and clasped Dana’s arm, crossed over her chest. Alarm raced through every cell in his body as his fingers tripped across her rigid, cold flesh. Her eyes, directed toward the ceiling, held a vacant look, but they flickered back and forth as if she followed some action only she could see.
A vise gripped Rafe’s chest. Was Dana having some kind of seizure? Should he try to move her? Rubbing his hands along her stiff arms, he murmured her name over and over. Her breath, deep and steady, reassured him.
But only for a moment.
She choked and her eyes bulged from their sockets. As Rafe scrambled for his cell phone to call 911, Dana snatched her hands from his, bringing them to her throat. With a wrenching cry, she sat up straight, coughing and sputtering.
Rafe dropped the phone and gripped her shoulders. “Are you all right? What happened? Should I call an ambulance?”
Her gaze cleared and focused on his face. The color ebbed back into her cheeks and she shook her head. “I—I’m fine.”
“You were not fine one minute ago.” His hand slipped to her back where he rubbed it in little circles. “Did you have an asthma attack or something?”
Although her strange posture and skittering gaze didn’t resemble any asthma attack he’d ever seen.
“You were choking. Can you breathe okay?” He skimmed the back of his hand across her cool, dry forehead.
She raised a hand to her slender throat and encircled it with her fingers, a frown marring her smooth skin. “I can breathe just fine.”
Dana may be breathing just fine, but his galloping heart had his breath coming out in short spurts. Hunching over, Rafe retrieved his cell phone from the floor. “I’m calling 911.”
Her hand shot out and she captured his wrist in a strong grip. “Don’t.”
He narrowed his eyes while he tapped the phone against his palm. “If you can’t tell me what just happened in here, I’m calling you an ambulance. Your body was as stiff as a block of wood, and you were completely unresponsive.”
“I’m not exactly sure what happened, Rafe.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “I blacked out for a moment.”
“Blacked out?” He swallowed hard and slid up his cell. “That’s it. I’m calling 911.”
Her eyelids flew open. “I blacked out and then I had a vision.”
“A vision?” His jaw dropped as an avalanche of questions, thoughts and fears buried him. Feeling like the village idiot, he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head as if to clear it.
Dana nodded slowly, the points of her hair skimming her collarbone. “I had a vision, courtesy of the Redbird family. I’ve only ever had visions a few times, mostly when I was a child. Before I learned how to suppress them.”
She’d just given him the worst possible news. He didn’t much relish the idea of Dana Croft traipsing around dead bodies as an FBI agent. He sure as hell didn’t want her involved with a serial killer on this level.
He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots, welcoming the pain. “I thought you said the gift passed you by?”
“I lied.” She shrugged and rolled off the bed.
Rafe zeroed in on the hairbrush on the middle of Holly’s colorful bedspread. He didn’t believe in UFOs or Bigfoot, but he’d spent enough time with the Ute tribe and its traditions to have a healthy respect for its culture.
“Did that trigger the vision?” He pointed a surprisingly steady finger at the brush on the bed.
“It was Holly’s hair that did it.” Dana tucked her own hair behind her ears. “That contact with a part of her opened a gateway for the vision.”
“You couldn’t suppress it this time?”
Dana dropped her lashes while folding her arms across her chest. “It’s harder to block it when I’m in a highly emotional state myself.”
Rafe narrowed his eyes as he studied the curve of Dana’s dark lashes and the soft blush that rose to her cheeks. Had his appearance in Silverhill caused her emotions to run high? He’d had the advantage. He knew she was on her way to Silverhill and the reservation. She’d had no warning he’d be here too. Maybe she cared more than she let on with her tough talk.
“Why are you in a highly emotional state?” He raised his brows. Would she finally admit that working together on this case had them both on a roller coaster?
Her eyes widened as she waved her arms around. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably has something to do with a serial killer running around the reservation.”
She didn’t fool him. From what he knew about FBI Agent Dana Croft, she was a professional through and through. But he’d play her game…for now.
He dragged in a deep breath and held it, delaying for a moment the question that had been on his lips since she came out of her trance. The question that could take this investigation in a new direction.
The question that could endanger Dana’s life.
“What did you see in your vision?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? I thought you had an otherworldly moment?”
“I told you, I’m not very good at this clairvoyance crap.” She took a spin around the room, her hands shoved in her pockets as if afraid to touch anything else in Holly’s bedroom. “I saw a dark shape. I tasted spearmint. I felt a tightness around my throat.”
“You were choking.” Rafe extended his hand, intent on protecting her from even imaginary madmen.
Ignoring his hand, she raised her shoulders. “That’s it. I didn’t see anyone’s face. I didn’t hear anyone’s name. We already know the women died by strangulation. Not much use, this vision thing.”
“Did you try to block it before it got going, before it could reveal anything?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her jaw tightened into a hard line and her dark eyes glittered dangerously.
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. When had Dana gotten so prickly? As far as he remembered, their high school romance ended amicably enough. She was the one who broke things off and even though their friendship ended with the romance, he never bore her any ill will. Obviously, she didn’t feel the same way. She’d been pushing him away with both hands ever since they reunited over Holly’s dead body.
“It doesn’t mean anything, Dana. If you tried to suppress a vision of a killer coming at you, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. If you’re already accustomed to blocking these trances, your mind and body probably kicked into gear.”
She sighed, her lower lip trembling, and Rafe had to dig his heels into the floor to keep from going to her and wrapping her up in his arms.
“I suppose I did try to block it. I felt Holly’s fear and panic. I didn’t want to feel that anymore.”
He reached out and rubbed her upper arm. Feeling the tremble ripple through her body, Rafe clasped her hand and her fingers curled around his.
“Are you two finished in here?”
Rafe jumped back from Dana like a teenaged boy caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom after school. His gaze darted to Dana’s face before shifting back to Mrs. Thompson leaning against the doorjamb, glass in hand.
He didn’t want Dana to tell Mrs. Thompson about the vision. He didn’t want her to tell anyone.
“She has a lot of stuff on her laptop.” Rafe jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Can we take it and turn it over to the FBI? They can retrieve her e-mails and review any Web sites she visited.”
Mrs. Thompson’s bloodshot eyes drifted from Rafe’s face to the back of Dana’s head as she bent over the nightstand drawer to drop the brush back inside.
“Sure. Take it. I got that list on the coffee table.” She pointed to the papers scattered on the floor. “Don’t leave a mess in here.”
“I’d like to take those photos with me if you don’t mind.” He crouched on the floor to gather up the papers and pictures.
“I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll pack up the laptop too, and we’ll get out of your way.”
Mrs. Thompson pushed away from the doorway, and Dana looked up. She whispered, “Do you think she heard us before?”
“I don’t know. She’s getting drunker and drunker by the minute. This room’s in the back of the house, and we weren’t exactly shouting.” He walked to the laptop and snapped the lid shut. “You realize the importance of keeping this incident to yourself, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Why do you think I buried my head in the nightstand drawer? But maybe Mrs. Thompson already knows, or at least she was hoping I’d have a vision of her daughter’s murder.”
“Why do you say that?” Rafe cocked his head while he slipped Holly’s laptop into the case he’d found beneath her desk.
“The tea. She offered me some of Auntie Mary’s special blend of tea. Auntie Mary swears that tea relaxes her, making her susceptible to visions.”
“And you think Mrs. Thompson gave you the tea to kick start your special powers?”
Dana shot a glance at the doorway. “Didn’t she have an expectant look in her eyes when she walked in here?”
“How would you know? You never even looked at her.”
“Maybe it was her tone of voice. I was afraid she’d see something strange about me.”
“There’s nothing strange about you, and I don’t think she suspected a thing.”
Dana nibbled on her bottom lip. “Maybe I do owe it to Mrs. Thompson and all the other families to give it a try, Rafe.”
Rafe trained his eyes away from her lips while he massaged her shoulders, her hair tickling the backs of his hands. “I don’t think you should be putting yourself in any more danger than you already are investigating this case. Leave it. If the visions come, they come, but don’t go seeking trouble.”
She briefly laid her cheek against his hand, her touch igniting a fire in his belly. “I guess you’re right. The gift never brought anything but trouble to my mom.”
He ran his thumb along her jaw. He remembered Dana hated comparisons to her mother. Her mother had died before Rafe met Dana, but he’d heard stories, mostly from Pam, that Ronnie Croft had slept around and couldn’t even identify Dana’s biological father. Not that Rafe cared.
Dana’s refusal to acknowledge she had the gift puzzled Rafe initially. She’d never pushed away her Southern Ute culture before. Now he understood that her reluctance to explore her gift stemmed from the fact that she shared it with her mother. She wanted to distance herself more from her mother than her culture.
Not that he wanted Dana to immerse herself in visions of a serial killer. He’d rather use old-fashioned police work to solve this case than put Dana’s life in danger.
She slipped out of his grasp and bent over to smooth the wrinkles from the bedspread with her palms. Her hair hid her expression as it slid across her face. “Grab the laptop and I’ll turn it over to Steve. Maybe Holly has something on there that can help us out.”
Rafe hitched the laptop case over his shoulder and shoved open the door, gesturing Dana through first. They walked into the living room together where Mrs. Thompson slumped on the sofa, her head tilted back, eyes closed.
A dull pain throbbed at the base of Rafe’s skull. He didn’t have children, but he couldn’t imagine losing a child, especially to murder. When his niece was kidnapped, his brother, Ryder, was almost deranged until he got her back.
Rafe kept his voice low, soothing. “Mrs. Thompson.”
Rolling her head to the side, she peeled open one bloodshot eye. “Huh?”
“We’re leaving.” He patted the side of the laptop case. “Maybe this can tell us something.”
She pushed to her feet, swaying slightly. “I’ll see you out.”
“That’s okay. We’ll see ourselves out.” Dana cupped Mrs. Thompson’s elbow.
“I may be drunk, but I haven’t lost all my manners.” She scooted around the coffee table, banging her shin.
Dana winced, but Mrs. Thompson didn’t seem to notice. She shuffled toward the front door and opened it. Standing with her back against the dilapidated screen door, she peered into Dana’s face. “Give my best to Mary Redbird. M-maybe she can figure out who’s doing this. Maybe she can see who murdered my Holly.”
Gasping, Dana drew back. “Auntie Mary doesn’t have visions like that, Mrs. Thompson. She’s more of a healer.”
Mrs. Thompson’s hand shot out and grabbed Dana’s forearm. “Your mama, Ronnie, had that power. I knew my husband was cheating on me, and Ronnie gave me her name and the name of the hotel where they were meeting. Claimed she saw them there together.” Mrs. Thompson tapped her temple. “Up here in her head.”
“My mother’s dead.”
Rafe placed a steadying hand on the curve of Dana’s back, feeling a shiver snake through her body. Damn. Maybe Dana nailed it. Maybe Mrs. Thompson suspected some of what went on in Holly’s bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Thompson. We’ll get this guy.” Rafe stepped between her and Dana and shoved open the screen door. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
Dana practically flew down the front steps and banged through the flimsy gate. Nothing like acting guilty. If Mrs. Thompson hadn’t suspected anything before, Dana’s hasty escape might have planted a seed of a notion.
Rafe gave Mrs. Thompson a weak smile and followed Dana out with measured steps. No sense in both of them scrambling from the house.

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