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She took a breath, something he was beginning to wonder whether she ever needed. “I believe her. Bad vibes on this one.”
“Vibes. Lovely,” Clay muttered.
Her smile had disappeared. “I know Hightower. He’s capable of this.”
“You know him personally? Should be a piece of cake then.”
“Don’t bet on that, but we’ll get him sooner or later. Just hope it’s sooner.”
Clay closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve his headache. With a resigned sigh, he opened them and saw he had missed his bag and would have to either run after it or wait for it to come around again. “Damn.”
“Was that one yours?” She chased it down before he could answer. All that energy of hers was making him tired.
Watching her struggle with the heavy suitcase suddenly struck Clay as funny. Since he’d just returned from an assignment in Seattle, maybe he was spazzed out from lack of sleep. By the time she had thumped it down on the terminal floor, he had sobered. He walked over and picked it up. “That’s it. Let’s go.”
“You won’t need a rental car, by the way,” she told him. “We have an unmarked you can use, or I’ll cart you around since we’ll be working together. I like to drive.”
Yeah, she looked young enough to have just taken her first driving test. Her tailored red pantsuit fit a body any sixteen-year-old would envy, breasts high and firm, waist tiny and hips slender. She wore her ink-black hair slicked back into a braided knot. No jewelry besides the small silver studs in her earlobes. Her nails were bare, short and beautifully shaped. She wore no makeup that he could discern except for a touch of lip gloss.
Either she was a natural beauty or very skillful with the war paint. He suspected the former and approved her apparent lack of vanity. Oddly, that made him wish he could compliment her, but he didn’t. It would be highly un-PC to say anything that might be considered a come-on to a prospective hire or a fellow agent.
His dark mood had improved by the time they reached her vehicle. It was a tan Ford Explorer with only a couple of years on it. Comfy and cool. He stretched his legs, leaned his head back, closed his eyes. To his surprise, she remained quiet for a good half hour. A really good one, during which he grabbed a few z’s. He wasn’t interested in scenery and sleeping kept him from staring at her.
When he woke up and checked his watch, he realized he felt a little better. At least his headache was gone and his ears had popped so he could hear normally again.
“Had you rather go straight to your home away from home or the office?” she asked, sounding a bit tired herself now. She was no longer smiling, no longer perky.
“Office. Might as well get the show on the road. Will I be able to interview your caller today?” It was already midafternoon.
“No problem. She lives in Cool Spring on the way to where you’ll be staying.”
Clay noted the change in his new temporary partner grow even more marked as they approached her place of work. So marked that he felt compelled to ask “Is something wrong?”
“Agent Roan sent me to pick you up but he’ll offer you one of the guys to work with instead of me. Count on it.”
“Because you’re female? That’s ridiculous,” Clay said vehemently. Vehement only because he had already entertained some reservations about her himself since meeting her. Her size, her flagrant optimism, her lack of broader experience in law enforcement. But she was a well-trained agent, and according to her record, beyond simply capable. He hated any kind of discrimination and would not be a party to it. Walker was getting her chance.
He had to work with her. How else would he determine whether she would fit in COMPASS? Even if she wasn’t quite ready, she would have months of extra training to prepare her for that job if he did recruit her. As for her boss trying to edge her out of this investigation, Clay set her mind at rest. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
She shot him a wry glance. “It’s not the boy-girl thing if that’s what you’re thinking,” she admitted. “See, I sort of overstepped my bounds by conferring with the chief out at Qualla about the case. It was hard not to since we’re related. The boss is still ticked off that I discussed it. We butt heads pretty regularly.”
Clay smiled at her moxie. “Nothing scares you, I guess.”
She treated him to a blinding white smile that showed dimples. “Not much, no, but I have to admit, you’re a little scary. I’m glad you’re on my side. You got a wife?”
Damn, she kept throwing him curveballs. “No,” he said. “No wife.”
“Not surprised,” she commented just as they parked. She popped her seat belt and hopped out of the car, energy crackling around her like static electricity. “You’re the best-looking man I’ve seen in a long time, but that scowl of yours would terrify the bejesus out of most women.”
But not her, obviously. Clay could only shake his head in wonder. The girl was outrageous, without a smidgen of diplomacy, and sort of exhausting to be around. He imagined the local Bureau would be delighted, or at least a little relieved, if he did steal her away from them.
“Agent Walker?” he called as she started up the steps, intending to advise her to let him do the talking when they went inside.
She stopped to wait for him at the top. “Might as well call me Van,” she said, pausing with her hand on the door. “Everyone else here does. I think they like to pretend I’m a guy.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Then they must have excellent imaginations,” Clay said, without thinking that the comment sounded sexist until it was already out there.
“Thanks. May I call you Clay? Not in there, of course,” she assured him, gesturing at the door with a quick lift of her chin.
“No problem.” What else could he say without sounding unfriendly, even pretentious?
A glance at his watch told him it was nearly four o’clock. “Let’s get this out of the way and then get busy. If that informant of yours is not jerking us all around, we don’t need to lose any time on useless networking.”
Her smile flashed again. “Hey, my kind of man.” She swept open the door and indicated he should precede her.
A quarter hour later, Van cradled her coffee cup and sat with one hip hitched up on her desk, trying to hear what was going on in the boss’s office. The walls were thin, but not thin enough to catch the words, only to hear that the argument to replace her was subtle, noncombative, but intense.
Two of her fellow agents, Buddy Dean and Joe Middle-brooks, listened with her unabashedly, watching for her reactions.
In defense of her boss, Vanessa knew half his reasons for disliking her were probably valid. He would be telling Agent Senate how she was too outspoken, too ambitious and that she tried entirely too hard. How those things caused resentment.
Dammit, she had to be an overachiever. How else could she prove herself? Everybody in the world knew that a woman had to work twice as hard to prove herself in a male-dominated field. In a same-case scenario, a man was applauded for his initiative while a woman was labeled overly aggressive and presumptuous.
Not that they meant to be chauvinistic around here. The men she worked with were good people, dedicated and conscientious. They worked hard and made a difference. All she wanted was to keep up with them and gain their respect.
She tried to keep a low profile. Not that she was all that modest and certainly not lacking in ambition, but Van was afraid the boss would think she was trying to beef up her participation into something that might get her promoted. This time she was going all out, begging for the lead on the case, even if it meant working with another agency on it. This threat was very real.
Hightower wasn’t finished. But even with that considered, it had been a homemade bomb, not even a large one. Even she knew it was a local problem, technically not warranting FBI intervention. She wouldn’t be in on it if Lisa hadn’t called her directly and gotten her involved. So Van had to wonder why the powers-that-be had sent Agent Senate down here to assist. Scary as it was, this was not a national threat.
The door opened and Clay came out wearing that scary frown she hoped to have a chance to get used to. Vanessa stood and put down her coffee cup, ready to bow out gracefully if Roan had changed Senate’s mind. Buddy and Joe stood, too, fully expecting to be called to duty in her place.
“We’re burning daylight, Agent Walker. Let’s go,” Senate said, looking straight at her. She caught the almost undetectable hint of a smile in his eyes.
Van gave herself a mental high five and barely contained a whoop. Instead, she calmly picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
The urge to wink at Buddy and Joe almost overwhelmed her, but she refrained. Decorum had suddenly become important, at least until she was outside the building.
On the way to the car, she gave him a pat on the arm and thanked him. He cut those steely gray eyes at her and Van got the distinct feeling she had overstepped again. Maybe he didn’t like to be touched.
On the sixty-mile drive to Cool Spring, she kept her mouth shut except to thank him again, briefly and more circumspectly, for going to bat for her. He muttered that she was welcome and then concentrated on studying the written report of her interview with Lisa Yellowhorse that the chief had provided. Man, could this guy focus.
He had great hair, wore it long and tied back neatly. Though he looked better than presentable in a business suit, she could easily imagine him on horseback, flying like the wind, dressed in feathers, loincloth, leggings and moccasins. She’d seen way too many movies. This guy could definitely play a Hollywood Indian.
His features looked less Iroquois than Plains—sharp angles, square jaw, high cheekbones and a very slight hook to the nose. As large as he was, at least six-two and heavily muscled, he might even have Viking blood for all she knew. His size, height and those cool, gray eyes of his didn’t come out of the Indian gene pool. Neither did the five o’clock shadow he was wearing.
She realized all of a sudden that she was physically attracted to him. Okay, more like bowled over. No point revealing that to him, however. He didn’t like her much and she was definitely not interested in mixing it up with a superior who probably could burn her career if she made a wrong move.
Oh well, he was great to look at and she could enjoy that without feeling bad about it. She kept stealing glances while he was busy reading the report.
He thumped the page with the back of his fingers. “Very detailed. Good work.”
“Thanks.” Van enjoyed the unaccustomed thrill that came with praise, not something she had basked in very often since her college days. “Any questions?”
“Your AIC isn’t convinced Hightower’s behind this. Are you certain Ms. Yellowhorse is being straight? Maybe she’s a disgruntled lover or just scared to have him living with her.”
“Gut feeling,” she replied with a succinct nod. “And it all fits. Circumstantial at the moment, I know, but you’ll see I’m right.”
He turned to look at her fully, remaining silent for a minute. “Tell me about your escapes.”
She laughed. “My what?”
“Roan told me you’ve pulled yourself out of the fire so many times, he feels the urge to bury you under a mountain of paperwork so you’ll survive to see thirty. Details, please. Start with the robbery you interrupted six months ago.”
“He’s exaggerating,” she said with a scoff. “I dodged a few bullets, that’s all. The perps were lousy shots.”
“But you’re obviously not,” he remarked with the ghost of a smile.
Van shrugged. “I have a good eye. It’s probably inherited, but I’ve practiced a lot, too. My grandfather was a sniper in ’Nam. Taught me a few tricks.”
“Enough to qualify for the Olympic team, apparently. What about the fire after that bomb went off in the casino? They thought you were trapped.”
“It was jump off the roof or burn and it was only two stories, not necessarily a fatal leap. What would you have done?” Van hated talking about that. Fire was her worst nightmare and had nearly finished her off. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and flexed her left leg. “No serious injuries, thank goodness.”
“And you saved two people by pushing them off that roof.”
She shook her head impatiently. “Yeah, but I had to coldcock one and shove him off unconscious. Poor ol’Bobby Rock has a bad fear of heights. I worried that the fall would break his neck, but it was that or let him go up in smoke.”
“What about last year, the hostage thing at the school? You did okay, Roan said. Hard to think with a gun to your head, but you managed to talk the perp into surrendering.”
She made a face. “He was just a kid.”
“With a .45 full of hollow points. You’ve faced death square in the face several times now. I’m interested. Which time destroyed your fear of it?”
“Who says one did? But I will say this, I believe I’ve survived for a reason. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
His look was intense when she glanced over at him.
“Are you a loose cannon?” he asked quietly.
She faced the road again. “No. If we get into a dicey situation, you can count on me to react appropriately. Are you worried?”
“If you’re convinced that you’re destined to do something so great that a higher power is keeping you alive against all odds, then, yes, I am definitely worried.”
She laughed. “Get real. Don’t you think I know God helps those who help themselves?”
“So you’re religious?”
“Most people in law enforcement are. Aren’t you?” she asked.
“Let’s not get into that. Sorry I brought it up.”
“Well, you did, so brief answer, please. Do you believe in that higher power you mentioned, yes or no?”
He paused. “Yes, but if God’s a woman, she could change her mind on a whim. Maybe decide to let someone else perform whatever task you think you’re programmed to do, so I wouldn’t trust fate too far if I were you.”
Van laughed, but it was a little bitter. “My, my, here I was thinking you’re so politically correct and then you come out with something weird like that. Women are inconstant, gods or not, huh?”
“It was a joke to get you off the topic of religion.”
“Well, you can forget comedy, my friend. Some chick dumped you, right? Now you’re down on the whole female gender.”
He was hiding a smile, she could tell. “I’m thirty-six and unmarried. How do you know I ever liked women to begin with?”
“Because when you checked out my breasts, your expression did not indicate envy,” she explained, her reaction deadpan.
He laughed out loud. The sound was new and Van liked it. She was shaking up that stoic warrior image to hell and gone. It was what she did best, making men laugh. Even the boss unbent a little when he wasn’t ready to throttle her about something.
“See? You’re no match for me,” she told him, turning the Explorer down the dirt road outside Cool Spring that led to Lisa Yellowhorse’s house. “We’re almost there. I’ll introduce you, but you do all the talking. I have her on tape and we’ll compare notes later.”
From the corner of her eye, she could actually see him morph into agent mode again. She suspected that was his usual state. She hoped her joking around had helped him to relax a little. After the interview, he had another surprise coming, so she definitely wanted him in a good mood.
On impulse, and because it was more convenient than stashing him in one of the tourist traps, she planned to book him at Hotel Walker, her grandparents’ house.
She had figured that a stranger from D.C. might enjoy soaking up a little Cherokee culture while he was here. She hadn’t known ahead of time that he probably was already steeped to the eyeballs in it. Who would have thought they would send an Indian?
That was okay, though. She would pass it off as hospitality of the People. No way he could refuse that.
Clay found Lisa Yellowhorse to be a plain woman, round-faced and a bit sullen. She wore a mismatched shirt and slacks, a pair of tube socks that had seen better days and no shoes. She had obviously been in the process of braiding her hair after a shampoo; he caught the scent of apples wafting from it. She greeted them cordially and offered them a chair.
She was a practical woman who made her living renting out the upstairs rooms and the basement apartment of the old clapboard her mother had purchased twenty years ago. Clay wondered whether she was the type to take up with a man like James Hightower, and, if she had, was she vindictive enough to frame him for something after a breakup? That scenario didn’t seem likely, but he wasn’t discounting it yet.
Ms. Yellowhorse proceeded to describe her reasons for calling Vanessa. Small bits of what appeared to be detonation cord and other discarded paraphernalia had led to her suspicions. There were empty boxes that had once contained a garage door opener and a set of screws, an empty roll of duct tape and an actual piece of fuse. You had to wonder where a woman like Yellowhorse would get this sort of stuff simply to use for a frameup. No, Clay believed she was legit and had the public’s best interest in mind when she’d called this in.
The woman had called Vanessa because she was aware that Vanessa worked for the Bureau and had been instrumental in Hightower’s former conviction.
“I wanted to stake out the Yellowhorse place just in case Hightower comes back, but Roan didn’t think it was necessary,” Vanessa said as she drove back to the main road.
“He told me what he thinks,” Clay admitted. “You want to fill me in on your history with Hightower?”
“He killed my cousin.”
Clay nodded. “Roan mentioned you might have a little vendetta going against Hightower because of that. Do you?”
“Well, it’s not as if I know Lisa Yellowhorse well enough to conspire with her to frame James for this. If Roan seriously believed that, he wouldn’t have agreed to let me investigate.”
Clay noted she didn’t appear to be upset by his questions, so she’d probably defended herself before on this issue.
She seemed confident. “After the bogus call that got me to the casino for the big blast and Lisa’s finding the fuse pieces, things just sort of fell into place.” She shot him a wry smile. “He’s the one. He has no compunction about killing, I can tell you that.”
