Casey reached him before Ashe did. Identifying herself as a federal agent, she rolled him over, facedown, and frisked him.

  “Care to tell us why you ran?” she demanded, stepping back and letting him get up after making sure he was unarmed.

  “You were chasing me.” Gordon was disheveled looking, with black hair uncombed and a stubble of beard on his chin. His clothes smelled of sweat and cigarettes.

  “We didn’t chase you until you ran,” Ashe said, his voice too calm.

  Ashe caught the look Casey gave him. She knew him by now, and the concern mirrored in her eyes was evident. She was worried he’d rearrange Gordon’s face.

  Ashe took a deep breath and gave Gordon a cold, hard stare.

  “We’re going back to your apartment,” Casey said, motioning toward the door. “If you even breathe wrong, I’ll arrest you on the spot and take you in.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Don’t you know it’s bad form to run when law-enforcement officers identify themselves and want to question you? What do you expect from us now,” Casey added, “the bronze medal in the hundred-meter dash?”

  Gordon scowled, brushing back his hair with his hand. “Look, lady, I’ll play it straight with you, but I can’t afford to let my guard down with your partner,” he said, cocking his head toward Ashe.

  “What makes you think Detective Redhawk might be a danger to you?” Casey pressed.

  “I read the papers. I know his foster parents have been murdered. Through no fault of my own, I’m now probably one of your suspects.”

  Casey stayed right by his elbow as they entered the apartment. “What makes you think that?”

  “Don’t play games with me,” he snapped. “I’m an educated man. I know how it looks. The Johnsons ruined my chances of getting hired by another school, so I fought them. I had to. And now that they’ve been murdered, you need a suspect to nail for the crime. So here I am, caught in the middle. Never mind that I was their victim.”

  “The martyr angle never works with law-enforcement officers, so save the sob story and keep to the facts,” Casey replied.

  “You’ll want an alibi, but I don’t have one. The day of the murders I was here, alone. I was writing letters, working on my résumé, and surfing the Net, trying to find a job.”

  Ashe studied Gordon with the same detached indifference he would have reserved for a particularly disgusting beetle that had crawled out of the drain. There was something feral about this man. His face was taut and strained, and his eyes darted about like those of a cornered animal. Instinct warned Ashe that Gordon was like a hand grenade with the pin already pulled.

  “You’re just aching to make a case against me,” Gordon whined. He turned to Casey. “That’s really why he wanted to get into my home. I’ll bet he’s going to plant some evidence here.” Gordon caught the look on their faces, then crossed his arms and sat down in a chair. “Surely you realize I can’t trust him or his buddy cops not to do all they can to pin those murders on me. I’m just too convenient, don’t you see?”

  “If you don’t stop whining, I’ll be tempted to pin the murders on you just to shut you up,” Casey retorted.

  Her response, so close to what he’d been thinking, almost made Ashe laugh out loud. “Let’s go to the station. We can finish our questions there so Mr. Gordon won’t have to worry about entrapment.”

  “You’re arresting me?” Gordon asked, his voice rising an octave.

  “Not unless you push it,” Ashe told him. “Let’s just say you’re assisting us in our inquiries and it’ll be easier on all of us if we go to the station.”

  “I want to talk to my lawyer before I answer any questions. That’s final,” Gordon insisted.

  “You can call him or her from the station,” Ashe said.

  “This is really unfair,” he protested, acceding to their request, but continuing his litany of complaints all the way to Ashe’s vehicle. “I can’t afford any more legal fees. Those court-appointed lawyers won’t be any good, either. Why should I suffer just because you need a suspect? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Casey helped him into the back seat and slammed the door shut, but Gordon never stopped talking. “This is going to be a real long trip,” she said to Ashe.

  “Yeah. The joys of police work.”

  As THEY ENTERED THE station, Ashe’s cell phone rang again. His brother Travis’s voice came through clearly. Excusing himself, Ashe took the will and the contents of the safe-deposit box into an unoccupied office.

  “Have you found Little Fox?” Travis asked immediately.

  “Not yet,” Ashe replied, sensing his brother’s mood. “But I did speak to her,” he added, and went on to explain.

  “Who the hell is this guy holding her?” Travis roared. “If you don’t find her by the time I get home, I’ll do it for you—my way!”

  “Just calm down. When do you expect to arrive?”

  “I’m not in the States yet, but I’m lining up some transportation now. I hope to catch a hop out tomorrow, if my paperwork comes through. I won’t be long. What about the funeral?”

  “They wanted to be buried on church grounds. I don’t expect that’ll be a problem. But they didn’t want a funeral held. I think that’s in deference to you and me.”

  “Any idea when their bodies will be released?”

  “It shouldn’t be long.”

  “Good. Maybe we can take care of that as soon as I get there. In the meantime, get me the name of the guy with Little Fox.”

  “Why? What would that matter?”

  “I’d like to know the name of the guy I’m going to break in half.”

  Ashe heard the jealousy in Travis’s voice. Some things never changed. “This is still a police matter. I don’t want to have to throw your sorry butt in jail.”

  “Little brother, you always did dream big.”

  Ashe heard a click and then the connection was terminated. He returned to the squad room.

  He and Casey interviewed Gordon. After trying to get his lawyer on the phone and failing, the man decided to forgo an attorney. Even though Casey and Ashe both had a great deal of experience questioning suspects, they couldn’t get a thing out of Gordon, except rambling excuses and cries of innocence.

  Two hours later Ashe could barely contain his aversion for the man. Free to go, Gordon left the interview room quickly.

  “He needs a psych evaluation, you know.” Ashe shook his head.

  Casey nodded in agreement. “He’s so paranoid, it’s a wonder he didn’t try to attack one of us. He thinks the entire world is after him.”

  A young tribal police officer came over and handed Casey some papers.

  Casey glanced down, smiled and headed for the door. “Let’s go. We now have a warrant and can search his place for the murder weapon, boots to match the tracks and any papers establishing a link to a dirt bike. If we’re lucky, we’ll get there before he does.”

  Casey almost ran into Gordon, who’d remained just outside in the hall, apparently listening. “You’re going to search my place? I knew it! You’re trying to frame me. I demand to be there! If you don’t give me a ride back, I’ll find somebody who’ll do it for money. There’s no way you’re searching anything without my being there.”

  Ashe glanced at Casey and saw the flash of anger in her face. It was masked a second later, but he knew that she hadn’t expected this complication. They couldn’t stop him from being present, either. The right to search didn’t give them the right to ban the owner from the premises unless the suspect had been arrested.

  “We’ll give you a ride back,” Ashe said, and saw the glare Casey gave him. “But if you interfere with our search, we’ll place you under arrest for tampering with evidence and interfering with an investigation. Clear?”

  They arrived at the apartment a short time later, but as much as they both wanted to find something linking Gordon to the Johnsons, there was no such evidence except ashtrays containing cigarette butts. They weren’t the same brand as those found at the murder scene, however. Gordon admitted to being a smoker, and lit up several cigarettes while they were searching.

  “Look what you’ve done to my home!” he complained. “Do you really have to set everything out onto the floor and trash the place?”

  “We didn’t trash anything,” Casey snapped. “But if you really insist, we could stay here for hours going over everything two or three times.”

  Ashe knew then that the man’s constant nagging had tried Casey’s patience to the limit. Gordon had kept clear of Ashe, probably out of fear, but the man had misjudged the situation. If anyone was going to slam his face into a wall today, it would be Casey.

  “Let’s go,” Ashe said to her, leaving Gordon to mourn over his disrupted possessions.

  Ashe took Casey’s arm, urging her out of the apartment. The touch had been casual, yet the stab of desire that followed took him completely by surprise. She leaned into him for a heartbeat, and then, as if suddenly aware of what she’d done, quickly stood straight.

  She quickened her pace and walked past him, her hip accidentally brushing his thigh. The contact nearly destroyed him. He bit back a groan; the woman was killing him.

  Ashe watched Casey as they walked toward his carryall. The more time he spent around the woman, the more he wanted her. Navajo teachings held that all secrets were revealed when a man and a woman made love. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to put that ancient belief to the ultimate test.

  He muttered an oath under his breath. He had to stop thinking like this. A night of passion with Casey, or even several, would never be enough for him. His feelings went too deep for a casual fling. What he wanted from Casey was the willing surrender of her heart.

  “Now what?” Casey mused. “Maybe we should go talk to Elsie Benally,” she said, remembering the woman Ilene Begay had told her about. “I was warned that my only chance of getting her cooperation was having someone along she trusted. Someone like you.”

  He considered it. The need to avenge his foster parents and find Fox drove him relentlessly. And it was precisely because of that he knew he had to be careful how he approached the few possible leads he had. “It’s late now. Tomorrow morning we’ll talk to her. But before we go there, I think we should speak to Gordon’s attorney. He mentioned her name in the threatening letter he wrote my foster father.”

  “What can you possibly expect to learn from his attorney?”

  “Let’s find out if Gordon’s involved in any other legal cases, whether as a plaintiff or defendant. I’d like to know if he’s a killer, or just a crank.”

  After Ashe dropped her off at her motel, Casey sat alone on the edge of her bed staring at the stark room. A cold emptiness engulfed her. She yearned to be with the only man who had ever made her heart sing, but it was not to be. Ashe would be with her tonight, but only in her dreams.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING they arrived at a Legal Aid office in an old brick building right off Main Street in Farmington. A redheaded woman in her early forties ushered them from the reception area to a cramped office at the end of a long hallway.

  “I’m Serena Muldair,” the young brunette behind the desk said, rising and extending her hand. “What can I do for you?”

  “We need some information,” Casey said, flashing her ID and introducing Ashe. “It’s about a client of yours, Patrick Gordon.”

  “I don’t know how cooperative I can be on a matter that affects a client. Is there something specific you want to know?”

  “Are you handling more than one case for him?”

  Serena leaned back in her chair and regarded them thoughtfully, taking off her glasses and setting them on the desktop. Her shoulder-length hair fell in a soft cascade around her shoulders. To Casey’s irritation the young attorney seemed more interested in Ashe than in her, though she was the one asking the questions.

  “Mr. Gordon has several civil suits he wants us to handle. Why do you ask?”

  “He’s implicated in a serious felony—a murder.”

  “I don’t handle criminal cases,” she said flatly. “Mr. Gordon will have to retain other counsel to represent him on that matter.”

  Casey’s cell phone rang and, as she excused herself and moved away, she saw Ashe quickly establishing a rapport with the woman. Casey listened to her supervisor demand an immediate progress report. Stepping out into the hallway, she promised a written report by the end of the day.

  By the time she returned to the office, Ashe and Ms. Muldair were sipping soft drinks and the mood had lightened considerably. “Things are always busy here,” she was saying. “That’s why Patrick Gordon is such an annoyance. He brings in every problem he has with his neighbors and employers, and expects me to sue them naked.”

  Ashe obviously had a gift for getting along with people, and a special magic that communicated itself to the opposite sex. The lawyer was clearly eager to please him. Casey tried to analyze his technique. Maybe it was his eyes and the way he could make a woman feel as if she were the only person in the room. Or maybe it was the way he walked and carried himself. He was certainly the most virile man she’d ever met. She really didn’t blame Serena for responding to him.

  Realizing that neither Serena nor Ashe seemed particularly aware that she was back in the room, Casey cleared her throat. The young attorney’s attitude changed in a flash.

  “I’d better get back to work,” she said crisply. “I’ll tell you both one thing. I’ve already informed my director that I won’t handle any more of Gordon’s legal matters. I’ve had it with that man. Gordon is his own worst enemy.”

  “Off the record,” Casey asked, “do you think he’s the kind of person who might be prone to violence?”

  Serena considered it, then shook her head. “I’m no psychologist, but my impression is that he’s harmless. I do think he’d love to be thought of as dangerous or, at the very least, a force to be reckoned with. That’s why I think he’s always wanting to sue someone.”

  As Casey and Ashe walked to the door, Serena stepped around her desk and handed Ashe her card. “Give me a call if at any time you need a legal question answered. I’ll be glad to help.”

  Casey tried hard not to let the fact that Serena was hot for Ashe bother her, but it did. Logic didn’t help much, either. She knew she had no claim on Ashe. There was nothing between them. After the case was closed, he’d go on with his life, and she would move on to another assignment.

  That thought suddenly left her feeling hopelessly depressed.

  “You’re certainly quiet,” Ashe said.

  She masked her thoughts quickly and gave him a playful smile. “I was just trying to figure out how a guy who’s a magnet for women handles the pressure.”

  Ashe chuckled. “Did you just call me a maggot?”

  “Magnet. Trust me, I can read the evidence on this better than you can.”

  “Naw, you’re just jealous.”

  Casey choked. “You’re hallucinating. I have no interest in you except as my partner.”

  “Yes, but as what kind of partner?”

  The words caused a rush of warmth to spread through her. She knew her cheeks were flushed; she could feel them burning. She kept her gaze focused on the sidewalk and refused to glance up.

  “You’re blushing,” he said with a throaty chuckle.

  “I’ve got a sunburn,” she snapped. “That’s a hazard out here in the desert.”

  “There’s another hazard here for you.”

  He pulled her into the shaded entryway of a small print shop. Shielded from passersby, he took her mouth with his own.

  Time ceased to exist for her during those precious seconds. Her heart was beating wildly as he tenderly coaxed her lips apart and deepened his kiss. Her body came alive with sensations too enticing to resist.

  All too soon the intoxicating warmth that had spread through her became a raging inferno. Passion rocked her all the way to her core.

  With a soft sigh, she stepped back out of his embrace and onto the sidewalk. She had to move away now while she could find the strength to do so. As she looked up at him, she saw the storm raging in his eyes.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to step back into his arms but knew she could not. Silently, she walked with him to his carryall.

  “Denying what’s happening isn’t going to help either of us,” he said quietly as they got under way.

  “We can’t pursue this, either. It’s pointless, don’t you see?” she said in a cracked whisper.

  “That’s only because in your heart you still don’t trust me.”

  Instinct assured her that they would accomplish far more, personally and professionally, if she did take him completely into her confidence. But she thought of the expensive pickup she’d seen at his home, and the questions about the source of money that raised. Then there was the timing between when he’d seen the file on Katrina in his captain’s office and the murders. She was certain Ashe was no killer, but there had been a leak, and until she could prove with one-hundred-percent certainty that he hadn’t been involved, even inadvertently, she couldn’t risk bringing him in on the job she’d been sent to do. Her orders and duty were clear.

  Yet, by holding back, Casey knew she was risking alienating Ashe forever, and that thought weighed heavily on her. She hadn’t been looking for love when she’d come out here, but that was what she’d found. What hurt most now was knowing that it was an impossible love—something doomed to die before it ever blossomed. To grow, love required trust, and that was the one thing she could not give him.

  Casey stole a furtive glance at Ashe as he drove toward the Reservation. She would eventually lose him and her life would never be the same again, no matter where she went or whom she met later.

  “Let’s go see Elsie Benally,” he suggested, breaking the silence at last. “She’s a good source. Elsie teaches spinning and weaving to other women. Most are grandmothers who already know the craft, but they get together to share ideas and socialize. Everyone likes Elsie, so people often confide in her.”