“No, but these mountains are full of mine shafts and abandoned cabins. There are lots of places for them to hide. Don’t look now, but the feds are here.”
A shiny black Ford Expedition with government plates pulled up and parked, and three men in suits stepped out, all wearing aviator sunglasses. Chaska recognized one of the men as the chief deputy US marshal who had helped catch the bastard who’d drugged his sister. McBride was his name.
Taller than the others, he walked over to Deputy Marcs, shook her hand, and introduced himself. “Chief Deputy US Marshal Zach McBride.”
Marcs shook his hand. “Deputy Julia Marcs, incident commander.”
The other two were from the FBI. Chaska respected McBride because of his past contact with him, but it was in his DNA not to trust the feds, especially the FBI. “You need anything else from me?”
Marcs glanced down at her notes. “I’ll call if anything comes up. Good work today, Belcourt.”
“Thanks.” Chaska was about to walk away when McBride held out his hand.
“You’re the member of the Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue Team that cuts sign. You helped with the capture of a fugitive a couple of summers back.”
Chaska was surprised McBride remembered. “Yes, sir. Chaska Belcourt.”
Marcs cut to the chase, clearly not happy to have feds at her crime scene. “Is the Marshals Service or FBI claiming jurisdiction on this one?”
McBride shook his head. “We’re hoping to partner with local law enforcement. You all know the area. We know who you’re looking for.”
He drew two photos out of his jacket pocket and held them out for Deputy Marcs and Chaska to see.
Chaska leaned in and found himself looking at the mug shots of two hard-faced middle-aged men. One of them grinned at the camera, a cruel glint in his soulless eyes.
“Arlie Harding and Clem McConnell.” McBride handed the photos to Marcs. “They murdered two correctional officers two weeks ago while en route to the hospital with faked injuries and escaped from a private prison outside Fort Worth. I’ll have my team send over their records. They’ve both got a long list of priors that include assault, sexual assault, armed robbery—you name it. The victim is damned lucky she got away. I doubt they would have left her alive when they’d finished with her.”
A jolt of rage shot through Chaska to think of these two bastards intimidating Naomi, planning to violate her, hurt her, kill her. “It wasn’t just luck. She was smart.”
“Belcourt is the one who found the victim and called it in,” Marcs explained.
“I’ve been hoping to run into you again, Mr. Belcourt. Every once in a while, the Marshals Service here in Colorado encounters a situation where someone with your skills could come in handy, our current case included. Would you be willing to consult with us, help us out?”
Consult with the U.S. Marshals Service?
Little in life surprised Chaska these days, but this did. “Don’t you have your own people for that, or a canine unit?”
“Yeah, we’ve got dogs, but they can be misled. We’ve gotten so dependent on technology that basic skills like tracking have largely been lost. I spent some time working with the Shadow Wolves along the U.S.-Mexico border, learned from members of the Tohono O’odham nation, but I don’t have your skills. I’ve seen you work. While the dog followed a false scent trail, you found the real one.”
Chaska’s respect for McBride rose a notch. He’d used the wordnationinstead oftribe,and he’d pronouncedTohono O’odhamcorrectly. On top of that, he’d spent time with the Shadow Wolves. They were legends in the Native community.
Still, could Chaska see himself working for the feds? He glanced at the FBI agents, who watched him from behind mirrored lenses. “I’ll help you track these bastards, but I answer to you and not the Marshals Service or the FBI. After that, we’ll see.”
“That works for me.” McBride seemed to study him. “Are you acquainted with the victim?”
It was a fair question. The last time he and McBride had spoken, Chaska had failed to disclose the fact that the man they were tracking had attacked and drugged his sister. McBride had not been amused when he’d found out.
Chaska couldn’t help but smile. “Not this time.”
Chapter 3
Naomi driftedin and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital, oxygen mask on her face, Erik’s reassuring voice an anchor. Once she arrived at the ER, she found herself at the center of a whirlwind. She was examined, X-rayed, and given a CT scan. After that, the bullet wound on her shoulder was injected with anesthetic and cleaned by a kind RN whose name was Lolly.
“Dr. O’Brien will be in to stitch you up soon.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry this happened to you. It must have been terrifying.”