Dana started to ask him for a name, wondering if it had been one on the list, then stopped. That would have also entailed the admission that she knew some of the names. Instead, Dana picked up her bag and went into the kitchen to gather some food and bottled water. “Do you have any idea where we’re going, or will we just drive until we get someplace we can hole up for the night?”
Ranger smiled. “That’s what I like about you. This isn’t your thing-constant changes in plans, and never knowing what’s going to happen next-but you adapt quickly.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?” she said. They got underway moments later.
They drove east, off the reservation. Finally Ranger broke the silence between them. “Tell me something, Dana. The challenges we’ve faced, the adventure, does that part appeal to you at all? And will you miss it once it’s over?”
“No. In that way we’re not at all alike,” she said, guessing what was behind his question. “What has kept me going is the hope that we’ll find justice for our friend.”
“That’s important to me, too-both personally and as a Navajo. All things in life are connected and when one thing is out of balance, it affects the whole picture. The only way for any of us to find peace is to restore the Hohzo,” he said.
“I understand the concept,” she said with a nod. “One of my goals has been to learn more about traditional Navajo ways. Inner peace seems to go hand-in-hand with them.”
Ranger nodded. “My mother was a traditionalist. Through her, I learned that words have power, that an eagle feather, a mountain lion skin, or a bear claw can give whoever carries them the strength of that animal. I keep an eagle fetish with me and feed it pollen to keep it strong. Those beliefs make me a Navajo and keep me centered.”
She listened, feeling his love for all things Navajo. Defending what he held dear as part of the Brotherhood of Warriors would have come naturally to Ranger.
His cell phone rang again. Seeing his expression remain neutral, she tried to listen to his side of the conversation and figure out what was going on.
A minute later he hung up and met her gaze. “The device inside Hastiin Dííl’s hogan was a homemade pipe bomb filled with gunpowder and nails, not another grenade like the one in the medicine hogan. My guess is they didn’t have two. The bomb included a lantern battery and an electrical detonator stolen from a construction site about a month ago.”
“That means that Trujillo must have been planning his moves for some time-even before he had the names of his future targets,” she pointed out.
“Since the death of his brother, probably,” he said. “There’s a store down the road not too far from here. I’ll buy some supplies, then we’ll head to higher ground where no one can find us without showing themselves.”
How lovely it would have been to share a special place with Ranger where no one could find them for days on end… The ringing of Ranger’s cell phone quickly brought her out of her musings.
Ranger looked at the display and recognized the number. “I’m here, Fire. What’s up?” But the voice that answered wasn’t his brother’s.
“Who am I speaking to?” the voice on the other end demanded.
Ranger pulled the truck over to the side of the highway and focused. “You first, pal.”
“This is FBI Agent Harris.”
Ranger identified himself immediately. “How did you get the cell phone you’re using, Agent Harris?”
“It was the last number dialed on one we found beside the body of another murder victim.”
“Victim? Who?” Fear pried into him like a knife to the gut. But it couldn’t have been his brother. Hunter was too good at what he did. More important, Ranger was sure he would have felt his own twin’s death. He was as linked to Hunter as daylight to the sun.
“We haven’t ID’d the body yet.”
“How did he die?” he asked, his voice thick.
“Sniper took him out with one bullet to the head, apparently. An unidentified witness called in the shooting from a pay phone, and we’re trying to track him down,” Harris said. “When we arrived at the scene, it took a while to find the exact location the perp used to take the shot. Get this-it was five hundred yards away. We found two sets of footprints and vehicle tracks there.”
“Not many people could have made a shot like that,” Ranger said, his voice sounding detached.
“I know. That’s our best lead. Trujillo ’s importing talent, either an ex-military marksman, or someone who gets in a lot of practice at the range.”
“Two sets of prints suggest a military-style sniper team-spotter and shooter,” Ranger said, his voice taut. “Let me know when you’ve identified the body. The cell phone you’ve found, I believe, belongs to my brother, Hunter.”
“I understand your concern, Blueeyes, and I’ll call you personally when we get more information,” Harris replied, his voice less official now. Then he ended the call.
Dana saw the beads of sweat that had broken out on Ranger’s forehead despite the cool temperature outside. His knuckles were white, a sign of the death grip he had on the steering wheel.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Ranger filled her in with short clipped sentences. “But it couldn’t have been my brother. Not many people can guard against a sniper, but my brother would have sensed what was going down. I’m sure of it,” he added for his own benefit.
“Other explanations are possible, too. For instance, your brother might have been there, and dropped the phone when the shooting took place. With a sniper in place, it’s possible he might not have been able to retrieve it. Or maybe he loaned the phone to the victim and was somewhere else at the time,” she said, her tone hopeful. “Don’t assume anything. Wait until they confirm the victim’s identity.”
Ranger tried to push back the darkness that surrounded his every thought, but he couldn’t quite do it. If it was true and his brother was dead, his own personal hell was just beginning. “The blood that pumps through my brother’s veins is the same as mine. He and I are linked. I would have felt his death,” he repeated firmly.
“Hold to that, then,” she said, feeling the edge of desperation that lay behind his words.
He turned up a dirt track that led to the bosque area around the Animas River, not far east from where it joined up with the San Juan. An area free of development, the beauty here was unspoiled, just as nature had intended. He pulled the truck off the irrigation canal road, and down into the dense undergrowth, then shut off the engine.
“We need to hang out for a bit. Here, we’ll be out of view and the cell phone will still work. For now, I’d like to stay in contact with Harris.” He stared ahead for a second, then slammed his hand hard against the wheel and cursed.
She could feel the darkness building inside him. For the first time since they’d met, Ranger needed her. As someone who’d learned how to cling to hope when there seemed no reason to do so, she could help him now. Ranger needed to find his own strength again and she would be his guide.
“Let’s walk down to the river,” she suggested.
He nodded. “I know a nice spot against the sandstone hillside, a place where the river has worn a shallow cave into the cliffs. It’s not too far. It’s deep in the bosque and between two bluffs, so the place is secluded. We should be safe there while we wait.”
Taking her hand, Ranger led the way through the maze of cottonwoods, willows and grasses. It never ceased to amaze her how someone as tall and broad-shouldered as Ranger could move so silently through thick vegetation like this.
Later, when they reached the river, he looked in both directions, then led her downstream. Where the cliffs were closest there was a small shelf-a sandbar-that led them into the narrow channel. About fifty feet farther, they came across a small, sandy area along the inside curve of the river. At the base of the cliff was a spot where spring floods had undermined the wall.