Secrets of the Lynx (12 page)

“Annie’s an important witness,” Paul said. “She’s our only link to whoever’s after me.”

“I know, bro, but she’s missing because she skipped out on our protection. We offered her a deal—we’d drop the B&E against her in exchange for her testimony and her ID’ing this ‘Chuck’ guy. Now that she’s on the run, she’ll lay low,” Preston said. “I’ll get a cruiser to work a grid pattern originating from the park, but for now that’s all I can do.”

After the call ended, Paul weighed their options. “I want to keep searching the area south of the bus depot for that van.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Paul drove slowly around the old, run-down neighborhoods south of downtown. It was late. The few businesses around were closed, and most of the residences had only their porch lights on.

“The wind’s really picked up,” Kendra said as a hard gust slammed against the pickup. “I think we’re in for snow.”

He looked at the fast-moving, dark gray cloud bank low to the ground, coming in from the west. “The cold front is passing through, but all it’ll bring will be blowing dust and virga—rain that never makes it to the ground. We’re going into the third year of drought in New Mexico.”

Paul hit three red lights in a row as he drove toward the old river bridge. As they approached the Turquoise Lights Motel, he slowed down and surveyed the parking lot.

“Over there, on the café side, by the trash bins,” Kendra said, pointing.

Paul turned the truck around, then approached the big green Dumpsters. As he drew closer, a faded blue van became clearly visible in the floodlight mounted above a small loading dock. “It matches the description perfectly, down to the luggage rack and ladder in the back.”

“We need to move in,” Kendra said, reaching for her weapon. “Call for the closest backup.”

“No,” Paul said. “Let’s not divert a unit unless we’re sure. No one’s visible in the van, and it’s just sitting there with the driver’s side window rolled down. Maybe it belongs to someone who works in the café. Let’s go take a closer look.”

“Okay, but be ready for surprises,” she warned.

After parking so his own vehicle provided cover for them, Paul brought out his pistol.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Slipping around, he advanced from the rear of the van toward the passenger’s side, his head low. If anyone raised up to look out, he’d see them in the side mirror.

Seconds later, he reached the window and looked inside. The keys were still in the ignition, but the bench-style backseat was empty.

“Clear in front,” he called out.

Kendra was at the back of the vehicle, her weapon ready as Paul came around to join her.

Giving her a nod, Paul reached for the back handle and yanked it open. Kendra stepped up, her gun aimed at the interior.

“Crap.” She lowered her weapon slowly. “We’re too late.”

Chapter Ten

Paul expelled his breath in a long hiss as he looked at Annie’s lifeless body crumpled on the floor of the van. She was fully clothed, her hair in disarray. The loop of wire used to strangle her had cut deeply into Annie’s neck, leaving a caked over pool of blood on the thinly carpeted floorboard.

“She hasn’t been dead for long, and she fought him. See the defensive wounds on her arms?” Kendra said softly.

“I’ll call it in.” Paul spoke to his brother, then after about a minute, ended the call. “Preston told us to stay and protect the scene until officers arrive. After that, he needs us back at the station so he can take our statements.”

“Better step back. We need to preserve the evidence,” Kendra said.

He did as she’d asked. “We can still take a look from here,” he said, then went back to his pickup and returned with a powerful flashlight. Standing about ten feet away, they both studied the interior.

“There’s no blood splatter or scuff marks on the floorboard. He must have killed her outside the van, then tossed her into the back,” Kendra said.

He turned off the light and stepped farther away. He was no Navajo Traditionalist, and he wasn’t worried about the
chindi
, the evil in a man that was said to linger earthbound after death. Yet being around the dead still gave him the creeps.

Paul returned to his pickup with Kendra, then leaned back against the cab watching the van. From here, neither of them could see the body, which was a good thing.

Kendra sighed. “Maybe she’ll find peace now. The life she led must have been pure hell.”

“When you have nothing, you have to fight to get out of that hole. If you don’t, all you’ll find is misery, or worse.”

Kendra watched him closely for a while. He was all male, rugged and hard-muscled, yet his masculinity came with an amazing gentleness that could touch even the most jaded of hearts.

She tore her gaze away. “We need a new lead. Maybe in death, Annie will point the way. She’s got the killer’s DNA under her fingernails.”

“We don’t have Miller’s DNA, or at least we didn’t when I was in the marshals service,” he said, looking at her.

“We still don’t,” she answered, “but this crime fits his profile. In a close-up kill, he likes getting his hands dirty.”

Before he could comment, a patrol vehicle raced up. Behind it, halfway down the block, they could see the emergency lights of the crime scene van.

Kendra and Paul helped the officers secure the scene, then drove to the station.

Preston, who was talking to another detective in the area known as ‘the bullpen,’ saw them and waved. “My office, guys.”

Kendra walked through the building, aware that she was under the scrutiny of every officer she passed. It was nothing unusual. No local law enforcement agency ever wanted a fed on their turf, especially a Deputy U.S. Marshal with jurisdiction virtually everywhere in the country.

“Don’t let them psych you out,” Paul said.

Surprised, she turned her head. She hadn’t voiced the thought out loud, so she wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“You’re thinking the locals are giving you the usual mad-dogging stares reserved for feds, but that’s not why they’re looking at you,” he said.

Just then Kendra reached the end of the hall. Preston waved her inside the open doorway.

“Take a seat,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to talk to the captain.”

Once they were alone and seated, Kendra answered Paul. “I’m used to getting some hostility from local departments. It goes with the job.”

“They weren’t sizing you up. They were checking you out, Kendra,” he said with a smile. “Even wearing my clothes, you’re a beautiful woman.”

She was surprised by the impromptu compliment and his uncanny ability to read her. “You’ve got to tell me how you do that. I’ve never met anyone who can read people like you do. It’s not just body language either. I know that already.”

“It’s Lynx.”

“I don’t know who or what Lynx is, but can I have some?”

He chuckled softly, but before he could say more, Preston walked back into the room.

“I need you both to make an official statement about what you saw at the murder scene. Paul, the desk sergeant in the bullpen will take yours. I’ll handle Kendra’s.”

It was protocol to separate witnesses so they wouldn’t influence each other’s accounts, so this came as no surprise to her. “It’ll go faster if you’ll let me type out my statement,” she said. “After you read it, I could also forward a copy to my supervisory inspector.”

“Go for it,” Preston said, waving her to his computer.

Kendra finished her report within five minutes. Preston then printed it out for her to sign.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more to give you,” she said.

“Our crime scene people are very good at their jobs, and they don’t miss much. Even if this was the work of a pro, there may still be trace evidence we can use. Miller has a military record, so we can at least check for a blood type match.”

Paul came in a moment later and took a seat. “Okay, that’s done.”

“Good. I’ve got some other news. The crime scene report on the incident over at Daniel’s came in,” Preston said. “The rounds came from a silenced thirty-two pistol. We found the casings. The defining thing is that while the shooter was positioned twenty yards away, he still came within a few inches of putting three rounds into your neck or skull. That indicates an incredible skill level, particularly with the subsonic rounds he was using.”

“So this supports the theory that we’re dealing with a pro,” Kendra said.

“It’s got to be Miller,” Paul said. “High quality shooting like that requires extensive practice and training.”

“There’s also one big connection between the incident at Daniel’s and what happened to Paul the night he went to meet Yolanda. Though different calibers were used, the rounds were all reloads, not factory made.”

“So he has the foresight and ability to adapt his M.O.,” Paul said.

Preston looked toward the door, where another detective was motioning to him. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, getting up.

Now that they were alone again, Kendra stood, pushed her hands deep into her jacket pockets, and began to pace. Somewhere along the way, Chris Miller had managed to get inside her head. The truth was that he scared her in a way no other fugitive ever had.

Kendra straightened her back and forced herself to stand tall, her almost knee-jerk reaction to fear. She’d often been described as an exceptionally strong woman. Yet what the world defined as strength was simply her ability to bury raw emotions like fear deep inside herself in a place no one could see. For her, the cost of that had been loneliness. Not many understood that even the strongest woman could yearn to be held and comforted.

She walked to Preston’s window, turning her back on Paul. She couldn’t look him in the eyes right now. He saw way too much as it was. “I’ve been shot at before, Paul. It comes with the badge. But this man...”

“Drawing fire while trying to make an arrest is one thing, but being hunted—to be in a killer’s crosshair—that’s entirely different.”

She turned around, but he’d come up from behind and she ended up bumping her nose against his chest.

He held his ground.

“How’d you get so close all of a sudden?” she muttered.

His nearness confused and excited her. Or maybe it was all a reaction to this case—knowing how close she’d come to death. All her senses were attuned to life and survival now.

“Could you step back just a little?” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

He remained where he was. “I know what you’re going through, Kendra. The knowledge that Miller, or whoever, wants you dead, is out there, waiting for his chance, is something that’ll eat at you. What you need to do is make fear your ally. Use it to stay alert.” He brushed his knuckles against the side of her face.

Maybe it was that gentle touch, or his tone of voice, or the way his eyes held hers, so steady, so sure. For whatever the reason, she didn’t even bother hiding behind a string of denials. “I’m trained to hunt down fugitives—the worst of the worst—and I’m good at it. I do whatever has to be done. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

“Being tough doesn’t mean we stop being human.”

Hearing footsteps, Paul moved away, giving her space.

Kendra dropped back down into her chair just as Preston came into the room.

“Annie’s body showed no signs of livor mortis, that darkening of the skin where the blood pools, so she’d been dead less than a half hour when you found her. That fresh a crime scene may give us some answers.”

“Did the motel or restaurant have a surveillance system?” Kendra asked.

“Only inside at the front desk and cash registers,” Preston said.

A short time later they walked back to Paul’s truck. “You’re a mass of compressed energy and tension right now, Kendra. You need to work some of that off so you can think clearly again. So tell me, when you’re off duty, how do you deal with this? The gym?”

“No, I jog,” she said.

“Okay, so how about going for a run with me right now? The wind’s died down.”

“It’s close to midnight,” she answered. “Where can we find a track that’s not going to turn us into instant targets?”

“What I have in mind isn’t a track, not exactly anyway. It’s a beautiful trail, particularly by moonlight.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

He nodded. “There are times when running is the only thing that can help take my mind off things. When I’m running, the only thing I think about is my next step.”

“Me, too,” she said. “So stop someplace where I can pick up some gear. I can’t run in these clothes.”

“Hartley has an all-night MallMart. You can get some sweats there. As for me, I’m covered. I’ve got stuff in the back of the cab. If I ever want to go somewhere on the spur of the moment, I can.”

“And that includes running shoes and stuff?” she asked, surprised.

He laughed. “I keep a little of everything with me. I don’t like doing without.”

It was the way he’d said it that made a million questions pop into her head. Maybe, while they were jogging, she’d get him to talk about himself. Then again, maybe it would take everything she had just to stay even with him.

Chapter Eleven

Some time later they pulled into an empty parking area next to the
bosque,
the wooded area flanking the river. “We’re way past their posted hours,” Kendra said, a trace of disappointment in her voice.

“No one will bother us. I know the park staff and they know me.” He climbed out of the pickup, placing his weapon and other essentials inside the front pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.

As he stepped toward the trailhead she became delightfully aware of the way his sweats accentuated his height and hard muscles. She didn’t know if he had gym shorts on beneath or not, but either way he had the best butt she’d ever seen. She bit back a sigh.

He looked over at her and grinned. “Window shopping?”

“I wasn’t....”

He grinned even wider.

“I’m here for the run. I need to wind down,” she said.

“Exercise? There are other ways....”

“Not for me,” she snapped, wishing again things could have been different. “When I’m working, I don’t like distractions.” She’d said it more for her own benefit than for his.