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  With a promise like that, how could she refuse? “You got it, see you then.” Only when she was off the phone did Alex consider the implications of what Dylan said. How could he know something that Thurston didn’t? Shouldn’t he have given the deputy everything he had?

  A feeling of dread collected in her solar plexus. This was the way it had started out for the last case. Were she and Dylan never to have any peace? Why did mystery cling to him like a wet cloak?

  Sighing, she gave up on the ad calls. She made her quota, barely, but she couldn’t concentrate, knowing that Dylan could be dropping a bombshell in her lap in less than an hour. While she waited, Alex decided to go ahead and search for a decent website name, in case her dad finally said yes to the online version of the Dodge Desert Times. She wanted it to be shorter, but DDT.com didn’t seem like quite the thing. DIN for Dodge Instant News? No, that still had an unfortunate connotation.

  At last it was time to walk over to the park to meet Dylan. She still didn’t have a website name, but she’d narrowed it down to two or three candidates. She’d ask Dylan what he thought. Ten minutes later, she forgot all about it, as Dylan explained who the victim was.

  “You won’t be considered a suspect,” she said, though it was more a question than a statement. This just couldn’t happen again. It was too soon since the last time. There were only so many coincidences a small town could stand before the rumors and speculation started to stick, even to an innocent man.

  Dylan had gone through so much already - coming back to a town he tried to escape because his dying mother needed his help, only to find his brothers gone, taken by DCS. Then looking in vain for his stepdad to sign papers waiving his parental rights to the boys, and being considered a person of interest in the man’s murder. It seemed he couldn’t stop being in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the right motive.

  Dylan’s arm came around her shoulders as they sat watching the sun creep lower in the western sky. “It will be okay, baby. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Of course you didn’t! That doesn’t mean Thurston won’t hassle you. He hates you.” She mentally kicked herself for stating the obvious. The truth was, he hated both of them. It was completely unfair, since Alex had been the innocent victim of one of Thurston’s under-deputy’s criminal activity, but she was beginning to understand that people often blamed the victim. Thurston had been cut out of that investigation on the grounds of conflict of interest, or it would probably have gone much worse for her. Even so, what she’d had to go through she wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially on Dylan.

  His arm tightened around her, and she looked up at him to find him gazing tenderly at her lips. With a sigh, Alex settled into him and turned her face further up to receive the kiss. After a few moments of utter bliss, she pulled away. “What are you going to do?”

  “I needed to tell you first. Now I’m going to call Thurston and let him know. I think it will be better if I come forward. But I guess I should ask Rick first.”

  “Your partner?” she asked, confused.

  “No, Rick Englebright.”

  She nodded, understanding dawning. Englebright was Dylan’s lawyer in his adoption case, but he’d also represented Alex from the moment Joe Hendricks began to harass her. Joe’s justice had come at the hands of a cartel fixer, but she was still angry. Now this new threat would bring it all up again. She shook her head to clear it.

  “I know, baby, it stinks, but I don’t think I can wait for them to come to me. I’ll look guilty, and if time of death is too big a window, it will look like I had opportunity as well as motive.”

  Alex crossed her free arm to hold him around the waist. “It just isn’t fair.”

  A voice came from behind them, making both jump. “I’ll tell you what isn’t fair. The council has asked Wanda Lopez to step down.”

  Alex recovered first, recognizing her dad’s voice a split second before Dylan apparently did. As one, they turned to watch Paul come around the end of the bench and sit on Alex’s other side.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “The man Dylan found dead this morning is her grandfather,” Paul said.

  Alex’s hand flew to her mouth, as Dylan gave a puzzled frown. “He can’t be. Wanda told me a while back that she was the oldest of her family. She was talking about what a huge responsibility she had because of it, and how hard it was not living on the rez to take care of them.”

  “Dylan, you know as well as I do, The People don’t count relatives the way we do.”

  Alex interrupted. “What difference does it make if he was her grandfather or some other relative? Why would that be grounds to ask her to step down?”

  “I’m not very clear on it,” Paul said. “I got there a bit late, and it was like a pack of wild dogs trying to bring down a javelina.”

  Dylan smiled at the comparison of his sort-of aunt to one of the truculent wild pigs of the area. It was a perfect analogy when Wanda was upset about something.

  “I tried to talk to Wanda after she walked out of the meeting, but she waved me off. All I know is that she absolutely refused to step down. She looked each council member in the eye and said, ‘You have no grounds to fire me and I will not be railroaded.’ Then she walked out. I can’t understand why being related to a murder victim is a reason to dismiss her.”

  Alex and Dylan looked at each other and both tried to speak at once. “Go ahead,” she said.

  “We’d better go see her,” he answered.

  “That’s what I was going to say.”

  Four

  6:00 p.m.

  Wanda Lopez lay on her bed, the lights out and curtains drawn. After storming out of the city council meeting and making her way home, she broke down when Hector met her at the door. Someone had called him already, and his expression revealed bewilderment. Her husband of over forty years had never doubted her before, but his eyes took her in warily, and she felt the tiny doubt he’d done his best to stifle.

  He said he understood when she begged for some time to process what happened. She’d barely had time to process Grandfather Herman’s death before Thurston began questioning her about anything he could have been involved in that would lead to him being shot in the heart that morning. Thurston didn’t believe her when she said she hadn’t seen him in months, probably because she wasn’t a very good liar. But, how could she tell him what she knew, until she understood it herself?

  Dimly, Wanda heard the doorbell ring, and fervently hoped that it wasn’t Thurston there to question her again. He’d already made good on his threat to tell the city council that she was withholding information, if not evidence, in an active murder investigation. She couldn’t even defend herself against that claim. She did have information, though she wasn’t at all sure it was evidence.

  The bedroom door squeaked slightly as it opened, bringing a waft of fry bread aroma. Hector, bless his heart, must be making it, to try to entice her to eat. She needed to tell him; he deserved to know what she did. She just needed a few more minutes to figure it out.

  “Wanda, honey. Dylan Chaves and the Ward girl are here.”

  “What do they want?”

  “You should get up and ask them. I’m busy in the kitchen. Dylan...”

  “I know. Dylan found him. He’s probably here to offer condolences.” She choked back a sob. How could this have happened? Her grandfather, brother to her own mother’s father and counted also as grandfather in her people’s estimation, was a wise and gentle man. That he could meet I’itoi, Elder Brother, before his path was complete was a tragedy she could not fathom. “I will come. Thank you, husband.”

  Hector closed the door gently as he left, allowing her the space to regain her dignity. Later, he would hold her, and she would take comfort in his arms. Thus it had been for nearly forty-five years. Thus it would be until one of them reached the center of the maze and was welcomed by I’itoi. At the moment, Wanda Lopez, raised in both Tohono O’odham and Catholic beliefs, was comforted mo
st by the way of her Native forebears, Him-dag. She stood, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

  In the living room, Wanda greeted Dylan, a distant relative, and Alex, the daughter of her old friend Paul Ward, with as much grace as she could muster, knowing her eyes were red and swollen. Alex gave her a quick hug, and her young relative gave her a longer one.

  They had not been close when Dylan was a child, though he’d always addressed her correctly as Tia ‘aunt’ Wanda. Dylan’s mother had left the tribe under a cloud before he was born, but Wanda was trying to restore Dylan’s good standing, to help him adopt his younger brothers. Now the young man’s thirst for knowledge of his extended family exceeded his ability to absorb her lessons, though he was trying.

  “Sit down, both of you. Thank you for coming,” Wanda said, with a hitch in her breath.

  Alex looked at Dylan, and then sat in a chair near the seat Wanda had chosen, while Dylan sank to an ottoman snugged up against Wanda’s chair, taking her hand.

  “We heard what happened,” he said, surprising her. “What was that all about?”

  Wanda’s thoughts were so full of her sorrow that at first she was confused. Then she realized Paul must have told them of the council turning on her. “Thurston,” she said. It was enough. Both of the young people knew of the animosity between Thurston and her, long-simmering over what he perceived as her interference in police matters.

  Wanda had campaigned and won her mayoral seat on a platform of bringing law enforcement agencies together for a solution to the illegal problem. Because of her tribal connections, for the first time there was cooperation between the Nation and Homeland Security, resulting in a slowdown of the leaks at the border. Thurston’s regional office lost funding for two deputies because of it, and for some reason, had chosen to hold that against Wanda.

  The feud came to a head during the search for Alex last summer, when Wanda, with no authority to do so, placed Thurston on administrative leave and made it stick. He’d been looking to return the favor ever since. Wanda had no need to repeat that history to the young people, though. Dylan witnessed the argument, and no doubt told Alex of it once she was home safe.

  Wanda shrugged. “He thinks I know something that would shed light on the……” She couldn’t say murder. If what she suspected were true, it was a serious breach of The Way — the O’odham’s cultural and spiritual values called him-dag in the language of The People. She wouldn’t utter it until she had an opportunity to speak to her cousin.

  Dylan nodded, then looked at Alex, who gave him a tremulous smile and nodded in encouragement.

  “Tia Wanda, I haven’t had a chance to talk to my lawyer, but I’m going to be talking to Thurston tonight or first thing tomorrow morning about something, before he has a chance to find out on his own. Maybe that will distract him.”

  Alarm shivered through Wanda’s veins and sharpened her voice. “What? What do you know about it?”

  Dylan stared at her, puzzled. “Nothing, Tia Wanda. But Herman Alvarez is — was — head of the tribal council considering the adoption. Thurston is going to consider me a suspect.”

  “No!” Wanda objected. Dylan nodded again.

  “It can’t be helped. He’ll find out. If I tell him myself, maybe that will get me some brownie points. I was just going to call Rick Englebright when Paul came and told us what happened at the city council meeting. So, are you saying that Thurston actually accused you of wrong-doing, and that’s why the council requested you to step down?”

  “Demanded,” Wanda answered, her face warring between bewilderment and fury. “After all the years I’ve served and no one has ever even accused me of jaywalking before, Thurston comes in and whispers ‘withholding evidence’ and they try to throw me out without due process. I thought I was doing a good job!”

  Fury gave way to despair, and Wanda’s promise to herself that she wouldn’t break down was broken as her voice rose to a wail. In a flash, Hector was at his wife’s side, glaring at Dylan and Alex in turn, as he knelt at Wanda’s side to comfort her.

  Dylan held his hands up as if in surrender. “We didn’t... she was just...”

  “Mr. Lopez,” Alex interrupted. “Is that fry bread I smell? Can I help you in the kitchen? Dylan and Wanda need to talk.”

  Wanda patted her husband’s arm, and said, “Yes, Hector. Let Alex help you. Are you fixing tacos? Is there enough for the kids?”

  “Of course,” Hector grumbled. He fixed Dylan with a stern eye. “Don’t upset her,” he commanded.

  “I won’t, sir,” Dylan assured him. Hector followed Alex into the kitchen.

  As soon as she was sure her husband and Alex were out of earshot, she put her hand on Dylan’s arm. “Be careful. Kevin Thurston is a dangerous man. He has no imagination, sees everything in black and white.”

  “I know,” answered Dylan. “But I’m almost certain time of death will clear me. Once the city council realizes he’s shooting in the dark, they’ll apologize to you. It will be okay, you’ll see.”

  “You don’t know. Listen to me, Dylan, I need your help. I do know something I haven’t told him. Herman was sheltering one of my brothers, but I don’t know much more than that. I need to know which cartel my brother is hiding from. Then we’ll know who killed my grandfather.”

  FIVE

  Before Dylan could ask Wanda to explain more, Alex was back to say that Hector was putting dinner on the table. While he was helping Wanda up, she clutched his arm.

  “Come to my office tomorrow. There’s more,” she said.

  “I will, as soon as I’ve seen Rick,” Dylan answered.

  During dinner, Alex looked from one to the other of them, and Dylan was certain she knew something was up, but she didn’t ask. Afterward, he insisted on helping Hector clean up while the women went back to the living room.

  “How is it that you ended up doing the cooking, Hector?” Dylan teased. KP definitely wasn’t in the job description for most Native men, nor most Latino men, for that matter. He wanted to ask Hector in which camp he belonged, but didn’t, thinking it may be rude.

  When the kitchen was clean, both men joined the ladies in the living room, where Alex was getting a lesson in O’odham relationship conventions. She had already heard most of it from Dylan as he learned it, but she’d told him before, some parts confused her, just as they did him. Wanda was explaining that her first cousins, in the conventions of whites, would be considered brothers and sisters by the O’odham.

  Dylan tilted his head in sudden understanding. Wanda hadn’t meant that one of her mother’s sons was hiding from a cartel, but that one of her vast number of cousins was. That could be anyone in three generations on her mother’s side. In fact, he belonged in the cousins group - a second cousin maybe, though he called her aunt because she was of his never-known grandmother’s generation. No wonder Alex was confused. Who wouldn’t be?

  But, what would a member of the tribe have to do with the cartels? That was even more confusing. He’d have to wait for the next day to satisfy his curiosity, though. Wanda was gently hinting that it was time for them to go, and Dylan knew it would be impolite to outstay their welcome. He stood to go, kissing Wanda’s cheek and pulling Alex to her feet. She bent to give Wanda a hug.

  “It will be okay, Wanda. I’ll talk to Dad about an editorial. You know he’s one of your biggest supporters.”

  “Thank you, Alex, but maybe it would be better to let it simmer down a bit. I’ll give you a call,” Wanda said.

  “Let me know if there’s anything we can do,” Alex said.

  “I will.”

  Alex had left her car at the newspaper plant when they left straight from the park to go to Wanda’s. Dylan drove her back, then persuaded her to walk with him in the park. The sun had set nearly two hours ago, and with the moon waning, it was dark among the palms, except for an occasional streetlamp. Dylan drew her to a bench that was in deep shadow and put his arm around her.

  “We haven’t had a chance to do this
for a while,” he whispered.

  “I know,” she sighed. “With school...”

  He put his finger on her lips to shush her. They had so little time together, even now that he had round-the-clock help with his mother. Tomorrow he would see his lawyer, find out what Wanda knew, and with any luck, get to Tucson for a quick visit with his brothers, while she was on her way to or from Casa Grande and in classes all day.

  He wouldn’t see her again until Wednesday, at the earliest. If Herman’s time of death didn’t clear him, he could even be in jail by then. Tonight, he didn’t want to talk about any of it. He just wanted to hold his woman and kiss her, as if there were no cares in the world.

  Alex stopped talking as soon as he put his finger on her mouth, but her lips opened and her tongue peeked out to touch it. A bolt of electricity went through him, as it always did when he and Alex stole a moment of intimacy. The purely physical attraction he’d held for her before her kidnapping had deepened to a constant thrum of emotional need to know she was safe at all times.

  But, when her natural sensuality revealed itself, he was as lost as any high-school jock in his first fumbling experience with an older cheerleader. He shifted, hoping to find a more comfortable space for the unruly appendage making its presence known. He wasn’t going to make love to her on a park bench, no way in hell.

  There was little opportunity for them. No privacy at his mom’s place, and Dylan wouldn’t consider hers. The debacle of their first encounter was still raw after four years, and he’d taken to heart what her dad said then — not in his house. A town this size wasn’t safe for motel trysts. Everyone would know their business before they even concluded it. They stole what time together they could when she accompanied him to Tucson to see his brothers.

  Alex understood his brothers had to come first right now, though he loved her deeply. His brothers had no one else. Their dad was dead, their mom nearly so, from the stage four breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain, stolen her mind, and was consuming her body. They’d be stuck in an imperfect foster system, or handed over to a distant O’odham relative, if he couldn’t convince the tribe and DCS he was a worthy candidate to adopt them. Their foster family recommended he not bring Alex into their lives right now, and she agreed. Romance had to take a back seat for now, for both of them.