at him. “Whatever authority the FBI thought they had before Joey’s aunt showed up, I’m the one keeping the monsters away from him now.”
Chapter Four
“Even if it was my decision to make, I couldn’t let you waltz out of here with a federal witness just because you say you’re Joey’s aunt.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Connor turned from the woman sitting on the edge of the bed and moved restlessly to the window, something he’d found himself doing with increasing frequency since Tess had discovered the photo she seemed to think clinched her claim to Joey. Despite the heated discussion they’d been engaged in since, he still hadn’t been able to make her understand that her position hadn’t changed to any great degree—certainly not enough to have stopped him from phoning Area Director Arne Jansen with the news that the boy had been found.
At the end of the line of units a single light was burning in the motel’s office, but otherwise the darkness outside was undisturbed. He hadn’t expected the two backup agents Jansen was sending to have arrived yet. He’d just needed a break from the angry gaze Tess was lasering at him. He turned to face her again.
“I agree the Agency fumbled the ball in guarding Joey, but I promise we won’t slip up again. If you care for your nephew at all, you have to see that professionals can protect him from a couple of killers better than one untrained woman could.”
“But as you say, your team of professionals has performed pretty poorly so far.” Abruptly Tess stood, shooting a glance at the sleeping child in the bed she’d just risen from. “And you can’t protect him from an enemy you don’t even know about.”
Her words were barely audible, as if she was of two minds whether or not she wanted him to hear. Connor frowned.
“Just what does that mean?”
Her back to him, she was gathering the few articles she’d earlier set on the dresser, but he guessed that her task was no more valid than his glance out the window had been. She was avoiding his eyes, or trying to. Unfortunately for her every nuance of her expression was caught in the dresser mirror in front of her, and with a start Connor realized the emotion shadowing her features wasn’t fear.
It was terror. And terror was far too strong a reaction to have anything to do with his call to Jansen.
In the diner he’d been briefly convinced that Tess Smith was unbalanced. She wasn’t, he knew now. Her actions over the past two days might have been rash and poorly thought out, but she’d been well aware of the risks she was running and the consequences of what she was doing. She hadn’t known then that Joey was her nephew, so why had she chosen to take those risks and damn those consequences?
It was a question he should have asked himself before, Connor told himself. Why hadn’t he?
Because you’ve been too busy replaying that kiss you forced on her in your mind, a voice inside his head jeered.
“What do you mean, I can’t protect Joey from an enemy I don’t know about?” With an effort he shut off the jeering voice. “Did he see someone that night at the safe house? Is there a third person working with Leroy and MacLeish?”
Under the white tee she was wearing her shoulders tensed. “I’ve already told you Joey didn’t see anyone the night he escaped, and he’s still blanking out when he tries to remember exactly what happened between MacLeish and the retired agent who was killed in that alleyway. It’s too bad the Agency’s doctors didn’t take the time to find out what caused Joey’s mind to take refuge in a temporary amnesia.”
He was getting tired of talking to the back of her head, Connor thought impatiently. Between the white of her shirt and the silky black strands of her tousled haircut the nape of her neck seemed disarmingly vulnerable, for some reason.
He scowled. “The shock of seeing a man killed caused his amnesia. The on-site evidence, plus the fact that MacLeish was badly wounded himself, indicated that Quayle didn’t go down without a fight. Watching a violent struggle end in murder isn’t something any nine-year-old should have to go through.”
“I agree. But that wasn’t the first time Joey had witnessed violence.” Finally she turned to face him, her expression closed. “He’s not Beaver Cleaver, Connor. He hasn’t been protected from the seamier side of life, the way children should be. From what Joey’s told me, Darla did her best by him while she was battling her own demons, but he’d seen street fights before, even if they’d never resulted in murder.”
Her mouth tightened. “This is probably going to sound just as crazy to you as the Hangar 61 story. Have you ever heard of something—” her gaze wavered “—or someone, called Skinwalker?”
Earlier this evening his thoughts had gone to the year he’d spent at the Double B Ranch so long ago—the year he’d been thoroughly humiliated by Chorizo, the year a tough but compassionate Del Hawkins had turned his life around. But Tess’s unexpected question brought back his most recent visit to the ranch and the unsettling events that had threatened the Double B just over a month ago.
Those events had eventually been proven to have been orchestrated by an ex-con named Jasper Scudder, but even Del’s normally hardheaded composure had been disturbed by the warnings of Navajo matriarch Alice Tahe, who’d predicted that the evil spirit her people called Skinwalker had been behind Scudder’s actions…and that although Scudder had perished, the presence of Skinwalker still threatened the Double B and Del.
With no disrespect intended toward either the old lady or her traditional beliefs, Connor thought now, he just didn’t buy into the existence of a supernatural big bad. So when Alice Tahe had spoken about a thing that walked like a man, talked like a man, but was all the darkness from the beginning of the world personified, he’d dismissed her Skinwalker as merely one of the myths of the Navajo people.
From her tone, he got the feeling Tess didn’t. A slight impatience rose up in him.
“Yeah, I’ve heard the legend. Why?”
Something sparked behind the amber of her eyes. “Because that’s who I’m protecting Joey from, Agent. You might believe he’s in danger from MacLeish or Leroy, but Joey’s convinced Skinwalker’s the one who wants him dead. And although I wasn’t brought up in the Way—the Navajo Way,” she added in explanation, “I’m Dineh enough to think he could be right.”
The spark in her gaze fanned to a tiny flame, and color lent a wild-rose tinge to the cinnamon of her skin.
“Don’t you get it yet? He doesn’t remember what happened between Quayle and MacLeish because everything else was blotted from his mind when he was almost killed himself. I don’t know if there was a third person at the safe house the night of the ambush…but there was a third presence in the alleyway the day Quayle was murdered. Joey swears it was Skinwalker. And he says that just before the police showed up, Skinwalker started toward the Dumpster where he was hiding to kill him.”
“Skinwalker,” Connor repeated. “We’re talking about the Navajo Skinwalker, right? An evil ghost, uses his shapeshifting powers to take on the form of a man or a wolf or whatever he wants?” He glanced at the small sleeping form in the bed and then back at her. “I guess it’s possible a kid might see him as the bogeyman, if he’d been told stories about him in the past, but encouraging him in that belief—”
“Is that your theory?” Her gaze darkened. “Joey translated his terror at
