head. No, she was Tricia now. Major Streeter. That was even better. This woman bore little resemblance to the pretty coed he’d loved to distraction. But it occurred to him that, even with all that had happened and all the years that had passed, none of it mattered. Not in the face of the stark fact that she was searching for the person or persons responsible for Major Kelly’s murder, and that by working the case alone she could very well end up as the major had.
He felt himself start to hyperventilate and jumped to his feet to pace across the room then back to his chair. The idea of those men catching her. Of what they might do to her if they did. South American drug cartels were ruthless, and he’d lay odds the guy he’d been tailing the day before was South American. And Sam thought La Mano Oscura could be involved with Diablo. So it stood to reason the Air Force pilots she was after were probably linked to both organizations. It was the only thing that made sense. But proving it? Stopping it? That was another matter.
And why was she so determined?
Jealousy, hot and angry, reared its unreasonable head once again. “You must have been pretty crazy about Kelly to put yourself in this kind of danger to avenge him,” he growled. “You really think anyone will believe you’re with me only a couple weeks after his death?”
Her lips pressed into a firm line. “Don’t try to make more of this than it is. I said Ian was a friend. He, his wife and daughters made me feel like one of the family when I was transferred here. They deserve justice. I want the man or men who killed him. So does General Fielding. It’s my job and it could mean a promotion for me, too. Those are my reasons.”
Travis stared at her then nodded, feeling like a prize fool for his anger. They’d been apart for years. He’d had a wife and a child. He pushed away those thoughts. He couldn’t think about Allison or Natalie now. He had failed to protect them, but maybe in protecting Tricia he could make up for his failure just a little.
“You like anyone for Kelly’s murder?” he asked, pretending a calm he still didn’t feel. “The pilot you were tailing, maybe?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.” She looked even more troubled. “Maybe someone higher up.”
“How high is high?”
“Possibly as high as a brigadier general. George Hadley is his name. We transferred him and his wing to Peterson where they could be watched. They were stationed at Cascade.”
Travis remembered reading something about all that a few months back. “The base the Air Force is afraid has a major active fault running under it?”
She smirked. “There’s no fault. And no geological survey going on. It’s an elaborate ruse to get Hadley and his wing where we can track their movements better. A handful of pilots under him formed a club called the Buccaneers. There are seven members. They bought into a fifties-era F-100 Super Sabre together. They trade weekends taking her up.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. This was getting interesting. “That jet has over a thousand-mile range, doesn’t it?”
“Sixteen-sixty.”
Whistling, Travis grabbed for a notepad so he could take notes. “They could get to a lot of places with it. Tough places to track them to. How’d the Air Force get wise to them in the first place?”
“One of the Bucs reported an odd talk he had with General Hadley. He got the idea Hadley was feeling him out to see if he’d do anything illegal. At the time he thought he was suspected of something. He got indignant and General Hadley accepted his word that he’d done nothing wrong.”
“And that was Hadley’s misstep?”
“The first we’ve heard about. Within the following month, the pilot, Captain Kevin Johnston, started to notice some odd things about his fellow Buccaneers. Like more flight hours on the F-100 than those they logged. They all tried to pass it off as hotdogging midflight but they all also seemed to have a bit too much money to spend, considering the cost of those long flights and the loan payments on the plane.”
She paused and straightened the magazines, then caught his eyes and stopped, guiltily hiding her hands behind her. Then she cleared her throat and continued. “Then Captain Johnston noticed nearly the same number of miles on each flight the other members took no matter where they claimed to have gone on their time off. He put that together with seeing them looking a little too comfortable around the highest-ranking officer at Cascade, General Hadley. Captain Johnston was in basic with Ian so he came here to Peterson and went to him with his suspicions. Ian took it to Lieutenant General Charles Fielding, the base commander. General Fielding put Ian Kelly on it and Ian suggested the geological survey as an excuse to get them all to Colorado Springs where his presence wouldn’t be suspicious and there’d be someone superior to General Hadley. Two months later Ian Kelly was found dead and I was handed the case. I’m trying to nail General Hadley along with the Buccaneers.”
“And for that you think you need my help?”
She glared. “What I need is you out of my way, but I know you too well. You as much as said there was no way you were pulling out of this investigation. If I can’t intimidate you off the case, I have to ask you to join in on it.” She grinned slyly, her eyes wise with knowledge of his character.
It was Travis’s turn to glare. He hated that she still knew him so well.
She crossed her legs, drawing his attention momentarily. He’d always loved her long dancer’s legs. “I can’t intimidate you, can I?” she asked, dragging his attention off her assets and annoying him further.
Not trusting himself to speak, he sent her a wiseacre grin and shook his head.
She grimaced slightly. “Then I guess we’re in this together. And that means it’s on General Fielding’s terms. In that case, it’s your turn to tell me what you have so far.”
Travis sighed mentally. It looked as if they were partners for the duration. And he had to give her credit—she’d told him all she seemed to know. “Ramirez is the name of the guy I was tailing. He’s Venezuelan. Which fits with Sam’s theory and, I suppose, Ian Kelly’s that Diablo and La Mano Oscura are linked.”
“I didn’t find any reference to La Mano Oscura in his notes but I still think he was working on proof of a connection.”
“But the crime scene investigators found that note in his pocket when his body was discovered. It had both Diablo and La Mano Oscura on it. So we knew he must have thought there was a link.”
She nodded. “Ian was the best. He probably got the evidence and was killed for it.”
“So we’ll be a little more careful than he was.”
“And we’ll each have someone to watch our back. That was more than Ian had. He liked to work alone.”
Sensing that she did, too, and hoping to dissuade her from going off on her own when he wasn’t with her, Travis found himself adding, “And it probably got him killed.”
The day after Travis agreed to work with her, they planned for Tricia to meet him at the Stagecoach Café. Since his mother worked there with her old friend Fiona, Travis dreaded this very public meeting they’d set up. They were supposed to act as if they had run into each other only days before—which was quite literally true. The problem was this was to be their first date, which was supposed to explode into a whirlwind romance—which was a big fat lie. It
