you? Your word’s sure not worth much these days.”
Their gazes locked and the tension in the room escalated. He knew Lassiter was pushing his buttons. No one had ever believed how he’d solved his last case. Despite the life he’d managed to save his credibility had been compromised. But he had few regrets. That one incident had drawn him back to the Rez and made him who and what he was today. The “who” he could live with, but the “what” part of that equation still gave him more of a problem.
“You don’t really expect me to believe that you have no idea who the men were?” Lassiter pressed.
Max paused for a fraction of a second, remembering the voice. He could have sworn it had been Harris’s. Yet the police were convinced Harris had burned to death, trapped in his vehicle after running off a mountain road.
He’d heard a dead man…for all the sense that made.
“They were wearing masks and didn’t exactly stop and introduce themselves,” Max answered at last.
“What if I tell you that the woman’s account of today’s events doesn’t match yours?”
“Then I’d say that you’re either lying to me, or you need to take a closer look at your source. She just came back from overseas—deployed for over a year in a combat zone. That means she probably brought home a boatload of emotional baggage. No telling how many casualties she saw along those roads. Then just a few weeks after she gets stateside, her sister gets shot to death not fifty miles from home. You expect a calm, completely accurate story from her?”
“So you’re saying that what happened at the nursery was the result of some penny-ante crooks looking to jack a car, not something connected to you two and the missing platinum?” Lassiter glared at him. “Coincidences are for fools, Natoni, and neither of us fits the mold. You’re neck deep in whatever’s going on. Come clean and save us both some time. Otherwise, we’re going to be in here for a long, long time.”
“Knock yourself out. I’ve told you all I know. Meanwhile, the bad guys are another mile down the road.”
SHE’D LISTENED CAREFULLY and knew that there was a lot Max hadn’t told the detective. For example, he’d never mentioned her gun. He hadn’t lied, not from what she’d been able to tell. He just hadn’t volunteered information, even when pushed.
The man was a pro—but at what? She needed more information. The problem was she had no way of getting it…except directly from him.
“Tina, what did you get me into?” she whispered in the silence.
A second later Detective Lassiter came back into the room. “Your attorney is here, and we’re releasing you.”
“My…what?”
“Tribal attorney Emily Largo is here.”
“But—”
Before she could say anything more, a petite Navajo woman in a blue suit with long black hair tied back at the nape of her neck came into the room.
The woman made a faint gesture with the palm of her hand, indicating that Kris should withhold any more comments. “My client is free to go, correct?” It hadn’t been a question as much as a statement.
“Absolutely. But we ask that she stay in the area,” Lassiter said.
Kris looked directly at him. “My business is here, and so is every dime I have, Detective. Where else would I be?”
“You tell me,” he answered.
“That’s enough,” Emily said, looking at Kris and shaking her head slightly. To emphasize the need to end this conversation, she gave Kris a gentle nudge out the door.
As they stepped out into the hall, Kris saw the tall redheaded man who worked for Jewelry Outlet. “Mr. Talbot,” Kris said in a cold voice. Now she knew why he’d been coming around. He’d bought into the conspiracy angle as well.
“You may be leaving for now, but this isn’t over,” Talbot said. “The sheriff thinks you may be involved in the theft of tribal property, and so do I.”
“Ignore him.” Emily nudged her toward the side door. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they reached the exit, Emily stopped, then gave her a stern look. “I’m going to get Max. Wait here and speak to no one while I’m gone. Clear?”
“How much will I owe you for all this?” Kris asked, blurting out what was at the forefront of her mind. At the moment, her personal checking account wouldn’t have bought two tanks of gasoline.
“It’s already been covered,” the Navajo woman said, then went down the hall.
Detective Lassiter joined her again as soon as Emily disappeared from view. “She’s the tribe’s top gun,” he said. “Just remember my warning,” he added, then hurried away.
A gazillion questions were going through her mind, but one stood above all the others. Just who exactly was Max Natoni? The guy had some serious connections, that’s for sure. One way or another she’d have to figure out who she was dealing with.
Max came around the corner of the hall and joined her moments later. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, they’re through with me,” she said. “But where’s Ms. Largo?”
“She’s got other business at the moment.” He led the way outside. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions, I can see them in your eyes. But let’s wait until we put some distance between us and this zoo.”
She did as he asked. Neither spoke as she drove through the city and headed west, back toward the nursery, which lay between Farmington and the Navajo Nation along the San Juan River valley. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, he broke the silence.
“There’s no turning back now. We’re in too deep. You realize that, right?” he asked at last.
“I know we’re both targets, yes. That also means I’m going to have to stay away from the Smiling Cactus Nursery when it needs me most.”
He nodded. “Otherwise you could endanger your employees or customers.”
“I’ll turn the reins over to Maria as soon as we arrive. She can take care of business for me until all the details surrounding my sister’s death are settled.”
“I think that’s the right decision,” he agreed.
Her insides were knotted but pride kept her voice cool. “Who are you, Max? I mean, really.”
“I’m exactly who I’ve told you I am. I’m a tribal employee.”
She shook her head. “There’s more to you—and the job—than you’re saying.”
“That could be said about almost anyone,” he replied with a slow smile. “There’s more to you, too, than just being the owner of a plant nursery.”
Max scarcely moved when he spoke. Like a good fighter, he didn’t seem to believe in wasted motion. Yet there
