The Sheriff of Silverhill

“The construction crew discovered the body when they got here this morning. They called the sheriff of the Ute Reservation, Emmett Starr. You know him?”

“Yeah, I know Emmett. Where is he?”

“He was tied up with something else, but he called me right away and sent his guys.” Steve waved his arm toward the two cops combing the area for a footprint, blood, a piece of clothing, any small piece of evidence. “Emmett should be here soon.”

“I think that’s him now.” Shading her eyes and squinting at the squad car churning up dust on the road, Dana pushed to her feet.

The car pulled up parallel to the crime scene, and Emmett shot out of the driver’s side. “Damn. I can’t believe we have another one. I guess it’s official now—we have a serial killer on our hands.”

He strode toward Dana and swept her up in a hug. “Good to see you, Dana.”

“You don’t seem surprised that I’m here.”

Emmett jerked his thumb toward Steve. “Agent Lubeck told me you were coming on the scene to help out. That’s good you’re working in the Indian Country Crimes unit.”

The passenger door of Emmett’s squad car swung open, and Dana swiveled her head around. One long, lean, denim-clad leg appeared. The long, lean body followed.

Dana’s breath hitched in her throat and her heart skittered in her chest as the rangy cowboy in the white hat sauntered toward her, sliding his cell phone into his shirt pocket. He tipped his hat back from his face and grinned. “Hey, Dana.”

Dana swallowed, her throat tight, as she looked up into the perpetually amused blue eyes of Rafe McClintock.

The man who still had a hold on her heart.

The man who haunted her dreams.

The father of her child.

“What are you doing here?” Dana folded her arms, trapping her trembling hands next to her body. Rafe didn’t seem surprised to see her, either. Everyone on the reservation must know she’d returned to assist in this investigation.

Emmett moved to the side. “I’m sorry. You two know each other, don’t you? Rafe and I were in Silverhill, discussing the second murder when I got Agent Lubeck’s call. Agent Lubeck, this is Sheriff Rafe McClintock. The second murder occurred in his jurisdiction.”

As Steve and Rafe shook hands, Dana zeroed in on the badge pinned to Rafe’s chest. Why hadn’t Auntie Mary told her Rafe was back in Silverhill? She might have had some time to prepare, to steel herself against this rush of emotion cascading through her body.

“Y-you’re a San Juan County Sheriff?”

“Yeah, I moved back to Colorado about six months ago and went through the academy. Silverhill elected me sheriff when Sheriff Ballard retired after his son’s murder.”

“I heard about Zack Ballard’s murder.” She pursed her lips as she shook her head. “I’m glad Sheriff Ballard retired, but the good people of Silverhill sure embraced an inexperienced sheriff for the top job quickly. But then you are a McClintock.”

There. Better put Rafe in his place right here and now.

He raised his brows, laughter lighting his eyes. God, he saw right through her. She’d fooled him once but he was no longer the tall, skinny, sandy-haired boy she’d first spotted in the hallway of Silverhill High.

She would have to feel an insane attraction to the richest and most popular boy in the school. She lived the cliché of every teen movie, featuring the all-American boy and the girl from the wrong side of the tepee. Only their teen movie didn’t end with happily-ever-after.

“I’m not inexperienced. I know Silverhill like the back of my hand, and I worked as a cop in L.A. for almost four years before moving back here. Of course, you wouldn’t know that since you disappeared right after high school. Georgetown, right?”

“Yeah, Georgetown.”

Emmett cleared his throat. “I hate to break up this…er…happy reunion, but what do you have on this latest murder? Is it like the other two?”

Steve and Dana led Rafe and Emmett to the body and Emmett crouched down. “Dear God. This is Louella’s girl, Holly.”

“Louella Sams?” Dana clapped a hand over her mouth. Louella was about fifteen years ahead of her in school, but Dana knew the family. The personal aspect hit her hard but if she let it affect her, the Bureau would yank her off the investigation. And she wanted in on this investigation.

“Louella Thompson now. She let Holly run a little wild, but nobody deserves this kind of ending.” Emmett clutched his hat to his chest and mumbled a few words over Holly’s still form.

Dana recognized the Southern Ute chant for the soul of the dead to speed its passage to the heavens. She bit her lip. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten the words of the chant.

Steve cleared his throat. “The M.O. is the same as the other two murders. The blood on Holly’s face is from a split lip. Looks like the killer backhanded her, but he strangled her like the other two and dumped her at a construction site.”

“And he left his signature.” Rafe pointed to the bandana wrapped around Holly’s forehead with the feather stuck in the back.

Dana clenched her jaw. That’s the detail law enforcement was hiding from the media. The killer had placed the crude Indian headband around each of the victims after he murdered them. So far, all of the murdered women were full or half Native American—like her. Was this maniac on some kind of one-man ethnic cleansing spree? Apparently, his wrath didn’t extend to males or anyone over the age of thirty. All of the victims were young, female and pretty.

Rafe gestured to the ground. “Tire tracks?”

Steve shrugged. “This area is crisscrossed with tire tracks. Nothing stands out, and so far Emmett’s officers haven’t found a damn thing…just like the other two murders.”

Scuffing the toe of his boot into the sand, Rafe said, “Obviously, the construction site is just a dumping ground. He does the deed elsewhere.”

Dana appraised Rafe from beneath lowered lashes. His handsome face creased into real concern, and Dana realized she faced a man, not the carefree boy she’d loved enough to leave ten years ago.

That knowledge scared the hell out of her.

The four of them discussed the details of the murders, two now on the Southern Ute Reservation, until the ambulance arrived. Any more evidence they hoped to find would have to come from the victim’s body. If the killer hit her before he strangled her, maybe Holly put up a fight for her life and scratched her murderer or pulled out his hair.

They agreed to meet later that evening at Rafe’s office at the sheriff’s station in Silverhill to compare notes after following their different leads. Rafe jogged to the ambulance before the EMTs loaded the stretcher bearing Holly’s body.

Dana’s heart picked up speed as Rafe bent his head in conversation, a lock of sun-streaked hair falling over one eye. She’d have to put aside her personal feelings to get through this investigation. Since one of the bodies had turned up outside the boundaries of the reservation, Rafe had jurisdiction over that case and she’d have to work with him.

But not for long.

The FBI would move in and take over. Just like they always did.

But until then, she’d shove memories of Rafe and their high school romance aside. And their daughter? Could she shove her aside as well?

“What do you think, Dana?”

She spun around. Emmett stood behind her, his hands buried in his pockets as he watched the EMTs collapse the stretcher to slide it into the van.

Lifting a shoulder, she said, “Looks like our guy has struck again, but Silverhill is a small town and everyone knows everyone else’s business on the reservation. We’ll find him.”

“Can you help? Did you touch Holly with your bare hands?”

Dana sucked in a sharp breath and froze. Emmett wasn’t referring to the help Dana could offer as an FBI agent. He wanted her to use the “gift.”

Closing her eyes, she ran a hand through her hair and clasped the nape of her neck.