session—after she’d graduated? Maybe after, I’m not sure. She was bright and motivated. I’d have to pull the records for more detail, but I remember she was a hard worker, serious conservationist disciple. Pretty.”
“She’s missing,” he said flatly. “She’s been missing for about eight months.”
“Missing? What happened? Where? Do you know?”
“Alaska. Denali National Park. She was doing fieldwork with a group of grad students. One morning, she just wasn’t in camp. Initially they thought she’d just wandered off a little to take some pictures. But she didn’t come back. They looked for her. They called in the rangers and Search and Rescue. They never found a trace of her.”
“I did fieldwork in Denali my senior year. It’s extraordinary, and it’s immense. A lot of places to get lost if you’re careless.”
“A lot of places to be taken.”
“Taken?”
“When they started to worry, her teammates looked in her tent more carefully. Her camera was there, her notebooks, her tape recorder, her GPS. None of them believed she’d wander off that way, with nothing but her jacket and boots and the clothes on her back.”
“You think she was abducted.”
“She had a boyfriend, someone she met while she was here, in South Dakota. According to the friends I’ve managed to track down so far, nobody really knew him. He kept to himself. But they shared a passion for the wilderness, for hiking, for camping. It went sour and she broke things off a couple months before the Alaska trip. Ugly breakup, reportedly. She called the cops; he skipped. His name is Ethan Howe, and he volunteered here. He also did a little time for an assault. I’m checking on that.”
It crowded in her mind, beat there until she rubbed her temple to quiet it. “Why do you think this connects to what’s happening here, now?”
“He used to brag about how he’d lived on the land for months at a time. He liked to claim he was a direct descendant of a Sioux chief, one who lived in the Black Hills. Sacred ground to his people.”
“If half the people who claimed to be a direct descendant of a Sioux chief or ‘princess’ actually were . . .” Lil rubbed her forehead now. She knew this, something about this. “I remember him, vaguely. I think. I just can’t get a clear picture.”
“He talked about this place, how he’d helped out here when Carolyn was an intern. She’s missing, and I can’t find anything on him. Nobody’s seen him since the breakup.”
She dropped her hand, and in one moment of weakness wished she didn’t understand him. “You think she’s dead. You think he abducted her, and killed her. And he’s come back here, because of the refuge. Or me.”
He didn’t soften it. Soft wouldn’t help her. “I think she’s dead, and he’s responsible. I think he’s here, living off the land. Your land. It’s the only solid connection I’ve been able to make. We’ll run him down, get a line on him. Then we’ll know who we’re dealing with.”
16
Tansy took another sip of truly crappy wine while a debatably crappy band slammed out what she thought of as “Ye-haw Coun try” from behind a barrier of chicken wire.
The clientele—a mix of bikers and cowboys and the women who loved them—looked perfectly capable of throwing beer bottles and plastic dishes of indigestible nachos at the stage but so far hadn’t worked up the energy.
A number of people were dancing, which she supposed boded well for the band, and their laundry bill.
She’d lived in what she, affectionately, thought of as the Wild West for a full five years now, not counting her years in college. And there were moments, such as these, when she still felt like a tourist.
“You sure you don’t want a beer?”
She glanced over at Farley, and thought he looked perfectly at home here. In fact, she’d never seen him anywhere he didn’t look perfectly at home.
“I should’ve listened to you and opted for beer in the first place.” She took another tiny sip of wine. “But it’s too late now. Besides, I’m going to head back.”
“One dance.”
“You said one drink.”
“One drink, one dance,” he said as he took her hand, tugged her off the bar stool.
“One.” She agreed because they were already on the dance floor. In any case, they’d both put in a long day, so one drink, one dance seemed reasonable.
Until he put his arms around her. Until her body was locked tight to his, and his eyes smiled down at her. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you a long time.”
Keep it light, she warned herself, even as her insides went soft and jittery at the same time. Keep it nice and easy. “Well, you’re good at it.”
“Jenna taught me.”
“Really?”
“When I was about seventeen, I guess, she told me most girls like to dance, and a smart guy learned how to move on the dance floor. So she taught me.”
“She did a good job.” He could move all right, she thought. Smooth as butter. And he had her heart doing a little flip when he spun her out, and back again. He did a quick turn, slid her under his raised arm, leading her around until her back was to him, pressed close again.
She knew she fumbled some—he was a hell of a lot better than she was—but she let out a breathless laugh as he turned her again so they were face-to-face and she was shuffling backward.
Damn it, the guy had moves. “I guess I need Jenna lessons.”
“She’s a good teacher. I think we dance pretty well together, seeing it’s the first time out.”
“Maybe.”
“You come dancing with me back home, Tansy, and we’ll do better.”
Her answer was the slightest shake of her head, and when the music stopped, she deliberately stepped back to break the contact before the next song started. “I really need to get back, and make sure I’ve got everything in order. We’re getting an early start tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He took her hand as they returned to the table.
“You don’t have to go. You should stay, enjoy the music.” And I should go, she thought, and take a long, cold shower.
“Even if you weren’t the prettiest woman in the room, I’d be walking you back just like I walked you over.”
It was only a few minutes at a brisk walk from the bar to the motel they were using, but she knew him well enough not to argue. He had, Tansy knew, an unbendable code about certain things—undoubtedly Jenna-taught as well. A man walked a woman to her door, and that was that.
But she stuck her hands in her jacket pockets before one of them ended up caught in his.
“Lil’s going to be happy when she sees that big cat,” Farley commented.
“She’s going to be ecstatic. She’s a beauty, no question about it. I hope she handles the drive without any trouble. Anyway, Lil said the temporary enclosure will be ready for her, and the permanent one’s already started.”
“Lil doesn’t wait for flies to land.”
“Never has.” She hunched inside her coat, as the short walk was still a cold one. Farley’s arm came around her shoulders, easing her against him.
“You’re shivering some.”
Not just from the cold now, she thought. “Ah . . . I think if we plan to pick up Cleo by seven, that’s early enough.”
“We’ll get gassed up first. Cut back on stops. We head out of here ’round six, that’d give us time to fuel up, get us some breakfast.”
“Works for me.” She spoke brightly while waging a small, violent war against her own hormones. “I can meet you at the diner. We’ll check out first, and go right from there?”
“We could do that.” He skimmed a hand down her back as they crossed the motel parking lot on foot. “Or we could walk over to breakfast together.”
“You can knock on my door in the morning,” she said as she dug out her room key.
“I don’t want to knock on your door. I want you to let me come in.” When she looked up, he turned her as smoothly as he had when they’d danced, so she was
caught between him and the door. “Let me come in, Tansy, and be with you.”
“Farley, that’s not—”
His mouth found hers. He had a way of kissing her that had common sense, good intentions, firm resolve all slipping away. Despite sense, intention, and resolve, she was kissing him back.
Oh, hell, oh, damn, she thought, even as her arms locked around him. That rubber-band mouth of his was so good at kissing.
“It can’t go anywhere,” she told him.
“It could go to the other side of this door for right now. Let me come in.” He took the key from her, slid it into the lock, and kept his eyes on hers. “Say yes.”
No formed solidly in her mind, but it didn’t come out of her mouth. “It’s going to be like the drink and the dance. One time. You have to understand that.”
He smiled at her, turned the knob.
LATER, AFTER MORE than one time, Tansy stared up at the dark ceiling. Okay, she told herself, she’d just had sex with Farley Pucket—twice. What the hell was she going to do now?
Best, she decided, to think of it as an out-of-town exception. Just something that happened. She was, after all, a mature, sophisticated, and experienced woman.
All she had to do was ignore that the sex had been incredible, both times. That he had a way of making her feel as if she were the only woman who existed. And that it wasn’t just her hormones losing the battle, but her heart.
No, she had to remember she was older and wiser, and it was up to her to put things right.
“Farley, we need to talk about this. We need to understand that when we get back, this isn’t going to happen again.”
He linked his fingers with hers, brought them to his lips. Rubbed them there. “Well now, Tansy, I guess I need to be honest and tell you I’m going to do what I can to see it does. I’ve had a lot of good things happen to me, but being with you? It’s the best.”
She made herself sit up, cautiously bringing the sheet with her so he didn’t get any ideas. “We don’t exactly work together, but you do volunteer at the refuge. Lil’s my closest friend.”
“That’s all true.” He sat up, too, his eyes quiet on her face. “But what’s that got to do with me being in love with you?”
“Oh. Love. Don’t say love.” Panic ticked at the back of her throat.
“But I do love you.” Reaching out, he brushed his hand over her hair. “And I know you have feelings for me.”
“Of course I do. We wouldn’t be here, like this, if I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean—”
“I think they’re strong feelings.”
“All right, yes. I’ll cop to that. But Farley, let’s be realistic. I’m several years older than you are. We’re in different decades, for God’s sake.”
“In a few years we’ll be in the same decade for a while.” Amusement showed clearly on his face. “But I don’t want to wait that long to be with you.”
On a huff of breath, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. “Farley, look at me. I’m a thirty-year-old black woman.”
He cocked his head, studied her as she’d asked. “More caramel. Jenna makes these caramel apples in the fall. They’re all golden brown and sweet on the outside, and just a little tart in. I love those caramel apples. I love the color of your skin, Tansy, but the color of your skin’s not why I love you.”
It made her shiver. It made her weak. Not just the words, but the look of him when he said them.
“You’re smarter than me.”
“No, Farley.”
“Sure you are. It was the smarter that made me nervous around you for a while. Too nervous to ask you to come out with me. I like that you’re smart, and how sometimes you and Lil will get talking about things and I can’t understand the half of it. Then I thought, Well hell, it’s not like I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” she murmured, undone by him. “Not anywhere near stupid. You’re steady and clever and kind. If things were different—”
“Some things you can’t change.” He took her hand again, so the contrasting tones showed in the light. “And some things, Tansy, make the different not mean one damn. Like this.”
He drew her to him, laid his lips on hers, and showed her.
IT FELT STRANGE knowing people with guns patrolled the edges of her compound. Strange even, at her own insistence, knowing she was one of them. Her animals prowled and called. The night was their time. And more, the scent of man, the glow of the lights kept them stirred up.
She spent more time with Baby, to his obvious delight, and the love in his eyes when he looked at her steadied her nerves. When she stood or paced or drank yet another mug of coffee, she outlined long- and short-range plans to keep her mind occupied and off the reason she stood and paced and drank yet another mug of coffee.
They would get through this, and that was that as far as she was concerned. If the person causing the trouble was this Ethan Howe, they’d find him, and they’d stop him.
She remembered him a little better now. She’d had to go back, look up Carolyn’s files, refresh herself on the reports and data in order to get a clear picture of the student. But once she had, she’d been able to reform one of the men who’d come around a few times to lend a hand, to flirt with Carolyn.
Above average height, she thought, slim build, strong back. Nothing special about him that she could recall. Not a lot to say, other than his claim to be descended not just from any warrior but from Crazy Horse himself.
Lil remembered being mildly amused by his insistence on that, and largely dismissing it, and him. She didn’t think she and this Ethan had exchanged over two dozen words. Still, hadn’t most of them had to do with the land, the sanctity of it, and their duty to honor it because of their bloodline?
She’d dismissed that, too, had considered him just another harmless oddball. But she remembered now that she’d felt him watching her. Or did she remember that because of hindsight, because of nerves? Was she projecting?
Maybe Tansy would remember him more clearly.
And maybe he had nothing to do with what was happening. But Coop’s instincts said he did. She trusted those instincts. Whatever problems they had with their personal lives, she trusted Coop’s instincts absolutely.
That, she supposed, was also a matter of her own instincts.
She shifted her stance, rolled her shoulders, as they wanted to stiffen up from her stint in the cold. At least the overcast sky kept some of the heat in, she mused. But she’d have preferred the stars and the moon.
In the harsh glow of the emergency lights, she watched Gull head in her direction. He gave her a wide salute. She expected the gesture was a precaution, to make certain she recognized him.
“Hey there, Gull.”
“Lil. Coop said I should take over for you here.”
“I’m grateful, Gull, for what you’re doing.”
“You’d do the same for me. Never been out here at night like this.” He scanned the habitats. “It’s kind of cool, I guess. Doesn’t look like those animals are getting much sleep.”
“They’re nocturnal. And they’re curious what all the people are doing out here in the dark. Losing sleep and drinking too much coffee mostly. He’s not coming back around here tonight.”
“Maybe he’s not because all these people are out here losing sleep and drinking too much coffee.”
“That’s a good point.”
“Go on, get inside, Lil. I’ve got this now. Unless you want to wander over and visit with Jesse. Like old times.”
She gave him a light punch in the arm. “I don’t think Rae would like that,” she said, referring to her old sort-of boyfriend’s wife.
“What happens at the refuge,” Gull deadpanned, “stays at the refuge.”
She headed back, chuckling. She saw others moving toward their