Pulling the Trigger. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ behind the reception counter, he turned back to Joanna. His smile faded and she caught a glimpse of the sharp, protective-of-his-own man in charge Supervisor Ortiz had described. “Don’t pass judgment on my team, Agent Rhodes. They can all use a break for one afternoon. This has been one twisted case and we’ve taken some personal hits that haven’t gone down real well. We lost crucial evidence during that blizzard back in March. I’ve had a witness with amnesia and a crime boss who was killed before he could give me any answers. Our families have been attacked—my people tested in every way imaginable. The lab has gathered plenty of evidence and we’ve all got our suspicions, but we need to tie the pieces together and make it stick. We need somebody behind bars. Soon.”

      “Of course, sir.” Her acquiescence seemed to appease the protective papa-bear growl of his voice. “I’m here to work—not catch up with former acquaintances.”

      “In my head, I know you’re not the enemy. Still, it feels like a slap in the face for the bureau to bring in a big gun from outside our investigation to get us over this stone wall we’ve run into.” He pulled back the front of his jacket and propped his hands near the gun and badge at his waist. “I guess I can see the bureau’s logic in bringing in a Native American to interview Watts. I suppose he’s more likely to respond to one of his own.”

      One of his own? Joanna’s skin crawled at the comparison.

      But she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Possibly.”

      So not only was she coming into a tightly knit group of co-workers, but Martinez was hinting that there was resentment against her being here. Joanna was used to being the odd man out. As the daughter of Ralph and Naomi Kuchu, she’d grown up not fitting in with normal families who worked hard and paid their bills and protected their children.

      Since the day of her parents’ funeral, she’d taken that loner persona and turned it into a strength. She was trained to be courteous and professional right down to her painted pinkie toe, but she’d discovered that if she remained dispassionate and in control she was harder to read. And if the bad guy sitting across the interview table from her couldn’t get into her head, then he had no advantage over her.

      No one had an advantage over her if she didn’t let them in.

      “I’m not here to mop up any mess or steal any thunder from your people, Sheriff. The bureau just wants vindication for the murder of one of their own.” She could handle the isolation, but if Martinez’s team resented her enough to actually work against her, then they’d have no chance of success. “Perhaps I should clarify the kind of support I’ll need from you.”

      “Yeah?”

      Simple. “All I need is a room, and Watts. If he knows anything, I’ll get you the information you need. You’re welcome to make any arrests or pursue any leads that might result. I’m just a tool the bureau is providing your investigation. Use me.”

      Martinez nodded, accepting the arrangement. For now. She could see he still had his suspicions about her motivation for being here. “Ortiz says you’re up for a big promotion back in D.C.”

      No point in lying about that. “If I don’t deliver here, they may reconsider.”

      “This is a test for you, eh?”

      More than anyone here or in D.C. would ever know. “Yes.”

      Any hint of western hospitality disappeared as he leaned in and issued a warning. “I won’t have your career ambitions get in the way of my case or jeopardize the safety of my team. Are we clear on that?”

      Joanna stood as tall and straight as her dignity and two-inch heels allowed. “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

      He pulled back, relaxing his shoulders if not quite smiling again. “Good. I’ll go make those calls and find some people.”

      “Don’t bother, Patrick.” A squat woman with a thick black bun on the back of her head waddled into the reception area. She peeled a clear plastic rain slicker off her scarlet blouse and brightly patterned skirt, hanging the coat up beside the reception counter as she talked. “We’re on our way back. Since they’re only taking the weekend off, I think Callie and Tom are anxious to get their honeymoon started, so the festivities are breaking up.” The sixtyish petite woman turned her eyes, dark as night but shining with laughter, up to Joanna. She clapped her hands together. “As I live and breathe. Joanna?”

      “Good to see you again, Elizabeth.”

      “‘Good to see…’?” She tutted. “What kind of greeting is that?” Elizabeth Reddawn flung her arms open and squeezed Joanna against her ample bosom. “My goodness, child, how you’ve grown up.”

      The woman’s enthusiastic welcome seemed to demand some kind of a response before she’d let go. Nonplussed by the effusive human contact she typically avoided, Joanna finally reached around and patted the back of the older woman’s shoulders, completing the hug. “It’s been fifteen years.”

      “Has it really?” Elizabeth pulled away, her eyes crinkling with the depth of her smile. She maintained a clasp on Joanna’s fingers, alerting her that there was more personal conversation to come, even though she turned away and tilted her head toward the sheriff. “By the way, Patrick? Bree asked if you still wanted to do a movie with her and Charlie tonight because they’d stay in town instead of going home.”

      “Are you kidding? That new action-hero movie opens tonight. Of course I’m taking my son.” He turned to include Joanna in a wink that erased his stern countenance. “Bree would be the wife. She gets to hold the popcorn and keep Charlie and me in line.” He nodded to Elizabeth. “You’ll keep our guest company for a few minutes?”

      “Of course.”

      “Excuse me.”

      “So…” Turning her maternal indulgence from the sheriff’s retreating back to Joanna, Elizabeth took hold of both hands and quickly inspected her from head to toe. “Joanna Kuchu—Daughter of the Buffalo. You’ve matured into a woman as beautiful and powerful as your namesake.”

      As Elizabeth pulled her toward the couch and chairs of the seating area, Joanna gently disengaged her hands. “It’s Joanna Rhodes now.”

      Elizabeth sat and patted the sofa cushion beside her. “You’re married?”

      “No.” Joanna perched on the edge of the couch, curling her fingers into her lap. “I was a Rhodes scholar my senior year at Yale. I liked the name—I liked the honor—so I had it legally changed.”

      “I see.” Her quizzical frown indicated she suspected there were deeper reasons for erasing her past. However, the Elizabeth Reddawn Joanna remembered wouldn’t have pried unless invited to do so—even if she was champing at the bit to ask questions. Judging by the way she kept plucking at her wool skirt, the older woman was definitely itching to ask something. But Joanna wasn’t offering. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

      “Thanks.” Several silent moments passed, leaving Joanna wondering how long Martinez would be on the phone to his wife, and how long she could sit here smiling and pretending that this reunion wasn’t awkward as hell for her. “How do you like working for Sheriff Martinez and the crime lab?”

      “It’s nicer than working at old Elmer’s office ever was. And I’m not just talking about the new furniture and state-of-the-art facilities СКАЧАТЬ