The Sheriff of Silverhill. Carol Ericson

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      “You are gifted.” Emmett’s voice floated between them, almost a whisper.

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “Sorry.” He held up his hands. “But everyone knows the powers of clairvoyance travel through the women in our particular Southern Ute tribe. Auntie Mary is gifted and her sister Fanny, your grandmother, had the gift, and your mother, Ronnie.”

      “A lot of good it did my mother.” Once Dana’s worthless stepfather had found out about Mom’s sensitivity, he had exploited it, forcing her to work during the summer months selling cheap jewelry, telling fortunes and casting spells of love and protection when Mom couldn’t even find those for herself.

      Dana ran her hands across her face as if clearing cobwebs. “Besides, I’m only half Ute, so the gift obviously skipped me. See you at the meeting, Emmett.”

      As Dana swept past him, Emmett muttered behind her, “Or you choose not to embrace it.”

      Dana stalked to her rental car, hands fisted. Her second day back on the reservation and already her past was crowding in on her.

      “Dana.”

      She glanced up as Rafe waved and strode toward her, his boots crunching the gravel beneath his feet. Her past was crowding in, all right, from all directions.

      “Can I pick you up for the meeting tonight? I haven’t seen your aunt Mary in a while. You are staying with her, aren’t you?”

      She clicked her remote and settled her back against the car. “I don’t need a ride. This is a murder investigation, not the high school prom.”

      “I know. You dumped me before the prom.”

      “You remember that?” Big mistake . She did not want to traipse down memory lane with Rafe. That path would surely lead to one nine-year old, brown-eyed secret named Kelsey.

      Hooking his thumb in his belt loop, he grinned. “Like it was yesterday. You were the only girl who ever shot me down.”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I remember succumbing to the famous McClintock charm pretty quickly.”

      “Yeah, you had your way with me and then shot me down.”

      Dana almost doubled over from the sharp pain that stabbed her gut. If they didn’t catch this killer fast, allowing her to escape Silverhill and the reservation, she’d fall under this man’s spell again. And once he found out she’d kept Kelsey from him all these years, he’d shoot her down.

      “Let’s not go there.” She made a cross with her fingers, holding it up between them. “We have a killer to catch.”

      “I don’t have a problem mixing business with pleasure.”

      Dana’s gaze tripped over Rafe’s sensuous mouth and got hooked on his deep blue eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t.”

      But if Rafe ever discovered they had a daughter together, there’d be nothing pleasurable about his response.

      Nothing pleasurable at all.

      D ANA DROPPED into the overstuffed, floral chair and stretched out her legs, resting her feet on top of the high heels she’d kicked off before washing the dinner dishes.

      Auntie Mary plucked the reading glasses from her nose and folded her hands over the book in her lap. “You could’ve left those for me. I didn’t invite you to stay here to do my chores.”

      Dana wiggled her toes. “I know that, but you do have an ulterior motive.”

      “I don’t need an ulterior motive to invite my niece, who’s working in the area anyway, to stay with me.” Auntie Mary widened her eyes in mock indignation.

      “Rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh string beans from your garden and homemade apple pie to finish me off. You went to a lot of trouble, but it’s not going to work.”

      “Is Holly Thompson another victim of this serial killer?”

      “We think so, but I can’t discuss the case with you.”

      “Interesting that the killer keeps dumping bodies of young Ute women at construction sites. Maybe he’s trying to make a point.” She shrugged and ran a gnarled hand through her cropped, gray hair. “The old ways are changing too fast, and all this money pouring in from the oil down south only hastens the demise of our culture. Dances, songs and worship have been replaced by reality TV and Xboxes.”

      “Unemployment and poverty have been replaced by jobs and a good standard of living.”

      “Do you have to throw out the baby with the bathwater?” Auntie Mary cupped her hands in a scooping motion.

      “Nobody’s trying to do that. I see that Ben Whitecotton is completing the project of a Southern Ute cultural center.”

      Auntie Mary leveled a finger at her, and Dana could almost feel a shaft of heat scorching her from across the room. “You approve of all the changes.”

      “I’m proud of my Southern Ute heritage.” Dana crossed her arms, bunching her fists. “I just don’t believe in all the mumbo jumbo stuff.”

      “You have the sacred gift.” Auntie Mary dropped her arm and closed her eyes. “And you choose to dismiss it.”

      “What about my mother?” Dana jumped from the chair and took a turn around the small room. “She did worse than dismiss it. She tarnished it, used it for monetary gain.”

      “That was her husband’s idea.”

      At the mention of her stepfather, Dana ground her teeth. She’d detested her stepfather, Lenny Driscoll, ever since she was five years old when СКАЧАТЬ