Tribal Blood. Jenna KernanЧитать онлайн книгу.
with Colt?” Disbelief resonated in his voice.
“Yes. He’s the one who called you.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Where are the girls?”
“I don’t know exactly. I just drove until I figured out where I was.”
“I need the exact address,” said Jake. “And if it’s in Darabee, I need to notify their police department.”
“No. They might be connected. Like they were with that assassination in their station. Karl Hooke and the Lilac Mine Mass Shooter,” said Kacey.
“How do you know that?”
“Marta Garcia overheard our captors say so before I got there.” Kacey knew that the Darabee police were being investigated by the federal and state government for corruption. Several of the force had been suspended and charges filed.
“Can I speak to Colt?” Jake asked.
She relayed the request and was met with a firm shake of his head.
“He says no.”
“I’m calling my chief for instructions and en route to you. Head toward Turquoise Ridge. Okay?”
“Yes. I understand.”
“I’ll need you to identify the house, Kacey. Can you do that?”
That meant going back. She gripped her free hand to her throat. “I’m in labor and those killers are still out there.”
“So are your friends,” Redhorse reminded her.
That hit her harder than the contractions. Colt shook his head. Clearly he did not want her to go back.
She had promised them that she’d send help. “Yes. I’ll go.”
Jake told her to tell Colt what to expect and ended the call.
Now Kacey’s heart was pounding. “He said the FBI is coming for that car.”
Colt scowled.
She imagined they could find something in there, fingerprints at least. A clear image of Oleg smashing his hands on the hood of the car came to her. She glanced at the twin dents there as a shot of panic made her ears ring.
“Where? From Phoenix?”
“No. Your brother said that they have FBI in Piñon Forks since the explosion. Colt, what happened? What explosion? What is he talking about?”
“You must have passed through Piñon Forks on the way here. Didn’t you see it?”
“I saw construction vehicles. The station was abandoned. Some man in a uniform told me that tribal headquarters had moved to Turquoise Ridge. But I took off before he told me why.”
“Everyone has moved to Turquoise Ridge. They’re in FEMA trailers or reclaiming their mining cabins.”
“Why?”
“Come on. Let’s get David’s phone back to him.”
En route, he told her everything, and the happenings were tragic. Some eco-extremists organization had blown up Skeleton Cliff Dam in hopes of compromising the Phoenix electrical grid. The dam was upriver from their reservation. Destroying the dam meant flooding their biggest community, Piñon Forks.
Apparently, an explosives expert from the FBI had managed to make a temporary barrier on their river by demolishing a huge section of the canyon ridge. Her actions had saved everyone there. But the rubble dam was failing. Evacuations were necessary.
She thought back to her wild race through town early this morning.
“I didn’t even look at the canyon rim,” she admitted. Her focus had been internal, on her own body, and external to the men she knew would come for her. “Have you seen it?”
He shook his head. “Haven’t been off this claim since I got home. Until today. Heard about it from Ty. Only happened a couple weeks ago. Let’s see. Third week in September, so nearly three weeks ago now.”
He put his hand on the door latch and froze. He wiped a hand across his upper lip.
“I’ll drive,” she said.
“You’re in labor.”
“I know. Let me.” She held her hand out for the fob.
He hesitated, then gave it to her and stepped aside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She jostled herself awkwardly down into the seat and waited as he rounded the hood and then paused at the passenger side. She lowered the window. “Get in.”
“I can’t.”
“Colt, please.”
“I’ll run to David’s place. Through the woods. Be there before you get there.”
“What if they’re waiting on the road?”
Colt climbed in, his expression grim. He folded his arms over his chest as if he were freezing. She didn’t even suggest the seat belt as she put them in motion. She headed back to David SaVala’s claim. On arrival, she tooted the horn, afraid if she got out, Colt would run. David’s dog was still covered in something, and David appeared shortly afterward. He approached her window and she returned the phone. The dog jumped up and placed her front paws on the door, giving Kacey a stomach-turning whiff of dead animal.
“Get down,” he said, pushing the dog off. “Sorry. She found a dead deer and keeps getting after it.”
Kacey smiled and exhaled, trying to rid her nostrils of the stench.
The miner leaned down to look through the cab to Colt.
“Good to see you out, Colt,” said David. “Been worried.”
Colt nodded but said nothing. Why wouldn’t he speak to anyone?
David glanced at Kacey, who gave him a shrug.
“My dad was in Vietnam,” said David. “Still jumps at every truck that backfires. It changes you, I guess.” He pushed himself off the car, straightened and forced a tight smile.
“Thank you for the use of the phone,” she said.
“Sure.” He scraped his knuckles over the stubble on his jaw. “Well, stop by anytime. Love company. Don’t get much, though.”
They were off a moment later with David waving after them despite the dust they kicked up. The rainy season had come and gone. They were back to hot, dry days and cold, clear nights.
Jake met them en route with three other vehicles. Colt drew his pistol and flicked the safety off.
Kacey was suffering from the end of another contraction, so she spoke through gritted teeth as she clutched the wheel. “Don’t shoot your brother.”
He nodded and holstered his weapon before leaving the vehicle. Kacey watched as he greeted Jake with a nod. Kacey knew the two men who exited the next vehicle. The first was Detective Jack Bear Den. No mistaking him because he was the biggest man she knew. From the opposite side of the SUV came tribal police chief Wallace Tinnin. He was limping, as if he’d injured his foot. The chief had come to speak to her high-school class her senior year. It had been the January awards assembly and he had shaken her hand when she made the honor roll. Had that only been ten months ago? Yes, she realized. Just months before she had been taken.
The next two cars were black sedans with tinted windows. FBI, she guessed. She didn’t recognize the man or woman who exited the first vehicle but was surprised to see they both appeared to be Native American.
From the next sedan came two white men with short military-style haircuts and dark glasses. They had the same stony expressions as the Secret Service men who guarded the president.
Jake