Death and Desire Read online

  “Where are you right now?” he asked urgently.

  “Standing in the front yard.”

  “Get to a neighbor’s house now. I’m on my way.”

  I clicked off my phone and stared at the house. No one was still in there. He would have made his move while I was in the house. I took up a position with by back glued to a stalwart pine. Mac turned circles woofing at the excitement. I scanned the house and the woods. Nothing stirred. No dark shapes, no coyotes, and no dread in the pit of my stomach.

  The wind sighed through the tops of the pines, and a lone blue jay chattered. I figured most of my neighbors were oblivious to my plight and enjoying an early happy hour on their back decks. I felt no need to frighten them from their belief the world was safe by showing up on their doorstep with a story of a break in.

  A tribal police Tahoe nosed into the cul-de-sac and parked at the curb. Trace’s long legs unfolded from the front seat. I watched the sway of his narrow hips and his long stride eat up the distance between us.

  “You okay?” He placed one warm hand on my shoulder, his thumb circling into the joint. The tension poured out of me with his caress.

  At the sound of Trace’s voice, Mac bounded over, wriggling in doggy excitement.

  “Great watchdog you have here.” Trace ruffled his ears.

  “Yeah, I think he watched someone make himself at home in my house.”

  Trace skimmed his fingertips down my arms. Heat remained where his touch had been. He tilted up my chin up and said softly, “I’m here now.”

  I dipped my head, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. “Let’s go in,” I mumbled. I worried about what he might think of my call to him.

  “You stay here. The Flagstaff police will be here in a minute.” He must have cued them. The black-and-white rounded the corner.

  “You called them, too?” Immediately, I wished I could snatch that question back. I must have been more upset than I admitted to myself.

  Trace looked at me quizzically. “It’s their jurisdiction.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “You didn’t bother me. I want to be here.” His hand touched my arm again. When he looked at me with concern, I wanted to fly into his strong arms.

  A local police officer sidled up. “Trace?” He nodded at me. “What do we have here?”

  “Not sure yet. Ms. McWhorter got home and found the front door ajar,” Trace answered.

  “Let’s get in there.” The police officer adjusted his utility belt and swaggered toward the open door.

  Mac got up to follow. “Stay, boy.” Why hadn’t I called the Flagstaff PD? Or Louis? He could have been here in no time. Or better yet, why hadn’t I just looked through my own house and locked the door? But the emotional part of my brain had won. Someone had gotten in my house, and I wanted Trace Yazzie.

  Their shadows moved behind the narrow windows that flanked the door. Mac and I waited on the sidewalk. The Flag officer stepped out. “No one’s in the house, ma’am. I’ll need you to come in and see if anything is missing.” He stood aside for me to enter.

  When I stepped over the threshold, my beautiful little casita felt cold and unwelcoming. Both men followed me. Nothing was missing in the living room or kitchen area. I moved into my bedroom. The low sun dappled shadows from the trees across my bed. A box of family pictures had fallen from the closet shelf and lay on the floor. My dad looked up at me with solemn eyes from an old black and white snapshot. I reached down to sweep the pictures into the box and jumped back. Tucked under a jumble of shoes near my dad’s picture was a bottle. A big bottle. Something black skittered inside the translucent glass.

  Trace pushed his way into the closet. “Anything missing? Do you want to file a report?”

  I pointed, my finger shaking. “That’s not my mine.” Damn. Whose reedy, squawking voice was that?

  Trace toed my shoes off the bottle. He plucked two Kleenex out of the box in the en suite bathroom and grabbed the container with two fingers around the metal lid. He held it up to eye level. Eight black legs tapped on the side of the glass. Bulging red eyes stared at me.

  “It’s a tarantula!” I backed up over the threshold of the bedroom into the bathroom.

  The Flag officer interrupted, “Looks like you’ve been pranked. Probably some kid. You sure you locked the door?”

  “I uh . . .”

  “You still think you want to file a report? If you have any other problems, you can call us.” He tapped his fingers impatiently on his utility belt.

  “No,” I answered smoothly. “I’ll take care it.”

  “Trace, see you around.” The officer saluted and was gone.

  Trace set the jar on the bathroom countertop. “You know what this is?”

  I peered closer into the jar. “A big-ass spider. Is it poisonous?”

  “Venomous, but it won’t kill you.”

  “Looks like a gallon pickle bottle.” I reached for it.

  “Don’t. We’ll try to get prints off it.”

  The spider tried to find his footing on the smooth glass wall. I stooped and looked closer. “There’s a little pottery shard and a bunch of dust . . . and there’s hair! Black curly hair, my hair,” I said excitedly.

  “Where do you keep your hairbrush?”

  “Right here in the bathroom.” I pointed to the counter. “Wh-what is this thing?”

  “It’s a charm.” Trace put his arm around my shoulders.

  “A charm? To do what?” My voice rose a couple of notes. The spider’s bristly black legs curved possessively around the pottery shard.

  “It’s from an Ant iihnii, Navajo witch.” The spider reared up silently tapping its front legs on the jar. Trace slipped his arm around my waist and cinched me tightly to him. “Witches use charms to curse you. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary? Been afraid?” he asked me softly.

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up. “Out of the ordinary? Oh yeah, I saw something out of the ordinary!”

  “Take a couple of deep breaths. I’ll get you some water.”

  I slumped on my bed and he handed me the glass, waiting patiently while I greedily gulped the water. “In broad daylight, I saw a thing running behind my Rav, then he was alongside me, breathing in my ear, and he flicked his tail as he sped up and ran into the brush. I was driving over seventy miles an hour. I’d say that qualifies as out of the ordinary! What’s happening to me? I heard scraping sounds one night on my deck. And I saw a coyote in Kaih Canyon—a real one. But he left no tracks and his eyes were red.”

  He sat on the bed beside me and hugged me to him. “Shush.” He stroked my hair back from my face. I snuggled my head onto his broad shoulder, welcoming his warmth, comforted by his embrace. He spoke softly above my head, “When he ran beside you, did you look into his eyes?”

  “Yeah, I did, but I looked away in a hurry.”

  He studied me. “Who else have you told?”

  “Bidziil. Right after the thing chased me, I turned and went back to Basha’s and talked to him. You don’t really believe that crap about entering my body?” I asked, greedy for his answer.

  “If I believe that God and his power are real, then I must also believe that evil has ways of showing himself, too. Hozho,” he said softly. “We all seek hozho, balance.”

  “Why leave a charm for me?”

  “Witches are attracted to people who have energy and power. They’re dangerous and mercurial.”

  I shivered. “Bidziil also says to speak of shapeshifters brings their evil to you.”

  “I agree. It’s best not to encourage their interest.”

  “Louis told me to get an amulet and to get blessed. Remember, I asked you about the Singer for Ben’s ceremony?”

  “I can take care of getting you a blessing. Grandmother knows the Singer who is going to perform the Enemy Way.”

  “Thank you.” I hugged him.

  He eased me back, holding my arms. “Is it possible you left the door unlocked?” />
  “I lock it every night. I suppose I could have left it open, but I don’t remember going out the front door this morning for any reason. Why?”

  “The witch could have come through the door whether it was locked or not. The second consideration is someone breaking in to see what you have in here from Niyol and leaving the spider to screw with your head.”

  “There’s nothing here.” It was true. Gage’s documents were at the station, and I didn’t want to tell Trace I had them.

  He grunted. “Someone may not believe that. You can tell me what else you have when you’re ready.”

  I crossed my hands across my chest and gripped my arms. I felt hollow and light-headed.

  Trace headed to the kitchen. “Where’s your coffee?”

  I showed him and he rummaged in the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of Bailey’s.

  He led me to the table. “Sit down. I’ll get the coffee when it’s ready. He sat across from me, dangling his long arms between his legs. “You need new locks. Keyed locks. And you need to keep the key away from the glass in that front door. Your neighbors’ houses are so far back on their lots, no one can clearly see or hear anything that goes on over here.”

  “I’ll get it done tomorrow.” The coffeepot sputtered to a stop.

  He got up and poured me a cup. “I’m doing it right now. Lock the door. Keep Mac inside with you. Don’t open the door to anyone you don’t know. And put a jigger of Bailey’s in that coffee of yours.”

  I protested, “But you said shapeshifters could come in anyway.”

  “I know that.” A gentle smile put his mouth between parentheses of creases. “But Niyol’s killer wasn’t a shapeshifter, and he may think you have evidence that incriminates him. I’ll be back in an hour.” He stopped with his hand on the front door. “You hungry?”

  “Peanut butter,” I blurted. “I only have peanut butter and coffee in the house.”

  He laughed.

  “Oh!” I recovered my wits. “I’ll have a pizza delivered and chill some wine.” That sounded more like me. Decisive.

  He grinned again. “I meant I would bring back food.”

  “I got the pizza covered.” I waved him off.

  He took the bottle with the spider with him, tapped the brim of his hat, and was gone.

  Mac followed me from room to room as I walked through the house. Nothing was out of place. No drawers open. The kitchen was as I left it.

  In less than an hour, Trace returned. “I bought inch and half bolt locks. All three of your doors will be keyed alike.”

  I thought about telling him he didn’t have to do this, that I could get someone out in the morning. It was hard for me to accept the gift of someone’s help, but I didn’t discourage him and that surprised me. I had succumbed to his charm. “Thank you. I’ll feel much safer tonight.”

  “You’re welcome. I’d like to keep it that way.” There was an awkward moment between us that I could have filled with kisses, but I was too slow, the moment passed, and my regret stung.

  “Let’s eat while the pizza is warm.” I busied myself putting two pieces on his plate.

  He bit into the hot pizza without stringing cheese from his plate to his mouth. “How did you find your way to Flag?”

  I told him about my college days and my first news job in eastern New Mexico. “What’s your story?” I had no appetite, but I gamely nibbled a slice.

  “After I graduated from NAU with an anthropology degree, I joined the army and served two tours in the military police. I graduated from the National Academy at Quantico.” He shrugged. “Found my way back home and I plan to stay.”

  He left an opening for me to walk through. “I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

  He beamed. “We’ll have to start those cooking lessons.”

  “Deal. You want any more pizza?”

  “No, I’m finished and I better get started on those locks.” He picked up his small bag of tools and unzipped them.

  “I talked with Dr. Alison Garcia over at the NAU today,” I said while he laid out his tools.

  He looked up, waiting for me to explain. “She told me about the AAA Indian Auction house down in Phoenix. You heard of them?”

  He nodded. “I’ve heard of them. You thinking about making a trip to Phoenix?” He picked up a small drill. Disapproval wafted off him. His eyes had narrowed, and he had a tight grip on the drill handle. He picked up the first lock set.

  “What’s wrong? Do you know her?”

  “She came to the U long after I graduated. I just know her by reputation. I figure you’re good at what you do, but going to that auction house might not be the best idea.”

  “Louis and I will be going together.”

  “Guns and drugs are mixed up in the black-market pottery. That brings some bad characters to the table.” He stood up and moved toward the front door.

  I followed his lead that the conversation was closed. “I can take the old ones off. If you drill the deeper holes in the frame, I can help you install the new ones.”

  We worked in comfortable silence. I stood behind him while he squatted before the front door. His shoulders pulled his shirt taunt across his back. “Hand me that Phillips-head screwdriver.” His pants stretched away in the back from his narrow waist. I got a peek at his black underwear. I imagined the front of him clad only in—what? Briefs or boxers? He shifted his weight to the other knee. Black silky boxers. He looked over his shoulder at me. “The screwdriver?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I handed it to him. I hoped I wasn’t turning red. He made quick work of the front lock, then switched out the deck door and moved on to the one that led out to the garage.

  He quickly unscrewed the last lock. “You do keep the garage door down all the time, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “You know you can lock the overhead door? There’s a button for that on the control box.”

  “No, but I’ll start locking it at night.”

  “Okay, all done.” Trace gathered up his tools.

  “Thank you. Mac and I feel much better.”

  “Burn your outside lights. Make sure everything is locked up tight.” He zipped the tool bag shut. “Thanks for the pizza.” His hand rested on the front doorknob. “I’ll call you if we lift any prints off that jar.”

  “Thank you again.” Awkward. We were in the awkward zone when two people stand at the front door. Kiss or no kiss? Oh, what the hell, he was a big boy. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently on his cheek. His hands circled my waist, and his lips found mine, moving softly across my mouth. The tip of his tongue gently probed, exploring.

  My lips burned. I licked across his full bottom lip and sucked gently at the center. His warm brown eyes clouded with desire. Lust flicked through me. A shadow of a smile washed over his face. He bent his head and kissed my cheek. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” He disappeared into the darkness.

  The house felt empty without him. I locked the door and put the key on a small table in the foyer. Mac and I checked the windows and I locked us in the bedroom. The outside light above the deck cast weird shadows on the walls. A quick look through the deck windows and I was satisfied nothing lurked out there. Mac stared expectantly at the bed, hoping for the rare invitation. “Come on, boy.” I patted the bed and slipped under the covers. Sleep didn’t come easily, but Mac had no problem. I tossed restlessly, thinking of Trace and that seductive kiss, wondering what his hands would feel like on the rest of my body. My finger traced the kiss he had skimmed across my mouth.

  Chapter 12

  I dragged myself out bed. A glimpse in the bathroom mirror did nothing to improve the way I felt. I could have packed for a trip with the bags under my eyes. I made some coffee and gave Mac a scoop of kibbles.

  When the coffee quit perking, I took my mug out on the deck to watch as the red dawn chased away the wisps of morning cool. Something was happening around me, at the edges of what I could accept as real. Shapeshifters chasing the Rav, coyotes that lef
t no footprints, unexplainable sensations of doom, a curse in my closet. None of it made sense within my definition of reality. I couldn’t see past my self-imposed boundary of what I believed could exist. Past that line was a dark and foreign land, populated by things I didn’t want to know. Trace and Bidziil, even Louis, didn’t disclaim the occurrences. I saw my border between what was, and what could be, shifting on the sands.

  I took a sip of my coffee and spit it over the side of the deck. Lukewarm coffee was nasty. Mac followed me back into the house where I dressed for work, intent on getting down to Phoenix.

  I rushed into the station to meet Louis for our trip to the auction house. “Louis, you ready to go?”

  “Sure.” He stood opposite my cluttered desk. “Gal, you look all in. What’s going on?” Worry etched his face.

  I told Louis about the open door.

  “Hell, why didn’t you call Eric and me? Who did you call?”

  “The Flag police came.”

  “Un-huh, who did you call?”

  “I called Trace Yazzie.”

  Louis’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth formed a perfect little O.

  “I know it’s stupid, not even in his jurisdiction,” I stammered.

  A big grin split his face. “Well, gal, you did what you wanted to and good for you.”

  I smiled and handed him my bag with the flip camera.

  He held out his hand for the bag. “You know this auction house is going to have a no video, no still pictures policy. You still want to drag that camera down there?”

  “Your hands are huge. Cup your hand and no one will notice a flip camera in your palm.”

  We drove south on 179 through Ponderosa forests that would soon give way to desert cedar and dry streambeds.

  “What happened at your house last night?” Louis asked.

  “A Navajo witch left a tarantula charm in my closet.”

  “Gal, you’re in some deep shit here!”

  I shivered in the warm car. “You can back out of working with me if you want.”

  “No way. We’re in this up to our eyeballs.” Gripping the steering wheel with his left hand, he reached over with his right hand and squeezed my arm.