Aimée Thurlo - Restless Wind

Ranger moved downhill and to the right, taking a position in the recess below a rock overhang where he’d be hidden from anyone approaching from downhill. Taking out his.45 pistol, Ranger released the safety, crouched low, then waited, absolutely still. In the distance, he could hear Dana’s voice, though her words were indistinguishable.

Time passed slowly. Ranger couldn’t risk a look down at his watch, but he noted the change in shadow lengths as the sun dropped lower toward the western horizon. It would be dark before long, and though the sniper was obviously being very careful, the man would have to make his move before then.

Studying the area, he spotted a shadow up ahead between him and where Dana was now sitting. Then he saw the brim of his enemy’s boonie cap. As quietly as he could, Ranger raised his pistol and squeezed the trigger. The sound was deafening, not just the blast of the pistol, but the clang as the big.45 slug struck the receiver of the sniper’s rifle.

Ranger was out of the hole within two seconds, his pistol pointed right into the eyes of the sniper. He heard the clank of his opponent’s rifle as it hit the ground, but Ranger’s gaze stayed on his sights and the man’s sweating face just beyond.

“On your knees, hands locked behind your head,” Ranger ordered. Then, moving to the side, he took the sniper’s knife out of its sheath. Ranger circled the man, searching for any other weapons that might be visible, then had the man empty his pockets and remove his bootlaces so he couldn’t run anywhere easily.

“Dana, it’s okay now. Come help me secure the prisoner,” he called out.

She was there within two minutes, breathing hard, a smile of relief on her face. As she pointed the rifle at the sniper, Ranger used the handcuffs the man had carried in his pockets, no doubt to secure Dana, to position his prisoner’s hands behind his back. He took the handcuff key off the key ring and put it in his own pocket.

Once the prisoner was secured, Ranger got his cell phone back from Dana and contacted his brother, who’d already sent backup from Thoreau, a small community to the south.

“A tribal officer and the state police are coming up the mountain and will soon be joining you and take custody of the prisoner,” his brother said. “Once you’ve handed him over, go back to Shiprock via Gallup. You’ll need to meet with Agent Harris. Xander Glint, the man involved in the original kidnap plot, is now out of ICU and able to talk.”

“Has he said anything?”

“Not from what I’ve heard. But once you’re on the scene you’ll know more.”

Dana handed Ranger his rifle, then walked over and stood in front of the sniper. She met his expressionless gaze and held it. “You weren’t involved in the kidnapping, but you’re still a killer,” she said, then slapped him hard. “That’s for hiring out to the man who murdered a dear friend of mine.”

The man spat out a curse and tried to stand, but Ranger brought his rifle up and aimed it at the man’s forehead. “Don’t even think it.”

The man froze, then sagged back down to his knees, his head lowered.

“You’re getting off easy,” Dana said. As she looked over at Ranger, all she saw on his face was approval…and admiration.

Two hours had passed since they’d turned over their prisoner to the officers. They were driving north on the main highway when Ranger’s cell phone rang. Even without looking he knew it would be his brother.

Ranger listened to what Hunter had to say, then answered. “That’s good to hear,” he said. He hung up, then glanced over at Dana and brought her up to date.

“It seems our sniper, who’ll only give his first name-Willie-is more than eager to spill his guts. But he wants to deal.”

“Let’s go see if we can listen in on the interrogation. Maybe I can help somehow. We should be safe there, too. Trujillo won’t come for me at the station.”

As she said it, Dana realized how much she’d changed. Faced with nonstop danger and unpredictability, she’d found new strength. Dana glanced over at Ranger, who looked as tired as she felt, and began to see their relationship in a new light. Although what was happening between them held no guarantees of a happily ever after, life was offering her a precious gift-but it wasn’t forcing it on her. She could accept it, or walk away as soon as she could.

“We’ve become a good team,” Ranger said, his eyes on the road, but his hand reaching over to cover her own.

She smiled. “I know you’re more comfortable acting off-the-cuff, but I’ve got to give you credit. You can certainly come up with a plan when it’s needed.”

“Back there, my one priority was keeping you safe. That took planning. Had it been just me, I might have handled it differently. But you were involved and that changed everything.”

A rainbow of warm, gentle feelings filled her. “I couldn’t have asked for a better guardian.”

“I know. I’m a man of many talents,” he said with a wicked grin, his voice low and seductive.

“Yes, but where would you be without the inspiration I provide?” she answered, trying to keep a straight face.

He laughed, a booming, deep sound that was infectious.

The drive back was uneventful and long. When they finally pulled into the Shiprock police station Dana sat up and gestured ahead.

“There’s the sniper,” she said.

The prisoner, his feet in shackles and his hands cuffed in front now, was being escorted into the building by a state police officer and a tribal cop.

Ranger and Dana went in a moment later and found Agent Harris waiting for them in the lobby. “The prisoner is being taken to an interrogation room, and I’m going to question him myself,” he said. “The deal he wants isn’t going to happen, but if he wants to avoid a potential life sentence, his only choice is to cooperate. I’ll bring that up, and hope he sees the light.”

“I hear Xander Glint is conscious now, too,” Ranger said.

Harris nodded. “Once we’re through here, we’ll head to the hospital.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Dana and Ranger stood outside the one-way glass as Harris questioned the seated suspect, who was without handcuffs now but still wearing leg irons.

Harris rose from his own chair, walked around the room once, then stopped abruptly and leaned over the prisoner. “Your prints are being processed, and your photo is being taken to every gun dealer in the area. You’ll be recognized, and if you have a rap sheet, we’ll know that, too. So why don’t you stop wasting my time? What’s your real name-all of it.”

“William George Franklin,” he answered. “Willie.”

“Okay, Willie. Who hired you?”

“Hired? Nobody hired me,” he countered. “I was out hunting ground squirrels when some Indian with a forty-five ambushed me. He shot at me, held a pistol to my head, then tied me up. Then he called in some cop friends, and they hauled me here on some phony assault charge. Is anyone taking care of my Jeep? I left it parked down the mountain a few miles. If it gets stolen, I’m going to sue that Indian and his entire tribe.”

“We’ve got an eyewitness that saw you leaving a murder scene with a rifle. That witness’s testimony will carry some serious weight. He was the one who neutralized your spotter,” he said, careful not to use Hunter Blueeyes’s name. “I also have two more people here at the station who’ll happily testify against you-the pair that you were stalking up in the mountains before they brought you down. The bullets that killed two Navajo men have been recovered, too, and once we match them to your rifle, you’re looking at life in prison. So what’ll it be? Turn state’s evidence now, or rot in prison for the rest of your life?”