Jenna Kernan - Turquoise Guardian

“We have a welcoming party.”

“Looks like a welcoming party from Grey Wolf,” said Carter, referring to General George Crook by the name his people used. Crook had defeated the Tonto Apache with the help of Apache scouts, who were from a different tribe, back in 1883.

The slowing rotor blades kept back the welcoming committee temporarily, but Carter knew they needed to get onto sovereign land if he was to protect Amber.

The sheriff approached first. His brother was at the man’s heels.

The sheriff shouted louder than necessary to be heard over the helicopter.

“Mr. Bear Den, I’m Sheriff Bill Taylor. I need you and Ms. Kitcheyan to come with us.”

“Why?”

“She is a person of interest in an open investigation in Lilac,” said the sheriff.

“Is she being charged with a crime?”

The sheriff shook his head, his hand going to his fleshy neck and then up to the bristle of hair that was all that remained after someone had taken clippers to his head.

“No. A witness.”

“She’s a member of our tribe and as such will be returning to Turquoise Canyon.”

It was a lie. She wasn’t a tribe member anymore and had no rights to protection from their people. But none of his tribe members corrected him. In fact, Jack had already opened the door to his tribal police unit and retrieved Amber, who was now flanked by tribal police officers and tribal officials.

Chief Rowe and his men watched as the sheriff took a step to move past Carter, but he shifted to intercept.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“I was told Ms. Kitcheyan was in need of medical attention.”

“Delivered en route,” said Carter.

Amber was now in the backseat of Jack’s police car. Possession was now theirs. Carter placed two fingers above his brow and gave the sheriff a mock salute.

Then he trotted to his brother’s unmarked car and slipped into the passenger seat, dragging the door shut with a satisfying snap.

“I hope Kurt isn’t fired over this,” said Jack.

“Me, too.”

Police Chief Rowe stood beside Sheriff Taylor, who watched them with hands on hips as their chief of police, Wallace Tinnin, and tribal council member, Zach Gill, ran interference.

“They get the two in the van?” asked Carter, hoping like hell they caught the man responsible.

“Disappeared,” said Jack Bear Den to Carter as he pulled out. “Arizona State Police and local law enforcement are still searching.”

Carter glanced back at Amber, whose color had improved, but her blank expression and vacant stare worried him.

“She’s going to have to talk to them,” said Jack.

“They had video surveillance all over that building. They don’t need her.”

“Only witness, they said.”

“I saw him, too,” said Carter.

Jack lifted his brows. “But you I can protect.”

“You can protect us both.”

He gave a slow apologetic shake of his head. “It’s just a matter of time, you know. They’ll figure out that she’s not one of us, and when they do, I can’t stop them from taking her.”

Carter’s gut churned like a washing machine on agitate. Why had she done that—abandon her people and her poor parents? It was so stupid, pointless. He didn’t understand, didn’t think he could ever understand her actions. She had thrown them all away like a spoiled child.

“FBI is en route with requests to interview Amber.” Jack glanced back at his passenger.

“No,” said Carter.

“Carter, they’re the Feds. I might be able to hold them off for twenty-four hours, but eventually they’re coming to speak with her.” Jack had correctly guessed that his brother did not want to speak to the FBI.

Carter glanced in the rearview at Amber. “You okay back there?”

She nodded, her eyes still unfocused. The one-thousand-yard stare, the marines called it. Shell shock, PTSD and usually a domain reserved to soldiers. She hadn’t signed up for this.

“I’m taking you to the station. I can arrange to have one of my guys there when the FBI interviews you.”

“Just get us home.”

He drove them to the station and into the squad room where all nine of the officers from their tribe had desks. The chief’s office was in the corner with windows looking out at the room. Jack’s desk sat by the window with a view of the parking area and the road beyond.

Jack motioned to the chair beside his desk, the one reserved for witnesses and suspects. Which was Amber? Carter wondered.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she said.

Jack gave her directions, and the brothers watched her exit to the hallway. Carter’s brother gave him a once-over.

“You all right?” asked Jack.

Carter shook his head. “I used to think so.”

His brother had served with him in Iraq. But after one tour, Jack had left the service. Now a detective, Jack was also a member of the Turquoise Guardians medicine society. Recently, Jack and Carter had also been inducted into Tribal Thunder. Their elite warrior band defending their people and their sacred land. Today Carter glimpsed the seriousness of their duty. How had Little Falcon known?

“Did you deliver the message?” asked Jack.

Carter patted his pocket. “Not yet.”

“What do you think it is?” asked Jack.

“A warning, maybe.” Carter met his brother’s troubled gaze with one of his own. They didn’t have to speak. Carter knew what Jack was thinking. He was also wondering if Kenshaw Little Falcon had prior knowledge of the mass shooting. The implications were staggering.

Jack pressed his mouth tight, clearly disagreeing. They were twins but did not resemble each other. Carter had features he thought were classic for the Tonto Apache people while Jack was built like a brick house. Carter wore his hair long and loose, but Jack clipped his dark brown hair short to avoid others seeing the natural curl, and had eyes that were closer to gray than brown. The differences didn’t end there; he was three inches taller and had thick eyebrows that peaked in a way that made Jack look dangerous even when he was just hanging out. There had been questions when they were growing up. They didn’t look like twins. They didn’t even look like brothers, and Jack didn’t look full-blood Apache. His skin was too light and his features too Anglo.

“The FBI has agents en route,” said Jack.

“Don’t let them take her, Jack,” said Carter. If she left their land, Carter couldn’t protect her. He knew it and Jack knew it.

Jack’s scowl made him look even more intimidating than usual.

“Anything on Ibsen?” asked Carter.

“Head shot. Dead. My buddy on highway patrol says it looks like the same shooter as at the mine. Can’t believe they missed the shooter twice. They’ve got helicopters, dogs, state and local cops, all searching and border patrol stopping everything heading south.”

“Think they made it before the roadblocks?” asked Carter.

“Impossible.”

“How do you think they got away?”

“Changed vehicles, split up. Likely they are within ten miles of where you saw them. They’re doing a house-to-house in Ibsen’s neighborhood.”

“That will take some time,” said Carter.

“I’m going to stick with Amber for a while,” he said, and Jack’s eyes narrowed, clearly not liking that plan.

“We should turn her over to the Feds.”

Now Carter was scowling because that was not going to happen.

“It’s my duty to protect her,” said Carter.

He referred to his duty as a Turquoise Guardian, to protect their people and their sacred land.

“Guardians protect the people. She’s no longer one of us.”

Carter glared at his brother. “She’s Apache. That’s enough.”