Jessica Andersen - Bear Claw Conspiracy

“Did she give Blackthorn any sort of description?” “Nothing.”

“Damn.” Which meant that the crime scene analysis could be critical. “How do you want to handle it?”

Alyssa thought for a few seconds, then said, “I want you to head out to Station Fourteen. According to Matt, the scene took a beating when they airlifted her out, which makes you the better choice. Cassie is hell on wheels with the tech stuff, but you’ve got more experience with contaminated scenes. And if the problem between you and Matt is strictly an oil-and-water sort of thing, you’ll deal with it. Right?”

Gigi nodded, already mentally reviewing the field kit she had with her, looking for gaps. “Of course. I’ve taken static on crime scenes before. I can handle myself.”

More importantly, this wasn’t about her and it sure wasn’t about Blackthorn. She was there to do a job and she didn’t intend to let anyone get in her way … especially not a park ranger with a great body and a nasty judgmental streak.

WHEN THE FIRST BCCPD vehicle churned into view in a cloud of dust, Matt was surprised to see Jack Williams at the wheel.

Williams, who topped six feet and had early salt in his chestnut hair though he was just on the downside of thirty, was one of the top detectives in Homicide. Born and raised in Bear Claw, Jack was the latest in a long line of Williamses to serve the BCCPD, and Matt’s gut had long ago put the guy in the “solid cop” category.

As Williams climbed from the SUV, Matt headed over, hands in his pockets, still wearing his shotgun and knapsack over his shoulder. “I’ll have to thank Tucker,” he said to Williams. “This isn’t exactly a case for Homicide, but I’m damn glad to see you.”

The detective gave him a nod. “We take care of our own.”

Matt didn’t think he was talking about the close connection that had evolved between the P.D. and park service in Bear Claw, but didn’t want to go down that road, so he said simply, “Thanks.” He glanced over as a second cop got out of the SUV—a younger uniformed officer with a startling shock of white-blond hair and pale eyes that together made him look washed out beneath the late-summer sun. “New partner?”

“Billy Doran,” Williams said by way of introduction. “Thanks to Mayor Cheapskate’s latest round of cuts, we’re down to under a dozen detectives trying to cover the whole damn city. Rather than partnering detectives, Tucker’s got some of us teaming up with uniforms.”

Despite his one-time interest in politics, Matt had stayed well clear of Bear Claw’s issues, just as he largely avoided the city itself. He hadn’t moved to Station Fourteen to get involved in city stuff, after all. Even so, he knew that Mayor Percy Proudfoot had been taking some serious hacks at the budget in an effort to turn around a huge budget deficit. The P.D. in particular was having to get creative.

He sent the kid a nod. “Doran.” Turning back to Williams, he said, “I’ll lead you guys in, then come back down for Cassie when she gets here.” He hesitated. “There’s something I didn’t get a chance to tell Tucker.” He told them about the feather, patted his buttoned pocket. “You guys want it?”

“Keep it until Cass gets here,” Williams said. “It’s probably better not to move it around more than necessary. But don’t be surprised if she wants your shirt, too, in case there’s transfer.” He grinned. “Just watch what you say if she does. Last guy who made a sexist joke about the crime scene girls got the rough side of Alyssa’s tongue, and then spent some quality time directing traffic for a sewer repair crew, courtesy of Chief Mendoza.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Actually, it didn’t matter to him whether the Bear Claw analysts were women or Martians, as long as they got the job done.

“Grab the gear,” Williams said to Doran. To Matt, he said, “Lead on and let’s see what these bastards left us.”

“Not much that I could see. The scene is pretty torn up.”

Sure enough, once he got them up there, Williams shook his head. “You weren’t kidding. What isn’t bare rock is a frigging mess.” He sent Doran to take pictures and notes, but didn’t look optimistic. “I have a feeling our best bet is going to be talking to Tanya when she wakes up.”

Matt nodded, partly in thanks for the word choice. When she woke up. Not if. When.

The detective said, “Want to run me through what you saw? Maybe being up here will kick loose something new.”

“Of course.” Matt started right from the moment he heard Cochran’s first shout, but it was becoming rote. And, really, he hadn’t been there when it counted.

By the time Doran was done, Williams was ready to head back down to the station and question the Cochrans, so Matt led them back to the vehicles.

On the way, he radioed Bert for an update and got confirmation that Tanya’s injuries were from an attack rather than a fall, along with the grim news that she was still unconscious and the early scan results weren’t good. Damn it.

Forcing his emotions down where they belonged, Matt asked, “How about the CSI? Did she come through the station yet?” If Tanya wasn’t waking up, they needed to get moving on the scene. Every minute they wasted was another minute the perps were using to get away … or plan another attack.

“Yeah. She should be there any minute.”

Sure enough, the cops were loading up their SUV when the radio on his hip squalled a broken transmission. All he caught was a woman’s voice and the words “almost there.”

The dust kicked up by Williams’s departing SUV was just clearing when a new cloud took shape and a nearly identical vehicle appeared coming the other way.

Matt checked his watch and was surprised to see that even though it felt like days had passed, it had only been five or six hours of real time. That meant they had a couple of hours of daylight left.

They would need it, too. It wouldn’t be easy to truck in lights, and there wasn’t much chance of an airdrop. Tucker had already given him the heads up that the P.D. was getting pressure from higher up the food chain—aka Mayor Proudfoot’s office—to keep Tanya’s assault on the down low and not over-commit resources.

The official line was that the attack wasn’t all that different from an in-city mugging, and while Tanya would get some preference as a ranger, the P.D. shouldn’t go overboard. The real rationale, though, was even simpler: Bear Claw City was hurting for money and couldn’t afford to lose any tourists.

Matt hated the equation, the politics.

The SUV cruised in going too fast and kicked up dust, suggesting that Cassie, too, knew they were racing the sun. Grit hazed things as the door swung open and she got out, hauling a heavy-looking tackle box with her.

He headed over, extending a hand. “Let me grab that for …” He trailed off, stopping dead as his gut fisted on a surge of heat mixed with dismay.

The woman coming toward him wasn’t the businesslike blonde he’d been expecting.

Not even close.

A sizzle shot through him at the sight of a sharp, triangular face beneath a crooked cap of shiny dark hair. He told himself the sensation was dismay, because he sure as hell shouldn’t be feeling anything else toward a woman like Gigi Lynd.

Gigi. It sounded like it should come with a French label and an import tariff. And from her trendy haircut and unbalanced ear piercings—one on the right, three on the left—to the silver-gilded tips of her gleaming lizard-skin boots—black today rather than the purple she had been wearing before, but equally as impractical—she didn’t belong anywhere near the backcountry. Or him.

His pulse raced. He was going to kill Tucker.