Carol Ericson - The Sheriff of Silverhill

Dana shoved back from the table, almost knocking her chair to the floor. “Is there a bathroom around here, Sheriff?”

“Around the corner.” Rafe pointed to the hallway on the other side of his desk.

As Dana turned the corner, Rafe swiveled his head back toward Emmett. “What speculation are you talking about?”

Emmett rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans and shot a glance toward the bathroom. “You know Dana’s gifted?”

“Sure. She was the smartest girl in school, valedictorian even.” Rafe scratched his chin. Did the entire reservation think Dana was going to catch this killer because she was valedictorian?

“I don’t mean gifted that way. The Southern Ute, like most Native American tribes, have shamans. They can see the future, cast spells and communicate with the spirit world. In our tradition, we call this having the gift and those who have it, gifted. Only women are gifted in our tribe, and it’s passed down through families. The females in Dana’s family are all gifted, but Dana chose to reject that part of her heritage.”

Rafe’s brows shot up. Maybe that’s why Dana left him. She saw a vision of their future together and it stunk. “She never told me any of that.”

“She wouldn’t. Her stepfather Lenny exploited the gift in Dana’s mother by having her go on the road to tell fortunes and cast love spells. That didn’t sit well with Dana.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it didn’t, especially after that drunk driver struck and killed her mother at one of those roadside stands.” He’d heard about the accident when he was a kid, but he didn’t know Dana then. She attended the school at the reservation until she enrolled at Silverhill High.

During their senior year in high school, he believed they’d shared everything about themselves. Apparently not. What other secrets had Dana kept from him?

“Anyway,” Emmett continued, “folks on the reservation, who know about Dana’s gift, are wondering if she’s going to use it to solve these crimes.”

“Did you know about this?” Rafe tilted his chin toward Steve, who looked as mystified as Rafe felt. Something else. Fear, like a flame, leaped in Rafe’s chest, and he crossed his arms to squelch it.

“Emmett,” he began slowly, “does everyone on the reservation know Dana’s gifted?”

“Maybe not the younger ones, but the elders all know it because they know the Redbird family has the gift.”

Rafe swore and pounded the table with his fist. “You need to keep that piece of information under wraps as much as you can. If it gets out to the general public that Dana can read minds or see into the future and our killer finds out, she’ll be in more danger than ever.”

His words hung in the air as the clip of Dana’s heels echoed down the hallway. She stopped at the table and rested her hands on the back of her chair.

“I see Emmett’s been spinning Native American ghost stories.”

Steve said, “Why didn’t you tell me you had this gift, Dana?”

She snorted, her nostrils flaring in anger. “I know you have a little Cherokee blood in you, Steve, but do you really believe all that spiritual claptrap?”

“The FBI has used psychics before, and we’ve gotten some valuable information from them. You should’ve told me.”

“Okay, stop.” Dana held up her hands. “I don’t have the gift. I’ve never been able to predict a lottery number, I can’t cast spells and I don’t see dead people.” She lifted one shoulder and said, “I guess it skipped me.”

Rafe stood up next to her and grabbed her hand. “Does everyone on the reservation believe that?”

Her eyes widened as she grasped his meaning. “I—I don’t know. The Redbirds never made a big deal out of it, except my stepfather. The older folks know, but it’s not something I ever discussed…with anyone.”

“Don’t start now. We don’t need this psycho believing you can identify him through dreams.” Rafe squeezed her hand, resisting an urge to pull her into an embrace. She’d welcome that about as much as she had welcomed that trip down memory lane.

At least she didn’t yank away from him. She briefly leaned against his arm and said, “It’s not something I bring up in everyday conversation.”

Standing up, Steve unzipped his briefcase and slid his files inside. Without looking up, he asked, “Have you ever tried to use your powers of clairvoyance, Dana?”

She disentangled her hand from Rafe’s and smacked it on the table. “I told you, I don’t have that ability.”

Steve cleared his throat. “From what I understand, it’s something you need to develop and practice. You have to make yourself susceptible.”

“Well, I’m not making myself susceptible.”

“If it could be useful for this case, if it could save some lives?” Emmett shoved to his feet and gripped the edge of the table.

The three of them created a semicircle around Dana. She pulled her shoulders back and widened her stance, but her lower lip trembled. Rafe’s protective instincts shot into overdrive.

“Forget it. Dana told you she can’t see into the future or read minds. Are you boys so afraid of a little old-fashioned detective work that you have to rely on the mystical dreams of a reluctant psychic?”

Everyone around the table let out a sigh, and Steve rapped his knuckles on the table. “You’re right, Sheriff. Dana and I are going out to Holly’s house tomorrow. Since her mother was out of town today, I had to give her the bad news over the phone.”

Emmett coughed. “And I’m following up on that lead from one of Lindy’s coworkers about the customer who kept requesting Lindy’s table at the restaurant.”

Dana shot him a grateful look from beneath lowered lashes, and Rafe squeezed her hand again.

They stepped outside the station, and Emmett put on his hat and said, “I noticed you drove in with Rafe, Dana. I’m going back out to the reservation. Can I give you a ride back to your auntie Mary’s?”

“Sure.” She glanced at Rafe. “Thanks for the ride over and…”

“My pleasure.” Rafe took her hand, running his thumb across her smooth skin. He knew she wanted to thank him for standing up for her in there and not allowing Steve and Emmett to bully her into using some powers she didn’t even think she possessed.

He watched through narrowed eyes as Dana climbed into Emmett’s patrol car. It felt natural and right to be Dana’s protector again. And if it ever got out that she could identify the killer through supernatural powers, Rafe would do everything in his power to shield her from danger.

He didn’t have the gift, but he had a gun and he’d go to hell and back to keep Dana Croft safe.

“Guess who I saw last night?” Rafe shook the container of orange juice with one hand as he took a bite of toast.

His brother, Rod, grunted from behind his newspaper, and his stepmother, Pam, raised her eyebrows as she poured coffee. “Who?” Pam asked.

“Dana Croft.”

Rod answered by rustling his paper and cursing. Rafe was pretty sure the curse had nothing to do with Dana. His brother only half listened to what anyone said unless it pertained to the ranch.

Pam responded with a curse, too. She’d poured too much coffee in the cup and the steaming liquid had run over the sides and pooled in the saucer.

Rafe grabbed a dish towel and tossed it to her. “Do you remember Dana? She went off to Georgetown, went to the FBI Academy at Quantico, and now she’s working in the FBI’s Indian Country Crimes unit. She’s in town to investigate those three murders.”

Pam’s brow furrowed as she dropped the dish towel on the counter to soak up the coffee. “Dana Croft?”

“You remember Dana, Pam.” Rod folded his newspaper and shoved back from the table. “She’s the pretty Ute girl you tried so hard to pry away from Rafe during his senior year.”