Countdown

Lifting her chin, Annie tried to ignore the sarcasm in his tone. “There’s one,” she said, pointing to a gray-and-black rock on the other side of the ravine.

His eyes widening, Joe’s gaze followed her finger’s path. Stepping across the ravine, he spotted the rock she’d indicated. The surface of the huge boulder had been scarred recently by a bullet. Without a word, Joe lifted the camera and took a photograph of it, as well as where the brush had been broken by Libby’s tumble from the horse.

Annie rose and started a rock-by-rock search for a second bullet indentation. About five feet away, on the opposite side of the ravine, she found what she was looking for. Calling Donnally over, she pointed to the rock.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered, and took another photo.

Annie felt hope soar within her. Joe’s look had been one of praise, not anger. In her heart, she wanted to like him a lot. If only he would drop that angry wall he held up like a shield. Time, Annie cautioned herself. They needed time to adjust to each other.

“The trajectory of the bullets indicate they were fired from that direction,” she told him, pointing off into the distance.

Joe straightened. “You’re probably right.” He frowned and looked down at the rocks. “Whoever was doing the firing hit five feet either side of that horse.”

“Yes,” she murmured, “the shooter knew what he was doing.”

“I don’t think this was an accident,” Joe said quietly.

“I don’t, either.”

Joe wrestled with how easy it was to fall into a comfortable working relationship with Annie. She was all-business, and possessed a keen intelligence that startled him. He tried to suppress his burgeoning respect for her. “I’m going to assume the shots came from an M-16,” he told her. “Ms. Tyler said she didn’t see the person who fired, so it must have been long-range.”

“Six hundred yards?” Annie guessed.

“Bingo.”

“You think the person who fired it was more than just an expert marksman? Maybe sniper-quality shooting?”

“Yes.”

Annie saw a gleam of respect in Joe’s eyes—if but for a fraction of a second—and a warmth flowed through her. At last, he was thawing a little toward her—even if it was strictly business, she thought as she nodded and followed him back to the HumVee. They rode in silence, the HumVee grinding over several small, rounded hills as Joe headed in the direction from which they believed the bullets had been fired.

“Look,” Annie said suddenly, excitement in her voice. “See that cluster of rocks on top of that hill?”

Joe smiled grimly. “Great place to hide a sniper, isn’t it?”

Annie grinned. She liked Joe when he acted more human and less like a cornered mountain lion. Suddenly, they were a working team. She loved the natural high that came from successful investigative work, and obviously, so did Joe. The usual frostiness in his blue eyes had been replaced by an intensity that could only be translated as enjoyment.

Getting out of the HumVee, they cautiously approached the series of boulders that were stacked haphazardly to form a semicircle at the top of the hill. Her eyes scanning the ground for spent cartridge casings, Annie felt her heart pump with excitement as she neared the other side of the boulders.

“Look! Footprints!” She knelt and pointed to a partial print barely visible on the sand and rock.

Joe grunted. “Good. Keep looking.”

Feeling like a bloodhound on a fresh trail, Annie scanned the ground. Sunlight was glinting off something about ten feet from her and she picked her way through the thick sagebrush. Leaning down, her fingers searching, she felt the heat of metal and quickly grasped it. Triumphantly, she turned and held the cartridge casing up for Joe to see.

“I found one!”

He turned. The glint of sunlight off metal in Annie’s fingers spoke of her important find. From where he stood, he noticed a number of hoofprints. “Great! Looks like whoever fired the rifle rode a horse, too.”

Annie nodded. She moved carefully around the prints and placed the shell in Joe’s outstretched hand. Just that minimal contact with his hand—callused from hard, outdoor work—was unexpectedly thrilling. Trying to hide her response, she examined the hoofprints closely.

“Wait!” she whispered excitedly. “Take a look at this, will you?”

Joe hunkered down opposite Annie. He liked the husky enthusiasm in her voice as she pointed to a particular print. “What about it?” he asked, mystified by her excitement.

“The horse has a big chunk missing from the wall of its hoof. See? There’s a crescent-shaped piece gone. The horse has thrown a shoe; maybe he chipped his hoof on a rock.”

“Yeah?” Joe grunted.

Lifting her head, Annie met and held his blue gaze. For a moment, she felt a thrilling sense of joy move through her, hotter than the desert breeze. Joe was a powerful man, and her heightened senses were responding. He was masculine without being threatening, stimulating her in ways she’d never experienced. Mystified, Annie forced those discoveries aside and tried to explain the importance of the print.

“Horses are usually shod to protect their hooves. If they lose a shoe, they risk chipping the outer hoof wall or bruising the soft area known as the frog.” She pointed to the print. “This horse lost its shoe and chipped a chunk off the outside wall of its hoof. I can take a plaster cast of this, and we can go back to the stables to see which horse this matches—just like a fingerprint or a tire tread. If we find the horse, we might find out who rode it or owns it.”

Joe assimilated her explanation. If only he didn’t have to look into those warm, wide eyes of hers, with so much life sparkling from their depths. Part of him wanted simply to stand and stare like a love-smitten twelve-year-old. Fighting the desire, he said, “You’re assuming the horse was used by the sniper.”

“Yes,” Annie conceded slowly, “I am.”

“But if it was just someone riding out here, it may have nothing to do with the sniper.”

“Still, it’s a clue,” she urged. “A starting point. The sniper couldn’t have driven out here, or Ms. Tyler would have seen the vehicle. The only two ways he could have gotten here are on foot or, quicker, by horseback.” She twisted around and pointed to the deep ravine at the foot of the hill. “He could have hidden his mount down there and waited for her to ride by. She never would have seen the horse.”

It was good, basic logic, Joe had to admit. “Okay. Take a plaster cast of the print—and any others you think might be significant,” he ordered.

That done, they’d need to bring the evidence to Captain Ramsey. Glancing at his watch, Joe realized it would be nearly 1700 before they could finish here and drive over to the officer’s home with their findings. He watched Annie for a moment, then forced himself to continue searching the site. But the rocky ground had destroyed any possibility of prints elsewhere. Disgusted, Joe realized they’d probably end up with only the one hoofprint. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a bullet casing near the end of the boulderlike fortress. He crossed the rough terrain and picked it up.

“Bingo,” he said, holding it up to show Annie. “Here’s the second spent cartridge.”

Annie broke out in a wide smile of appreciation. “Good work!” she praised.

Heat sheeted through Joe at her beaming smile, and he stood frozen, stunned by the glow in her eyes and the radiance in her face. Such genuine happiness shone in her gold-flecked eyes that he was helpless to combat the rampant feeling rushing through him. Was the woman part witch? Casting a spell on him? Confusing him? Angrily, he spun around and walked down into the ravine, pretending to look for more prints. If only Annie wasn’t so beautiful—and in such a natural way. She looked completely at home in this arid land—a part of it rather than the stranger to it that he felt.

Disgruntled, Joe tried to shift his focus back to the investigation. No question about it. As soon as he possibly could, he would ask Captain Ramsey to put Annie in another section—permanently.

Chapter Three

Joe tried to fight the exhaustion he felt as he entered the office earlier than usual the next morning. He hadn’t slept well at all, so he’d decided to come in and try to work away his restlessness. It was 0730. Unhappy with the results of their consultation with Captain Ramsey last evening, Joe knew he had to talk to him about Annie. Wiping his eyes tiredly, he raised his hand in greeting to Rose, who waved back. She was always at work by 0730. Looking around at the sound of other footsteps, he was surprised to see Annie coming down the passageway, dressed in the normal brig attire of desert-camouflage utilities. Today, she carried the mandatory holster and pistol on the web belt encircling her waist. If possible, she looked more desirable to him than ever.

Panic struck Joe, and he gave Annie a brusque nod as he walked swiftly past her and out the door, ignoring her softly spoken, “Good morning.” Stepping into the passageway, he hoped that Captain Ramsey would be in his office. He knew Ramsey had been coming in every morning for about an hour before returning home, where Libby Tyler was continuing to recuperate under his care. Knocking at the officer’s door, he heard Ramsey call, “Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, Joe hesitated momentarily. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, and he felt a little shaky—completely unlike himself. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he knew he had to go through with this desperate, last-ditch effort. He had to make a confession to Captain Ramsey, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. What he had to tell him, Joe had hoped he’d never have to tell anyone, but he was backed into a corner now, with no other option that he could see. His strong, brown fingers wrapped around the highly polished brass doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, praying that once he heard the painful story, Ramsey would let Annie Yellow Horse be reassigned.

* * *

Joe tried to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth as he left Ramsey’s office. He felt tired, beaten and disappointed. Annie Yellow Horse was his partner—whether he wanted her or not. Ramsey hadn’t been moved by his tortured confession about the haunting past that walked with him every moment of every day. He stood in the passageway, feeling lost and guilt-ridden. Dammit, why did Annie Yellow Horse have to be so likable? One thing Joe knew: he couldn’t go back into the office and face her right now. It wasn’t her fault, even if he was just a little jealous of her tracking credentials. No, he didn’t dare to get close to a woman brig chaser ever again—even on a strictly professional basis. Their line of work was too dangerous, too filled with unknowns, to risk his heart again as he had with Jenny.

Joe walked slowly back down the passageway, uncertain of his destination. He just needed time to settle his roiling emotions, raised by talking about his sordid past. Blinking back sudden, unexpected tears, Joe shoved open a door that led him outside to a small alcove of thick green grass, a few silver-barked eucalyptus trees—and some much-needed solitude. Several picnic tables and benches were scattered around the lawn beneath the shade of the huge, graceful trees, but, thankfully, no one was using them.

Sitting down on one of the benches, Joe watched without interest as several robins hunted for worms on the recently watered grass. The dry heat of the California desert ebbed and flowed around him, but he didn’t really feel it. Off in the distance, he could hear a helicopter lifting off a pad at the base airport. He loved his life as a marine. And he liked Captain Ramsey. The man was fair, but he was blind, too. Maybe the captain’s feelings for Libby Tyler interfered with his ability to see that keeping Annie and Joe together was the wrong thing to do.