Desert Heat. Kathleen Pickering

these kids.”

      The younger man followed suit. “Jose Lopez.”

      “Bill Mewith,” said the Judumi. His handshake was strong, and his eyes held the guarded look of a man recognizing a stranger as one of his own. “I read your profile. Your father was Judumi.”

      Tico appreciated the guy’s direct approach. “So I’ve been told. You look like a tribesman.”

      Mewith nodded. “As do you, brother. You’d fit right in around here.”

      That hit Tico like a gut punch. Did he want to fit in where he didn’t want to be?

      “Next you’ll be inviting him home for some fry bread and roasted quail,” Meg Flores said, looking miffed with her colleague.

      Tico leaned back in his chair. “I can see we’ll get along just fine, Detective Flores.”

      “You need riding lessons.”

      “And you could use some manners.”

      Chief Longwood took over. “That’s enough. Let’s get one thing straight right away, Meg. Tico didn’t ask for this assignment. He agreed to come after lots of persuasion. So a show of respect is expected. We have a job to do. Let’s all get along or go home.” He looked pointedly at Meg. “Am I clear?”

      Meg nodded once. “Shall I pass out the latest files?”

      Tico took a moment to peruse the file she handed him, even though the others probably knew he’d already seen a detailed report. Staying impassive when staring at the smiling faces of the three missing women was still hard for him to do. A case was simply a puzzle to be solved until photos revealed the people involved.

      The kidnapped women in Adobe Creek were what had triggered the call for Tico to assist in breaking this case. The mayor of this town worked on a special task force to fight human trafficking, a crime that had become more prolific over the years. The miles of unpatrolled border made abductions child’s play for the underworld. Adobe Creek’s finest worked hard to keep the cartels away from their residents and, up to this point, had been successful, but someone had crossed the line. Not wanting to waste a minute, the locals had summoned Tico—three times until he’d finally agreed. Tico didn’t miss the set of the detectives’ jaws as they perused the files in front of them.

      Chief Longwood began the discussion. “The Adobe Creek Police Department doesn’t like having women go missing within its boundaries. Heck, we don’t like women going missing at all, but when it happens on our turf, it’s war.

      “Tico, as you know, we’ve been tracking the Carlito ring coming from Mexico for two years now without a whiff of a lead once they cross the border. Can’t even figure out where they’re crossing. Now that they’ve hit our town, they’re in our backyard. Not acceptable.”

      “Where do you lose the trail?” Tico asked.

      Longwood thumbed over his shoulder. “Adobe Creek is adjacent to the Nogales-Phoenix corridor, which has eight thousand square miles of the most inhospitable land in southern Arizona.”

      “They also trespass across the reservation, coming on foot and with trucks that destroy fences and vegetation,” Bill Mewith added. “The tribe has men we call shadow wolves on the hunt all the time. Sometimes they get a lead, but the trail turns dry by the time they get over another rise.”

      Mitchell said, “Last week a load of drones headed straight for the sensors, pulling every lawman in a five-mile radius. All bogus. We learned later that the drones were sent to distract our forces while they launched over fifty mule trains from different points. They get a kick out of jerking us around with decoys.”

      Tico frowned. “They’re not using planes, I take it?”

      Longwood shook his head. “The feds have some pretty sophisticated tracking equipment, but the cartel scouts have technology that hasn’t even hit the States yet. They don’t need to use planes. Too noisy. The ground works just fine.”

      Meg Flores had been surprisingly quiet. Tico was glad when she finally spoke. “We’ve come up dry in all directions,” she said grudgingly.

      Tico liked the velvet-smooth sound of her voice, like a blend of bourbon and honey. Her words lit a fire in her eyes. He didn’t blame her for being angry. What concerned him was whether or not her outrage would cloud her judgment.

      “You investigated the celebrity resort?” He made a show of checking his file although he knew the name. “The Quarry?”

      “Last time we checked the resort, everything looked clean,” Mitchell Blake said. “And none of the missing women live there.”

      Meg looked at Tico. “The chief thinks you can infiltrate the area more easily than the rest of us.”

      Tico tapped his badge. “Can I take my horse, too?”

      Meg groaned. “God spare us.”

      Bill leaned toward Tico. “Word of advice, brother? Don’t ever let a tribesman see you riding. They’d put you to shame for not being able to man a horse.”

      Tico almost winced. Mewith had called him brother, twice. He didn’t like being recognized as a Judumi, even though he had the traditional almond-shaped eyes and angular face of his father’s people. He had enough of his mother’s New York Irish in him to stand apart in both attitude and lineage.

      The other men laughed.

      Tico pointed to the pitcher of water. “Mind if I help myself?”

      At the chief’s nod, he reached for a glass and felt his muscles pull all the way down to his left hip. Damned horse. He wanted to groan but just kept reaching. The others kept silent as he poured water. He held up the pitcher. “Anyone else?”

      Blake stood and headed for the coffeepot. Flores already had a cup of coffee. No one else answered. Tico drank, glad to wash the road dust out of his throat. “Who reported the missing women?”

      “Family. Tina Marks and Cheryl Hall are high school seniors from Bisbee. Came to Adobe Creek to tube on the river with friends. They went out on an errand to the shopping mall and never came back.”

      Tico appraised the three photos. The high school seniors were blonde and brunette. Both long hair, but different looks. The other woman was a local resident, a mother of two small children. Janice Carlton was older than the other two but not by more than five or six years. Again, with dyed blond hair falling at her jawline, she had a different look. So, no common element here except for the fact that they were women.

      “You’ve questioned boyfriends, neighbors? Janice Carlton’s ex-husband and friends?”

      Meg shot him a quelling glance. “All of our investigations are in the report. We’ve been to all suspected areas—twice. Did you not read your copy?”

      He let a grin play on his face. “Night reading. I usually fell asleep before finishing.”

      She slapped her forehead. “Chief, I beg you. Do we really have to talk to this guy?”

      Eric let his gaze slide from Meg to Tico. “What are you getting at, Tico?”

      “I’m suggesting that perhaps we need to go back to all the original points of investigation one more time.”

      The room fell quiet. The burnt smell of coffee invaded Tico’s nostrils. The hot plate sizzled with coffee Blake had spilled when pouring his cup. Tico took another sip of water, if only to give the others time to digest his suggestion.

      “See if there are any contradictions the third time around?” Bill asked.

      “Yes. It’s hard for people to remember the details they tell when they’re lying. And sometimes when the stress lets up a bit, people have time to remember facts.” Tico tapped the page. “I see the mother was recently divorced. Lived alone with her children.”

      “Lives alone,” Meg said, sending a heated