The Sheriff of Silverhill. Carol Ericson

element of danger when you’re investigating a series of murders. It comes with the job.”

      Shaking her head, Auntie Mary collapsed in her chair. “But this is different, isn’t it? This killer is targeting young Native American women…and you’re half Ute.”

      “Don’t worry.” Hitching her purse over her shoulder, Dana waved. “See you later.”

      Dana locked the dead bolt behind her. As she approached her car, a low growl rumbled from the underbrush at the edge of the driveway. She spun around, gripping her car keys in one clenched fist. Squinting into the darkness, her gaze tumbled across bushes and scrub, the glow from the lamppost touching their leaves with a blurry light. Auntie Mary’s house sat on the edge of the reservation and blackness smothered the rest of the landscape where ominous shapes hunched and waited.

      Would wild animals from the mountains venture this close to a populous area? Her gaze swept from side to side, taking in the unrelenting wilderness hugging the clearing of reservation homes. The reservation didn’t exactly occupy the hub of civilization.

      She grasped the door handle of her rental car and tugged. A louder, more menacing growl sent a river of chills up her spine as she yanked open the car door. Her keys slid from her clammy hand, and she swore as she crouched to retrieve them.

      A rush of damp air surrounded her. Cold fingers gripped the back of her neck, pushing her to the ground, immobilizing her. She froze in place, her knees grinding into the rough gravel. Her jaw locked, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

      A whisper as soft as the wind brushed her ear. “Go away. You might be next.”

       Chapter Two

      The hand grasping Dana’s neck melted away, and she hunched her shoulders against the cold vice that lingered even as her attacker relinquished his grip. The bushes rustled, and she rolled her head to the side, picking out two golden orbs glowing in the night as if suspended in the darkness.

      Feral eyes.

      As the eyes faded in the darkness, Dana seemed to recover from a trance. Her rigid muscles relaxed and she slumped forward, leaning her forehead against the car door.

      A footstep crunched the gravel next to her and a scream ripped from her throat.

      “Dana, what the hell happened? What are you doing on the ground?”

      Blinking, Dana tried to focus her gaze on a pair of cowboy boots. Safety. Security. Rafe.

      “S-someone attacked me.” She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the handle of the car door to struggle to her feet.

      Rafe cursed and hooked his arms beneath hers, pulling her up and into his embrace. She sank against his broad chest, inhaling his clean, masculine scent, which seemed to revive her senses.

      “Where’d he go?”

      She raised her arm and with a shaky finger, pointed toward the underbrush. Rafe withdrew his weapon and gripped her shoulder. “You’re going back inside.”

      “Dana? What’s going on?” An oblong of light appeared where Auntie Mary opened her front door.

      “Go.” Rafe gave her a shove from behind and stalked toward the bushes.

      “No!” Dana lunged toward him, grabbing his forearm. “Don’t go in there, Rafe.”

      He cupped her face with one hand. “Don’t worry. Get inside the house.”

      Dana stumbled toward Auntie Mary, who encircled her waist with one sinewy arm and drew her onto the porch. A beam of light from Rafe’s flashlight pierced the darkness as he crashed through the underbrush.

      Dana held her breath, watching the foliage engulf him. Would Rafe’s gun be any match for what awaited him in the darkness?

      Auntie Mary patted her arm. “He’s going to be fine. What happened?”

      “A man attacked me from behind while I was getting into my car.”

      Auntie Mary gasped and squeezed Dana’s hand. “He’s come after you sooner than I expected.”

      “He didn’t come after me, at least not with murder on his mind. He whispered a warning. He may not even be the killer. Maybe it’s some sicko playing a joke. A serial murder investigation brings all the wackos out of the closet.”

      With each sensible phrase she uttered, Dana gained a foothold back to reality.

      “Did you get a look at him?”

      “No. He came at me from behind, grabbed my neck.”

      “You didn’t twist around to see him or go for your weapon?” Auntie Mary’s dark eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, and Dana turned away to stare at the bushes where Rafe disappeared.

      She didn’t want to tell Auntie Mary about the growling or the yellow eyes or her trancelike state. She shook her head to dispel the images from her youth at Auntie Mary’s knee, listening to the tales of the Ute spirits who took the forms of animals—birds, rabbits, bears and the most powerful of all…the wolf. The hand that grabbed the back of her neck and the voice that uttered the warning belonged to a man…a dangerous one. She may have imagined the rest in her terror.

      “My gun was in my purse. I figured if I went for it, he’d kill me.”

      Rafe crashed back through the underbrush, saving her from another assault of Auntie Mary’s questions.

      He holstered his weapon and brushed bits of leaves and twigs from his shirt. He walked to the porch and balanced one foot on the first step. “Nothing. What happened out here, Dana?”

      She recounted her story about dropping her keys and being grabbed from behind, leaving out the wolf bits. She didn’t need Rafe questioning her sanity. “And then he warned me to go away, that I might be next.”

      “It’s the killer.” He scooped her back into his arms, and it felt so right. But she was an FBI agent here to do a job, not a love-struck teenager.

      “Maybe not.” She disentangled herself from his warmth, his protective embrace. “He might be some nut who knows I’m investigating the murders.”

      “Either way, you need protection. Why didn’t you use your weapon?”

      Dana didn’t want to tell Rafe about her trancelike feeling. “My gun’s in my purse. I didn’t want to risk going for it.”

      Rafe rolled his eyes. “What are they teaching you out there at Langley?”

      Dana folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here, anyway? I told you I didn’t need a ride into town.”

      “I had business on the reservation. I figured I’d pick you up on the way. Emmett’s already in Silverhill. It’s a good thing I came out here.”

      Dana turned to Auntie Mary. “Are you going to be safe here tonight? Maybe you should stay with Alice and Gerald next door until I get home.”

      “Nonsense.” Auntie Mary’s hands fluttered. “I’m neither young nor pretty. I don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, the aura of danger I see encompasses you, not me.”

      “Aura of danger?” Rafe jerked his head up.

      Dana shot Auntie Mary a look through narrowed eyes and snorted. “Vague superstitions. That’s all. Just vague superstitions.”

      As Rafe placed his hand on her back to guide her toward the car, Dana stared into the blackness and saw…nothing.

      Nothing at all.

      D ANA HAD A SECRET .

      Rafe clicked his seat belt into place, started the engine and glanced to his right. Damn, despite her recent scare, the woman looked good enough to lick up one side and down the other.

      Her appearance at the murder scene this morning hadn’t