Shadow Wolf. Jenna Kernan

      Kino exhaled in frustration. All he knew from his own observation was that the man was white and driving a red truck while wearing a stained cowboy hat. Oh, and that he chewed tobacco. It didn’t narrow the field much.

      “What are you doing here?” Kino asked. “There’s not supposed to be any water stations on tribal land.”

      She glanced around. “I was just following my map.”

      Clueless or a liar? As he tried to decide, Kino took a page from his older brother Gabe’s book. Gabe was the chief of tribal police back on Black Mountain and often said, “If a suspect’s lips are moving, assume they are lying.” If she knew where she was, then she also knew that the tribe had pulled the plug on Oasis and their little water parties.

      “Where is your partner? I thought you guys always traveled in pairs.”

      “I...I have special permission.”

      “That’s bull.”

      Her failure to meet his gaze confirmed it. The way she shifted in place and worried the turquoise ring on her index finger made him think that she was lying. If she’d lie about this, she might be lying about not knowing the perp or, worse, she might be working with him.

      “Okay. I’m detaining you.”

      “What! Why?”

      “Because you’re a witness. Plus, you’re lying to me, Miss Altaha, and I don’t like being lied to.”

      “Okay. Look, I know this area is usually off-limits. But I’m Apache and—”

      “Not Apache land.”

      Kino knew that damned well because border patrol wasn’t allowed to be here, either. They had to be invited. That was probably why BP was always pumping their captain for information. Because only the Shadow Wolves had permission to pursue traffickers onto sacred lands.

      He glanced at the men lying still and baking with the rocks that littered the thirsty ground. How did anyone live in a place so dry?

      “Maybe you were here to meet them.”

      “I wasn’t. I’m here to check this station and add water.”

      “I thought the O’odham wanted the stations removed from their land.”

      “Yes, but the migrants—”

      “Smugglers,” he corrected.

      “No. Migrants. They’re crossing here and they are dying here.”

      “Yeah, less security here, no fences. Makes it easier.”

      “Easier? To cross a desert in June? Thirteen bodies only last week. One of them was a nine-year-old girl.”

      Almost the same age as his sister, he realized. Lea had scored a point and this time it was Kino who glanced away. But her voice followed him.

      “Have you ever tried to cross this desert without water?”

      No one could. He gave his own water bottle a flick. It was only half-full but they always carried extra in the truck.

      “Did you ever think that if there were no water stations, they might not be so willing to take the chance? How many come because they expect to find Oasis and missed your water stations by a few hundred yards?”

      She pressed her lips together and the corners of her mouth tugged down. “We save lives.”

      “Maybe. But how many have you cost?”

      “You don’t care. If you did, you wouldn’t be working for the Feds.” It was an old resentment that went all the way back to Fort Apache. His people had acted as scouts and trackers. His people had worked with the Americans and had helped them find Geronimo. In exchange they had remained on their land instead of being relocated to Oklahoma. But so had hers. So she had no rights to the “us against them” argument.

      “I’m working for myself.”

      “Shadow Wolf. That’s what you are, right? Special consultant, tracking the ones the Americans can’t find.”

      “What’s wrong with that?”

      “Not our business. The Spanish, the Mexicans and then the Americans. They all tried to take this land. It’s ours.”

      “So why are you helping the Mexicans?”

      “They’re people. Not Mexicans. Not illegals. People. Women, children, desperately poor who have it so bad back there—” she gestured south “—that they’ll take their lives in their hands to cross this. That’s who I am helping.”

      “And drug smugglers and the cartel.”

      “They have trucks, planes and ATVs.”

      Kino pointed at the bodies just past her line of sight. “Not those four. They stopped here, for water. A natural meeting place.”

      She stared him down. “And a place for hunters to overtake their prey. Always has been. Isn’t that right?”

      Kino glanced down the road to where it disappeared into the scrub and cactus. Where was his brother and the damned truck?

      The buzz of insects dragged his attention back to the bodies. The flies had already found them. Buzzards would be next. He had to call it in.

      He lifted his radio and relayed to the captain the important details, including their location. These bodies meant that border patrol would have to be called because they were the ones with the body bags and the refrigerated truck to transport them. His captain was thirty minutes out.

      “What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

      “I’m detaining you for questioning.”

      Kino turned to Lea and offered his hand. She took it and slid off the seat, bringing with her a shower of broken glass. Her grip was strong, as if he were all that kept her anchored. He walked her to the rear of the pickup, watching her as she scanned the ground, getting a closer look at the bodies.

      “Holy smokes,” she whispered.

      “Yeah. You’re a lucky woman. But you should think about carrying a gun. A rifle at least.”

      She did not take even an instant to consider it but shook her head.

      “A pistol, then. Not just for traffickers. There are rattlers out here. Big ones. And Gila monsters. Though you have to be pretty slow to be bitten by one of those.”

      She shivered and folded her arms across her as if that could protect her from bullets. It wouldn’t.

      “If I hadn’t stopped him, you’d have joined them. I can get you a rifle, help you pick one out. Teach you how to shoot, if you like.”

      “No, thank you.”

      “Why not?”

      “I’m a pacifist.”

      “You’re a what?”

      “I don’t believe in violence of any sort. And I don’t believe in shooting at people for any reason.” She stared right at him as she spoke, her words an accusation.

      The ungrateful thing, he thought. “So you would have just let him shoot you? Wouldn’t even fight back?”

      “That’s right.”

      Kino shook his head, still disbelieving. How could anyone just stand there and let someone kill them without making even the most basic attempt to save themselves?

      “I don’t understand,” he said.

      “Most folks don’t.”

      She dusted away the shards of glass still clinging to the folds of her T-shirt. He retrieved a glittering piece from her hair. Then he lowered the truck gate and grasped her lightly around the waist before boosting