Naked Edge (45 page)

"You tried to kill me, too." Kat felt a surge of loathing for the man who stood in front of her.

No, not a man. A monster in the skin of a man.

A true skinwalker.

She pushed harder, needing answers. "The death threats. The break-in at my house. The human bone that was mailed to my office. The shooting at Mesa Butte. The leaves in Gabe's furnace flue. You were behind all of that, weren't you?"

"I kept trying to scare you off the story, but you just didn't get the point. After you found the trenches, I knew it was only a matter of time before you uncovered the truth, so I had to get serious. But now I have a question for you. What do you know about Paul Martin?"

She cradled her left wrist with her right arm, breathing easier now, her nausea subsiding. "I know his brother-in-law used to own the land. I know he got the city to buy it and hid the fact that there are Indian burials there. Did you learn about the burials from him?"

Webb gave a snort, his breath rising in a mist. "I've known what was out there since before I became a ranger. At first I just picked stuff up off the ground--pots, arrowheads. It was good money. Then I had to dig. Bones, moccasins, beads--that was better money. Martin and his brother-in-law caught me trespassing once when the land was still theirs, but they didn't call the cops because they didn't want anyone to know that shit was there or they'd have never sold the land. Instead, they asked for a cut of whatever I took. When Martin talked the city into buying the land, I made a deal with him. He would let me take what I wanted, and I wouldn't give away what I knew about him."

Webb spoke of desecrating graves as if it were just a business, showing no respect for those whose bones rested in the earth, or his role as a ranger, or for life. He'd been witched--by money. During the workday he hid behind the face of man who cared for the land. When his uniform came off, he plundered it.

"So this is just about money?" She couldn't help the disgust that leaked into her voice. "That's disappointing."

"Taking artifacts was about money. I've got kids in college, and I like to wager. I have to come up with the money somehow. But killing you isn't about money. It's about saving my own ass. I'm not going to prison."

Kat hoped he'd step closer, her fingers itching to draw the knife. She kept her voice steady. "Was Officer Daniels in on that deal?"

"Daniels? Hell, no. Daniels is just so stupid and so hungry to get promoted that he does whatever Martin tells him to do--and thinks it's his own idea. Martin tells him people are complaining about Indians building illegal bonfires on Mesa Butte and hints that someone needs to act, and the next night, Daniels breaks up your little sweat lodge ceremony. Then Martin gives him a pat on the back. Good dog."

And Kat knew. "You put the file with my articles in his trunk, didn't you?"

But Webb ignored her question. He grabbed her left wrist and bent it back.

She screamed, her knees buckling, the pain so terrible she forgot all about the knife, her mind going blank in a rush of agony.

Webb leaned over her, pressed his grizzled face close to hers. "My turn to ask questions. Who else knows about Martin?"

She sobbed out the words, fighting to hold on, tears streaming down her face. "Everyone! Everyone knows! I wrote about it ... for tomorrow's paper!"

He seemed to study her, his eyes still hidden behind goggles. "You're lying."

"No!" she sobbed. "I'm not!"

He released her. "Fucking bitch! You'll pay for this."

Dizzy and panting, Kat sank to the ground, then choked out a laugh as the absurdity of his implied threat hit her. "What will you do? Kill me?"

He glared at her, then reached down and took her chin between his fingers. "Watch yourself, or I might find more interesting ways for you to die. Then again, you seem to enjoy pain."

Willing herself to stand, Kat watched Webb's back as he trudged back to the snowmobile. "It's falling apart, Ranger Webb. Your whole plan--it's crumbling. You wanted to make this look like an accident, but there's evidence of a struggle all over this mountainside. The drug is still in Gabe's system. You struck a deal with Mr. Martin, but he's been exposed. I doubt Martin will sacrifice himself to protect you. You'd be better off just leaving us here and making a run for Mexico."

Webb's back stiffened, but he ignored her. He straddled the snowmobile, started it, and Kat felt herself jerked forward once more.

TRAPPED IN HIS own private hell, Gabe drifted in and out, listening but unable to do a thing while Kat fought Webb with every bit of strength and courage she had, her screams tearing a hole in his chest.

I know what you're trying to do. You're stalling, hoping your boyfriend will wake up and rescue you.

He was trying. God knew he was trying.

Webb had hurt her. Gabe had gotten pieces of it--his threats, her agonized cries and whimpers. But he couldn't put the pieces together, too fucked up to focus.

More than a few times he'd thought he'd shot Webb or beat the shit out of him and freed Kat from this nightmare. But then he'd realized he was still dreaming--or hallucinating. And he'd find himself drifting again.

Still, the ketamine-induced haze was lifting. Little by little it was lifting, his mind growing clearer, his thoughts sharper.

He willed his eyes to open, got a view of darkened sky above him. He willed his eyes to open again, looked toward his feet, and saw Kat being pulled along behind them, barely able to stay upright, her face a mask of pain and fatigue.

I'm so sorry, honey. Hang in there. You're not alone.

KAT ALWAYS THOUGHT she'd die at home surrounded by the Four Sacred Mountains, children and grandchildren beside her, her last words carried into the sky by the wind. Now it seemed as if she would die here, on a mountain whose name she didn't know, no
hataathlii
to sing for her, the man she loved dead beside her in the snow.

She trudged along behind the sled, more exhausted than she could ever remember feeling, her thighs aching, her clothes wet from falling in the snow so many times, her body wracked with cold. She'd quit struggling a while back, realizing she'd need whatever strength she had left at the end. No matter how tired she was, no matter what it cost her, she would fight him.

They were near the top of the cliff now, the wind so cold that it stole her breath.

Or maybe that was fear.

And without realizing it, she began to sing, tears trickling down her wind-burned cheeks. It was a corn-grinding song, something her grandmother had taught her when she was a very little girl pretending to grind corn while her grandmother sat stringing her loom or weaving one of her beautiful rugs. Even though Kat could barely hear herself over the drone of the snowmobile, the words came to her easily, the feel of Dine on her tongue soothing her, easing her fears.

Though she was in pain, exhausted, and freezing cold, she felt strangely alive. A frigid wind caught her hair, its icy breath cleansing, the scents of snow and pine fresh and invigorating. The moon rose over the horizon making the snow sparkle, the landscape coldly serene. Overhead, stars glowed like little campfires, and she found herself remembering the dream she'd had about Grandpa Red Crow.

You must do what I asked you to do. This will be the fight of your life. Be strong, Kimimila.

And then it struck her. Maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. Maybe she'd been so close to death that some part of her had actually spoken with him. Maybe he could see her now and knew that she was still fighting.

I haven't given up, Grandpa. I won't give up.

She kept singing, her words growing stronger as they moved toward the highest point above the cliff. Slowly and carefully, she drew the knife from her pocket, holding it tight in her right hand.

CHAPTER 30

GABE FELT THE snowmobile stop, heard Webb cut the engine, the world silent apart from the melancholy sound of Kat's singing and the beating of his own heart. He felt the sled rock as Webb climbed off the snowmobile, heard the crunch of Webb's boots in the snow. He willed himself to stay limp, to wait just a few more seconds.

Then Webb spoke, clearly facing away from the sled. "Here's as good as any place else, I guess. It's three to four hundred feet to the ground here. I don't imagine it'll hurt as much as what you've put yourself through today. Be grateful for that at least. I could've done anything to you I felt like doing."

Yeah, Webb, you asshole--you're the soul of compassion.

Gabe watched from beneath his eyelashes as Kat stood before Webb, not backing away, not running, her chin held high, her dignity intact despite everything Webb had done to her. But Gabe wouldn't let Webb hurt her again. His muscles tensed for action--for real this time, not as part of a hallucination.

"Y-you're going to throw us over the side here?" She asked the question casually, as if she were asking Webb where he'd like to stop for a picnic.

"That's the idea." Webb drew the Taser from his parka, clearly intending to stun Kat again.

"No!" she pleaded. "Not again, please!"

"I can't imagine you're going to go without a fight, so--"

Ignoring his lingering dizziness, Gabe sprang up from the sled, threw the rope over Webb's head, and drew it tight against his throat. "You want to fight, you son of bitch? Try me!"

He met Kat's gaze for a fleeting second, surprise and overwhelming relief in her eyes, her sweet face lined with pain and exhaustion.

But the ketamine must have turned Gabe into an idiot, because he'd forgotten entirely about the Taser. The force of it took him by surprise, dropping him in one second flat, the pain overwhelming. He couldn't help but cry out, the part of him that could still think amazed that Kat had endured it as many times as she had.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her move in on Webb, her right arm making a slashing motion, something in her hand.

A knife.

Webb yelped, dropped the stun gun.

Gabe's pain ended abruptly, and he lay, limp, in the snow, muscle control returning too slowly for him to stop Webb from lifting the rope from around his neck and going after Kat. But if she was afraid, she didn't let it show.

"So much for looking like an accident. Your blood is on the snow, on my hands, on the knife. They'll know you did this." She backed away from him on her snowshoes, crouched like a wildcat about to pounce, while Webb had to trudge, buried up to his knees in powder.

But Webb had the size advantage--and a much longer reach than Kat. The bastard backhanded her, knocking her into the snow. "Goddamn you!"

"Leave her the fuck alone!" But no one was listening to Gabe. "Webb, no!"

Kat landed by the sled, one of her snowshoes coming off, the knife flying from her grasp. But she hadn't given up. She grabbed one of Webb's ski poles from the sled and swung it at his head, making him duck, distracting him, slowing him down.

Way to go, Kat.

Gabe lurched unsteadily to his feet, throwing himself toward the knife, his hand closing over its cold handle just as Webb's hand closed around his wrist. But Webb was determined. He fell on Gabe, the two rolling through the snow.

"Gabe! The cliff!"

He heard Kat's cry of warning and realized he and Webb were perilously close to the cliff's edge. He head-butted Webb, pain splitting his skull at the impact of bone on bone. Webb groaned, his grasp weakening. Then he rolled off Gabe, crawled a few feet away, blood pouring from his nose.

Gabe stood, the knife in his hand. "So this the real you, huh, Webb? A grave robber, a man who tortures women, a cold-blooded killer? I trusted you, you asshole. I admired you. I worked my ass off for you."

"Fuck you, Rossiter, you self-righteous prick." Webb staggered to his feet. "You think those artifacts are better off lying in the dirt? I needed the money to clear up some debts. Someone was going to take them eventually. Why not me?"

"The artifacts don't belong to you." Gabe circled, slowly trying to put himself between Webb and Kat. "They belonged to people who were buried with them."

A strange expression flitted across Webb's face, then he smiled. He reached into his coat and drew his Glock. "I forgot I had this. Since my DNA is all over the place, I might as well blow your heads off and finish this."

Gabe was about to make a desperate lunge with the knife, when Webb pitched forward in the snow, writhing at Gabe's feet, howling like a wounded animal.

Behind him stood Kat, pressing the electrodes of the Taser directly against Webb's back, giving Webb a well-deserved taste of his own medicine. "Do you enjoy pain? Do you?"

Gabe heard the quaver in her voice, something twisting in his chest to think how many times that same weapon had been used on her today. He needed to get her off this mountain and to a hospital. She was exhausted, probably hypothermic, and from the way she'd been holding her left wrist, it was almost certainly broken.

He tucked the knife in his pocket, grabbed the Glock, then pointed it at Webb's head. "It's over, Webb. Where's your cell phone?"

Webb raised his head, his gaze flicking toward the sled, where his backpack still sat, the expression on his face like that of a cornered animal, and Gabe knew he was trying to plot a way out of his own mess. "It's here. In my pocket."