"Are those copies of the crime scene pictures, Katie?" Lance asked then. "I'd like to keep them if I could; maybe Harmony can go over them later and spot something."
"Yeah, they're copies." She handed the file over. "I sure hope you find something. Bert Feldon wasn't liked much, but until he was convicted, he had a right to breathe." If he was innocent, he had a right to breathe, though Harmony kept the thought to herself. At this point there was no way to tell.
"Did you find anything in his home?" she asked the sheriff instead. Sheriff Grasse shook her head. "It was clean." She checked her watch then, breathing out roughly. "I have to head out, but if you need anything else just let me know."
"Thanks again, Katie, and tell Ben I said hi." Lance nodded as she lifted a hand in farewell and turned away.
"I'm ready to go," Harmony said as the sheriff moved to her vehicle. Harmony refused to look at Lance as she headed for his Raider.
"Would Jonas try to frame you, Harmony?" The question Lance posed didn't surprise her.
She opened the door to the Raider and slid into the seat. She pushed her fingers wearily through her hair.
"The hell if I know what Jonas would do anymore." She sighed. "But he didn't make that kill." He could, however, have ordered it.
Harmony remained silent through the ride back to Broken Butte, her head turned, her gaze trained on the scenery outside the window.
Being trapped inside the Raider with Lance was hell on the arousal tormenting her, and it made clear thinking next to impossible.
As Lance pulled the Raider to a stop in front of the house, Harmony jumped from the vehicle and stalked around it.
"I didn't make that kill," she informed him, the anger beginning to burn inside her. Anger and arousal, frustration and irritation—they were beginning to build along with the hunger that ate at her.
"I never imagined you did," he stated as he moved behind her. The house keys jangled in his hand as they started for the front door.
"And you came up with that one how?" she snapped, glaring back at him. "You think you're so good that I couldn't slip out of the house without you knowing about it? Trust me, Lance, I'm good enough to do it."
"Yep. You're good enough." He nodded, his expression serious, though if she wasn't mistaken she could see the amusement gleaming in his eyes.
"How would you know?" She snorted as they stepped up on the porch and Lance unlocked the door slowly.
He was too trusting for a sheriff, she thought. He should have been instantly suspicious of her, not instantly defensive.
She stepped into the house cautiously, her gaze going quickly over the entry way, kitchen/dining room and the lower level of the living room as Lance stepped in behind her.
"Security systems can be bypassed, Lance," she reminded him severely.
"But the winds cannot be."
Harmony whirled around as an old man stepped from Lance's room, his bowed legs encased in deerskin pants, a black Metallica shirt covering his upper body. Long gray braids fell across his chest, and his heavily creased face stretched into a smile as Lance caught Harmony's hand on her weapon.
"Settle down, wildcat," he said and sighed. "Meet my grandfather, Joseph Redwolf. Grandfather, this is—"
"The assassin." Black eyes crinkled with a smile as he shuffled forward slowly, his head tilting, his gnarled hands pushing inside the wide pockets of his pants. "She does not look like a killer, Grandson. Perhaps in this case, the winds have not whispered all the secrets to my old ears. What do you think?"
"I think I'm ready for a drink," Lance said and sighed again. "A very long, very stiff drink. Anyone want to join me?"
CHAPTER 11
"She is a beautiful woman, Grandson. The earth has done well for you," Joseph commented as Lance poured his second drink and wondered when the hell this day was going to end.
"Don't start, Grandfather," he growled.
Joseph chuckled, a rough rasp that reminded him of his grandfather's age. He turned back to the old man, watching him closely. Joseph hadn't been moving around much lately. He'd been spending a lot more time than usual at home.
"Ah, it is good to see you finally settling down." Joseph nodded firmly. "The earth whispers her name with yours, and the music of its pleasure bodes well. The journey you travel together will be one that will challenge you."
Lance snorted at that. He was glad one of them could make sense of the whispers in the wind, because he sure as hell wasn't making any headway.
"But it is one that brings danger." Joseph watched him closely now. "It whispers death but not of blood. There are times the winds are not as giving as others." It was one of the reasons Lance had fought the messages carried on the winds. There were never answers, only more questions.
"Do you still fight the secrets it would bring you, Grandson?" Joseph finally asked sadly. Lance sighed wearily. "I'm trying, Grandfather." He stared back at the old man. "But, like you said, sometimes the winds aren't as giving as others."
Joseph nodded slowly. "But you can hear what is important. You know she is your woman, and that danger follows. Heed them and they will see you through this."
"Or see me dead," Lance muttered before tossing back his drink.
"I hear no cry of your death." Joseph shrugged. "Should you end up dead then it will be at your own ignorance, not the will of the earth."
That was his grandfather, sympathetic to the end.
"It's nice to know something is still left in my hands," Lance growled in frustration. "I was starting to wonder."
His grandfather chuckled at the comment.
"I wished only to stop by and meet your young woman," Joseph said then. "I know now why I heard the cries in the winds though. She is a woman wounded, yes?" Wounded was a mild word for what he felt inside of Harmony. Sometimes, he could sense her nightmares, sense the pain that drove her and her fear of ever needing anyone.
"Yeah. She is." He smacked the glass to the bar before grimacing tightly. "Jonas brought her here, and I have a feeling he's playing a very dangerous game with her."
"Ah yes, Jonas Wyatt." Joseph sighed. "He is a difficult one, that young Lion. He fights what he is, and what his soul yearns for. When a warrior fights such an elemental part of himself, he is bound to often hurt others. It is his destiny to learn his lessons the hard way."