LITMIR.BIZ

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She drew swiftly back.

      “I’m not going for a weapon, Agent Connor. I need to show you something.”

      “I don’t think so.” The brief humanity he’d shown a few minutes ago had gone. In its place was distrust. “I let those amber eyes of yours lull me into letting my guard down once already. I won’t make that mistake again.”

      “My eyes are plain brown, for heaven’s sake.” She pressed her lips together. “If you’re worried I’ve got a weapon stashed in here, then you get my wallet out for me. It…it’s important,” she added. “I think you’re going to want to see this before you make that call to your director.”

      She let go of her purse. He narrowed his gaze assessingly at her. “All right. I’ll let you show me whatever it is you think is so important, and then you stop stalling and allow me to make my call without having to keep a gun trained on you every second. Deal?”

      “Deal.” She bit her lip as he extracted a leather wallet from the jumble of junk in her purse. “Open it. Pull out the plastic photo protector under the flap.”

      He complied and handed the small sheaf of photos to her. In return she handed him the tiny one from Joey’s backpack.

      “That’s Joey and his mom,” she said. “I guess she didn’t have the money for a department-store portrait, so she had their pictures taken together in one of those booths.”

      “Yeah, it looks like. His hair’s slicked down, and she obviously arranged the two of them in a pose before she activated the camera,” Connor agreed.

      He glanced at the curled-up figure in the bed beside them. “From what I know of his background, he’s already had more than his share of rough knocks, poor kid. His father was killed in a car accident before he was born, and his mother apparently couldn’t seem to keep even the menial jobs she occasionally found. He pretty much grew up on the street. When she died and he was put into the system, he kept hanging around his old haunts, like the alleyway where he saw MacLeish kill Quayle.”

      He held the photo out to her. “It’s always better when family can step in and take over the responsibility for a child, instead of them being shoved into an already overloaded system. Too bad Joey wasn’t one of the lucky ones.”

      “Joey’s luck just changed.” Tess didn’t take the picture he was holding, but instead slipped one from her wallet. “Everything just changed, Agent. This is a picture of me and my sister, the last one taken of us together. She ran away when I was nine and she was seventeen. Years later I tried to find her, but I never learned what had happened to her.”

      She swallowed, and forced her next words past the lump in her throat. “Until now.”

      She handed him the photo from her purse. She saw his gaze sharpen, saw him glance from one picture to the other. He looked up from the two photos to her and she nodded.

      “That’s right, Joey’s my nephew. His mom was my sister. I…I guess Darla’s monsters got her in the end,” she said unevenly. “I’m not going to let that happen to her son.”

      Through her tears she stared at him. “Whatever authority the FBI thought they had before Joey’s aunt showed up, I’m the one keeping the monsters away from him now.”

      Chapter Four

      “Even if it was my decision to make, I couldn’t let you waltz out of here with a federal witness just because you say you’re Joey’s aunt.”

      Raking a hand through his hair, Connor turned from the woman sitting on the edge of the bed and moved restlessly to the window, something he’d found himself doing with increasing frequency since Tess had discovered the photo she seemed to think clinched her claim to Joey. Despite the heated discussion they’d been engaged in since, he still hadn’t been able to make her understand that her position hadn’t changed to any great degree—certainly not enough to have stopped him from phoning Area Director Arne Jansen with the news that the boy had been found.

      At the end of the line of units a single light was burning in the motel’s office, but otherwise the darkness outside was undisturbed. He hadn’t expected the two backup agents Jansen was sending to have arrived yet. He’d just needed a break from the angry gaze Tess was lasering at him. He turned to face her again.

      “I agree the Agency fumbled the ball in guarding Joey, but I promise we won’t slip up again. If you care for your nephew at all, you have to see that professionals can protect him from a couple of killers better than one untrained woman could.”

      “But as you say, your team of professionals has performed pretty poorly so far.” Abruptly Tess stood, shooting a glance at the sleeping child in the bed she’d just risen from. “And you can’t protect him from an enemy you don’t even know about.”

      Her words were barely audible, as if she was of two minds whether or not she wanted him to hear. Connor frowned.

      “Just what does that mean?”

      Her back to him, she was gathering the few articles she’d earlier set on the dresser, but he guessed that her task was no more valid than his glance out the window had been. She was avoiding his eyes, or trying to. Unfortunately for her every nuance of her expression was caught in the dresser mirror in front of her, and with a start Connor realized the emotion shadowing her features wasn’t fear.

      It was terror. And terror was far too strong a reaction to have anything to do with his call to Jansen.

      In the diner he’d been briefly convinced that Tess Smith was unbalanced. She wasn’t, he knew now. Her actions over the past two days might have been rash and poorly thought out, but she’d been well aware of the risks she was running and the consequences of what she was doing. She hadn’t known then that Joey was her nephew, so why had she chosen to take those risks and damn those consequences?

      It was a question he should have asked himself before, Connor told himself. Why hadn’t he?

      Because you’ve been too busy replaying that kiss you forced on her in your mind, a voice inside his head jeered.

      “What do you mean, I can’t protect Joey from an enemy I don’t know about?” With an effort he shut off the jeering voice. “Did he see someone that night at the safe house? Is there a third person working with Leroy and MacLeish?”

      Under the white tee she was wearing her shoulders tensed. “I’ve already told you Joey didn’t see anyone the night he escaped, and he’s still blanking out when he tries to remember exactly what happened between MacLeish and the retired agent who was killed in that alleyway. It’s too bad the Agency’s doctors didn’t take the time to find out what caused Joey’s mind to take refuge in a temporary amnesia.”

      He was getting tired of talking to the back of her head, Connor thought impatiently. Between the white of her shirt and the silky black strands of her tousled haircut the nape of her neck seemed disarmingly vulnerable, for some reason.

      He scowled. “The shock of seeing a man killed caused his amnesia. The on-site evidence, plus the fact that MacLeish was badly wounded himself, indicated that Quayle didn’t go down without a fight. Watching a violent struggle end in murder isn’t something any nine-year-old should have to go through.”

      “I agree. But that wasn’t the first time Joey had witnessed violence.” Finally she turned to face him, her expression closed. “He’s not Beaver Cleaver, Connor. He hasn’t been protected from the seamier side of life, the way children should be. From what Joey’s told me, Darla did her best by him while she was battling her own demons, but he’d seen street fights before, even if they’d never resulted in murder.”

      Her mouth tightened. “This is probably going to sound just as crazy to you as the Hangar 61 story. Have you ever heard of something—” her gaze wavered “—or someone, called Skinwalker?”

      Earlier this evening his thoughts had gone to the year he’d spent at the Double B Ranch so long ago—the year

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