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"Listen, we've got a situation out here," Thomas continued, his words terse and heavy. "Councilman Whitehorse's daughter—she's missing."
Her heart skipped, then pounded. "Whitehorse?"
"Yes."
Shit. Of the three reservations in Texas, Councilman Whitehorse lived on one of the largest, and he was the most outspoken where the media was involved. Whitehorse and law enforcement rarely saw eye to eye.
"He still involved in those lawsuits against the state?"
"Yes. Three of them, if I remember. Rachel, where were you last night? I couldn't reach you."
She winced, picturing her night-time infiltration of the cartel compound. Completely off books, on her personal time. No one could know, not even Thomas. "Sorry. Was getting some extra rest."
"Rest?" Greywolf sounded suspicious.
SHe frowned. She didn't like his tone, but she kept her own tone even. "Yeah... problem?"
"No. No problem," he said curtly. "You're headed to the Kickapoo reservation."
"Understood. I'll be there as soon as—"
"Be quick," he urged before cutting off the line.
Rachel stood, movements deliberate. The decision had been made for her. The Kickapoo reservation was hours from where her aunt lived. She'd have to trust Sarah Blackwood to deal with Larry Nelson for now. Hell, a few days tasting Sarah's "hospitality" and Nelson would be singing like a bird when Rachel returned.
She nibbled at the corner of her lip, distracted. Part of her realized the shit-storm that was brewing if Whitehorse's daughter was missing. But another part of her hated that she'd lied to Thomas...
She couldn't remember the last time she'd lied to her old friend... It didn't feel right to hide things from her colleagues.
Ethan... she should tell him. At least her partner deserved to know. But her resolve hardened like ice over a winter lake. His safety was paramount; her silence was a shield. He was tenacious, a bloodhound when on a scent, but this trail led to darkness she couldn't let him tread.
She pictured his face, lines of concern etched deeply whenever she withheld truths. The guilt gnawed at her insides, raw and relentless. She’d shoulder this burden alone—better one soul lost than two.
As she moved to gather her things, her fingers brushed against the photo pinned to her cubicle wall: Rachel, alone, holding her badge. Her first day as a ranger. She frowned at the solitary photo.
"Rachel?" A voice sliced through her contemplation. It was Ethan, standing at the threshold of her cubicle, brow furrowed in silent inquiry.
She studied him. He'd been released from the hospital a few weeks ago after an injury on their last case. By the looks of things, he'd made a full recovery. He didn't know this, but she'd spent more than one evening at his bedside...
She'd felt silly doing it, but like a moth drawn to a flame, she hadn't quite realized the warmth Ethan provided until there'd been a threat it might vanish.
Once he'd started recovering, she'd stopped coming.
Not because she hadn't wanted to, but because she didn't want to...
What? Her subconscious probed.
What didn't she want?
She nibbled at her lip, trying desperately to place the errant thought. But she pushed it aside. Things with Ethan had changed over time... She hated to admit what she was feeling, but even now, standing there, staring at his handsome features and tousled hair, she found a strange warmth spreading along her normally stoic features.
She cleared her throat and bobbed her head awkwardly in a sort of greeting.
She also realized she was slouching. Why the hell was she slouching? She frowned, standing up straight and throwing her shoulders back.
He was smiling at her, cheerful and chipper as always. Ethan had a puppy-dog expression of endless energy and eagerness that she both found endearing and exhausting. But as enjoyable as his personality was, she liked him most for his loyalty and dependability.
"New case," she said, her voice steady despite the storm within. "We have to go."
