"Since when has the Bureau given a d.a.m.n about the success of any of our interpersonal relationships?"

"There are psychologists on staff who claim to give a d.a.m.n."

"Just what I need. An FBI psychologist counseling me on my romantic life."

Lynch laughed. "If-make that when-we find Stedler, you don't believe you might still have a future with him?"

"Not a chance. Why are you asking me all these questions? Why the h.e.l.l do you care?"

"I'm finding the workings of your mind fascinating. I want to explore it more thoroughly."

"So that you can better manipulate me."

"It's a thought. I'm wondering if your feelings toward him are softer than you think. You've let yourself be drawn into this hunt for Stedler though it's obviously against your will."

"Soft? No, my relationship with Jeff was complicated. We had good s.e.x, a mutual respect, and there were moments when I thought we were crossing the boundaries between being best friends to happily ever after. It was a very fragile relationship, and it broke into a million pieces when he chose to try to use me. But the memories are there, and I'll probably always have feelings for him. I can't ignore what we were together even though I can't let it continue." She slanted him a cool glance. "Don't flatter yourself that you drew me into this investigation. It was my choice. Right now, a very limited choice. And, if you read the case files, you saw that I've gone to a lot more trouble for people I never even met."

"True. But it still does seem odd that-"

"Shh!" She held her finger up to silence him. "Listen!"

They stood in silence for a long moment.

"I don't hear anything," he whispered.

"Like that means anything. Be quiet."

They stood for a moment longer. Kendra finally shook her head. "Whatever it was, it's gone."

"What did you hear?"

"I'm not sure. Something metallic."

He patted his pants pocket. "My keys?"

"No. Lower in pitch. Something else."

He pointed down the ridge. "We should get to one of the lower trails. Less visible. If anyone's around, we might scare them off before we have a chance to get close."

Kendra nodded. "Good idea." As they descended, she listened for any other sounds that cut through the booming, whistling winds, but there were none.

Nothing.

But there was something else of interest up ahead.

They had already pa.s.sed several large boulders. Two hundred yards away, there was an opening carved into the mountainside. It was too clean, too precise, to be a natural formation.

Lynch caught her look and turned toward the opening. "It's not the only one. Look."

She glanced around and saw half a dozen other round openings, each about ten feet in diameter, now within her line of sight. "Mine shafts?"

"Looks like it. There was a lot of granite mining in this entire area in the thirties. Let's get a closer look."

They worked their way down the trail and approached the shaft nearest them. Just beyond the shadows of the opening, she could see that the shaft was sealed off by rubble.

"The mining company might have closed this off when they abandoned it," Lynch said.

Kendra studied the rubble. "Or an earthquake might have done the job sometime since. Either way, I'd like to go look at these other-"

She stopped.

It was that metallic sound again. What in the h.e.l.l...?

A gunshot!

A bullet whistled past and disintegrated a rock between them.

Kendra's first instinct was to jump back, but Lynch grabbed her arm and yanked her into the mine-shaft opening.

He grabbed the gun from his holster. "Where the h.e.l.l did that come from?"

"Slightly to the right, from behind three dark boulders near a clump of scrub brush."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He nodded, raised his gun, and pressed himself against the inner rock wall of the mine entrance. He inched forward.

Kendra c.o.c.ked her head. That metallic sound again. But not from where the gunshot was fired, it had to be- "Stop!" she whispered.

Lynch froze.

"There's another one out there. A few yards to the left. Probably behind the rock pile."

Lynch cursed. "They've got us pinned down."

A barrage of bullets exploded against the rocks near Lynch's head. A roar erupted from behind the rock pile.

A motorcycle, Kendra realized. Blazing away to the left.

Another barrage of bullets rained on them.

Lynch threw himself back against the wall, paused, then fired toward the boulders. The shooter cut loose with another hail of gunfire.

Kendra listened. The motorcycle had turned and was racing back toward them. s.h.i.t.

It would be back in another few seconds, and after that, she and Lynch would be- Wait. At her feet, almost entirely buried in the sand, was the severed end of a rope trail marker. She looked up. How far out did it go?

Hard to tell.

"Get back!" Lynch shouted.

She ignored him and crouched over the rope. Please, please, please let this work ...

The motorcycle sped closer. She gripped the edge of the rope in her trembling hands and yanked it upward. Sand flew along the rope's length, revealing that it was anch.o.r.ed to a spike at the edge of the clearing.

The motorcycle's roar filled her ears, blending with the staccato rhythms of more gunfire ...

The rope whipped through her fingers.

Pain. Horrible, searing pain.

She looked up from her b.l.o.o.d.y hands to see the rope catch the motorcycle rider at his chest and catapult him from the seat.

The motorcycle slid into the rock wall of the mountainside, its engine still racing. The motorcycle rider, outfitted in heavy black leather from head to toe, landed with a sickening crack just ten feet in front of them. His gun, a short-stalked automatic weapon, landed several yards behind.

The man moaned.

Kendra crouched next to Lynch and wiped her bleeding hands against her shirt.

"Are you okay?" Lynch asked.

She pointed to the motorcycle rider. "Watch him."

"He's not going anywhere."

The rider, a man in his early twenties with an acne-scarred face, coughed up a mouthful of blood. "Tommy! Tommy...!"

"Shut the h.e.l.l up!" The voice called out from behind the boulders.

"I need help!"

Lynch aimed his gun in the rider's direction.

The man pulled off his helmet. "Please, Tommy. I can't feel my legs..."

"Be quiet!"

"I'm really messed up here. Help me!"

"You know I can't."

"Please..."

Lynch squeezed off a shot near the injured man, who recoiled.

"What was that for?" Kendra whispered.

"Just tightening the screws."

The voice from behind the boulders called out again. "I can't come out there, buddy."

"I'm gonna die, man."

"Stop talking. You know you can't talk. Just hang tight!"

The motorcyclist turned toward Kendra and Lynch. His eyes pleaded with them as two thin lines of blood ran from his nostrils.

Lynch took aim with his gun.

"Don't do it," she whispered.

Lynch shook his head. "I won't need to."

The motorcyclist's head exploded.

The gunshot had come from behind the boulders, she realized. The man's own partner had killed him, she realized, sick.

Seconds later, she heard the familiar metallic sound again. This time she knew what it was. Zippers on a leather jacket jangling as he walked.

The next moment, the ATV started up and roared away.

"s.h.i.t!" Lynch bolted from the opening with his gun extended before him. He ran around the other side of the boulders.

Kendra ran after him.

The ATV was already halfway down to the desert floor.

Lynch pulled out his mobile phone and cursed again. "No signal up here. I was afraid of that." He walked back to the motorcyclist's corpse and rolled him over.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching his pockets. I want to know who he is."

His expression was completely without feeling. Lynch might as well have been searching an old pair of his jeans for bus fare, she thought. Cold. Very cold. "You knew that other man would kill him. What was his name? Tommy."

"I didn't know. I hoped. From the point of view of a total sc.u.mbag, it was the smartest thing to do."

"The sc.u.mbag mentality comes awful easily to you."

"With his partner down, he just wanted to get the h.e.l.l out of here. But he couldn't leave the other guy alive to possibly ID him."

She looked down at what was left of the man's head. She felt sick. She had to get out of there. She turned and walked away.

Lynch's voice stopped her before she'd gone more than a few yards. "Stop running away. I need another one of those parlor tricks you're so good at."

She stared out at the desert. "What do you mean?"