He lowered his voice, looking around cautiously. “I heard on the news that you had been the victim of a crime, and were now a protected witness.”

“I am,” she answered softly. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

“Follow me.” He took her behind the counter, nodding to the young Navajo clerk as they passed by.

Jonas had always lived in the back of his trading post, and as they stepped into his living room, she noticed that the interior was even more crowded than she’d remembered.

“What brings you all the way out here? Do you need my help?” he asked, waving her to the faded green couch.

“I need some information,” she said, sitting down. The cushions were so worn, she practically sank into them. “I came to you because you’ve lived in this area since before I was born. You must know just about everyone.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about that, but tell me what you need.”

“I have to find a medicine man-at least I think he’s a medicine man. But whatever it is he does, I’m betting he’s well-respected by the tribe. He goes by the name of Hastiin Dííl,” she said, careful not to reveal anything more than was absolutely necessary.

Jonas nodded. “I know who you’re talking about, but finding him won’t be easy. He lives northwest of here, almost to Beclabito. But you have to go in from the south because of the road. It’s not much more than a dirt track.”

“If he’s close to Beclabito, he might have electricity and a phone,” she said, thinking out loud.

“I don’t think so. And I should warn you-no one seems to know where he is at the moment. I’ve had several people stop by and ask me about him.”

“Patients?”

“Yes, and friends, too. The most recent was an Anglo man. He was the one in the T-shirt and baggy pants who was at the magazine rack when you came in. The guy in the baseball cap,” he added.

Remembering what Jenny had told her about a man wearing a cap, she followed up instantly. “I noticed him, but I thought he was just another tourist. A man in his thirties, right? Do you remember what the writing on the front of his shirt said, maybe the name of a company or school?”

“No, it was something like Gone to the Dogs. He smelled funny, too, come to think of it, like a wet dog,” he added with a smirk. “Maybe he owns a kennel.”

“Did you tell him where the hogan was?” she asked.

“No, I said I didn’t know. There was something…off…about him and I trust my instincts. But I noticed that he spoke to some of the other customers, so it’s possible someone else gave him that information.”

She got directions to Hastiin Dííl’s medicine hogan, then stood up and thanked Jonas.

“Dana, you be careful out there,” he said. “I know you’re in the thick of things right now, and from what I heard on the news, you have some bad people looking for you.”

“One of those bad people might be the guy in the baseball cap. If he’s still hanging around, will you try to delay him?”

“You bet I will.”

When they returned to the store area, the man in the cap was no longer in the building. Dana hurried out to the sedan and was soon on her way. As she pushed the car along the pothole ridden road, the Carrizo Mountains ahead and just to the west, she began to wish that she’d taken Ranger’s truck instead. The sedan might have been able to do one hundred on the highway without a problem, but on this type of road, she needed the suspension system of a truck. The car bounced along in protest, sounding as if it were ready to fall apart any second.

As she came out of an arroyo, Dana caught a glimpse of a plume of dust rising high into the air behind her. Someone was following her. Maybe the man in the cap had spotted her, waited within sight of the parking lot, then gone after her once she’d left.

Despite the danger, there was one bright spot. If the guy had managed to get Hastiin Dííl’s location, he wouldn’t have been following her now. He would have taken the lead.

There was no way she was going to lead him to the Singer, so she pulled off the road where it crossed a shallow arroyo, then drove down the center to a spot where it curved. Slowing down to a crawl, then coming to a stop, she turned off the engine, got out of the car and waited where she could see the road from behind cover.

Soon, a brand-new, red pickup roared past, traveling at a fast clip. Though it was a test of her patience, she returned to the car, climbed inside, then remained stationary for another twenty minutes, listening. Nobody came back from the direction she was heading, so the red truck had continued on.

Finally, not willing to wait any longer, she drove back out to the road, grateful she hadn’t gotten stuck in the soft sand. This terrain was difficult and, since she’d been without a cell phone, she would have had no way of calling for help if she’d become stranded.

Watching the ground ahead anxiously, Dana flinched when she heard a loud bang, like a gunshot. Almost simultaneously she heard a loud pop just to her left, followed by a whoosh just outside. The steering wheel nearly jerked out of her grip as the car abruptly pulled to the left.

Her left front tire had obviously gone flat and it was no accident. Stopping now would be suicide. She was under attack. Struggling to maintain control, Dana let off the gas, fighting the impulse to hit the brakes as the vehicle slid downhill at an angle. She couldn’t afford to roll the car.

Glancing in her side mirror, she saw a man running after the car, rifle in hand. Another one carrying a pistol was coming from her left, running to intercept her car. She stepped on the gas pedal and the engine roared but the car just fishtailed. There was no way to pick up speed on this terrain with a flat.

It was time to bail. Dana swerved hard to her right, hit the brakes and jumped out. She raced up the canyon, hoping the car would block her from any more gunfire. All she had to do was make it around the curve in the big wash. Hearing the distinct whine of a bullet passing overhead, she ducked and ran even faster.

Dana tried her best to stay on hard ground and not leave a trail as she searched for a place to hide. She wasn’t armed and although she could defend herself, her chances against two armed men weren’t good.

The only thing working in her favor was that they clearly wanted her alive. Otherwise, they would have both blasted away at the car when she slowed down to enter the arroyo. They wouldn’t have aimed for the tire, either.

That gave her some hope. Trujillo undoubtedly knew about her photographic memory, and the attack meant he was pulling out all the stops to get her back and force her to tell whatever she remembered. Of course after they were finished, they’d kill her, just like they had Hastiin Sani.

Dana kept moving-slowly, and in a crouch-and stayed in the shadows offered by the nearly vertical fifteen-foot-high sides of the wash. Her chances were slim, especially if she was forced into a sandy part of the arroyo that would show her tracks, but she refused to give up. She stood still and listened. Less than a hundred feet away was the man with the pistol searching for her footprints on the hard ground, and the one with the rifle was at the top rim of the arroyo, watching with binoculars.

Before she could decide what to do, Dana felt a stirring in the air and, out of the corner of her eye, saw a fleeting shadow. Suddenly Ranger stepped out of a narrow crevice in the arroyo, less than three feet away.

Her heart was hammering frantically but before she could say a word, he placed a finger to his lips. He indicated with a thumb the approximate location of the two men, then gestured ahead to the center of the arroyo. It was piled high with windblown tumbleweeds the size of washing machines.