The revolver looked totally out of place in the hand of a woman wearing cropped pants and a top the color of sour apples. But then, her expression looked out of place, too. Her face was settled in a taut, grim mask, and he had an instant understanding of how she had survived in the world’s trouble spots.

“I believe you said something to the effect that if someone tried to blow your head off, you’d be most appreciative of a little help.”

He snorted, reached for the weapon. Not surprisingly, she stepped out of his reach.

“I’m no marksman, but I know how to release the safety and fire. I’ve even been known to hit something, now and again.”

“And the flashlight?” She carried his heavy Maglite from the Jeep in her free hand.

She looked down at it. “It’s pretty heavy. If I ran out of ammo I figured it’d make a good club.”

He studied her for a moment, reevaluating. That she wasn’t a woman to stay tucked safely away while the action was going down was growing more clear by the minute. He held out his hand, waiting. His jaw tightened when, rather than handing over the gun, she slapped the flashlight in his outstretched palm. He couldn’t see her eyes behind those damn shades, but he knew they’d be mutinous.

“You check out the caves and I’ll keep watch outside.”

The suggestion had merit, but that didn’t lessen his irritation. He tucked the flashlight under one arm, took off the binoculars, and held them out to her, the strap hanging over one crooked finger. “Take these to that cluster of rocks over there. Call out if you see anything at all. And try not to shoot off any of your body parts. Or mine.”

Turning, he headed into the nearest opening in the cliff wall. He could just make out her muttered, “Don’t worry, I happen to be quite attached to my body parts,” and he swallowed the retort that rose to his lips.

Because given half a chance, he had a feeling he could get quite attached to them, too.

The first cave was barely deserving of the name. He had to crawl inside and the sweep of the beam from his flashlight told him that it didn’t get any more inviting. To humans, at least.

Some openings in the cliff face were merely good-sized cracks. Others, he discovered, were large enough to provide shelter to any number of four-legged or slithering creatures, none of which he was particularly interested in meeting up with. Given the sheerness of the cliff, he didn’t think he needed to worry about the openings above him. There was no visible way to reach them.

After he’d done a quick check of one bluff, he repeated the search on the one opposite. And it was there that he hit pay dirt. Hidden behind two twin rock spires was a cave at ground level. He shone the beam of the flashlight inside it, found it deserted. To avoid a major concussion, he had to duck to step in, but once he’d entered two or three feet, he could stand easily.

It was obvious that someone had been here before him, and left in a hurry. There were kerosene lanterns placed at regular intervals along the cave floor against the walls. The opening was fairly deep; it meandered back through the bluff for at least fifty feet. At one point it widened to an area approximately half that size, and here he found more lanterns, piles of blankets and a heap of empty unmarked cardboard boxes.

A bat swooped toward his head, and Joe dodged, using the flashlight to explore the extent of the cave. It ended against a rough rock wall, and in the corner he found cartons of bottled water, dried packaged food and litter a foot deep. He kicked through the trash, which seemed to consist mostly of food wrappers, empty water bottles and cigarette butts.

He doubled back, switching off the flashlight when he hit the opening again. Blinking rapidly, he ducked out of the cave into the sunlight.

“What’d you find?”

Delaney’s tone was impatient, but at least she’d stayed put this time. She stepped out from the rocks toward him.

“Someone has been here. Several someones.” He looked up at the sky, gauged how much sunlight he had left.

“What about that guy who fired at you? Any chance you could follow his tracks and see where he went?”

“Sure, if you happened to bring an ATV along with you,” he said with mock politeness.

Her chin angled. “You don’t have to get snippy. A Jeep can go off road.”

Snippy? He tried to remember if he’d ever had the word applied to him before. He didn’t think so. He was pretty sure he would have remembered it. “The Jeep may do cross-country for a while,” he allowed, “but it’s not going to be much use where the terrain gets rockier. The earth is too hard in the desert to leave tracks.” Joe figured he had less than an hour’s worth of sunlight left. Not enough time to try and trail the guy, even if it had been possible.

He went to where the space widened between the two formations, and crouched down to study the ground. The earth was dusty here, crisscrossed with tire tracks. He was aware when Delaney stopped her bored fidgeting and wandered off, but he let her go. The danger here had passed. She’d be safe enough.

Dusk was settling in before he finally rose again, satisfied. At some time there had been at least two ATVs and a truck here.

One set of tracks had a wider wheelbase than an SUV or a pickup. A utility van, maybe? One of the tire marks had an odd tread that didn’t match any of the others.

Joe looked around, but didn’t see Delaney. Rising, he jogged back to the Jeep and got his investigative kit. Returning, he found the clearest print of the track and took several pictures of the distinctive tread. Then he measured the front and back tire track depth and width and jotted down his findings in his notebook. Noting Delaney was still nowhere in sight, he put down the flashlight and camera, retrieved the rifle and set out after her.

He could see her once he rounded the edge of the sandstone cliff, still a couple hundred yards away. Narrowing his eyes, he noted she had a cardboard box tucked under one arm.

Joe jogged up to meet her. “Funny time to go shopping.”

She slapped her free hand to her heart, staggered in feigned shock. “A joke from Joe Youngblood? Will wonders never cease?”

“I joke,” he replied, affronted.

“Sarcasm doesn’t count. Here.” She thrust the dusty box at him. “I think this fell off that ATV. One of its tires must have blown. I saw pieces of rubber. But this is the only parcel I found.”

He ripped open the tape holding the flaps shut. Peering inside, he experienced a quick jolt of excitement.

Syringes. Still encased in their original plastic packaging.

She voiced his inner question. “What would he have been doing with a box of syringes?”

“Probably nothing legal.” He took the box from her and headed back to the bluffs. She fell into step beside him. “Which explains why they wanted to keep you out of here.”

“They?”

“There’s been a lot of activity here recently. I don’t know what kind of operation you stumbled on, but whatever it was, someone went to a lot of pains to hide it.”

“So good work, Delaney, on leading me back here,” she said in a painfully bad imitation of his voice. “Say, did I remember to congratulate you on finding that box? I didn’t? Well, gee, I guess that makes me a great big…”

“Good job.” His lips twitched, but he wouldn’t let himself smile. No use encouraging her. “I need to take another look inside that cave before we leave. I didn’t see any used syringes in there, but there’s plenty of litter. I may have missed something.”

Delaney followed him to the entrance of the cave, then looked around, prepared to wait. Joe set the box and rifle down, then in one motion rose and swiped the gun she still held in her hand.

“Hey!”

Ignoring her protest, he shoved the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “I prefer to keep track of all the weapons myself. Call me paranoid.”