Navajo's Woman

Prologue

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Bobby Yazzi lay on the floor.Dead. Blood from two fatal bullet wounds covered his yellow shirt and stained the handwoven rug beneath him. Russ Lapahie stood fro-zen to the spot, his body partially blocking Jewel Begay, who waited in the shadows several feet behind him. If the killer could see her in the semidarkness, he probably wouldn't be able to tell anything except that she was fe-male. With a backward wave of his hand, Russ warned her to escape while she could.

Suddenly he heard the sound of running feet and the outside door slamming shut. Momentary relief spread through him when he realized that she had understood his signal to get the hell out of there. But that relief was short-lived. Across the room, hovering like a fire-breathing dragon preparing to emerge from his den, Bobby's mur-derer narrowed his gaze and aimed his weapon once again. Light from the lone lamp shining in the living room of Bobby's apartment hit the metal of the gun, which glimmered like diamonds.

Russ had seen the killer's face and recognized him. He was a witness to the murder, and the killer couldn't allow him to live. If he moved, he'd be shot.But if he didn't move. . . Hell, he was damned no matter what he did.

"Russ, what's going on in here?" Eddie Whitehorn called out as he came barreling through the front door.

"Jewel just came out, got in the car and she—" Eddie came to an abrupt halt at Russ's side when he saw the body lying in the middle of the living room floor.

The next thing Russ knew, the dragon emerged. A cou-ple of shots rang out. He and Eddie hit the floor.

Crawling. Then they jumped up and ran as fast as their legs would carry them.Breathless. The cool night breeze enveloped their warm, perspiring bodies.Air on dampness.Cold on hot.

"Where's the car?" Russ screamed, in order to hear his own voice over the drumbeat of his heart thundering inside his head.

"Jewel and Martina left us." Eddie ran to keep up with Russ.

Each trying to catch his breath, the two boys hid behind a car parked across the street. Porch lights began coming on. Window blinds and shades came up. A couple of doors opened and several brave residents emerged from their homes.

"We've got to keep running," Russ said. "We have to get out of here before he comes after us."

"We need to call the police," Eddie replied.

"Yeah, sure.And havethem ask us what we were do-ing at Bobby Yazzi's. They'll think we went there for drugs. Man, they're liable to think we killed him!"

"But we didn't—"

"We can talk about this later." Russ grabbed Eddie's arm. "We have to go before he comes after us. I'm telling you, I'm in big trouble. The guy saw me. He knows I can identify him."

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Sucking in air hurriedly, the boys eased out from be-hind the car and ran between acouple of houses. As they passed, Russ caught a glimpse of two men on the porch of the nearest house. The boys didn't linger, didn't slow their pace. Running faster and faster, Russ could think of nothing but getting away from the man who had killed Bobby. He had never seen a human being killed. Shot down. Never watched the blood drain quickly from a body until the heart stopped.

He couldn't let Bobby's murderer find him. And he couldn't call the police. With his reputation as a teenage delinquent, they'd probably lock him up and throw away the key. He had only one choice. Run and hide. And since those people back there had seen Eddie with him, had seen both of them running away from the scene of the crime, then his best friend was in almost as much trouble as he was. If they were going to stay one step ahead of the killer and the police, they'd have to stick together.

Chapter 1

Andi Stephens wandered about inside her house, mean-dering from room to room in search of something to do—something to occupy her mind. Maybe she should have stayed at the store and taken inventory or priced items for the upcoming sale, but her assistant Barbara Redhorse usually took care of those matters. When she had decided to remain in New Mexico after her initial visit over five years ago, she had needed something to do, something that would occupy her time and also involve her in learn-ing more about her Navajo roots. Her good friend, Joanna Blackwood, had been the one to suggest opening a Native American Arts and Crafts store in Gallup. So, she had delved in to her sizable inheritance from her grandfather and invested in a local business, which actually turned a profit the very first year. But today even her flourishing store couldn't keep her focused. Having been restless and slightly on edge for the past hour, she couldn't seem to relax. She had taken a shower and changed into her soft cotton pajamas, hoping that would put her in the mood for sleep. But she was too wired. And the odd thing was, she wasn't quite sure why. It was as if something was wrong, but she didn't know what. She had been prone to having uneasy feelings ever since she'd been a child. Not that she possessed psychic abilities or anything like that. Not really. She just occasionally got a sense of forebod-ing. And nine times out of ten, she was right.

She was worried enough to have called to check on her mother, who lived in South Carolina. But Rosemary Ste-phens had been entertaining a group of society friends and hadn't had time to say more than hello and goodbye. Andi had been tempted to telephone her stepmother who lived on the nearby Navajo Reservation, to check on her and Russ. And she had even started dialing her friend Joanna Blackwood's number before common sense took over and she hung up the phone. Joanna was expecting her fourth child, and although the pregnancy had been perfectly nor-mal, there was always the chance that—