Nightwing by Martin Cruz Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

and lowered his aim to the doctor’s belt buckle. Paine gestured with his hand and stopped himself at the glint of the hammer’s rise.
    “You’re making a mistake! Deputy, I need that sample! You don’t know what you’re doing! Please!”
    Youngman’s foot shoved the aluminum case over the floor.
    “Go play with the Navajos. They’ll believe anything.”
    Paine’s expression said he couldn’t hear Youngman over the thunder, so Youngman opened the hogan door. The storm spilled in. The road outside was a shallow river.
    “You could be next,” Paine warned. At least, Youngman thought that was what he said because with the door open not even a shout was intelligible. Paine gathered his case and went into the rain, having to stop to unlock the Land Rover. Youngman watched from the hogan doorway and noticed the Health Service van pull in behind his jeep. Why, Youngman asked himself, would anyone lock his car in a place like Gilboa? He waited until the Land Rover moved away, lights on and wipers thrashing the windshield. At a distance of fifty feet, only its rear lights could be seen through the rain.
    Anne Dillon threw open the door of the van. Youngman climbed in, as wet as if he’d stood under a shower, and dropped his hat and rifle onto the firewood on the backseat.
    The van was better insulated than Youngman’s office. A person could talk.
    “I see you’re still busy promoting tourism.” She turned to Youngman. “I’m sorry about Abner.”
    “So am I.”
    “But what I came for was an apology.”
    “I apologize.”
    “That’s not good enough. I finally get these foundation people to come all the way out here from the Midwest and the very first thing you do is insult them and embarrass me. Since when are you the guardian of all that’s sacred around this place? You made a fool of me. Then you apologize and I’m supposed to forgive you.”
    “Well, you’ll try. You’ll try like hell.”
    Anne’s eyes were blue, but rayed with spots of brown. Sometimes, very analytical eyes.
    “You know, Youngman, that’s an incredibly cruel thing to say. I don’t have to love you. I can try like hell to stop doing that.”
    “What does it matter?” he asked.
    “What does that mean?”
    “I mean, you’ve got one more week before you leave the reservation for good and go back to your trust fund and backgammon or whatever rich folks do in Phoenix. I thought we were going to have the week together but it looks like you’re busy with your birdwatchers, or missionaries, whoever they are. What is it they do anyway? Give money to the needy? Or only to the romantically needy? Where does their money come from?”
    “Some religious groups, mostly corporations.”
    “Better yet. A romantic tax deduction. That’s tops. Speaking as one of the needy, you understand. So do that, have your kicks. Better yet, share your kicks with them. White Goddess of the Hopi, saint of eye salve.”
    “If we’d had the whole week together, is this what you were going to tell me?”
    “What else?”
    He watched the rain smashing into the windshield because she was staring at him. It took him a while to notice her eyes welling.
    “No,” Youngman said. “I wouldn’t have said any of that. I’m a jerk, and I’m goddamn jealous.”
    She pulled him against herself. Her fingers dug into his back and he felt a tear hot on his neck.
    “Jealous I accept,” Anne whispered. “The rest you can stuff.”
    “I’ll have a whole week to stuff it.”
    “I wish they hadn’t come, now. They’re waiting for me.”
    As they kissed, his hand slipped into her shirt and brushed a breast softly so that its tip hardened against his palm.
    “It won’t be a whole week with them, just four days,” she said.
    Anne shifted, stretching out on the seat.
    “Maybe I should go with you.” Youngman covered her.
    “Um, that kind of romantic needy they’re not ready for. That’s just my hang-up. Can they see from the trading post?”
    “They can’t