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She sipped on it, still looking pale.
Uncle Caleb grabbed a stack of white soup bowls from the shelf over the sink. Turning around with them clutched in his hands, he gave the air a tentative sniff.
“Sorry,” Jace apologized, looking sheepish. “Got that grease monkey stench going on, I’m afraid.”
Uncle Caleb set down the bowls and pointed toward the nearest door. “There’s a connecting shower between my room and Shep’s. Clean towels in the cabinet and plenty of soap in the shower stall. Help yourself.”
Jace yanked the strap of the overnight bag higher on his shoulder and shot a worried look at Alina.
“How about Alina and I head down to the storm shelter while you get cleaned up,” Shep offered.
She exchanged a long, emotion-charged look with Jace.
“Do you trust him?” Her voice shook as she smoothed her hair back from her eyes and cheeks.
“Yeah.” Jace gave her a faint smile of encouragement.
“Okay.” She nodded, looking glassy-eyed as she stepped closer to Shep. He could only imagine what it felt like to find out her uncle and cousin had been shmoozing it up with such a dangerous ring of criminals. She looked like she’d really been through the wringer.
“I’ll join you shortly.” Jace disappeared into the bedroom, and Shep motioned for her to follow him to the corner pantry. He punched a hidden button, and the floor-to-ceiling shelves swung back to reveal a stairwell leading down.
“I’ll be back up to help carry the soup,” he called to his uncle.
Uncle Caleb waved away the offer. “I imagine Jace and I can handle it. Just give me a color.”
“Orange.” It was his way of telling his uncle there was no immediate danger but to remain on high alert. “We’re not expecting any company. But if anyone shows up, assume the worst.”
“And you thought a triple deadbolt was too much,” his uncle grumbled, turning around to stir the stew some more.
“Come on. Let’s get you settled.” Shep flipped on a light as he and Alina descended the stairwell. At the bottom was a wide, rectangular storm shelter. He and his uncle had made a few modifications to it. First and foremost, they’d installed an extra exit hatch that opened to the dog pen outside.
They’d also wired the room with a big screen TV so they could watch football down here. They also used it to get away fromeach other when one of them was trying to sleep while the other was awake. Shep’s night shifts forced him to keep odd hours at times.
Picking up a remote, he mashed a button to turn it on. He had no interest in watching it. It was merely a distraction so he could dial Adriel Montana without Alina noticing. He slid the phone into the breast pocket of his shirt, hoping the sheriff would remember to keep quiet. After two rings, the phone stopped buzzing. Assuming the sheriff was listening, Shep muted the football game and turned around to face Alina again.
“This isn’t what I was expecting.” She shivered, clutching her bottle of water tighter.
“Yeah, it’s more like a second living room than a storm shelter. Very few people know about it.” Shep swiped a gray afghan off the back of the couch and held it out to her. “I’m Deputy Shep Whitaker, by the way. Heart Lake Police Department.” Only for a few days longer, but that wasn’t relevant to their conversation.
“You already know who I am.” She gave him a weak smile. “Unfortunately.” Unlike her countrified uncle and cousin, she was wearing designer jeans and a green silk top. Her long dark hair was pulled into a single fat braid.
“Don’t say that.” Shep motioned for her to take a seat on the couch. “Levi is a loudmouth, and Mato has an attitude, but what teenager doesn’t?”
A strange look clouded her heart-shaped face as she took a seat and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. “You have no idea what they’re into, do you?”
The best way to correct her mistaken assumption was by giving her the truth. Shep propped a boot on the coffee table and leaned forward with his arms crossed on his knee. As a side perk, it brought the mouthpiece of his cell phone closer for the sheriff’s benefit.
“I think it’s highly probable your uncle and cousin can get a plea bargain if they agree to testify against the Dallas Kings.”
Her face crumpled. “You do know,” she choked.
“Where are they printing the money?” He shot his first question like a bullet, hoping to keep her off balance.
She blinked several times before answering. “Under the big garage.” She swallowed hard. “They built it on top of a series of caverns. The tunnels snake through the hills all over that side of the rez.” She went on to describe the portable pools that had been erected inside the caverns to rinse the ink off countless one-dollar bills so they could be reprinted with larger denominations. “All one hundreds,” she sighed. “Because that’s what their clients want.”
He frowned at her. “How long have you known about this?”And how are you still alive after finding out?
“Only since this morning.” She gave a violent shiver. “I wasn’t supposed to find out, but Uncle Levi tripped up and said something to me. Then the whole thing came flooding out of him. He’s scared. Really scared, Deputy Whitaker.”
