Fatal Intent - Jamie Jeffries Page 0,16

in Dodge considered it their personal seafood market.

Alex joined the march, which, with curiosity-seekers and others like her who truly cared about the Native Americans, swelled to over three hundred people. She started out in the front of the pack, with Dawn and the other organizers, but slipped behind as she paused to take photos of the crowd and get signed permissions from some people whose faces would be prominent in the photos. She was soon trailing at the rear of the pack and regretting her choice of footwear.

The mood of the crowd was festive, which was a little surprising to Alex. She hadn’t considered a protest march as a festive occasion, but maybe it was actually just an excuse for a party. She’d have to talk with Dawn about it, rather than interviewing the participants. They didn’t seem to be taking it very seriously.

SIX

April had passed and May followed, as Alex grew more comfortable in the larger city and in her roles as student, stringer for the student newspaper and freelancer for her dad’s paper. He’d been willing to pay her as usual, but Alex knew she wouldn’t be earning it now that she wasn’t doing ad calls anymore. Besides, thanks to the scholarship money, she had plenty to live on for the couple of months she planned to be in Casa Grande.

She hadn’t yet found the opportunity to get to the beach with her housemates, because Dylan was there almost every other weekend, and some of the weekends he didn’t travel to her, she went home to see her dad. The danger and intrigue she’d shared with Dylan last year seemed like distant memories except when she was in Dodge. It was another reason not to be there any more often than she had to be.

She’d covered one more ‘protest march’, even though she was now convinced it was just an excuse to party, and she’d made no progress in infiltrating the Patriots. She didn’t even know how to start, and she didn’t know who to ask. Most everyone she knew would discourage her from doing it. Alex couldn’t let it go, though, especially after receiving hate mail on her blog—ugly comments about the rallies with Dawn’s activist group. Naturally, she moderated comments to the blog, so these never saw the light of day.

On Memorial Day weekend, Alex went home for the three-day holiday, and went with Dylan and the boys to take flowers to their mother’s grave. Her dad had long since stopped visiting his own father’s grave, but she wandered over to place one rose on the headstone while Dylan told his brothers some yarn about when they were little and their mom wasn’t sick. She knew it to be a lie, because Maria had been an alcoholic even before Juan and Davi’s father had left the family. She remembered Dylan’s embarrassment over her when they were in high school.

Alex understood he told the stories because he wanted the little boys to remember her fondly, but at those times, she usually left to avoid giving away his lies. It was her only way to support him, because she despised a lie more than almost anything. Still, she understood his reasons.

Afterward, they went back to his house for a traditional holiday lunch, though it was too hot by far to picnic anywhere outdoors. She dropped back by her dad’s house to say goodbye before heading back to Casa Grande and tomorrow’s classes, an anticlimax to a long weekend. Inside, she rejoiced it was over while at the same time looking forward to next weekend, when she’d have Dylan all to herself. They were going to celebrate his birthday early, since it was on a Tuesday.

She spent all week planning a special weekend for Dylan. Even though he was a park ranger and it would hardly be new and exciting for him, she thought he’d enjoy a visit to the nearby Casa Grande Ruins National Monument, for which the city was named. Lisa and Natalie were going to Rocky Point overnight, so they’d have the house to themselves on Saturday. The other girls would be back with fresh shrimp for a celebration on Sunday. Alex was going to bake a cake. It promised to be a wonderful weekend, especially Saturday night.

Saturday was perfect, if hot. Dylan arrived in a good mood at around ten in the morning, and she greeted him in the same mood.

“What do you have planned?” he asked. He’d been asking all week, when they