Page 22 of Desert Angel

“I can’t—”

“You know them, or you wouldn’t have been sent out to arrest Nikki.” At the guy’s wince Dylan went on, somewhat mollified that the kid didn’t like his job right now. “You may not have given her her rights or pressed charges, but can she leave right now?” The kid shook his head, a panicked look crossing his face. “Then, you’re arresting her. What are the charges?”

“Aiding and abetting an illegal act, crossing into federal lands without a permit and interfering with law enforcement.”

Dylan took in the counts with a sinking feeling. Some of the charges would surely be federal. How would they fight them, along with the threats against Nikki?

The prosecutor and Captain Wallace arrived within seconds of each other and Nikki stood to face them, Dylan at her side. She listened to the charges and signed the statement before facing her accusers. “Am I going to the cell now?”

Captain Wallace glared at the prosecutor before saying, “No. You are not. You’re going to be released on your recognizance. Don’t leave the state, don’t try to evade. We’ll give you a court date to appear to answer the charges.”

The prosecutor, a woman in what had to be a very uncomfortable jacket and straight skirt, glared back at the captain. “I think with the extent of the charges—”

“This woman hasn’t had a parking or speeding ticket to her name. I’m not putting her in a jail alongside guys in a drunk tank. If you have any objections take them up with the Judge. He’ll be in town next week.”

With that, he turned his back on the lawyer and smiled at Nikki. “Sorry. You go ahead on home. I’ll be in touch regarding the court date.”

As she walked somewhat unsteadily for the door, Nikki reached for Dylan’s hand. He enfolded hers with his and squeezed it. “You okay?”

She nodded then stopped. “I didn’t get groceries. I was going to go to Douglas.”

He waved it off. “We’ll run back into town and get them now.”

“Now?” she said, thinking of how she’d be greeted after her arrest.

“Now.”

They both felt the stares as they walked the aisles, gathering chips, lunchmeat, and bread. When Dylan stopped at the ice cream freezer, Nikki said, “It’ll thaw before we can get home.”

He opened the freezer door and pulled out two pints, one chocolate and one vanilla. “We’ll eat it on the way.”

She smiled and then turned to see Mark Williams frowning at her. Pasting on her “bless you” smile, she greeted him. “Hot today, isn’t it?”

He nodded curtly and turned away. Nikki took a breath and started down another aisle. “If we’re eating ice cream, we need spoons.”

They got the groceries unloaded and the animals fed for the evening before Hank returned Dylan’s call. As Nikki looked on he made notes, nodded, grimaced, and finally grinned. “Gotcha. Thanks, Hank.”

Before he could hang up, though, Hank had more news. Dylan, who’d stood, sank into the seat again, his face grim. “You sure? Yeah. I gotcha. I’ll check in later.”

By now, Nikki realized the last sentence was an indication that he’d be calling for more news when he was away from her. She sat at the table across from him and waited. When he fiddled with the pen, making doodles around his notes she pressed. “Tell me.”

He glanced up. “Oh. Hank has a friend who’s a lawyer familiar with immigration law. Seems there are some mixed decisions on what they call aiding and abetting, particularly on your own land. Even some of the public land officials are putting out beacons for people to activate if they’re in trouble, no matter what nationality they are. It’s the federal land issue that is in question. Is your land part of any federal or public lands?”

She shook her head. “No. The desert has some regulations attached to it but it’s not federal or public land. The closest is the National Forest and that’s way to the north of me.”

He grinned a little, “Then I think we’re good. The lawyer has agreed to be here at the hearing.”

“I can’t afford—” she began only to stop at his look. “Thanks.”

He nodded and folded the sheet of paper and stuck it in his pants pocket. When he started to rise she stopped him. “What else?”

“Hmm?” he said.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Dylan. You’d jotted all that down on the paper and was about to hang up when Hank said something else. Something that has bothered you and that you don’t want to share with me. What?”

He firmed his mouth into a hard line and looked away then back at her. “Hank’s had some guys nosing around on the internet, seeing if they hear anything about militias or groups that are more extreme about illegal aliens crossing over. There’s chatter about something happening in the bootheel.”

“The bootheel region can be in any number of states. Kansas, Arizona—”

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