Tapahe studied the photos closely, then gave them back to Arnie. “Well, we’ve got enough to go forward. Hopefully whatever you collect at Quintero’s place will be enough to nail him, with or without Nez’s testimony. I’ll get the request to the judge this afternoon, and I’ll ask for a rush on the-”

The intercom on the desk buzzed. “Frank Taos on line one, sir.”

Joe and Arnie rose as Tapahe reached for the phone. “I’ll let you know as soon as the paperwork comes in,” the captain said. Nodding, Joe closed the door after them.

“Think we’ll be able to move tonight?”

“I doubt it.” They walked toward their desks, and Joe scooped a fast-food wrapper off the top of Arnie’s littered desktop, crumpled it and shot it into the waste-basket. “It’s already past four. We’d be lucky to get it by tomorrow morning.”

“So maybe I’ll get home on time. Shock Brenda.”

Joe eyed his partner’s desk. “Shock me,” he suggested. “Clean off your desk first so when we do get that warrant it doesn’t get lost in the debris.”

“You’re a funny guy.” Arnie dropped down into his chair. “I have my own method of organization, which you can’t hope to understand, much less…”

The captain’s door opened. “Youngblood, in here.” Joe exchanged a look with his partner before turning to follow Tapahe into his office. The man closed the door and returned to his desk. “That was Navajo Nation President Taos on the phone. Seems someone took a few shots at that woman the council hired-the one who’s writing the book.”

A chill trickled down Joe’s back. “Delaney Carson.”

Tapahe looked down at the notes he’d scribbled and nodded. “That’s her. She was out taking pictures when the shots were fired.”

Joe had a mental flash of the woman he’d faced off with last night, visibly shaken but wielding a tripod, ready to defend herself against an intruder.