by Linda Berry
As Sidney passed Nikah’s house, Granger pointed out the yellow crime scene tape that Amanda had strung across the driveway. The bright sun and blue sky lifted the ominous pallor that had hung over the house last night, and portrayed a neighborhood of peaceful country charm. Across the road, she caught a glimpse of the sparkling lake between the trees. A wholesome family community—until night fell. Then it turned into a place of terror, where a dangerous predator lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike.
Another mile slid under the tires before Sidney turned into the unplowed parking lot of the Tribal Cultural Center. Three SUVs were parked in the front of a two-story wood-planked building with lots of windows and eaves hung with glistening icicles.
A Toyota Tundra pickup pulled in behind her and parked next to the Yukon. A bundled man exited at the same time as she and Granger. The wind whishing through the trees cut right through them and their breath steamed in the cold morning air.
The man was dressed in a thick jacket, collar turned up, hands gloved in leather, with the muffs of his hat pulled over his ears. He flipped the bill up from his face and motioned for them to follow him through the double glass doors. Standing just inside the entrance, embraced by the comforting warmth, they stamped their feet to shake the snow off their boots.
The man pulled off his hat and Sidney saw him clearly. Though he appeared to be around eighty, his face had not grown soft with age. His creased skin stretched over strong cheekbones, a high forehead, and a prominent chin. White braids fell in front of his shoulders and his bulbous nose was red from cold. “Name’s Tucker Longtooth,” he said, offering a sad smile. He pulled off his gloves and extended his free hand.
So this was the visionary who bought Two Creeks Village two decades ago and developed it into a haven for Kalapuyan families. He had a kind face and a noble bearing.
“I’m Chief Becker,” she said. “This is Officer Wyatt.”
He turned to Granger and his eyebrows arched in recognition. “Hello, Granger.”
“Morning, Tucker.”
“Sorry to see you under such sad circumstances,” the old man said.
“Me, too.”
Sidney hid her surprise as they all shook hands. Granger’s chummy familiarity with the villagers was becoming increasingly evident.
An attractive woman, mid-forties, came into the hallway from a doorway across the lobby, dressed a forest green sweater and skinny jeans tucked into mid-calf boots. Her shiny black hair hung straight down her back and she wore light makeup and a grim expression. “Good morning Tucker. Morning, Officers. We’re meeting in here. I’m Jenna Menowa.”
She didn’t crack a smile as they shook hands and Sidney detected a current of hostility residing just below the surface. An icy welcoming committee.
Their boots sounded hollow as they followed Jenna over a polished cement floor into a large auditorium. Stacks of folded tables and chairs, and a podium and video screen occupied a large section of one wall. Across the room, winter sun poured through the large windows, highlighting photos and posters of colorful ceremonies and celebrations. Sidney was fascinated by the dancers in full native regalia of vibrant fabrics, dramatic plumage, and brightly colored beads—looking part human, part exotic animal.
A long table with six folding chairs had been set up near the podium where two men and a woman with a pronounced stoop to her back stood talking. Sidney recognized Elahan and Tommy Chetwoot immediately. Both wore stern expressions and looked clearly put out by this impromptu meeting. Then she realized they were mirroring her own expression, which reflected irritation bordering on anger. This was not going to be a happy occasion for anyone, but allowing her anger to drive her actions would not solve any problems. Hopefully, diplomacy would.
She extended her hand to Tommy, and said in a pleasant but professional tone, “Thank you for setting up this meeting.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked at her with a little too much intensity and gave her hand a slightly too-hard squeeze.
The other man, in his mid-twenties, was dressed in jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a navy blazer. Tall and lean with short-cropped black hair and expressive brown eyes, he possessed the casual sophistication of a young entrepreneur you might meet at a hip tech company. Introduced as River Menowa, he bestowed her with a charming smile while holding her hand a few beats longer than necessary.
Smooth. Sure of himself with women. “You have the same last name as Jenna,” she remarked.
“My mom. I’m visiting from California.”
“Land of sunshine. The snow must be a shock.”
He chuckled. “Haven’t been warm since I got here. Been fighting a nasty cold.” As if to accentuate his point, he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
“What business are you in, River?”
He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Software development. Small company. Not public yet.”
“You sit on the tribal council long distance?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. “I’m not on the council. Just here to support Mom.”
Jenna shot Sidney a disapproving look from across the table.
Elahan had seated herself next to Jenna, making a handshake unnecessary. Still, Sidney nodded to her.
Elahan nodded back, her witchy quality subdued this morning. She wore a long black dress adorned with strings of beads. Her wild white hair had been restrained in braids that wrapped around her head like a crown. In the light of day, her face appeared as creased as parched earth, her eyes as black and glassy as obsidian. Her gnarled brown hands rested on a leather satchel embellished with intricate beadwork in a floral pattern.
“Please have a seat, Officers.” Tucker sat at the head of the table and gestured for Sidney to sit next to him. She shook out of her heavy coat and hung it on the back of her chair. Granger did the same, taking the last vacant seat next to Elahan.
A bottle of water had been placed at each setting. Sidney unscrewed the top and took a cool sip while studying the group over the bottle.
“We understand why you’re here, Chief Becker,” Tucker stated in a grave tone. “The news of Nikah’s death sent a shock wave through our village. We’re a very close-knit community. It hit several of us here at this table especially hard. Nikah was like a granddaughter to me.” He paused, looked down at his tightly clasped hands, and blinked several times. Then he raised his gaze to hers, his dark eyes moist, and cleared his throat. “We are grieving deeply this morning. But you asked for this emergency meeting with the council. We are respecting your wishes. What is it you want from us?”
All eyes fixed on Sidney, and she felt the heat of resentment pouring from the two women.
“First, let me extend our deepest sympathies. We’re sorry to intrude on your grief. However, we are investigating a murder. A vicious killer is roaming free. Time is of the essence.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words sink in. “It came to our attention last night that in addition to Nikah’s murder, your community has been plagued by other serious crimes, ranging from trespassing, to peeping, to home break-ins, to sexual assaults on two women.”
Surprised expressions appeared around the table. “How do you know this?” Tommy asked.
“In the course of an investigation, many things come to light. Things people want to keep hidden. I find it alarming that these crimes have gone unreported to law enforcement, and have increased in severity.” And borders on criminal neglect. “If we had been called in earlier, the perpetrator might have been caught, and some of these crimes might have been prevented.”
“Really, Chief Becker?” Jenna said, her hostility out in the open. “It’s easy to make sweeping assumptions after the fact. So typical. Our people have always been low on the white man’s priority list, if we don’t fall off completely, unless you want to harass us for crimes we didn’t commit. Then you operate at lightning speed.”
Sidney took a few moments to organize her thoughts before she responded. Di
plomacy. “We’re not here to root up past grievances committed against your people, Jenna. For whatever you may have suffered, I sympathize. I really do. But past injustices should not reflect upon my department. We treat people fairly. I know I’ve been negligent in coming out to Two Creeks and getting to know you as neighbors. For that, I apologize. What I hope to establish going forward is cooperation and mutual trust. Let’s focus on doing what is necessary to make your community safe again.”
“Christ, you sound like a politician,” Jenna hissed.
Sidney’s anger rose swiftly and sharply. A rebuttal blossomed on her tongue. She sucked in a deep breath, released it, and chose to ignore Jenna’s remark. She was not here to win debate points. “Bottom line, your village is being held hostage by violent offenders. We need your help to track them down and put them behind bars.”
“What do you mean by multiple offenders, Chief Becker?” Tucker’s brow furrowed and he leaned forward in his seat. “We thought one man committed all of these crimes.”
“When we arrived at Nikah’s last night, we discovered two men ransacking her house. They got away.”
Eyes widened in surprise around the table. Shock flashed on Tucker’s face, followed quickly by sharp concern. “So, the Stalker has a partner?”
“The burglary may be a separate incident. After we left Nikah’s we went to question Lancer. We interrupted a burglary in progress at his house as well. We believe by the same two men. These were not crimes of stealth and premeditation, which seems to be the Stalker’s M.O. These burglars were sloppy and seemed to be in a hurry. Lancer was tied to a chair and had been beaten severely.”
There were audible gasps around the table and troubled expressions. Even the two women had transitioned from indignation to unease.
“Do you have any idea who these burglars are?” Tucker asked.
“We’re examining evidence that might shed light on their identities.”
“What were they looking for?” Tommy asked with a bewildered expression.
“We have the items in our possession.” Sidney fished out her phone and brought up a photo of the medallion. “Here’s one of them. Do you know what this is?” She passed the phone around the table and everyone took a look. Their shrugs and baffled expressions told her it wasn’t a common Indian artifact.
“It could be Native American,” Tommy said. “But from a tribe in a different part of the country.”
Disappointed, Sidney put away her phone. “Another concern. Lancer told us he’d been asked to leave the village because you think he’s the Stalker.”
A guarded look was exchanged between Tommy and Jenna.
“One of the victims ID’d a man who fit his description,” Tommy said.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?” Sidney asked. “It was dark. The victim was no doubt in shock, which could have skewed her perception.” Sidney kept her tone neutral but firm. “If these women had gotten rape kits, we might have collected fluids, fiber, hair, that could positively ID the Stalker. As it stands, we have nothing. No DNA. Unless the women kept something from their attacks…clothing, underwear, sheets...”
Tucker frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps...”
Jenna’s lip curled with contempt. “Lancer may very well be the Stalker. You can’t prove he isn’t. It’s always the outsider who betrays us. Lancer had no right to tell you of our personal issues here.”
Sidney forced her voice to remain calm. “Informing law enforcement of criminal activity is not a betrayal. It’s an obligation. Let me be very clear, Jenna. Crimes committed in this village are not your personal business. They fall under our jurisdiction.”
“We can take care of ourselves. We don’t need outsiders prying into our lives. Stomping on our rights. Passing judgment on us.”
“How’s that been working for you?” Granger asked with an edge of anger. “Two women have been assaulted. Nikah was murdered. Houses have been burglarized. How many more have to be victimized before you admit you can’t protect them?”
“Don’t patronize us,” Jenna said.
Tommy jumped in, his voice heated. “What makes you think you can do a better job of protecting us than we’re doing ourselves? You operate with a four-man crew. You’re already spread thin, two cops working each shift, dealing with the whole of Garnerville. What are you going to do, ignore other emergencies and spend each night patrolling our village? We’re already doing that. We have patrols of eight men, on foot and in vehicles, patrolling streets and yards every night. Many of us are experienced hunters, experienced trackers. We know the layout of the forest and our own properties.” His voice rang with frustration. “And yet this stalker keeps slipping through our dragnet. Playing cat and mouse. Taunting us. He thinks he’s smarter than we are.”
“He always seems to be one step ahead of us,” Tucker said. “Like he knows firsthand what we’re doing.”
“Like he lives here. And is privy to your strategies,” Sidney said.
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Lancer fits the description and he was the only white guy living here.”
“I understand your concern, Tommy, and your frustration. But I don’t believe Lancer is your man.”
“Because of your accusation, he’s getting threats,” Granger said, his eyes flashing. “Some big bruiser by the name of Fitch Drako said he’d kill him. If Lancer’s harmed in any way, that will be on you. You need to tell your people to back off.”
“I’ll talk to Fitch,” Tucker said emphatically.
“I appreciate the lengths you’re taking to root this guy out,” Sidney said in a calmer tone. “But your efforts haven’t produced results. It’s time to let us do our job.”
“What could you do that we haven’t?” Tucker asked.
“We could have gotten a canine unit out here. Now, with this fresh snow, his scent is covered. We had forensic specialists in Nikah’s house all night. They might find fingerprints and other evidence that could ID her killer. We have national databases of sex offenders, fingerprint and DNA matches. If the Stalker is in the system, we’ll find him.”
“Criminals slip up,” Granger added. “They make mistakes. We can catch this guy if we work together.”
Sidney cast a glance around the table and saw that Jenna looked unconvinced. Elahan sat with her arms crossed, expression inscrutable. Her restless eyes had watched Sidney the entire meeting. She watched every movement, every lift of a hand. Her eyes moved but her head was still. It was unnerving.
River had been silent, avoiding her gaze. His hands were tightly intertwined, turning the tips white. He sat with his jaw clenched, and would no doubt side with the council. Sidney tried hard not to hold their prejudices against them. No telling what kinds of traumatic experiences these people encountered at the hands of law enforcement in the past.
For an uncomfortable length of time, no one spoke.
Finally, Tucker filled in the silence, speaking with quiet dignity. “Please try to understand our position, Chief Becker. We are a self-reliant people. We’ve had to be, just to survive. Here at Two Creeks, we are self-governing, committed to preserving all things Kalapuyan. Here in the center, we celebrate our culture, our language. We pass our heritage on to our children.” He ran a large-knuckled hand over his face, and she recognized the weariness of grief in his eyes. “We’re a democracy. The members of this tribal council were elected by the people of this village. We’ve been entrusted to manage the affairs of this community with fairness and honesty. We listen when our people speak. The majority of villagers agree that we should deal with our problems internally.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Tucker. And I respect your commitment to your village. This council is well equipped to handle day-to-day concerns, but Two Creeks is not a federally recognized sovereign nation. You don’t have the same rights as a reservation. You don’t have a legitimate police force that can deal with violent crimes. I repeat, Two Creeks falls under our jurisdiction.” Sidney felt the tension mount around the
table, which made her stomach tighten. “As such, we’ll continue to go forward with our investigations, which means we’ll be coming into the village as often as needed to talk to you and your neighbors. It would be wise to tell them to work with us. If we discover that anyone is deliberately obstructing our investigation by withholding evidence, we’ll have to arrest them.” She leveled a hard gaze on Tommy, a warning in her glance.
He blinked, and stared back as though realizing the seriousness of the circumstances.
No such realization dawned on Jenna. Anger still colored her cheeks. In a harsh tone, she spouted something in a native language. Elahan responded, then Tommy jumped in and the indecipherable conversation continued for a full minute, unabated.
“Want to share some of that in English?” Granger asked politely.
Jenna glared at him. “I said all we need now is for the press to catch wind of this. They’ll descend upon us like hornets and harass us. Print filthy lies.”
“Finding the men who committed these crimes is our main concern,” Sidney said. “Not your discomfort with the press. We’ll release a statement today. All the residents of Garnerville deserve to know that a murderer and rapist are at large, so they can take precautions. We’ll be setting up a hot line so people can call in leads.” Sidney took a slug of water, trying to hide her irritation. She did not enjoy bullying and threatening these people, or widening the divide they already felt with the rest of the community—but she would, if necessary. “Now, I would like the names of the two women who were assaulted, and the names of the couples who were burglarized while they slept.”
“They don’t want to come forward,” Jenna said.
“They don’t have a choice. They’re witnesses in a murder investigation. We can talk to them here, or we can escort them to the station and talk in the interrogation room.”
Jenna shot darts of venom at Sidney. “I’ll talk to them first. Warn them the Gestapo is coming.” Her sharp words echoed in the cavernous room.
Sidney chewed the insides of her cheeks to keep her anger in check.