by Aimée
Ella and Blalock managed to locate the place where the sniper had been from the obvious impressions in the sand where he’d laid, prone. But clues were scarce, except for some distorted footprints.
“He did a really good job picking up after himself,” Ella said, looking around for spent brass cartridges and finding none. “Unless we can recover at least one bullet, we won’t even be able to identify the caliber of the weapon he used.”
“There are vehicle tracks here,” Justine said, pointing them out to Ella. “They lead down to that farm road, and then probably to the highway. From the size of the tread pattern, it’s a pickup or SUV, and the tires are pretty new. I’ll have a make and model, with luck, in a few hours,” Justine said. “Can I use your reference material?” She looked over at Blalock.
“I’ll fax my tread patterns to the station ASAP,” FB-Eyes agreed.
“There’s one clear boot-print here among the rest,” Ute said, as he crouched by a soft sandy area near the gravel-filled ground at the top of the mesa.
“Size ten,” Blalock said, studying it. “Pretty common around here.”
“But we can probably get a brand name. Those ridges on the heel look distinctive,” Ella said, crouching by it. “Every little piece helps.”
“Are you trying to bolster your own spirits, or mine?” Blalock shot back.
Ella resisted the urge to kick dirt onto his expensive wing tips. FB-Eyes had mellowed, but he could still be one colossal pain in the neck when he chose.
“He may not have left us much to work with, but we’ll get him,” Justine said. “Maybe one of the roadblocks will get lucky. He probably didn’t throw away that rifle, and it’s hard to hide one in a vehicle.”
“I don’t want to rely on luck. I need you to scour this entire area. Find something else we can use,” Ella growled.
“If it’s here to find, we’ll find it,” Justine said. “But this was done by someone who knew what he was doing.”
“You know we’ll do our best,” Ute added.
“You guys always do,” Ella said more gently, realizing she was starting to push the others a little too hard. She had confidence in those working with her, but things had taken more of an edge for her now. She was locked in a battle with an unseen enemy and it was a battle she had to win—for her sake and that her of her child’s.
TEN
Ella led the way back to Blalock’s car, determined not to let anyone sense her frustration. “Let’s see what kind of damage your sedan took.”
“Hopefully it won’t have to go into the shop for more than a day. The bureau can take forever to supply me with a loaner.”
Blalock approached the sedan, concern in his eyes. He crouched by the passenger side and studied the bullet hole, which had penetrated behind Ella’s door and out the driver’s side. “This one must have hit us just before we swerved to the right. The other went through the front and back windshields. The third, you know about personally.”
“We have to find a way to get Abigail Yellowhair to talk candidly to us,” Ella said.
“Will that be a problem?” Blalock’s eyebrows rose.
“My problem has always been with the senator, not his wife, so let’s see how things go. Justine, I’m sure, already picked up some useful information for us, though it was probably all hearsay or off the record.”
“If you trusted Officer Goodluck to go question the family, why are we going up there, too?” Blalock asked.
“The reason Justine can get information for us so successfully is because the Yellowhairs see her as a friend more than a police officer. If I don’t interview Mrs. Yellowhair, they’ll start to distrust Justine and I’ll lose the advantage she gives us by soliciting unguarded comments.”
They arrived at the stucco, Spanish-style house a few minutes later. Ella signalled for Blalock to wait with her in the car.
“Don’t tell me that someone living in a pretentious place like this one is trying to pass themselves off as a traditionalist,” Blalock scoffed. “I thought any display of riches was frowned upon.”
“Yeah, I thought the house was a bit much myself the first time I saw it, but the tribe supported him when he said he needed it to be this way. He argued that he would have to entertain many influential state politicians here, and his home had to be the kind an outsider would automatically respect.”
“So, if he’s really just a pragmatist who tries to fit into every crowd, why are we waiting?”
“Courtesy. It can sometimes gain trust. I’ve always thought that Abigail leaned toward the traditionalists, despite her husband’s work.”
A moment later a tall, slender Navajo woman came to the door and waved at them to approach. She was dressed in a long, dark blue skirt and a simple tunic blouse woven loosely in gentle yellows for summer. It was fastened at the waist with a concha belt. It was a relaxed style, but it gave her an air of elegance and an undeniable sense of presence.
Ella met her by the door, and then followed her inside, Blalock a few steps behind them.
“I’ve been expecting you to come by,” Mrs. Yellowhair said to Ella, then included Blalock in that statement with a glance.
“I’m sorry that every time I come it has to be under such difficult circumstances,” Ella said, remembering the last time.
Abigail nodded, her face serene. “When do you think the kidnappers will free my husband?”
“I don’t know,” Ella answered, determined to be as honest with her as possible. Abigail deserved that much from her.
“You want to know who I think might have done this to him, I suppose?”
Ella nodded. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the people who consider the senator an enemy, and might be out to hurt him and you.”
“My husband makes enemies with the same ease that some people make friends,” Abigail said. “He’s a difficult man for people to understand. He can be completely charming when the situation calls for it, but he can also be a hard-liner when he feels things should be done in a certain way.”
“Has anyone made any threats against him, or the family within the past few weeks or months?” Ella asked.
“There’s Avery Blueeyes, the tribal councilman. He opposes every bill and every measure that my husband supports. Another man, Atsidi Benally, who teaches our language to the college students, also resents our family because he sees my husband as too Anglo in his thinking, and the wrong leader for our people.”
Ella had heard of both men. Avery Blueeyes was a politician through and through, and served on many tribal committees. What he wanted was Yellowhair’s job representing their district in the state legislature.
Atsidi was an old man with a lot of connections, and a strong following in the Four Corners region. He was so conservative and traditional, he made Clifford look like a left-wing liberal. Atsidi wasn’t a member of the Fierce Ones because he claimed that they fought like the whites—hiding their identities and trying to manipulate the laws the whites had instituted on their land. Now that the Fierce Ones were no longer hiding their identities and had modified some of their tactics, maybe he’d become more sympathetic to them. He might have even suggested the kidnapping to them. Or maybe he was acting with yet another group that was still unidentified.
“But the worst one of all is that half Navajo who lives off the Rez.”
It took Ella a moment to register who Abigail was referring to. “You mean the Navajo talk show host?” Ella paused, trying to think of his name. “Something Branch?” she said at last.
“George Branch. A political conservative who’s just to the right of Attila the Hun,” Blalock commented. “He’s about as obnoxious as they come. But that seems to be a trend these days for these talk show jocks. Creating issues to build ratings is their stock and trade.”
Abigail nodded. “All that is true but, with Branch, there seems to be pure hatred behind his show business animosity toward my husband. He almost cost my husband the last election because of the comments h
e continually made on his radio show. Branch made a lot of thinly veiled accusations and repeated irresponsible gossip that branded my husband as corrupt. My husband was livid.”
“Wasn’t there some ruckus about the senator demanding equal airtime, even though the law doesn’t require it?” Blalock asked.
Abigail sighed, then nodded. “My husband wanted a chance to rebut the statements made against him, but Branch said my husband should get his own show if he had something to say. Tempers flared, and it ended up in a shoving match at the station between him and Branch. After that, Branch intensified his attacks on my husband. He capitalized on that incident to make my husband look even worse.”
Ella noted that Abigail hadn’t used her husband’s name, but hadn’t hesitated to use anyone else’s. The small discrepancy said a lot about her. Names were said to have power, and knowing an enemy’s name and using it weakened that person and made him vulnerable. Abigail was loyal to her husband, even in something like this.
“Do you realize that Mr. Branch even got a restraining order to make my husband look dangerous and unstable? What was worse, he ranted on about the incident every day until the election.”
“I remember,” Blalock said. “I listen to Branch once in a while to keep tabs on him. People in his position can sway a lot of opinions and trouble usually follows them.”
“And those are the people you think would pose a danger to your husband?” Ella asked.
“They’re the only ones who come to mind right now.”
Ella reached into her jacket pocket and brought out a card. “You can reach me at that number day or night. If you remember anything you feel might be important, or if you need to talk, don’t hesitate to call me. We’ll also have an officer here with you at all times, of course.”
“Thank you.” Abigail met her eyes. “My husband never could understand you, but I always have. I know how difficult it is to be in a family that doesn’t share your views. It sets you apart and, though you’d give anything for it to be different, it’s not something you can change.”
Ella understood then that although Abigail longed for a simpler life, it was one she knew she’d never have. “It is, hard, but everyone has the right to be themselves,” she said. For a moment Ella felt a kinship with Abigail. If not being able to follow her heart was the price of being a politician’s wife, she was glad she’d refused to be part of that world.
After consulting with the Navajo cop assigned to monitor the telephone and protect Mrs. Yellowhair, Ella walked with Blalock to his sedan. “She hasn’t had an easy life. I never realized that until now.”
Blalock nodded. “It takes more than a fancy house to make a home.”
When they returned to the ambush site, they found Justine standing by her vehicle, clipboard in hand.
Ella and Blalock approached her. “Any progress?” Ella asked.
“We’ve been looking for the missing rounds but, so far, we haven’t had any luck. I was hoping that if I followed the trajectory, I’d get lucky, but no such luck.”
“Where’s Harry?”
“He’s still walking around out there with a metal detector. He refuses to give up. If the bullet didn’t ricochet, it had to impact on or beside the road, and he wants to find it.”
“Good for him. We need a lead, and we need it badly,” Ella said. “And please tell him to contact Lulu Todea at the newspaper. She’s supposed to be making us a list of Yellowhair’s enemies. He can add those names to the ones he’s compiled already.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. And I’ll be out here for a while longer, unless you need me,” Justine said.
Ella shook her head. “We’re going to pay George Branch a visit.”
Recognition flashed over her features. “Ugh. I can’t stand that blowhard. I don’t know how he manages to stay on the air.”
“He feeds on people’s fears and prejudices, telling them what they want to hear,” Blalock said. “If his listeners would look past all his simplistic answers, they’d see that he really offers no solutions to anything—just more confusion.”
“Good luck with him,” Justine said.
As they got underway, Blalock glanced over at Ella. “Think Branch could be our sniper?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll be sounding him out carefully, that’s for sure. I really don’t like being used for target practice.”
Blalock studied her expression for a moment, then looked back at the road. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What’s bugging you?”
“As a Navajo and as a cop, I’ve been taught to look for the pattern and identify what’s not part of it, or out of place. A kidnapping, and then a sniper incident here on the reservation so close together doesn’t add up and make a picture I can understand. And, coupled with everything else that’s happening…”
“I know you’re trying to tie everything together, but maybe what we’re dealing with is a series of unrelated events.”
“I think you’re wrong. They’re connected. I just don’t know how yet.”
“Look at it logically. We can’t link the clinic robbery to the Yellowhair kidnapping. There’s no common thread. And, although I admit that the attempt to kill you appears, on the surface, to share a link to the abduction, there’s no way to be sure. You’ve made a lot of enemies in your time. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep trying to group everything into a tight little package.”
Blalock ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time. Branch is half Navajo, and that has given him some credibility when he talks about tribal matters, but he’s still a troublemaker. In my opinion, he’d fit in real nicely with the Fierce Ones.”
“I don’t know. I think the Fierce Ones wouldn’t want a wild card like Branch in their group. Sooner or later, they’d try to muzzle him and all hell would break loose.”
By the time they reached the radio station outside the Rez, it was early evening. Ella walked inside the building, stopped by the candy machine, and bought two chocolate bars.
“Since when did you become a junk food junkie?” Blalock asked.
“What can I tell you? I’m into chocolate.”
Twenty minutes later she’d finished the candy bars and they were still waiting for Branch to see them. Her patience wearing thin, Ella waited by the corridor, pacing.
Finally, Branch came out. He stood close to six feet tall and was built like a fifty-five gallon drum. He swung from side to side as he walked, and she couldn’t tell if that was his version of a macho swagger, or whether it was an attempt to accommodate his enormous bulk. His size alone made her doubt that he would have been able to move fast enough to shoot at her and Blalock, then get away before they reached him.
“I hear you folks need to talk to me,” he said, his rich baritone voice reverberating in the small reception area.
“We’d like to speak to you in private,” Ella clipped.
“Let’s go to my office then,” he said, then led the way around the corridor until they reached a large, cluttered office.
He waved in the direction of the two chairs by the desk. “You’ll have to forgive the chaos in here, but I like it this way. I can’t stand an orderly place that looks as if no one works there.” He gave her a long, hard look as he seated himself behind the desk. “Aren’t you a little bit out of your jurisdiction?”
“That’s why Agent Blalock is here. There’s no place around here that’s not in his jurisdiction.”
“So, you’re working a case together? What’s going on?”
Blalock cleared his throat. “State Senator James Yellowhair has been kidnapped.”
Branch muttered an oath and grabbed the phone. Ella reached out and covered the keypad with her hand so he couldn’t enter a number. “You’re not working for the news channel, you run a talk show. There’s no need for you to spread the story just yet.”
Branch let go of the receiver and regarded her mockingly. “Whatever you say—and for someone who’s out of her
jurisdiction, Officer Ella, you do and say quite a bit, don’t you?”
“Okay, let’s cut the crap,” Blalock snapped. “You and the senator weren’t exactly pals. Where were you earlier today, probably before dawn?”
Branch’s eyes widened. “I have no intention of answering that question. You can’t pin this on me, though I’m sure wherever Yellowhair is, he would absolutely love that.”
“You don’t deny that there’s a lot of bad blood between you and the senator, do you?” Ella asked.
“Of course not. But he and I need each other. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, you know. I keep his name out in front of people, and that’s exactly what he wants.”
“You almost cost him the election,” Ella said.
“Are you kidding? I handed it to him. Without me, he would have lost. He’s made plenty of enemies on his own, without any help from me.”
“So, you’re saying that you two have been engaged in a self-serving mock combat for the purposes of gaining publicity?” Blalock pressed. “Was this all prearranged and mapped out, like pro wrestling?”
“Absolutely not!” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Listen here, Agent Blalock, allegations like that can really create problems for me. Be careful what you say, particularly in public, or I’ll sue you for libel so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“Save it,” Blalock snapped. “Theatrics don’t impress me. You’re a public figure, so as long as you have a radio show, you and the contents of your programs are fair game. So, let’s get down to it. What was the deal between you and Yellowhair?”
“There was no deal. We hate each other’s guts, but our interaction gave my ratings an enormous boost, and gained him instant name recognition, so we both came out ahead. I still think he’s corrupt, mind you, but I just don’t actually come out and say that on the air.”
“But you do insinuate it,” Ella countered.
He smiled. “Sure, but I’m careful how I word things. Trust me, if Yellowhair had anything on me, he would have taken me to court months ago.” Branch paused, then glanced at Blalock. “But the bottom line is that he’s been kidnapped, and you want to get him back. Okay, that, I get. But what part do you want me to play in this?”