by Aimée
“May I go? I have a lot of work to do,” Tallman said, his English slow, but sure.
“I’m finished with all my questions now, Sir,” Ella told him. “Thanks for your help.”
He walked off, visibly relieved to finally be able to raise the U.S., New Mexico, and Navajo Nation flags.
Justine got Ella’s attention again. “I’ll check the note for fingerprints when I get back to the lab and can fume it with ninhydrin. In the meantime, I hand wrote a copy of the note’s text so we can work with it.”
“Read me what it says again,” Ella said.
“Okay, here goes:
To tribal officials and representatives of the Dineh: Hosteen Ben has been selling out to the Anglos. We will keep him and Hosteen Yellowhair until the Navajo Nation is ‘owned and operated’ by The People alone.
There’s no signature,” Justine said.
Ella shook her head. “It’s consistent with the way a traditionalist would talk, using ‘hosteen’ instead of mister. The tone and wording is similar to the Yellowhair message, too. Check with the linguists and handwriting experts Blalock has access to and see if they think the notes were composed by the same person.”
“I’d bet on it,” Justine said. “Speak of the devil, here comes FB-Eyes now.” Justine pursed her lips to point toward the approaching light blue government sedan.
“Let him send the note to the Albuquerque bureau lab for prints, if he volunteers.”
“We can get a faster turnaround if you let me do the work here,” Justine reminded Ella.
“Do you really expect to find any prints?”
She hesitated. “Not if the note came from the same kidnappers,” Justine admitted, “and based on what we’ve seen, that’s a pretty good bet.”
“Then let Blalock and the bureau be the ones who spend the time and money not finding anything out. We have a kidnapper or two to track down,” Ella said.
“And that’s why you’re in charge around here not me, right boss?”
“Right. Now let’s brief Blalock while we have something to eat inside. The lunchroom usually has snacks available, and all this investigating has made me hungry. I wonder if they have any fruit rolls or granola bars?”
SEVENTEEN
Blalock insisted on having a quick look around while Ella briefed him, and that effectively squashed Ella’s plan to get something to eat. Meanwhile, Justine, Harry Ute, Ralph Tache, and Joseph Neskahi searched the grounds and immediate area for anything the kidnappers might have left behind.
A while later, Justine joined Ella who, along with Agent Blalock, had managed to find a box of doughnuts. Ella gestured to a doughnut and a Styrofoam cup of coffee she’d set aside for Justine.
“What’s next, boss? You don’t think Ben was kidnapped from this location, do you?” Justine asked.
“Not really. His vehicle still hasn’t been found. I’d vote he was taken after he left work last night. That’s more in keeping with the kidnappers’ MO. We have officers on the lookout for his white Dodge Ram pickup but, unless we get some evidence of a struggle when we find the truck, we’ll be back to square one,” Ella said.
“Give me a good photo or two of the victims, physical descriptions—height, weight, and the usual. I’ll have a thousand flyers made up that we can circulate,” Blalock said.
“We can distribute some of those among the Four Corners law enforcement agencies and blanket the entire state using local newspapers and the media,” Justine said.
“Somebody, somewhere, must have seen Ben or Yellowhair just before or after they were taken,” Blalock said. “And if either of those men is being held in this area, a neighbor or postman could end up giving us the lead we need.”
A call came through on Ella’s handheld radio, interrupting them. “Dispatch to SI Clah. Officer Cloud has found Ben’s missing vehicle on a side street north of the tribal offices. Please see the officer at 1288 South Fifth.”
“10–4, dispatch.”
Ella looked at the others. “If the MO for the kidnappings has remained the same, Ben was taken from his truck just like Yellowhair. Let’s get over there and see what we can find.”
Ella returned to her unit and switched on her flashers. At least now they’d have a chance to search for physical evidence that might lead them somewhere.
* * *
Some time later, they gathered by Ben’s truck. “He made a normal stop,” Justine told Ella and Blalock. “There are no dents or scrapes on the vehicle, and the road shows no skid marks.”
Tache and Harry Ute were going over the cab itself, which contained an unopened six-pack of beer sitting on a water-soaked seat, and the receipt from a liquor store not far off the Rez. Ben’s jacket was over the seat, as if placed there casually.
“I think that Ben left work, drove east toward Farmington far enough to reach the liquor store, bought some cold beer at the time printed on the receipt, then started back toward his home,” Blalock said.
“But something made him pull over, and that was when he was kidnapped,” Ella added. “I could think of only a few things that would make someone pull over that time of night.”
“An ambulance,” Justine suggested.
“Or a cop.” Blalock added.
“Or a car with someone in it that Ben knew,” Ella said.
“When you do the background on Ben, check and see if he has any radical friends or associates, will you?” Blalock asked.
“Such as the Fierce Ones?” Ella felt her muscles tighten from the tension. “The problem with any theory involving them is that we still don’t have any physical evidence against that group.”
“Which means we have to start putting some serious pressure on the Fierce Ones,” Blalock said, “but you guys will have to handle that without me. They’d never talk to the FBI about anything. I’d just get the runaround.”
“Get started on those flyers, Dwayne,” Ella said. “I’ll have all the personal data I have on Ben and Yellowhair faxed to your office so it’ll be waiting when you get back to Farmington.”
“We should all pray that we break this case soon,” Blalock said, walking over to his car. “I can feel the heat coming from politicians already, and it isn’t ten A.M. yet.”
“That’s nothing compared to the heat we’re gonna get from the tribe,” Justine mumbled.
“That’s a fact,” Ella said.
Leaving Justine and the crime scene team at the site, Ella returned to the station and walked directly to Big Ed’s office. He was on the telephone, but waved her to a chair.
When he finally hung up, Big Ed took a minute before speaking. She could tell from what she’d heard of his side of the conversation that the chief had just been leaned on heavily by the tribal president.
“You know who that was, Shorty, and you can guess what’s bothering him. The head of our tribe wants action on these kidnappings, and he wants it yesterday. You and I both know kidnappings can take either a few hours to solve, or years. But when the Navajo Nation’s president is under pressure, it’ll come back on me. And when it comes to me, it goes to you. Now tell me what I need to know.” Big Ed picked up a big mug shaped like a pig, and swallowed a mouthful of coffee. Grimacing, he put it back down in disgust.
“It looks like the work of the same kidnapper or kidnappers as before. The MO was pretty much the same: taking the victim at night from their vehicle, and leaving a note for us to find.” She handed him the copy Justine had made of the text, and he skimmed it. “That’s the newest. The original is going to the FBI lab.”
“‘Owned and operated,’ huh? That seems to fit with the demands made when Yellowhair was taken. Any theories about the identity of the kidnappers?”
“None except for the obvious, and it bothers me because I know that’s precisely what we’re supposed to think. We do have some ideas about the actual kidnapping strategy, if you want to hear them.” Seeing him nod, she continued. “The victim apparently pulls over for the kidnapper’s vehicle, and that sounds like
it’s either a police or emergency vehicle, or a person the victim recognizes and trusts enough to stop.”
“We’ll have to check out our own people to see who’s sympathetic to the Fierce Ones, or worse, if somebody is a member of those vigilantes. Personally, I don’t think that will pan out. I’d like to think our cops are above that, but I’ll check that out myself.” Big Ed leaned back in his chair, rocking back and forth while he spoke.
“Personally, I lean toward the notion of somebody posing as a cop,” Ella said. “That would be easy to carry out. All you’d need is a similar model vehicle to the ones we use here and a red emergency light or, in the dark, and with a spotlight, just the flashers would do.”
“So, the victim pulls over, the spotlight blinds them, and when they roll down the window to greet the officer, they get a gun in their face. It would be pretty simple,” Big Ed agreed.
“And that would tend to rule out Blueeyes from the list of suspects unless he had someone working with him,” Ella said. “I think if he was going to do something illegal, he would act alone. The fewer witnesses the better for a man like that.”
“No definite word on his whereabouts?” asked Big Ed.
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Then take that new theory of yours to the next level. Go see if anyone in the area where the kidnapping occurred remembers seeing flashing lights around the time the crime went down,” Big Ed said.
“Ben’s vehicle was found in a residential area, so we may be able to find a witness, providing he was actually taken at the spot where we found his truck. I’ll get some officers and go canvass the neighborhood right away.”
“Do what you have to do to get the victims back safe and sound,” Big Ed said. “I’m counting on you, Ella.”
* * *
An hour later, Ella knocked on the door of Pauline Salt’s home, one of four apartments constructed of brick and metal in a style reminiscent of the late fifties or early sixties. This was an area inhabited by the teachers and staff of various federal and tribal institutions, including the public health hospital. It wasn’t necessary for her to follow tradition here and wait to be seen before approaching the door.
Although the other homes she’d visited had constituted a waste of time (the residents were all at work), this time she could hear someone moving inside.
A cranky voice spoke out, telling her to “wait a minute.”
Then a middle-aged Navajo woman in a blue robe pushed aside the curtain of the narrow window beside the door and looked out through half closed eyes. “What is it?”
“I’m from the police.” Ella held up her badge so the woman could see it and her ID. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to ask you a few questions about something you may have noticed in your neighborhood last night. Can you open the door so we can talk?”
There was a pause as the woman disappeared, then the door opened and Ella was invited inside. “Sorry. I work the night shift and I don’t usually get out of bed until the afternoon. I’m a little out of it right now.”
“That’s okay. I won’t stay long. I just needed some information.”
“I recognize your face from the papers. You’re the police department’s special investigator, Ella Clah, right?” The woman finally smiled, pleased with herself.
“Yes, I am. And you’re Pauline Salt?”
“How did you know? Oh, right, my name is on the mailbox.”
The woman was a nurse, Ella noted from the photos of her on the wall, including a diploma from the University of New Mexico Nursing School. This explained her nontraditional use of names.
“I assume you’re working on Senator Yellowhair’s kidnapping?” Pauline sat down on a comfortable-looking sofa, and stifled a yawn. “I’ve never met the man or voted for him, so I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“I am working on a kidnapping,” Ella admitted, withholding specifics. “Did you work the night shift last night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What I need to know is if you saw anything unusual on this street late last night, or early this morning.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t see anyone at all on the street when I got home.”
“And that was at…”
“Around twelve thirty A.M.”
“And the street was totally deserted?” Ella pressed.
“Well, not quite,” she said after a brief pause. “When I was drawing the curtains and getting ready to go to bed, I saw a cop down the road pulling someone over.” Pauline yawned, then smiled. “Excuse me.”
“Did you notice anything about either vehicle?” Ella knew that this was what she was looking for. No officers had pulled anyone over on this street last night, according to their watch reports. She’d checked. “Was one of the two vehicles a new-looking pickup?”
“That’s right. A big fancy white one. I could see it clearly because the cop had his spotlight on it.”
“What about the cop car?” Ella asked.
“It was one of those Jeep-type vehicles, what they call a sports utility vehicle nowadays.”
“Did it have an insignia on the side, like regular Navajo police cars do?” This could be a good lead, if she could get more information.
“It was like yours, with no markings, but it wasn’t blue, it was white. It had a red blinking light stuck up on the roof that looked like it was ready to fall off. It was over the driver’s side, like someone had stuck it on there really fast. I guess it had a magnet on it.”
“Did you notice the driver, or the officer?”
“No, just shapes. I can’t say for sure, but I think there were three or four figures in the police car. Maybe the officer had a partner, or the driver had passengers. Were they arrested? Why are you asking me this anyway? It was one of your own officers, wasn’t it?”
“No, it wasn’t, at least we don’t think so. I’d like you to do a favor for me, and maybe help a crime victim at the same time. Tell me everything else you remember about last night, and then I’ll tell you a little more about my investigation, but it’ll have to be in confidence.”
Pauline’s eyes grew wide and she nodded. “Of course.”
Ella got every detail Pauline Salt could remember, then finally told her about Ernest Ben’s kidnapping. “But please don’t tell anyone what you know. It could compromise our investigation.” Ella started to walk out the door, but stopped in mid stride. “Don’t even talk to another police officer, unless I call you first and tell you it’s okay.”
“No problem,” she said. “I can keep confidences. Don’t worry.”
Assured Pauline would be discreet, Ella left. The best thing she could do was to keep Pauline anonymous to everyone, except the cops she personally trusted. If anyone thought Pauline could identify the kidnappers, she’d be in danger.
By the time Ella and Justine finished canvassing the neighborhood, it was past lunchtime, and they grabbed a sandwich at the Totah Cafe. By then, news of Ernest Ben’s kidnapping had reached the radio and television stations. As she watched the broadcast, Ella was pleased to see that Blalock had come through for her.
The television newscaster showed the flyer Blalock had provided for them, and read off the description of both missing Navajo officials.
“We’ve got every agency in the area looking for that phoney cop car. Something’s bound to turn up,” Justine said, referring to the information they’d deliberately kept from the reporters in order to protect Pauline.
“That vehicle’s probably hidden away by now, but every dealer in New Mexico and southern Colorado is going to have an officer visit them and look over their sales records. Blalock and the FBI can get law enforcement teams moving like no one else can.”
Ella finished her chef’s salad, and eyed a piece of pie on the counter across the room. She knew she’d have to start eating more nutritiously with a child developing, but fattening foods just tasted better somehow.
“Wait until that George Branch character does his show tonight. He really laid it o
n thick about tribal corruption when the senator was kidnapped. I wonder what he’ll say this time?”
“Blalock is going to record his broadcasts from now on. He’s still a suspect, though he couldn’t be doing this alone if Ben was taken by more than one man.”
Justine looked across the room toward the door, stared hopefully for a moment, then looked back at Ella.
“Who did you see come in?” Ella asked. She hadn’t looked, not wanting to be obvious, but was curious about Justine’s reaction.
“It was Billy and a couple of his coworkers from the mine,” Justine said with a shrug. “But he didn’t see us, or he would have said hello.”
“I wonder how they’re reacting to the latest kidnapping?” Ella watched Justine for a reaction.
“Billy and his friends don’t look too happy, judging from their expressions. Whoever is doing this is trying to make the Fierce Ones look bad, and I have a feeling that’s going to stir up its own brand of trouble.”
“Then we better catch the bad guys quickly. We don’t need any more problems. Time to get back to work partner,” Ella said, walking out the side door with Justine.
Ella was halfway across the parking lot when she glanced behind her automatically and saw Billy Pete watching Justine from the window. Aware of Ella, Billy shifted his gaze to her, gave her a nod, then turned his attention back to his friends.
EIGHTEEN
That night at home Ella decided to tune in to George Branch’s show. She’d only heard a few minutes here and there in the past because she’d found the man so one-sided and annoying.
After listening to the first ten-minute segment, she was glad Blalock had elected to start recording the broadcast. Branch had chosen the recent lawlessness on the Rez as his topic. His ranting held few surprises, but Branch suddenly got Ella’s attention when he mentioned that she’d been attacked beside the San Juan River. This attack had not been made public. Only officers around the station, her mother, and the attackers themselves knew about that. Branch assured his listening audience that Ella had undoubtedly been yet another target of the kidnappers operating on the Rez. He then pointed out that as a police officer, she would have been an excellent hostage for anyone hoping to force tribal government action.