by Aimée
Activating her emergency equipment, Ella accelerated and reached the dirt road turnoff quickly. As she entered the private road with a controlled skid, Ella looked ahead at the small gray stucco Bitsillie residence.
The Bitsillie’s were traditionalists, and had a log hogan behind their more modern winter house. A rough-cut log corral held several goats, and a white pickup was parked beside the corral. Manuelito’s police unit was at the end of the road, fifty feet from the hogan. Beneath a cottonwood branch arbor she could see a uniformed officer pushing a man with his baton. An old woman and man stood nearby, waving their arms.
Then something about the white pickup suddenly became familiar. In a heartbeat, Ella knew why. The truck belonged to her brother, Clifford.
Ella jumped out and ran over to the arbor, where Clifford and Sergeant Manuelito were circling each other. “What’s going on Sergeant? Why do you want to arrest my brother? And what are you doing here anyway? You’re supposed to be tracking down a white SUV.”
Ella caught Clifford’s eye. He was watching Manuelito with a look she recognized from their teenage years as his “do you believe this idiot?” glare.
“Are you going to back me up or not, Investigator Clah? Your brother is resisting arrest.” Manuelito’s face was red, and he was obviously angry and frustrated.
“Resisting getting pushed around is more like it,” Mrs. Bitsillie shouted angrily. “The hataalii was here treating my husband for a sore shoulder when this wild Navajo came speeding up in his car, getting dust in everyone’s eyes. He was rude to me and my husband, and especially to the medicine man.”
Mrs. Bitsillie continued, shaking her finger at Sergeant Manuelito, “I don’t get angry very often, but if you’d have tried to grab me like you grabbed the hataalii, I would have socked you right in the nose, even if I am an old woman.”
“What happened, Brother?” Ella approached Clifford, who looked more relaxed than anyone else there. Old Man Bitsillie was shaking, and his fists were clenched in anger as he glared at Manuelito. He’d lost the ability to speak a few years ago; he was even older than his wife.
“This officer came up like a whirlwind and demanded that I tell him where I was last night and where I’d driven my pickup. He wanted me to leave my patient and come to the police station. When he tried to grab my arm, I avoided him and wouldn’t let him get close. The woman almost got struck when Sergeant Manuelito tried to use some sort of nightstick hold on me.”
“Destea here wouldn’t answer my questions, and he resisted arrest when I tried to take him to my vehicle. The old woman wasn’t in any danger,” Manuelito said. “Are you going to take his side again because he’s your brother? What kind of cop are you?”
“Step over here with me a moment, Sergeant. Consider that an order.” Ella was going to remain calm, though she wanted to grab Manuelito’s baton and feed it to him. It was obvious the man had lost his cool.
Manuelito glared at Clifford, then walked over to Ella’s vehicle. “These are your people, too, Sergeant, and you’re really acting like a jerk. Is this the kind of role model you think a cop should present to those we’re supposed to be protecting? You’re on my team now, and while you’re on it, you’re going to calm down and behave like a professional.”
“I was just doing my job. We’re supposed to be looking for a white vehicle, and the Fierce Ones are possible suspects in these kidnappings. Clifford Destea has a white pickup. It’s not an SUV, exactly, but the witness who saw it might have made a mistake. It was night, after all.”
“What you say makes sense, but did you find out if my brother has an alibi?”
“We didn’t get that far. He refused to answer, and I didn’t have any choice but to ask him to come in to the station. He’s under arrest now. Are you going to take him in, Special Investigator?” Sergeant Manuelito demanded.
“Wait here, Sergeant. I’ll see what I can do to clear up this situation.” Ella walked back to Clifford, who was talking to Mr. Bitsillie about his back. Mrs. Bitsillie held some herbs Clifford had given her.
“I’m done here, Sister. Now what do you want me to do? I’ll drive myself to the police station if necessary, or ride with you. But don’t ask me to go with that man. He has too much anger inside him to think rationally at the moment. Perhaps he should find another profession before he hurts an innocent person.”
“Did he hit you with the nightstick?” Ella looked her brother over for signs of a injury.
“He tried a few times, but no. I think his lack of success was what made him angry. I was wondering what I should do if he tried his pistol next.”
Clifford was speaking as calmly as if he were addressing a child, but Ella could see a glint of anger in the back of his eyes. Perhaps knowing him so well allowed her to spot things about her brother no one else could, except, of course, for their mother.
“He’s going to place you under arrest but, with the Bitsillie’s as witnesses on your behalf, he’s going to end up looking like a fool,” Ella said, “which is understandable in his case. There’s nothing I can do at the moment, but I can come down hard on him later. The police chief will probably do the same.”
“Here we go again,” he said, expelling his breath in a hiss. “If you don’t mind, I’ll drive my own truck. I’d rather have it closer to home. You and the sergeant can be in front and back of me. How do you think he’s going to react to that?” Clifford pursed his lips toward Manuelito, who was leaning against his vehicle, trying to look bored.
“Who cares? I’ll lead the way, and you follow me. He can do what he wants. When we get to the station, I’ll make sure he isn’t left alone with you. If he tries something, and you’re forced to defend yourself, it’ll just make your case worse unless there are other witnesses. But I’ll tell you this—I’m getting him reassigned. That’s within my authority.” Ella walked with Clifford toward his truck.
“You know, and I know you know, that I haven’t done anything illegal. When’s all this going to end?” Clifford took out his keys and climbed into the cab. His voice was cool and calm, and from her experience too relaxed to be normal for her brother. But with Clifford, the more collected he seemed, the angrier he was inside.
“I don’t know, but my taking you in again is going to make both of our lives interesting. The rumor that there’s some sort of rift between us is going to grow even stronger. But let’s not defend our actions here today with anyone outside the PD. It’ll only spark more talk. What do you say?” Ella asked.
“Okay, but this is getting out of hand, and I intend to put a stop to it. Don’t be surprised if I do something you don’t like, Sister,” Clifford said.
“Like what?” Her brother was so matter-of-fact she knew there was going to be trouble.
“You’ll see, Special Investigator, you’ll see.”
Ella scowled, then turned to the sergeant. “Let’s go, hotshot,” she said quietly. “I’m leading the way, and the medicine man will follow in his own vehicle. You follow him, then do the paperwork at the station.”
As Ella climbed into her Jeep, she thought about Clifford’s last words. “Just what the hell did you mean by that, Brother?” she whispered, alone in the vehicle. Her only answer was the sound of the road beneath her tires.
NINETEEN
Ella decided there was one thing she could do to make things easier for Clifford. Plan in mind, she proceeded to alter their route. When they reached Shiprock, she continued on past the turnoff to the main station. Clifford stayed right behind her, following in his pickup as they approached the old westbound bridge across the river.
“Unit SI five to SI one,” Manuelito came on the radio immediately. “You missed the turn, Investigator Clah. Where are we going?”
Ella deliberately waited a full thirty seconds before responding. “SI Five, I’m heading to the westside substation. Do you copy?” Clifford would be a few miles closer to home at the new, modern facility, and avoid some of the publicity, hopefully.
“
10–4,” Manuelito responded.
A few minutes later, after Clifford and Ella were inside the small, new facility, Manuelito joined them and formally placed Clifford under arrest. Ella wasn’t surprised. Manuelito was one of the most stubborn cops she’d ever encountered.
“I’ll call Kevin Tolino for you,” Ella volunteered as Clifford was led to the booking desk, which was, literally, a small desk manned by one clerk.
“Please do that, Sister, but don’t tell him to come down here to bail me out. I’m going to stay. I’m not going to let him try and talk the sergeant here into dropping the charges either. Tell him instead to go get a statement from the witnesses. This time I’m going to court. I think there’s one cop who needs to learn a lesson, and the tribe’s best lawyer is going to help me teach him.”
Sergeant Manuelito had looked up the second Clifford had mentioned going to court and, now, he was a shade paler. “What do you think you’re doing? Trying to give the police department a bad image?”
“That seems to be your goal, not mine. I’m just going to see that justice is done.” Clifford held out his hands, wrists up. “Aren’t you going to handcuff me, Sergeant?”
“Are you sure you want to do this, Brother?” Ella just shook her head slowly. “I’ll provide bail money.”
“Your lawyer and I can work something out,” Manuelito insisted, his voice fading. He turned to Ella. “Do something. He’s your brother. You really want him in jail?”
Now Ella smiled. “I can’t tell him anything. My brother never listens to me. I’ve got a feeling that you’d better find a lawyer of your own. You’ve really gotten yourself into a hole this time, Sergeant. If I were you, I’d stop digging and look for a way out.”
Ella watched as Clifford was booked and escorted by another officer to one of the two holding cells in the back. Sergeant Manuelito paced back and forth for a while, then cursed to himself and left the station.
As soon as things had settled, Ella called Kevin. “We have another problem here with my brother,” Ella said, and explained.
Kevin started to laugh. “Good for Clifford! The sergeant deserves it. Tell your brother I’ll get on it right away. But first, how are you doing? I heard about the knife attack on Branch’s radio program. I started to call you at home but since I wasn’t sure how much Rose knew, I decided against it.”
“I’m fine. Branch sensationalized it as usual,” she said. For a moment, Ella was tempted to ask Kevin to speak to his grandmother and get her to stop watching her and the house, but this wasn’t the time. That was more of a face-to-face issue that would have to wait.
Just as Kevin said good-bye, Justine came into the station. “I overheard your radio traffic. What’s going on?”
Ella explained about Clifford and Sergeant Manuelito.
“You believe Clifford’s side of the story, don’t you, Ella?” Justine asked as they walked outside to their vehicles.
“Of course I do and, unless Manuelito gets real lucky, he’s going to end up before a review board. I doubt Clifford will sue him, he’s not that kind of person, but he seems intent on scaring the hell out of the sergeant.” Ella was beginning to appreciate her brother’s strategy. “The sergeant was assigned to our team, but now I’m not sure I want him. If he asks you for information concerning the investigation, refer him to me.”
Ella stopped by her Jeep. Administrative matters like these had to be dealt with according to established protocols, but she had the authority to get Manuelito transferred back off her team and she intended to do just that. He was putting roadblocks in her way, not helping.
“By the way, I got the background information on Walter Morgan and Ted Landreth,” Justine said. “There’s nothing we didn’t already know there. The only thing I’m curious about is why Morgan never went back home after he got out of the marines,” Justine said.
“What do you mean, never went home?”
“According to the information we have, he was raised in the St. Louis area, joined the marines a few years out of high school, and served until the end of the Persian Gulf conflict. When he came back to the States, after spending several years in Europe, he stayed in California. Wouldn’t he have ever gone back home? I know I would have.”
“Morgan didn’t seem to get along with his family, at least that’s the impression I got. Maybe he left home under a cloud. Was there a wife listed in his background?” Ella remembered Morgan saying it was none of her business, which had only aroused her curiosity even more.
“Nope. And if he was living with someone, no mention of that is in his records either,” Justine recalled.
“Did you get his parents address? There wasn’t one in his file. Morgan said he’d lost touch with them.” Ella said.
“From what I found, they’re living in the same town he grew up in. I guess Morgan just didn’t want anyone to contact them about him. He may want to cut those ties for his own reasons,” Justine said.
“Let’s call the National Records Center and the Veterans Administration and get all we can on the man’s military service record. He’s coming across as the kind of person that sends up all kinds of warning flags to people in our profession—a bit strange, a loner, and dangerous.”
“The kind of person who’s associated with crime and violence,” Justine agreed. “I’ll put things in motion when I get back.”
“Anything else?”
“I used the word ‘gamma’ to finally break the code on Hansen’s computer files. There’s a whole subdirectory full of memos he wrote, all business and boring, about production schedules and stuff. The only personal files were a letter to his parents and a Christmas letter. You know, the kind people send out to everyone on their list. If there was anything else, it has already been deleted in such a way it can’t be retrieved.”
Ella nodded. She hadn’t really expected it to be any different. “Okay.”
“What’s next on our investigations, boss? Blalock and all our other officers are either tracking down and interviewing people connected to the victims, or looking for that white SUV. Mrs. Salt is still the only witness to the Ben kidnapping, right?” Justine looked over at the highway as a white vehicle passed by. It was a van.
“So far. You know, it just occurred to me that there is a thread connecting LabKote to the kidnappings.” Ella looked back into her notebook for what she’d jotted down after her last visit to the lab.
“What?” Justine asked as she tried to sneak a look at Ella’s notebook.
“I remember seeing some photos of LabKote employees and tribal officials on one of the walls there. You know the kind, the ‘tribal cooperation with private enterprise’ publicity shots. Well, guess which two politicians were in those photos, all chummy with LabKote?”
“Don’t tell me. James Yellowhair and Ernest Ben.”
“The very ones. And who would you want to pay under-the-table money if you were looking to move in on this part of the Rez? The same two Navajos,” Ella said. “Ben essentially runs the tribal section responsible for approving outside business ventures, and Yellowhair is our most influential politician, outside of the tribal president. Big Ed had said that the tribe had checked out the operation, but maybe LabKote got the fast-track courtesy of a little inside deal.”
“But if those two are LabKote’s biggest friends on the Rez, why would people from LabKote kidnap them?” Justine shook her head. “The Fierce Ones would have more motive.”
“Maybe—unless one or both of them got greedy and started asking for more money. Or it’s possible I’m way off track here, Justine. But let’s go out on a limb. I’ll ask Blalock to use his FBI sources to check the bank and investment records of both politicians. In the meantime, I want you to see if either politician made any big purchases, either a few months before LabKote got permission to operate on the Rez, or within six months after that time.”
“You think LabKote decided to kidnap them instead of paying them more hush money?”
“It’s possible. Or ma
ybe Yellowhair and Ben found out something that threatened to shut down LabKote. We could speculate endlessly, like we’ve already done with Morgan, but before we go any further looking for a fire, let’s see if we find any smoke. And play it real cool around Morgan.”
“Gotcha, but people are going to think you’re just avoiding going after the Fierce Ones.”
“My job is to find the truth and that’s all I’m worried about. Let’s go to LabKote.”
Within seconds, they were headed south down Highway 666, Ella leading in her blue unmarked vehicle.
When Ella finally pulled into LabKote’s parking lot, she saw that the section where Kyle Hansen had died was completely deserted, though it was actually closer to the gate. Clifford’s words warning her that an evil presence had taken over these grounds echoed in her mind. She could certainly understand why he felt that way. Trouble seemed to gravitate here. Ella reached under her seat and grabbed her police baton, slipping it into the empty loop of her belt.
“That fence is almost glowing. Smell something burning?” Justine said as they walked toward the main gate entrance and the adjacent guardhouse.
“I think that’s from the scorching leaves that have blown onto the live wires. The idea of such high voltage scares me. What would happen if some teenager tried to climb it?” Ella said.
“Maybe they’re trying to keep dinosaurs in there. Remember the movie, Jurassic Park?” Justine said, laughing.
They walked up to the gate and were met by the guard, who poked his head out of the door just as they arrived. “Hello Officer Clah. Do you and the other officer have an appointment? I don’t see you on my visitor’s list.”
The man held a clipboard, but Ella noticed he also had two canisters of Mace and an extra clip for his handgun on his belt. The security here was quietly up-gunning from last time. Just inside the small gatehouse, she could also see a shotgun resting against the wall.
“No, we don’t have an appointment, but we need to see Mr. Morgan, your security chief, and ask him a few questions relevant to our investigation.” Ella didn’t mention which one, assuming the guard, and Morgan, would think she meant Hansen’s murder. “We’d like to go in right now. Can you escort us?”