by Aimée
Ella stared down at her hands. “Everything in this case is just a little too off center to make it easy. We have one carjacking that doesn’t quite fit the M.O. of all the others. The victim was attacked close to his home and in a more populated area than the ones they generally hit. The subjects took his car but not his money, though they might have taken his credit card or credit cards, if he has more we don’t know about yet. And most important of all, why switch to a sedan when all they’ve been interested in are pickups?” Ella shook her head. “Nothing fits, and that generally means we’re not looking at it in the right way.”
“It’s possible that Jimmy picked a fight with them—they were following too close or something like that—then everything went wrong. Road rage is a New Mexico specialty.”
“Road rage, maybe, but road rage with the carjackers, that’s a little too coincidental. And angry drivers that turn to violence because somebody cut them off never steal their target’s vehicles. I’m not convinced,” Ella answered. “We have to start digging deeper into Jimmy’s life. I want to know who his girlfriend was and why she left him and who he wanted to strike back at when he returned. We need to know Jimmy like we’d know our own brothers. Once we do that, I think we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
“Sure. Working past midnight is par for the course,” Justine said, reaching over and turning on the headlights. “I’ll start a background check as soon as we get back.”
Ella sighed. “No, never mind. Let’s call it a night as well. Drop me off at home on the way. But pick me up early tomorrow. I want to catch Sergeant Sanders in Farmington before he starts the morning shift. So plan on being at Mom’s house no later than six-thirty.”
“You’ve got it. But I’m still going back to the station tonight. I’m trying to get a fix on Paul Curley and Jeremy Bitsillie. Jeremy’s in our department, and he came back the same day as Jimmy, supposedly, but hasn’t reported back to us yet. I haven’t been able to reach him. Paul came back a month ahead of the unit because his wife died in a traffic accident. He’s taken his kids to visit relatives near Chinle, and no one knows when he’ll be back. I’ve left phone and e-mail messages for both,” she said. “I also want to continue my background check on the other men in Jimmy’s section, both Navajo and Anglo.”
“Good thinking,” Ella said.
Justine dropped Ella off, and Ella walked into the house. It might not have been the longest day ever for her, but it had certainly been among the busiest. It was time to wind down and crash. As Ella crossed the kitchen and entered the living room, she saw Rose in her favorite chair, reading. Two, their mutt, came over, tail wiggling, and Ella bent down to scratch him between the ears.
“Did you have to fight Dawn at bedtime?” Ella whispered, knowing her daughter had enjoyed an exciting day and calming her down would have been a feat.
“Not really. She was exhausted. Her father took us all out to dinner at that pizza place your daughter loves. She played all those arcade games while the meal was being baked, then, once the pizza came, she sat across from her father and talked his ears off.”
“About what?” she asked, surprised. Dawn was one of the most closed-mouthed kids she’d ever seen—except when she was talking about Wind—her pony, and her plans to enter him in competitions when she got older. Dawn was determined to compete in barrel racing, though she knew Ella disliked that idea and wouldn’t allow it until Dawn was at least fourteen—and maybe not even then.
“The same as usual—horseback riding competitions. After listening to her for half an hour about barrel racing, her father suggested she look into competitive trail riding. He told her that the sport encouraged good horsemanship and that it also focused on caring for the horses before, during, and after the long rides. Apparently it requires getting the best travel time over a pre-set distance, rather than flat-out racing. She wouldn’t be able to start yet since she’s too young, but he thought she could start her training with Wind. Then, if she liked it, he’d see about getting a horse for her instead of a pony.”
“Kevin needs to learn to consult with me before bringing up something like this,” Ella said flatly.
“I agree. But your daughter really enjoys her time with him.”
“Of course. She only sees him on weekends and a bit more on holidays and summer break. Once in a while he goes to a school event, or a parent-teacher conference. The rest of the time he’s like a fairy godfather bringing gifts and providing entertainment, but never around quite long enough to have to resort to rules and discipline,” she muttered.
“Daughter, be careful you don’t convey that particular observation to your daughter. Competition between parents is not good.”
“Mom, there’s no way I could compete. He’s always the good guy because he’s not around her every day making sure she does her homework, cleans up her room, and all those things. It’s a very convenient arrangement for him.”
Rose shook her head. “Daughter, don’t you know what’s really going on? He’s been spending more and more time with her lately, a good thing, usually, for a child with parents living apart. But I’m afraid that what he wants is for your daughter to look to him for everything—including the attention she craves. Your daughter’s father now works almost all the time at home. He’s built an entire new addition as his office, and had a big corral added to the back, along with a loafing shed, though he has no livestock to keep beneath it.”
“I’ve seen all that. He just wants to be able to spend more time at home with his daughter. I’d do that, too, if I could.”
“I’ve never seen a police officer so trusting!” Rose said, then made a show of going back to her reading.
Too tired to argue, and certain that Kevin’s intent was directed toward Dawn’s welfare, Ella went to her daughter’s room. It was dark, except for a small night-light, and she didn’t want to wake Dawn. She stood just inside the doorway and watched her daughter sleep for a while, listening to her slow, even breathing. It seemed like only yesterday when she’d stood in the same spot, watching her newborn baby sleep.
Ella touched the headband Dawn had hung from the doorknob, remembering the days when Dawn would rush up to her for help brushing her hair. Ella couldn’t remember when Dawn had stopped doing that. Time was slipping through her fingers, like water in a cupped hand. More than anything she wanted to slow down that relentless march, to stretch her daughter’s childhood, to lengthen the hours and days she’d have while Dawn was still young and needed her.
Her chest tightened as she crept up to Dawn’s bed, gently brushed back some stray locks of black hair away from her face, and kissed her tenderly. Dawn filled her world with purpose and love. She’d never imagined love could be this total and all-consuming. When Ella saw her child she saw an affirmation of hope—the past, present, and future all in one tiny package.
“Mom?” Dawn stirred, then rubbed her eyes.
“Shh. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ella said, taking her daughter’s hand, pleased that Dawn had awakened, and feeling guilty that she’d been the cause.
“Dad said I could spend this summer with him when you’re at work,” she mumbled in a sleepy voice. “Long hikes and riding . . . that okay?”
“Summer is still months away. We’ll talk about it and see.”
Dawn rolled over onto her side, facing Ella. “I like being with Daddy. He’s fun,” she said, then yawned and buried her head into the pillow.
“Good night, daughter,” Ella said, and slipped out of the room.
Rose was there when she stepped back into the hall. “Pay attention before it’s too late,” she whispered.
Ella shook her head and gave her mother a sad smile. “It’ll be fine, Mom. Stop worrying,” she said for her own benefit as well as Rose’s.
“Don’t ignore the signs, daughter. You’ll regret it if you do.” Rose walked down the hall, then disappeared into her room.
Ella passed through the living room into the kitchen, grabbed
a soft drink from the fridge, then went back to her own room. Despite her brave words, she was concerned that Kevin’s growing role in Dawn’s life would take her away from her real home. And that would require a sacrifice Ella wasn’t sure she was prepared to make.
But change was in the air, she could smell it in the March winds that flew across the mesas with the promise of spring. She could sense it in the air at home, even in the marrow of her bones. And that instinctive knowledge assured her that her little girl was growing up and the ties that bound them as a family would be tested soon.
Justine pulled up at the house at six-twenty-eight the following morning. Dawn was just getting out of bed when Ella stopped by her room, gave her daughter a quick kiss, and hurried past Rose in the narrow hall. They only had one bathroom and the morning rush was usually crunch time. Rose muttered a quick good morning and walked into the kitchen to fix Dawn’s breakfast. Boots, Dawn’s sitter, didn’t come until after school ended these days.
Ella hurried to the living room door, grabbing her jacket on the way, then glanced back for one last look at her daughter and mother, wondering how long she could hold on to the present. Things were so right here at home—now. Pushing her personal life to a shelf in the corner of her mind, Ella hurried out the front door, and focused on the business at hand.
“Where do we start, boss?” Justine asked while Ella was fastening her seat belt.
“Farmington police station. We’ll be visiting Sergeant Calvin Sanders first. See if anyone has a line on Kent Miller or Louis Smith, then pass it on to Tache or Neskahi to follow up. While we’re on the way, I’m going to call Ralph and have him do some legwork for me. I have an idea I want him to follow up for me.”
As they drove through Shiprock, which was on the route to Farmington from Ella’s home, she dialed Tache’s cell number. To her surprise, he was already at the office. “I came in early. I’ve been trying to catch up on all the work that piled up when I went on vacation.”
Ella noted how good the signal was this close to the station. “I need you to go talk to whoever you can from the area gangs—the Many Devils and the North Siders. See if they know who’s involved in the carjackings. It obviously isn’t them, so I have a feeling that an operation like this one, happening on their turf and right under their noses, is seriously ruffling their feathers. Play on that and push them hard so they’ll get angry enough to talk to you. And take Joe Neskahi. Joey Neskahi, his cousin, is in the Many Devils, according to Joe.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know if we get anything useful.”
Ella ended the call, then glanced at Justine, who was yawning. “You know, I hate vigilante groups like the Fierce Ones. Their motives are good, but their methods make me crazy. Yet, as much as I hate to admit it, they have suppressed most of the gang violence on this corner of the Rez. We don’t have nearly the number of incidents we had a few years ago.”
“But the Fierce Ones aren’t active anymore, are they?”
“They’ve gone underground, but they’re still there, according to a few of my sources. They’re aware that they don’t have the support of the police, so they stay out of cases under investigation, but The People still believe in them. Many feel that they’re doing the job we should be doing but can’t because of our limited numbers and all the rules we have to follow.”
“They’re a strange group but wanting to go back to the traditionalist way of dealing with lawlessness isn’t all bad. They do get results.”
“I wonder how often they go after the wrong person?” Ella said. “Mind you, our department isn’t perfect either, but we have to answer for our screw-ups.”
Silence stretched out between them as Ella watched a hawk circling high above, swoop down and, at the last second, cut her speed and rip with talons and beak into some mouse or rabbit. The skill of the hunter was balanced by the watchfulness of its prey, and often the raptor went hungry, insuring survival of the fittest.
“When we get to the station, I’ll go talk to Calvin. While I’m busy with that I want you to get me some information. We need to know what Sergeant Sanders was doing when Jimmy was killed, and see if the other officers—Miller and Smith—have alibis, too. Not just some vague ‘they went fishing’ response, either. We’ll need to get the information through the back door, nothing official that’ll set off alarms and generate gossip in their department. It’ll be easier in the long run that way.”
“No problem. I dated a guy in the administrative division, and I still see him from time to time. He’ll help me out.”
“Anglo?”
“Yeah,” Justine said.
“Serious?”
Justine shook her head. “We had a lot in common but, as we got to know each other, we realized that there were no sparks. He’s a nice guy, and despite the cliche, we really are still friends.” She took a deep breath then let it out. “As a Navajo, I really don’t think that passion is something to shoot for. By its very nature it’s an undependable emotion. But I still like to feel that rush at the beginning of a relationship.”
“For what it’s worth, I agree with you on that. But Mom believes that half the reason things didn’t work out between Kevin and me is because I counted too much on those sparks.”
Justine nodded. “That’s the problem with women like us. We want it all,” she added with a wry smile.
“Heck, yeah, and we deserve it,” Ella shot back, laughing.
As they drove into the Farmington police department’s visitors’ parking area beside the modern brick-and-glass structure, their thoughts focused on business again. “What if Sergeant Calvin Sanders can’t be accounted for or has an unverifiable alibi?” Justine asked.
“I’ll have to change my tactics, so if that’s what you find out, come and remind me about the meeting with Chief Atcitty in an hour. That’ll be our code.”
“Got it.”
Ella and Justine went inside just as the morning shift was leaving the briefing room. Justine left to see her contact while Ella stood in the hall, waiting to catch Sergeant Sanders. Many of the street officers, in their blue FPD uniforms, had met Ella, and they nodded or said hello as they passed by. Sanders was one of the last to leave.
“Hey, you caught me just in time. I was about to hit the streets,” Sanders said, a clipboard and zippered notebook in his hand.
“I’d like to ask you just a few more questions about Jimmy Blacksheep before you leave.”
“Okay with me.” Two officers brushed past him as they left the room, their eyes on Ella.
Sanders glanced into the room. “The place is clear, so we can talk in peace,” he said, waving her into the room and toward one of the folding chairs in a row of empty seats.
She chose a chair and sat while Sanders put his clipboard and papers on the seat beside her, then took a seat in the next chair over.
“Sergeant, I’m trying to get a clearer handle on the deceased’s last few weeks. I know he had friends in the unit—but who might have been his enemy?”
“I was his lieutenant—platoon leader—but orders came down the chain of command to his sergeant who was responsible for the men in Blacksheep’s section. I worked with the sergeants, and that was the extent of my direct contact with the enlisted men. Like I said, the guy you need to talk to is Kent Miller, a patrolman in the department—sergeant in the Guard. Officer Miller’s the man who’d know the details of Jimmy Blacksheep’s service, his friends in the platoon, like that. But Miller’s still fishing somewhere and I haven’t been able to get in contact with him. I’ve left messages, but he obviously hasn’t checked in.”
“Could you do me a favor? FPD must have his blood type on file. Can you check it for me?”
“I suppose. Why?”
“Just following a hunch. Humor me?”
“All right. I’ll find out what it is and get back to you.”
Ella knew Sanders had seen Jimmy’s service records, and had certainly written reports about the men under his command. She was about to ask
him about that when she saw Justine walking into the briefing room.
“We gotta roll, boss,” Justine said quickly. “Dispatch received a call about a suspicious vehicle—could be a carjacking in progress on the Rez.”
SEVEN
Ella welcomed the news, a rush of excitement coursing through her. This could turn out to be the break they’d needed. Ella nodded to Sergeant Sanders, who grabbed his papers and stepped out into the aisle, allowing her to pass. “Check back with you later, Sergeant,” Ella called as she followed Justine from the room.
“Good hunting!” Sanders replied.
They were in the unit and in Farmington’s western outskirts less than three minutes later, full emergency lights and siren on. “Fill me in,” Ella yelled, having to speak over the wail of the siren.
Justine spoke, but her eyes never left the road. They were going fifty right now, with only one more traffic light to pass through before open road. “We got lucky. Albert Tom was driving home—he works graveyard as an orderly at the Farmington Medical Center and spotted what he said was a ‘really awesome’ blonde by the side of the road just inside the Rez on the east side of Hogback. He saw that she was having car problems so he thought about stopping, though she wasn’t trying to flag him down. Then he remembered the carjackings and kept going. As soon as he got home, which wasn’t far, he ran into the house and called Dispatch.”
“That’s a pretty busy route this time of day, which doesn’t fit the carjackers’ M.O. It could be legit.”
“No, Albert lives just inside the Rez,” Justine argued. “The Hogback is in his backyard, almost. This breakdown is on the old highway, you know, to the north of the new road. Nothing much back there but farmhouses and the abandoned trading post.”
“Do we have any officers in the area?” Ella asked.
“Just us. If they’re waiting for a particular target, then maybe we can get in on it.”
“I’m going to see what else Albert Tom knows about the neighborhood and potential targets.” Ella grabbed the radio, and, in two more minutes, had Albert Tom on the phone.