Mourning Dove

by Aimée

  “Sure, come on,” she said. “Let’s see how the Many Devils fit into the big picture.”

  They walked inside while Justine remained behind, watching through the one-way glass. At first Ella said nothing, studying the kid. He was still wearing the gang’s colors and standard-issue dress—long-sleeved T-shirt and baggy pants. “Okay, Tony,” she said at last. “I get it. You don’t want to talk to anyone but me. So here I am. What’s going down?”

  “Who’re you, Anglo?” he challenged, looking at Blalock. “I’m talking to Clah—not you.”

  “This is Agent Blalock with the FBI. And in case you haven’t noticed, this is my turf. If I say he’s in, he’s in.” Ella sat down across the small table from Tony and leaned back in her chair. Blalock remained standing by the door. “You want out of this jail someday, don’t you?” Ella added. “Give me a reason to get the charges reduced.”

  Tony scowled, stared at the handmade tatoos on his arm for about a minute, then finally nodded. “I’ve heard that your cops were thinking we had something to do with these carjackings. But that’s crap. Those guys are poaching on our turf and disrespecting us. One way or another, we’re going to shut ’em down. That puts you and me on the same team.”

  “Convince us,” Blalock said.

  Tony looked through Blalock as if he wasn’t there, then turned to Ella. “You know we can’t have these guys operating on our turf. The other gangs will think we’re weak, and make a move on us. Without respect, you’re nothing.”

  Ella made a show of yawning. “Get to the point.”

  “You need help finding them, right?”

  “So you came to get my attention by trying to push me and Reverend Tome around?” she said, giving him an open look of skepticism.

  “Don’t look right sucking up to a cop.”

  “Of course,” Ella said with a straight face.

  “Forget about all that now, Clah. Just think of what we have to offer you. We’ve got contacts everywhere. We knew when you left the Rez and when you came back. Some of our people were keeping an eye out. How do you think I found you at the Totah?”

  “Chance?”

  He shook his head. “I drove by the place to check out the scene, then came back to talk. I already knew where to find you. If our guys start looking around for the carjackers, we can spot them too and get you on the scene while it’s still going down—if you move fast. Then you can take care of them. And to show our good faith we’ve come with something to trade.”

  “If you had been up front with me this morning, you could have been sipping a cold one right now and kicking back instead of sitting in a cell.”

  “Yeah, well. We have business with the Reverend, too. He’s got to learn not to be messing with us. He’s been screwing us over by talking to the Fierce Ones.”

  Ella nodded. The Fierce Ones were a bunch of adults—essentially a vigilante group—who’d banded together to take parts of the reservation back from the youth gangs. They were an impressive power and, though they worked outside the law, they managed to accomplish more than the police sometimes. Pressure on the parents of troubled kids, along with more direct action, had led to violence being curtailed and the reduction of crimes against the general public, especially vandalism and theft. These days, the gangs mostly strutted around and talked big, which, as far as Ella was concerned, they were welcome to do.

  “So you wanted to lean on Reverend Tome?” Ella pressed.

  “Yeah. But who knew he was the Navajo Jackie Chan?”

  “Okay, enough chitchat. What’s your good-faith offer?” Blalock said, this time getting well inside Tony’s space.

  “Word’s come down that the carjackers are feeling the heat from all the cops, so they’re switching tactics.”

  “Where’d you get this?” Blalock shot back.

  Tony shook his head.

  “We need to know,” Ella insisted. “Is one of the Many Devils in with the carjackers?”

  “No way. We tried and got word out onto the street, but . . . nada.”

  “So, how do you know they’ve changed tactics?” Blalock repeated. “If you want our trust you’re going to have to give us more.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered. “No names, but one of the Many Devils got nailed by the Farmington cops for DWI and while in lock-up heard some stuff.”

  “Are you saying that one of the carjackers was in jail for a separate offense?” Ella pressed him.

  He shook his head. “Word just gets around. The ’jackers have everyone’s respect. They’ve been making fools out of the police, and they don’t rat out their people. The one the state cop nailed over by Albuquerque? He still hasn’t told you jack, has he?”

  Ella stood up. “You better be playing it straight with me, Tony.”

  “Winston’ll tell you the same thing. Ask him.”

  “I intend to,” Ella said. Then she knocked on the door and Justine let her and Blalock out. “You heard?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah. So what are you going to do?” Justine said.

  “Talk to Winston. Then, if the stories match, I’ve got an idea.”

  “Tell me that doesn’t include accepting their help,” Blalock said.

  “Call it recruiting an informant, then. The way I see it, Tony had a point. They have lookouts and contacts everywhere, and our department can’t cover all the roads. The fact that they knew where I was impresses me, since I made the decision to go to the Totah at the last minute. That’s good intel.”

  “Unless they just got lucky,” Blalock said, shaking his head. “But we do need to make some headway on this, that’s for sure.”

  Winston told them basically the same story. Since Tony had already managed to find an adult to bail him out, they released him so he could carry the news to the other gang members. Winston, whose relative was still trying to raise the cash, would have to wait.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Blalock said, as they watched Tony drive off with his neighbor. “I wouldn’t trust any of those punks for a bleeping second.”

  “It’s not about trust, it’s about opportunity. We have to cut some corners, remember? If any of the National Guard soldiers are tied up in this, we’ve got to nail them before the Army ships them to Germany,” Ella reminded him.

  After Blalock strode off, still skeptical, Ella turned to Justine. “Time to reorganize the hunt. Call the team. We meet in my office in a half hour.”

  Once Neskahi and Tache joined them, Ella filled everyone in on what had transpired since their last contact. “So here’s the deal. We have a ticking clock running with the Nation Guard suspects. Jimmy’s killer may soon be out of the country if he’s a soldier with that transportation company. According to Chief Warrant Officer Carson, those men are all going to be recalled, so we have to speed up this investigation. Unfortunately, all we have on motive is what’s in the partially written story we got from the victim himself. Jimmy was obviously trying to tell us something, but, so far, we haven’t been able to break his code. And either he never finished the story, planning to tell us the rest in person, or the other half is already in the hands of the bad guys. If so, it’s probably lost forever. What I need now is your feedback. Anyone have any ideas on where to go from here?”

  “We’ve done everything by the book, taken each logical step, and processed and followed up on every piece of evidence we’ve managed to track down,” Justine said. “Maybe we need to start thinking outside the box.”

  Ella nodded slowly, then met her gaze. “You’ve just given me an idea. You know the package that came from Jimmy?” Seeing her nod, she continued. “That came overnight express. The box is in the evidence room. Get me the tracking label number.”

  Five minutes later, Ella was at her computer, the other three officers looking over her shoulders as she logged on to the delivery services Web site. By subtracting one digit from the tracking number, searching, and then by adding one digit and searching again, she hoped to find out if Jimmy had sent out another packag
e to someone else at the same time and place. The forms used were probably sequential if he’d sent more than one at the same time.

  Subtracting a number only got her information about a package sent from the El Paso mailing address to an office-supply place in Denver, Colorado. But when she added one digit, she got the answer she wanted.

  “Here it is. Jimmy did mail a second package. It went to the Farmington Police Station, and the recipient was his brother—Officer Samuel Blacksheep.”

  “But Samuel told us he hadn’t been in touch with his brother in months, except for e-mails and a phone call or two,” Justine recalled.

  “So either he’s lying, or someone intercepted the package—which would mean we’ve got another player at the station. I haven’t scratched Sergeant Sanders off the suspect list, and he was Jimmy’s lieutenant. This news also doesn’t rule out the possibility of woman problems between the brothers. If what we’re dealing with is a group of crooked cops, some of them also soldiers in the Guard, it’s possible Samuel’s been in on it from the start and Jimmy didn’t know about his brother’s participation. In sending this story, or part of it to Samuel, Jimmy may have made a fatal mistake. Brothers have been killed over money as well as women.”

  “Agreed,” Neskahi said. “But I think the real bottom line is that we have to be careful who we trust outside our own PD. If the Farmington police have some of their own personnel involved in carjackings, or a smuggling op of some sort involving local soldiers, there’s no telling who we can trust.”

  “The carjacking that resulted in Jimmy’s death was simply a copycat crime, a way to take advantage of what was already happening, to muddy up the trail to the killer. So the circle we’ve been following leads us back to the question of motive. Why was Jimmy Blacksheep really killed?” Justine said.

  “We have to put a tail on Samuel,” Ella said. “But this has to be done without the Farmington’s PD’s knowledge, so we’ll need Big Ed’s permission. And we’ll have to handle it ourselves. Anyone have any objections?” She looked around the room, but no one spoke up. “Okay, then give me a half hour to run this past Big Ed, then we’ll get this show started.”

  Ella walked around the U-shaped hall to Big Ed’s office in the older part of the building, then gave him the broad strokes of what they’d uncovered so far. “Samuel Blacksheep is involved somehow, and is either a part of this, or an unknowing victim, too. I can’t guarantee results, but I think a tail would pay off. Maybe we can rule out his guilt, at least. The people involved in this are getting scared and moving to cover their butts. We need to move fast before we lose our opportunity.”

  “I agree. But if word gets out and we’re wrong about this, a ton of grief will come down on this department,” Big Ed warned. “Count on it.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s got to be very low profile and a limited scope type of thing. Just my team will be involved, and we’ll rotate shifts after Blacksheep goes off duty. Trying to follow him at work could just get somebody shot.”

  “How are you going to find out when his shift is over?”

  “Justine has a contact I think we can use,” she answered.

  “Okay, but watch yourselves. Police officers can be paranoid, even the innocent ones.”

  Ella met again with her team and set a tentative plan in motion. “Next, we need to find out what Samuel’s hours are,” Ella said.

  Justine stood up. “Give me a few moments,” she said, and stepped out of Ella’s office.

  “We’ll be specifically looking for other players—people Samuel meets, especially anyone who might be connected to the Army, or gunrunning. I don’t think we’ve got the whole picture yet,” Ella told the others. Just then, Justine returned.

  “He’s got the day shift for the rest of this month, not including any overtime he may clock in. Samuel is temporarily assigned to the carjacking strike team, of course, and spends a lot of time meeting and conferencing with the other officers on the operation,” Justine said.

  “So Officer Blacksheep’ll be on his own at night,” Ella concluded with a nod. “Good. Justine and I will cover him tonight until he turns in. You two can take it tomorrow. And—a word of warning. We do not want to get caught. Big Ed has enough problems dealing with tribal officials without getting embroiled in some interagency stink. He wasn’t thrilled with this idea to begin with.”

  After her team dispersed, Ella and Justine headed to Farmington, Justine at the wheel. “I’ve got his plates and a description of the pickup he drives off-hours in case we need to look around,” she told Ella. “But my contact said that he has a meeting with his sergeant at the station this afternoon, so he’ll be there until his shift ends.”

  “If he’s already left, then we’ll go to his residence and see if he’s there,” Ella said. “And if not, there are some bars where cops hang that we can check out.”

  “Or we can go to the house of the woman he’s seeing these days.”

  Ella gave Justine an approving look. “Good work! I’m impressed, partner! You need to take your contact out to dinner—my treat.”

  Once they reached the Farmington Police Station, they cruised around until they found Samuel’s unit, then waited at a visitor’s parking slot, keeping watch.

  “How’s it going at home with Rose and Herman?” Justine asked after about five minutes. “I’ve heard that they’re really getting serious.”

  Ella nodded. “As serious as it gets. They’re getting married. Mom doesn’t want a fancy affair, so I think it’s going to happen soon.”

  “Are you and Dawn moving out?”

  Before Ella could reply, Samuel came out of the station, jacket in hand, moving in the direction of his unit. “Here we go.”

  They tailed him across Farmington to a two-story-high warehouse just north of the river. Blacksheep parked face-in beside a loading dock next to three other vehicles, one of them also a police car, then walked up a flight of steps to a metal door with a sign that said OFFICE. He knocked, the door opened almost immediately, then Samuel disappeared inside.

  “I wonder if this place is connected to the carjackings,” Justine said. “It looks like a great place to strip a vehicle for parts, or let it cool down before moving it south to Mexico.”

  “If it is, two cops are involved. Park around the corner at the curb, and I’ll go in for a closer look,” Ella said. “It’s dusk so the entire side of the building will be covered in long shadows. There are no windows except the two in the office so if I stick close to the wall, I won’t get spotted unless somebody steps outside.”

  “But if they do, they’re going to nail you.”

  Over Justine’s protests, Ella inched around the corner, staying low to the ground. The building’s exterior wasn’t well lighted, and it was past day-shift business hours, so the chances of anyone coming along in what was essentially an industrial park was unlikely.

  Stepping lightly on the gravel after noting that the closest window was open several inches, she forced herself to concentrate solely on a silent approach as she moved up to listen. Comments about flushes and a full house, king high, beer, and pizza made her realize immediately that she’d followed Samuel to a night of poker with the good ole boys. Cursing her luck, she decided to return to the car. Then she overheard something that made her freeze in her tracks.

  “I think the carjackers have moved on,” a male voice said. “Or gone to ground. We haven’t even had a bad tip since that incident over by Hogback. It sucks. We’ve got to take them down, hard.”

  “They’re playing it smart, laying low until the heat dies down, Bobby,” Samuel answered. “With the focus on them, they have to be careful. In a few weeks, a month, they’ll hit again.”

  “Too bad the Navajo cops didn’t nail them. I would have liked to have been in on it. Maybe with a few more units on the scene, we’d have done more than recover the vehicle,” another voice said.

  “Ben, any action you see around here must be like kid stuff after your tour in Iraq.
And I’ve heard there’s lots of black market crap going down over there. Bet it wasn’t easy keeping your mitts clean,” Samuel commented offhandedly.

  “Nothing’s clean over there,” he muttered. “The sand’s as fine as powdered sugar. Hard keeping the vehicles from grinding into junk. I used up all my rubbers keeping the muzzle of my weapon clear. Shocked my mom, asking for more in a care-package. Impressed my dad for a moment, though, until I explained.”

  At least three men laughed.

  “Seriously. There must have been a lot of ways a guy could have made himself some serious cash over there,” Samuel said casually. “Lots of G.I.’s risk losing their homes ’cause they can’t make the payments on Army pay, and that’s just plain wrong. As long as no one gets hurt, I figure a soldier’s entitled to show the American entrepenurial spirit.”

  “Hey. Quit using words you can’t spell,” a fourth voice said.

  “Forgot to dumb it down for you, Jake. Got a crayon?” Samuel shot back.

  Ella stayed where she was. Maybe this was about to pay off. Samuel was obviously angling for information, and if he got it, she would, too.

  “A couple of the guys in the platoon found an angle or two and made some extra scratch,” the one called Jake said. “Can’t say I blame ’em. Serving your country is expensive in more ways than one.”

  “So much crap is going on over there, it’s a full-time job keeping your butt out of a sling,” Bobby answered. “After a while, you learn how to play the game.”

  “I’m sure glad to be back in the motor pool here doing brake jobs and tune-ups instead of retrieving broken-down fuel trucks north of Samara. RPGs, IEDs, snipers, sergeants on my ass—I’ve seen enough action to last me a lifetime. But I learned my lessons over there and I’ve got plans. I’m tired of working for someone else. I’ll be leaving the department to open my own shop as soon as possible,” Ben said.

  “That’ll take a bucket of money, won’t it?” Samuel asked.

  “Hey, the U. S. of A. has been taking care of my basics for over a year now, and I’ve been saving every dime. My credit’s solid. Hell, if I don’t do it now, when?” Ben said. “Of course, since we’re shipping back out again in a few weeks, my plans are on hold. But this should be a short tour, and no hostiles, unless you include the pissed-off boyfriends of the German ladies I’m going to be spending time with. Once I’m back, I’m going into business full time—for me.”