by Aimée
“The isolated stretch a lot of power-plant workers take?”
Justine nodded.
“When?”
“He said soon, and that they seemed to be casing the traffic flow for early evening, after the go-home rush has ended.”
“We thought they’d be changing their M.O. When did the call come in?”
“I took it less than a minute ago when I stopped by to check phone messages,” Justine answered. “But it’s not on our turf, you know.”
“Yeah, but most of the vehicles on that route are driven by Navajos, and it’s within a stones’ throw of the Rez. It’s our informant, so I’m sure we can get in on this. Let’s get with the Farmington PD and sheriff’s people who are working with us on these crimes and set up a sting. The carjackers like pickups, so let’s see what we can get from the closest Farmington dealer. Hopefully one of the same models they’ve taken before, but not the most common. We don’t want to make it look like a trap.”
“I’ll get that ball rolling with a call to Sheriff Taylor,” she said, and walked out of the room.
The day went by quickly. Carson left with Richardson, and her team focused on processing the evidence and getting the details of tonight’s operation worked out. Knowing she wouldn’t be home until late the next morning, Ella stopped by the house at around dinnertime. To her surprise, Dawn was back.
Dawn met her at the door, giving her a big hug. “What are you doing home?” Ella asked.
Rose came in. “Her father had to drop her off. He had an unexpected meeting with some tribal officials,” she said with a trace of a smile.
Ella didn’t comment.
“But Daddy will pick me back up after. Beth Ann’s coming over tonight, too!”
It was all they could do to calm Dawn down so she’d sit still long enough to have dinner with them. Even before they finished, Dawn asked to be excused and, a second later, Ella heard her on the phone. Ella and Rose continued eating in silence for a while. Then Rose finally spoke.
“Bizaadii and I will be married next Saturday. We won’t be sending out invitations or making it a big thing. We’ll have the wedding at my son’s hogan and start the ceremony at sundown according to custom. That way, when we leave, darkness will cover us with peace.”
Ella smiled. “You’re a romantic at heart, Mom,” she said, all sorts of opposing emotions clashing inside her. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she said. “But the date you’ve set doesn’t give us a lot of time to make plans. Do you have a dress? You can borrow one of mine. I have a few fancy ones I’ve never worn.”
“Thanks, daughter, but I’ll be sticking with something a little more traditional. Maybe you could wear a dress yourself. Its been a while since I’ve seen you in one.”
“They don’t go with my job. But they still fit—I hope. You can help me pick out one when the time comes.”
“It’s a deal. Just don’t worry, the important things are taken care of. Unless you make other arrangements, your daughter will stay with me until you can pick her up at night—or stay over if you work until morning,” Rose said. “Oh, and one last thing I nearly forgot to mention. Your brother has consented to conduct the wedding ceremony. Everything will be done the Navajo way.”
Ella nodded, remembering her father and his Christian ceremonies and rituals. But now, her mother had come into her own. No longer a young woman, she was at peace with herself and the Navajo traditions she loved.
“You understand,” Rose said, reading Ella’s expression. “It is my time.”
Hearing a car horn, Dawn suddenly ran back into the kitchen. “There’s Dad! Can I go?”
“Sure,” Ella said with a nod, barely managing to give her squirmy kid a hug and a kiss before she dashed out the front door, backpack in hand.
Ella went to the window and saw her daughter get into her father’s BMW. Kevin didn’t drive his pickup much, though with the roads around the Rez—or lack of them—pickups were infinitely more practical.
Rose came up beside her. “Don’t worry, things will work out for you. Just don’t stand between her and her father. He’s just starting to figure out that no matter how well you plan things, when you have a child there’s bound to be a certain amount of chaos.”
“He doesn’t like chaos,” Ella replied, smiling.
“He’s got some hard lessons ahead. Your daughter likes all the presents he’s been giving her but, pretty soon, she’ll start taking advantage and he’ll see it. Then he’ll have to lay down some rules, and reality will set in. Your daughter loves you and, more important, she needs you. She looks to you to define herself.”
Ella left for work shortly afterward and, as she glanced back at her home receding in the rearview mirror, her chest constricted. Someday soon, she’d be coming back to an empty house—her mother gone, and possibly even her daughter. When she’d been younger, she’d valued her time alone and her privacy a great deal—never wanting either to end. She’d loved not being responsible for anyone or anything but herself. But, over the years, she’d discovered that her family—Rose and Dawn—completed her in a way nothing else ever could. But life was about change, and she felt things shifting all around her, adjusting to a new order, even as the fading view of Sacred Mountain traveled across her window into the night.
Ella arrived at the station about twenty minutes later. As she walked into the lobby, Big Ed poked his head out of his office door and motioned for her to join him.
“Shorty,” he said, closing the door, “I’ve spoken to certain people at the Farmington Police Department. Samuel and his brother had many disagreements—including that trouble over the woman they both wanted—but Samuel has been looking into his brother’s death pretty much around the clock. There’s some dirt in that PD, more so among those who served with the National Guard, and he knows it. But, from what I’ve been told, Samuel Blacksheep is clean—one of the good guys.”
“It looks like both brothers took to swimming against the tide,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yeah—two different sets of trouble—one’s already proven deadly. And I got a call about a half hour ago from the Army. They want us to turn the entire case over to them.”
“A request from Carson?”
“No, in fact, I was told that he felt that it was being played right. I’m betting it’s politics. The National Guard leadership, especially at the state level, is worried about the bad press. We’re going to find out things that’ll make ’em look bad and give all the good soldiers a black eye as well.”
“Unless we continue to play this out, none of us will get anywhere and these men will get away with murder.”
“Then get me something concrete, Shorty, to convince them we’ll be able to close this fast. I need it by the end of the day tomorrow. No later.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said. “If our trap works, we’ll have more of the carjackers in custody tonight. And, with luck, we may be able to close them down permanently.”
Ella met with her team minutes later. The county and the Farmington PD had insisted on their own decoy at the east end of the road, but at the west end, closest to the Rez, Justine would be the bait.
“This’ll be the first move the ’jackers have made since we almost busted them. The press is still writing about the police failures concerning the recent ‘crime wave,’ though it’s finally off the front page. Expect the perps to be wary of a trap even though they’ll be hitting around dark instead of dawn,” Ella reminded them. Then looking directly at Justine, she added, “Don’t take any chances, don’t show them a gun, and don’t resist until you’ve got the upper hand because we’re closing in. If it means losing the truck for a while, okay. There aren’t any good roads out of there that won’t be covered and we’ve got two GPS’s installed, one for them to find.” Ella paused, then added, “Are you sure you don’t want to switch places with me?”
Justine shook her head. “You’ve got a kid, I don’t. I’m shorter, younger, and look like an easy mark.”
“No way, boss,” Justine said with a grin. “But you make better backup than I do ’cause you’re more accurate with a rifle—particularly now,” she said, looking down at the missing joint from her right hand, a reminder of another case they’d worked in the past.
“Got your vest?”
“You bet,” Justine said, then checked the duty nine-millimeter semiauto she carried at her waist. It would be hidden by her jacket.
“Remember their tactics and watch your rearview mirror for their second vehicle,” Ella said, suiting up with her own ballistic vest, then heading out the door.
Tache, Neskahi, and Blalock were going to be set up in three likely locations along the road, watching with infrared scopes. If the carjackers hit even close to their turf tonight, there was no way they’d be able to escape this time.
Less than forty-five minutes later, Ella waited on top of a bluff overlooking the highway, just below the crest and to the side of a large rock. Below her was the best place to set up a phony breakdown, according to Justine, who’d scouted out the entire stretch and picked the surveillance points. Even though it was getting dark, Ella didn’t want to risk presenting a silhouette to anyone looking up at that spot. She had a Remington bolt action three-o’-eight with a night scope, so she’d be able to see details. Justine was already in position. She’d make the run from the power plant toward Farmington, hoping to draw them in.
Hours passed, but nothing happened. Justine drove east until she reached Farmington, then circled around on the northern road and returned to the power plant via the western route. Then she cruised the isolated stretch again.
Everyone else kept an eye on the road for other vehicles stopping to set up a trap, or otherwise fitting the profile of the carjackers’ M.O. Justine pulled to the side of the road a few times, ostensibly to check her tires, but no one came near her or the truck she was driving.
Around midnight, the road saw a short burst of heavy traffic from the evening shift leaving the power plant and the graveyard people going to the facility. Justine waited at the power plant for the traffic to thin again, knowing the carjackers weren’t likely to strike when the road was well traveled.
Once the traffic lightened again, Ella contacted Justine on the radio. “How you doing, partner?”
“Tired—and bored.”
“Bad combo, so fight it and stay sharp. Way I see it, either our informant was mistaken, or they’ve decided to wait until it’s closer to dawn, imitating law-enforcement raid tactics and catching people when they’re really sleepy. Don’t let your guard down.”
“I bought about a dozen candy bars at the power plant snack bar. That’ll help keep me wide-eyed for a spell.”
Ella laughed. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”
They stayed in position until five-thirty in the morning. Soon the reservation would begin to stir awake and some early day-shift people would be hitting the road.
Nothing had gone down—not for any of the PDs countywide. Ella thought of the report she’d be making to Big Ed, and tried not to cringe. “Make this run, Justine, then let’s pack it in,” she said, contacting her and the rest of her team on the radio. “When we’re done, get a few hours of sleep, people, then meet me back at the station at nine.”
She heard the groans, then the ten-fours as she walked down the hill toward her vehicle, hidden in an arroyo from the road, to take a new position. Justine passed by, toward Farmington and suddenly a tribal unit appeared on her tail, hitting the siren and turning on the emergency lights.
“Who in the . . .” Ella said, groaning, then reached for her radio. No Navajo units were supposed to be in the area except for those driven by her own team, and the call letters on the cruiser ahead didn’t look familiar. Normally, she wouldn’t have interfered, but none of her people needed to be pulled over now—they’d already gone beyond the call of duty as far as she was concerned. And this was off the Rez, barely, anyway.
“Three-three-three Baker, this is SI Unit One. Channel six,” Ella said, trying to open communications directly with the patrol officer. After multiple tries, she switched over to dispatch.
“Whatcha got, SI-One?” Dispatch answered.
“I need to raise three-three-three Baker.” The abrupt silence from Dispatch tipped her off. Something was wrong.
“SI-One,” Dispatch said after a pause, “that unit is missing. Disappeared from the service garage lot last night. You can’t raise it because the unit’s radio was removed for replacement.”
“That unit is pulling over my partner. This is now a ten-eighty-three,” she said, using the ten code for officer needs help.
Ella immediately switched frequencies to call Justine directly, but it was too late. Her partner had already pulled over to the shoulder, and was getting out of the truck.
EIGHTEEN
Ella scrambled to get everyone back in position, and to watch for the backup vehicle employed by the carjackers. She was second to the end in their stakeout locations running from east to west, so Blalock was still between Justine and Farmington. Farther west were Tache and Neskahi. With FPD and county units working locations east and north, they could all converge on Justine’s location.
But Ella was closest. She climbed into her unit and pulled out onto the highway, closing in from the west without any emergency lights or siren. Switching on her searchlight, she illuminated the scene just as the bogus officer pulled a pistol on Justine. In an instant, Justine fought back. Blocking the pistol to the side, she doubled her assailant up with one well-placed kick. Stepping inside his reach, Justine grabbed his wrist and threw him to the ground with a judo move. By then the assailant’s gun was in her hand.
Ella, seeing that Justine had the upper hand, slowed her approach and searched ahead and behind for the second vehicle. They always had a lookout and, by now, that person was probably on the alert.
Ella directed her headlight beyond Justine, farther down the road. A van was approaching from the east, about a hundred yards away, and was slowing. She aimed the searchlight away, not wanting to blind the driver, who might be an innocent passerby, then hit the switch on her emergency lights.
The van slowed, pulled over to the driver’s left to stop, then suddenly accelerated and shot past Ella’s vehicle. Out of the corner of her eye Ella noted the driver—a short-haired blonde woman.
“Get ’em! I’m fine,” Justine’s voice came over the radio.
Ella was well schooled in pursuit driving, and with a practiced combination of brakes and steering, slid to a stop, reversing directions at the same time. Putting pedal to the metal, she raced after the fleeing van, one hand on the radio mike. Glancing out the window, she noted as she passed the two stationary vehicles that Justine had the perp on the ground and was applying handcuffs.
“Ralph, green van coming your way. Block the road. Joe, come east to back up Ralph,” Ella spoke over the tactical frequency.
“Ten-four,” Tache called.
“Backup on the way, Ralph,” Neskahi’s voice came in loud and strong.
Ella had no trouble keeping up with the old van, a tired-looking Dodge with a wired-on bumper. The highway was good, nearly empty of traffic, and she knew there were no side roads offering an escape. Sirens on, she inched closer, passing through a section of road that had been cut through a hillside. She fought the sudden wave of claustrophobia created by the darkness above and the illusion of passing through a tunnel. Keeping her thoughts focused on the target vehicle, she slowed, backing off just a bit. Ralph Tache’s roadblock was only a quarter of a mile ahead, and she didn’t want to ram the van.
Suddenly the van started to skid to the left, tires smoking as the driver braked hard after having spotting the police car ahead in the middle of the road. A tire blew.
Ella slowed, watching helplessly as the van tipped over onto the driver’s side, sliding along the asphalt with a terrible screech. Ralph dove in the opposite direction as the van conti
nued sideways off the road, barely missing the police unit before it dropped into an arroyo. The van struck the opposite bank with such a crunch that Ella felt it, despite being a hundred yards away in her own car. It flipped end-over-end like a football before finally disintegrating into a rocky hillside. A heartbeat later the van’s gas tank exploded, engulfing the vehicle in flames that spewed out in every direction.
Ella slid to a stop just in front of Ralph’s car. Ralph was already racing up the road toward the van with a fire extinguisher, so she called it in as she ran.
It took a while to locate the driver within a wall of flames, still buckled in her seat, but Ralph couldn’t get close enough to use the extinguisher. Unable to think of a more horrifying death, Ella prayed that the crash had instantly killed the driver.
Justine pulled up two minutes later, her suspect in the back of the extended-cab truck. He was in his mid-thirties and Navajo, and seemed in shock. He stared wide-eyed at the flaming wreck, his face paler than was natural. Ella noted his uniform, up close, was a khaki fake that Justine would have spotted and reacted to instantly.
“Good work,” Ella told Justine. “Nobody else in that squad car?”
Justine shook her head. “Just the cop clone—Fermin Dodge—according to his real driver’s license. He faked me out until I got a look at his phony uniform. But I caught him by surprise when I fought back. Maybe we’ll finally have a perp who’ll lead us to the others.” She then raised her voice so the prisoner could hear. “This guy will also be standing trial for the murder of Jimmy Blacksheep.”
Dodge sat up as if he’d been jolted by a cattle prod. “Murder?” he called out to them. “No way. That wasn’t me—us. We heard all about that, but it was some other guys. Talk to the people we stole from. We didn’t even start carrying guns until after that soldier got killed. It wasn’t us.”