by Aimée
“What cop is? Try single malt scotch,” Justine said.
Ella laughed. “Okay, partner, drive. I’ve got some things to think through, and I’m hoping to get home before midnight.”
Forty minutes later, they were inside Teeny’s main room. Though surrounded by computers, the leather couch and chairs in the center were soft and comfortable. As she settled into the cushions, Ella suddenly realized how tired she was. Looking at the watch, she saw it was close to ten.
“You ladies want a cup of coffee? You look beat,” Teeny said. “It’s a strong Italian blend. It should give you some energy, or at least prop those eyes open a few more hours.”
They both took a cup of the steaming liquid, then accepted his offer of fresh cream.
After a few minutes, Teeny spoke again. “I’m glad you two dropped by. I finally have permission to tell you who my client is, but please keep this as private as possible.” Seeing them both nod, he continued. “It’s Sheriff Taylor. He hired my firm because he wasn’t sure who he could trust inside the department.”
“I had a feeling about that,” Ella said.
“Taylor’s determined to avoid a scandal. This happened on his watch, and if it doesn’t get resolved quickly, it could cost him his job. He’s doing his best to keep it out of the press—that is, until he has the perp in handcuffs.”
Ella nodded, lost in thought. “H had lots of friends in county, people who knew and trusted him.”
“That’s why I assigned him the case,” Teeny said, then continued. “I’ve got some other news, too. I did a comprehensive background check on the residents in the vicinity of where H’s body was found. Truman John, it turns out, has an interesting past.”
“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Justine said, “and the background check that was run for his teaching job showed he was clean.”
“You didn’t go back far enough. To find the interesting stuff, you would have had to check his family, too. Herman John, Truman’s grandfather, lived just outside of Greasewood, Arizona. His neighbors thought he was a skinwalker, too. Then one day Herman just disappeared. Word has it that his neighbors got together, killed the old man, and buried him out in the desert.”
“It’s been known to happen,” Ella said, remembering the story Clifford had told her. “By any chance, did that all start with a land dispute?”
Teeny nodded. “That’s what I heard.”
“How did you get the information? Is it reliable?” Ella asked.
He nodded. “I made time to go talk to some of our old ones, like Ely Benally, who lives over by Little Shiprock Wash.”
“So, if the rumor’s true, Truman may have learned about skinwalkers from his grandfather,” Ella said.
“Or maybe they’re both victims of gossip,” Justine said.
“Yeah, and your guesses are as good as mine,” he said. “The key to solving this is finding out what H was doing parked all the way out there southwest of Rattlesnake. Once you do that, I think the answers will come to you.”
“This case keeps getting tougher with each passing hour. Every time it looks like something’s about to break, we hit another roadblock.” Ella rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “Did you ever find any additional notes on the case, something H might have handwritten and left behind on his desk?”
He shook his head. “He kept most of the details in his head and in that little spiral notebook he carried in his shirt pocket.”
“The killer took that along with everything else H had on him,” Ella said. “We still haven’t found any of it.”
“You will,” Teeny said, and poured them each a second cup of coffee. “I picked up a bit of interesting gossip. I heard that Bidtah wants you to transfer to Window Rock, so he’s going to sweeten the deal by offering you a driver and transportation.”
“I hadn’t heard that,” Ella said. “Not even a job offer.”
“You still haven’t. My source is a little iffy, and I haven’t had the chance to verify it yet.”
“Boss, transportation and a driver? That’s big time,” Justine said. “My partner is now a celebrity.”
“Oh—and housing, too,” Teeny said, “but I think we’re talking a double-wide close to Gallup, maybe over by the Twin Arrows casino.”
“Wow. Sounds like he really does want you to stay with the department, Ella,” Justine said. “He’s finally realizing what you’re worth to the tribe.”
Ella ran a hand through her hair. “I had no idea he was actually that serious. I thought he was planning to force me out and make it look like it was my decision.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Teeny said. “But tell me, why would you be set against moving to Window Rock?”
“Dawn,” Ella said. “My kid got herself into truckloads of trouble last year, but now she’s finally back on the right track. She’s currently in an advanced placement program for eighth-graders, courtesy of a U.S. Department of Education grant, but the program is only offered here in Shiprock. If she works hard, once she graduates from high school, she’s almost guaranteed a full college scholarship at a top school. We can’t afford to pass up a chance like that.”
“You could let her stay here with Rose and Herman,” Teeny said.
Ella shook her head. “For four years of high school? No way. My kid—my responsibility. The best place for her is Shiprock, so that’s where we’ll be, job or no job.”
Ella’s phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, she answered it quickly, identifying herself.
“This is O’Donnell,” came the hurried reply. “I want to make a deal. I’ll give you Harry Ute’s killer and the people involved in the thefts over at county if you grant me immunity.”
“I’d have to check that out with a prosecutor, Billy, but you might as well turn yourself in. Half the county’s out looking for you now. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I have something you want,” he insisted. “Let’s trade.”
“You’re wasting my time. We searched your home and found Harry Ute’s money clip. I’m thinking you killed him. No way you’re getting off the hook that easy.”
“If you found something in my home that belonged to Ute, it was planted there by the person who really killed him. I know who he is, and I can give him to you, along with all the proof you need.”
“Make me believe you.”
“Ute’s killer is one of my regular suppliers, and he likes money clips. I’m not saying anything else unless we have a deal.”
“If what you’ve got results in an arrest, we’ll work something out—assuming you’re not guilty of murder.”
“There’s no way you can pin that on me. How soon can we meet?”
“You’re in a rush, I take it?”
“I’m next on the killer’s list. He knows I want to cut a deal,” O’Donnell said. “I can give you everything you’ll need to nail him. I’ve kept records that’ll give you the proof you’re looking for, and then some. Are you ready to trade?”
“Tell me who’s after you,” Ella said.
“If I talk now, I’ll have no leverage. Meet me with a written offer signed by the county DA, saying the charges against me will be dropped. Then I’ll turn over everything you’ll need to collar this guy. I’ll call back in an hour.”
Ella hung up and looked at Teeny, then Justine. “O’Donnell’s ready to turn himself in, but he wants a deal—all the charges against him dropped. I know it’s late, but we need the DA or her deputy. Any suggestions?”
“My grandfather, Judge Goodluck, has the DA’s private cell phone number. I’ll get things rolling,” Justine said.
“Good. I want to put a face to our friend’s killer,” Ella said. “Then we’ll bring him down.”
EIGHTEEN
Teeny was at his laptop when Ella’s cell phone rang. “Keep him on the line and I’ll try to zero in on his location,” he said.
Ella picked up her phone and identified herself.
“Do you have it?” O�
��Donnell said.
“The DA says you’ll get immunity if your testimony results in a conviction. That’s the best I can do. Now, where do we meet?”
“Drive over to Space-4-U. It’s east of the Salmon Ruins, outside Bloomfield on the north side of Highway 64. I rented a storage unit, number seven, under the name of Don Williams. Meet me there, and I’ll turn over what you need.”
“Just so we’re clear. I’m not interested in stolen merchandise. I’m looking for a killer.”
“I know, but don’t worry. I have the evidence you need. Be here.”
O’Donnell broke the connection, and Ella looked up at Teeny. He shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve got zip, not even a cell tower.”
“That’s okay.” Ella told him where she’d be meeting Billy.
“That’s outside of tribal jurisdiction. I’m backing you up,” he said.
“Good. And since it’s in county, I’ll also call Dan in on this,” Ella said, looking over at Justine. “While I’m doing that, get Blalock and tell him what’s going down. He lives in Bloomfield and is a lot closer to the storage units.”
It was after midnight when they set out, flashers and siren on. Their destination was forty miles across the county, but at this time of night, traffic was way down. Justine kept her eyes glued on the road. With two eastbound lanes here, they were making good time and could skirt most of Farmington by using the southern truck bypass.
“There’s a possibility you need to consider,” Justine said. “What if O’Donnell’s the one who killed Harry, and he’s planning on taking us out tonight? He could hide in the dark with a rifle and pick us off. You saw all the weapons he had in that stash. He could have easily kept a high-powered rifle with a nightscope.”
“No, that’s not going to happen. That man’s scared spitless. He’s got a killer after him,” Ella said. “Right now, Billy’s the only person who can ID the shooter, and that makes him a loose end.”
“You couldn’t get him to name the guy gunning for him?”
Ella shook her head. “He’s desperate, but he’s smart. He’s not about to give up his only leverage. I’ll have to show him the paperwork first.”
“Something’s coming through now,” Justine said as the printer light came on.
Ella took it in hand as the device fed out the paperwork. “This is just what we need. Thank your grandfather for us.”
Justine nodded. “He saved us a lot of time, but as I always say, family sticks together. That includes us. No matter how this goes down, I’ve got your back, cuz.”
“And I’ve got yours,” Ella said. The badger fetish at her neck was cool to the touch. So far, so good.
They arrived less than fifteen minutes later, without emergency lights or siren. Seeing Blalock’s car parked off the highway on a side road a hundred yards from the storage facility, Justine pulled in behind it. Dan was there, too, in an unmarked car, parked across the highway from the Space-4-U.
As soon as Blalock climbed out of his car to join Ella and Justine, Dan crossed the highway. The two arrived together.
“How do you want to handle this?” Blalock asked Ella, standing about fifty yards from the facility, watching for activity.
“Let me go in alone,” Ella said. “O’Donnell wants to surrender to me, and I don’t want to spook him. The guy’s already on edge, terrified of one of his suppliers, the man he says killed Harry Ute.”
“Cover the parking lot,” Blalock told Dan, who nodded.
Just then, a big pickup pulled up alongside them. It was Teeny. Blalock walked over to the passenger-side window and shook his head. “Bruce, I’m sorry, but this is strictly a police matter.”
“I disagree. I bear some responsibility for the death of my employee, so consider me backup.”
Blalock thought things over for a moment, then rather than argue, nodded. “Okay, come along, but stick with me.”
Blalock and Teeny waited near the closed gate, Justine, several yards back while Ella presented her badge to the guard at the small office. With the sudden appearance of law enforcement, the armed security man seemed to have become energized despite the late hour. He opened the gate, but at Ella’s insistence, remained at his post.
Ella walked into the facility and passed a pole with a surveillance camera that monitored the interior grounds. Lights on other poles directed downward helped illuminate the area and made it possible to work outside at night.
The fenced-in compound comprised two rows of flat-roofed, cinder block storage units, each sharing common walls. The garage-type overhead doors on each compartment opened into an interior area wide enough accommodate two vehicles side by side.
A pickup with a Texas license plate was parked at the far end of the enclosure near the closed back gate, and despite the fact it was nearly one in the morning, a young couple was busy unloading cardboard boxes and plastic containers into one of the units.
Ella looked at the numbers painted on each of the doors. The odd numbers were on the left. From what she could see, the door to number seven, about twenty-five yards away, was half open.
She was walking toward it when two loud blasts echoed out from its interior. A few seconds later, a third shot was fired.
Ella flattened against the closest wall, her pistol out. Hearing running footsteps behind her, she turned her head and saw Justine and Blalock, weapons in hand, holding their badges up at the camera, racing in. Teeny, also armed, followed close behind.
When no more gunfire erupted, Ella moved forward, her shoulder close to the units. She stopped beside compartment three and called out to the confused young couple who’d been caught in the open at the far end of the compound.
“We’re police officers. Lie flat on the ground.”
“Which unit did the shots come from?” Justine asked Ella, coming up behind her.
“Unit seven,” Ella said, gesturing ahead. Just then a man sprinted out of the partially open unit, racing toward the far end.
“Stop! FBI!” Blalock yelled, his pistol up.
The figure—a man, judging from his gait—ran toward the pickup and the couple on the ground. For a second, Ella thought she’d have to risk a shot to protect them. At that distance and in the dim light, she couldn’t tell if the suspect was armed or not.
Ignoring the frightened couple, the fleeing man jumped onto the bed of the pickup, then leaped up onto the twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, grabbing hold of the mesh.
“Crap!” Ella increased her speed. “He’s gonna get away. Justine, call Dan to circle around and cut him off!”
The subject swung a leg over the fence, dropped to the ground, and disappeared into the darkness.
Leaving him to Dan, who was covering the outside, Ella went back to unit seven and looked inside. There was enough light coming in for her to see cardboard and wooden boxes stacked ceiling high in the small space. In the corner of the room, wedged between two rows of boxes, was O’Donnell’s body. An ever-widening pool of blood surrounded him like an unholy halo.
“I’m here,” Teeny called out from behind her.
“O’Donnell’s down.” Ella brought out her pocket flashlight and hurried over to check for signs of life.
“All that blood—he’s gone,” Teeny said even before she checked the pulse point at his neck.
As Ella crouched down, she knew instinctively that Teeny was right. Although the round to O’Donnell’s leg hadn’t been fatal, the bullet to his forehead had been. Finding no pulse, Ella stood.
“Protect the scene,” she told Teeny. “I need to have Dan call county homicide and get them out here.”
Ella went outside, searching for the others, and saw Dan walking up.
“The runner got away,” he said. “He had a truck parked on a dirt road on the other side of the fence. I saw the outline as he took off, but he didn’t turn on the lights, so I couldn’t get a read on the make or model.”
Blalock came around the opposite side of the enclosure. “You checked inside the unit?” he
asked, then studying her expression, added, “O’Donnell’s dead, right?”
“Yeah. We need a county crime scene team here,” Ella said.
“Any chance he gave you a name?” Blalock asked.
“No, he was dead when I found him,” she said. “But the evidence Billy mentioned may still be here. No way he would have turned it over to his killer. I’d like to search Billy’s pockets and the boxes closest to him, but I’ll wait for permission from county.” A little courtesy went a long ways.
“This is clearly FBI and county sheriff business now,” Teeny said, “so I’m heading home. They’ll know where to find me if they need a statement.”
“Thanks for the help,” Ella said. “And not just the backup.”
“Anytime.”
As Teeny left, Ella put on two pairs of gloves and went inside to look around. “There were two quick shots, then a third a few seconds later,” Ella said, thinking out loud. “One struck the vic’s leg, another the head. So where’d the third bullet go?”
“I’m thinking the killer wanted to keep Billy from escaping and went for the leg with his first shot, but missed,” Blalock said. “So let’s look for a thigh-high impact point. The bullet has to be here somewhere.”
Ella glanced at Justine and saw the look of relief on her face as she turned away from the body and focused on the room. When it came to corpses, Justine, like her, had been raised with the rule of three—don’t touch them, don’t look at them, get away from them. Although as police officers they’d had to learn to overcome that urge, doing the opposite still required strength of will.
“The boxes behind the vic have been disturbed,” Ella said, taking in the immediate area around the body. “Maybe he was moving those around when he was interrupted.”
“If you’re right, the bullet may have struck one of those boxes or the wall on the far side. Let’s check it out,” Blalock said.
“Any sign of shell casings?” Justine asked.
“No,” Ella and Blalock replied at the same time.