“What do you say, Doctor?” asked Whitefox, hoping that at any second the doctor was going to tell him he had bird or squirrel bones.
The older man looked up at him and put his glasses on the top of his head. “Callen, this is something odd and strange.”
“Are they human? I can deal with odd and strange at a later time, once I figure out if they’re human remains.”
The older man held the bone up to the light. “I do believe they’re human,” he said, hesitating and staring at the bones in his hand.
“But?”
“The thing is,” he paused. “They’re still soft and look at the size. I would say almost miniature in stature.”
Whitefox didn’t like where this was heading. Already, he felt that knot in his stomach at the idea that these were miniature human remains, and that was disturbing. It could only mean one or two things. “By miniature, do you mean a very small person in stature? Are we talking about a very small adult?” The only other option was making his insides twist into a giant knot. There was this burning feeling in his gut, as the bile almost wanted to climb up into his throat.
“I think these are the bones of a child. Babies have three hundred bones in utero. As they develop they change from cartilage to bone, fusing together and forming the standard two hundred and six.”
Yeah, that’s pretty much where he thought it was going, and he was horrified. “These are the bones of a child?” he tried to keep his voice down. The last thing he needed was the officers behind him hearing and then catching the panic. Word travelled fast on the Rez, and his men could be the spark that ignited it.
“I don’t think it’s a child Callen. I believe it’s a baby. I may be wrong, but an anthropologist could confirm either way. My professional assessment is that we have infant bones.”
“Well shit, and here I am all out of Indian Reservation anthropologists at the moment, and I haven’t a clue where to dig one up.”
Doctor Wolman ignored the sarcasm and continued on with the information, “I have more bad news, son.”
He was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear it, especially if the news was worse than it being infant bones. “I don’t know how this could possibly go from bad to horrific news. It’s pretty awful as it is, Doc,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the closest deputy.
“Look at these,” he said, holding four identical bones in his hand and rolling them over with his index finger. All four matched. They were the size of his finger and nothing more.
“I see four bones, and they all look the same to me.”
Doctor Wolman nodded and continued, “What we have here are the femur bones.”
Whitefox tried to figure out where he was going with it and then he understood. “That’s two bones too many, right?” Oh yeah, Doc was right. Now he saw where this was heading, and it had definitely gone from bad to worse.
“I don’t think you have the body of one child, Callen. I believe you have the remains of two at least, and if you look at these bones in the circle there seems to be quite a few duplicates.”
“Well, now this just makes it an even shittier day all around.” Whitefox knew that with one body they could call the neighboring sheriff, and they would step in and take over the investigation. Most sheriff departments were better equipped than the Rez. They lacked a tech department to gather the forensics and work on the crime.
More than one body, and it was a federal domain and that meant one thing. There would be FBI jurisdiction over the crime. Today was a very bad day to have a hangover; his headache was going to be much worse in a few hours. Now the FBI was going to be involved on reservation land. All he could think of was how ugly this was going to become, as they swooped in and took over. Yeah, the Natives were going to be restless, pissed off, and just plain resentful. He knew that outside police would be an irritant, but the FBI was just going to anger the masses. FBI and Natives didn’t mix on a good day, but toss in bones of a child and it was going to escalate into one colossal mess.
“Doctor, I need you to keep this quiet for now. Can you do that for me? I have to see my grandfather and the Indian Council, and then go from there. I don’t want every tribe member out here rooting through the bones telling me how to handle this.”
Doctor Wolman nodded, dropping his voice to a whisper, “Go talk to your grandfather. I’ll stay here with the officers, and make sure no one disturbs the scene until you get back.”
“Thank you, Doc,” he said, walking towards his truck. Once inside he dialed his grandfather’s house. What he had to say wasn’t going to be something he wanted traveling fast through the reservation. He hoped to keep it quiet for as long as possible. He heard his grandfather’s voice, and it immediately brought him some comfort. When there was trouble his grandfather would advise him wisely.
“Granddad, we have a big problem.”
“What is it my boy?” asked the old man. “It isn’t like you to call on your old man this early in the day. There must be something troubling you.”
“We have some bones out by the campground, and they aren’t animal. Doctor Wolman just checked them out, and he believes they’re the bones of an infant child. Correction let’s make that infant children- as in the plural.”
“This is very bad. We must handle this carefully and quietly my boy.”
“If they’re are human this is now a federal issue; I have no choice but to contact outside authorities, because we don’t have the facilities to handle this investigation.”
Timothy became very quiet on the line. “You have to do what you have to do, Callen. Who do you plan on calling?”
“I know a man at Quantico, and I worked with him once before when I was a deputy. He told me to call him if I ever needed him, and I think this is exactly what he meant by ‘need’.”
“Is he the kind of man that will respect our people, Callen?” asked his grandfather, hoping that the intrusion of the outsiders wouldn’t be as bad as it usually seemed to be in the past. He trusted the judgment of his grandson completely. He loved his heritage, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to stomp all over the people he was protecting.
“His name is Gabriel Rothschild, and he’s the boss there. He gave me his card with his private number a few years ago. He always was honest and played fair with everyone. I respect him, Granddad.”
“Do you still have the card, Callen?”
Whitefox put his head back on his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I still have it, Granddad.”
“Then you need to take care of this. Meanwhile I’ll contact the rest of the council and explain that our hands are now tied. If we have a killer on the reservation, then we need to stop this and soon. Just make sure the FBI respects our beliefs. We don’t need to end up on the nightly news in a gun fight. History doesn’t need to be repeated my boy.”
“I wish there was another way, Granddad, but we don’t have the resources to run a full investigation.”
“I know, Callen. It is how it is, and now we need to put it out into the universe. If we allow the spirits to guide us and bring us the answer that we now seek, it will work out. Trust in your spirit guide, and you will be led down the path you are meant to follow.”
Whitefox just let his grandfather ramble on, knowing that it was going to be an ugly thing when the FBI rolled into their reservation. Spirit guide or not, he just had a really bad feeling about it.
Timothy hung up the phone with his grandson and finished his tea. He wasn’t surprised that the boy had called him; he had just roused from a meditative dream state, and it had scared and terrified him beyond any he had ever had before. He saw the reservation that he loved covered with blood and death. The stench of decay had permeated his senses and choked him, threatening to push him from the trance. There was no shock that this was coming. He felt the horror in the vision, and it would most likely come to fruition.
There was only one hope now, and it was the two black ravens walking through the blood as if unfazed by it all. It gave hi
m peace and reassurance, since they felt familiar and safe. If he was envisioning the raven, it meant only one thing. His other boy was coming home, and the call from the younger of the two speaking of the FBI had confirmed it. Now all that remained was to decipher what the second bird symbolized in the dream. The smaller bird stood protectively over the bigger bird, watching with unblinking awareness and an innate fierceness.
There was the hope that Ethan Blackhawk was returning to the nest, and curiosity as to whether he was coming alone, or bringing someone with him.
* * *
Gabriel Rothschild sat in meetings all morning, and all he accomplished was managing to get a bitch of a migraine headache. The opening of the FBI West building was supposed to be smooth sailing, but unfortunately as it always seemed to happen, they were running into personnel issues. The whole site was supposed to be the Quantico of the west, with the same labs, tech staff, and advanced facilities. Two facilities allowed the teams to have dual points of contact out in the field. It was supposed to be a governmental break through, and all it was right now was a pain in his ass.
When he discovered that he needed to staff the agency, he immediately pushed for Ethan and Elizabeth Blackhawk to oversee the job. He didn’t trust anyone more to follow the guidelines, and they ran it above the law for him. They were hand-picked for the task, and he knew no one else would work as hard as they would to make it happen.
At one time, Elizabeth had worked under him. She was a wild card, but one of the very best agents he had ever had the privilege to work with in his life. She saw things in the details that others seemed to miss. Her gift was putting together the puzzle, and making the connections to find the criminal.
Ethan Blackhawk was the other half of the equation. His role in their team was that of profiler. He was able to get into the mind of the killer, giving his partner an unprecedented look at who they were hunting. As long as he had known him, there was just a sixth sense in the man that made him very good at his job. The criminal mind had always been so easy for him to slip into. It was his forte, and he excelled at it.
Together they made one hell of a team.
Gabe trusted them completely. Both had come together over a serial killing, and barely survived to tell about it. He made a promise to them, and when he offered them the position, it would be in-house only. The offer of office jobs would keep the Blackhawks off the street and alive.
That was his plan.
If he kept them together, he could repay them both with some good karma, while they healed from the last serial killer that almost took their lives. Even though they excelled as a team they were his family, and he would sacrifice a strong field unit to keep them alive. Sometimes personal superseded professional and this was a prime example in his book.
Now, he had a huge dilemma. The staffing report was in from Elizabeth; all the agents they had hired in the last few weeks were out on assignment. FBI West was a big hit. The only downfall was that they weren’t able to staff it to fill demand. Many of the agents in Quantico didn’t want a transfer. They had a life on the east coast, calling Georgetown home. The ones that would transfer had lives to close up here, before beginning the move west. Hiring seemed like an easy thing, but with the government in a state of stagnation, it was making it a big ball of red tape.
It was now just those two left in house and his fear was that one more assignment coming in would mean one, or both, were going out into the field. That made him nervous. Not because he didn’t trust them, because they were quintessentially the best. He just was afraid for the Blackhawks. When apart, they attracted bad like a magnet, and he could only imagine the trouble they would draw together.
All he could do was cross his fingers and hope the personnel ready to be sent to FBI West would be going soon. He banged out an email on his smartphone, pushing for the recruiter to get him more personnel and fast. When his personal cell rang his heart skipped a beat. Only a few people ever called this line, his wife being one of them and the Blackhawks the others.
“Hello, Rothschild.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Gabe, I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Callen Whitefox.” He hoped the man would recall meeting him before. They were really desperate to have someone that wouldn’t tear the reservation apart, and for some reason he trusted Gabriel Rothschild. The man seemed very honorable.
“Callen, it’s been a long time my friend. Are you okay?” Of course he remembered the man. He was smart, funny, and worked for the sheriff’s department out west. He had worked with him years ago when they had a killer running loose. At one time he had hoped to recruit the man to work for the FBI. There was huge potential, but the man had family obligations to handle out there.
“I have a big problem, and I need your help.”
Here it came. This was going to be the request he didn’t want. “What kind of problem, Callen?”
“It’s a messy one that we aren’t equipped to handle.”
Gabriel sat back and his mind began preparing for the issue. “Are you still with the sheriff’s department out there?”
“No, I head up the reservation police in the neighboring county.”
Well shit, if the reservation police were calling then it would only be for a few reasons. Since they weren’t part of federal jurisdiction they only called if there was something outside the scope of their investigative control. Murder, drugs, and guns were the big three. “What do you have that you need federal assistance?”
“This morning one of my men found a circle, stones, and tiny bones.”
“Tiny bones, Callen?” This was going to mean definite intervention.
“We don’t have the facility here to analyze them, but the local medical doctor checked them out. Our doctor thinks they’re the bones of a child.”
Before he could comment Whitefox continued, “There were four little femurs and all soft yet.”
There was no need to specify more. He’d worked plenty of assignments as an agent that had soft bones, and it was a dead giveaway. It was most likely a fetus that had still been in utero when it had been killed. “Four huh?”
“Yeah, we found four little femurs. I would have called the sheriff in the next town and asked them to step in, but I have multiple bodies, so legally I’m obliged to notify you. There are at least two bodies and the doctor said there are repeating bones in the ash. I think I have a multiple homicide,” he said and the words stuck sickly in his throat.
Gabe knew that they had no choice in the matter. “Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. We just opened up FBI West not far from you,” he said, giving him the address. “You need to head over there and meet up with the agents running the office. I’ll call them now. They’ll know what’s going on, and they’ll help you out.”
“I really appreciate this, Gabe. I just need people that aren’t going to raise hell and fire up the locals.”
“I’m sending you my best. They work very well together, and they’re damn fine at figuring things out. They’ll keep it under control,” he hoped, as he knew that Elizabeth would be the one that stirred the masses most. She was the wild card in any situation.
“Will they blend in?” Whitefox was worried about outsiders on the reservation. That was going to be the big issue. Whoever he sent would need thick skin. There would be zero cooperation from the tribe. Outsiders were greatly disliked, but the FBI... there was no love lost there.
“He will seamlessly, but Elizabeth is going to stand out like a gorgeous sore thumb. Let’s just say she doesn’t blend well,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, Callen. Just keep the crime scene intact the best you can, and meet them at FBI West in an hour. I’ll make sure that they know you're coming.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” he said, warily. “Should I be worried about Elizabeth? Is she trouble? The situation is usually tense on the reservation between the law and the Native tribe.”
Gabe couldn’t help but laugh himself. “She
’s not going to offend anyone on purpose, Callen. She’s just a full outsider. But don’t piss her off. If you do, then I advise you run for it.”
Callen Whitefox didn’t know if he should be worried or laugh. The woman sounded like she was going to be a handful, and he could just visualize the pot being stirred wickedly.
“Be there in an hour. I’m making the call now.” Gabe hung up the phone and stared at the desk. He didn’t want to do this to his agents. He promised them in house jobs, but his back was against the wall. Now he had to break a promise to the two people that mattered most in life to him and his wife. Both agents were his adopted family, one he kept private and safe at any cost. There were only two women in his life he loved, his wife and Elizabeth Blackhawk. One was his soul mate, and the other was like a sister. When she married Ethan, he too became family. Now he had to renege on a promise.
Damn it to hell! Gabe hated that he had to make this call. In fact, he’d do anything to not make it. Sometimes being the boss was just a colossal pain in the ass.
Now he had to decide which one to drop the news on first. He thought long and hard about it, finally decided to call the one that would handle it a little more rationally. There was no doubt she’d understand and forgive him for putting them back out into the field and back into danger. Ethan Blackhawk wasn’t going to forgive and forget so easily.
That was a cold, hard fact.
~ Chapter Two ~
Wednesday morning
Elizabeth Blackhawk stood in her new kitchen, freshly showered and back from her morning run. When she woke before dawn, she wasn’t sure she wanted to get out of bed and make the six mile trek around their new neighborhood. After much internal arguing, she forced herself to do it and get it over with. It wasn’t like her to bitch this much about a run. Usually her husband would join her, but this morning he was sleeping like the dead. Not that she didn’t try to wake him up. There was even a kiss and then a nudge but nothing. Ethan Blackhawk’s reply was to just roll over. That was her sign that this run was going to be done on her own.
Sacred Burial Grounds (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 2)) Page 3