Whitefox nodded and understood. “I'm betting she could handle herself, Ethan, and I get your warning. I won’t even think inappropriate thoughts around her,” he said, hoping he could pull it off or at least fake it. What happened between him and his brother years ago changed his life and ruined it. If he could go back and fix what he did, he would in a heartbeat or he’d let him beat the hell out of him to erase it.
“She isn’t like Kaya Cheek. Elizabeth means everything to me, and while I chose to walk away from a woman when we were nineteen and eighteen, I won’t now. Let me assure you that I’ll kill for her, whether you’re my blood or not. That’s the woman I love.” He didn’t care if it got him fired. If his brother touched her there would be hell to pay.
“I get it, Ethan. If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry. I hate what I did to you and to us. I destroyed our relationship for a woman. It was stupid then, and I won’t do it again. I won’t go there again and especially with your wife.”
Blackhawk wanted to believe him. He desperately wanted to believe that the man in front of him would go back to being a brother and not the enemy. He was one of the reasons he didn’t want to come home. He been betrayed by the man before him, and to this day it still bruised his heart. All of it was a reminder of what they once had and shared, and how easily he was betrayed by his own blood.
“If I could take it back I would. I wish I could somehow prove it to you, but I’ll have to just live it and let you see it’s the truth.” So much for finding the future Mrs. Whitefox, and now he needed to fall out of love and fast!
Elizabeth came back in the room, holding and ice pack and three cups of coffee. It was good to see that the men weren’t fighting and some of the lines around her husband’s mouth had lessened.
“Chief Whitefox, I didn’t know what you liked in your coffee, so I hope cream is fine,” she said, handing him the ice pack, and returning to her husband’s side. “Here Ethan,” she handed him the coffee mug and compared both men to each other. Now that she knew they were related, she could see it. The same shape of the eyes, the same lips and cheekbones, but other than the tan skin they didn’t look similar to her. Maybe, it was just the fact that no other man would ever compare to Ethan Blackhawk. As far as exotic went, her husband was the one man that drew her attention. Elizabeth believed it was all about his DNA.
“Now, I think I deserve an explanation, gentlemen,” she drawled, waiting and sitting on the arm of her own chair. “Something tells me that I had a lot to do with what just went down and frankly that doesn’t sit well with me. Men don’t duel over women anymore for a reason.”
“Yes, you do deserve an explanation, Lyzee.” Blackhawk sat back in the chair, looking straight ahead at his brother. “Right after I was born my dad went out and had an affair with Callen’s mother. It was literally days after my birth. Once my mother found out a few years later, it was the end of the marriage. Since my parents were married I have the Blackhawk name. Callen’s mother never married my father, and he took his mother’s last name. He’s full-blooded American Indian, and I’m half,” and he was perfectly fine with that, less he had to run from.
“Okay,” she looked over at the other man.
“Our father didn’t stick around long, just long enough to knock my mother up and bail. I didn’t want anything to do with the sperm donor. I took my chances with being a fatherless bastard.” Whitefox held the ice to his jaw, and his eyes never left his brother’s face.
They both may be different, but Elizabeth noticed they both carried the same wounds. Her heart ached for both of them.
“I didn’t find out about having a brother until we were in school together,” continued Blackhawk.
“I always knew, but kept it to myself. I wasn’t exactly proud of who created me, and my mom and I knew what shit would go down if we stirred the Blackhawk family pot,” answered Whitefox. “If you were going to be an Indian on the Rez, you wanted to be a Blackhawk.” There was no animosity in his voice, only honesty. “It’s the power family.”
“One day, someone made a comment how Wyler Blackhawk had populated half the reservation, and Callen and I beat the hell out of the kid. It was surprising to have a brother, and to have one so close in age was cool at the time. I went from a sibling less family, and a mother who was dying of cancer to a brother and acceptance. We both were in the same boat. Our father was an asshole.”
“I was raised by Wyler’s father, Timothy Blackhawk,” he added, his voice showing the love for the old man. “He took me in and made sure I was at school and had my homework done. My grandfather was my surrogate dad. My mom was a kid when she had me. It was no big deal if I was gone, she didn’t really want to be a mother, so I lived with granddad. Timothy Blackhawk took me in as his own. I didn’t have the Blackhawk name, but I had the family blood.”
Elizabeth could hear the hurt in his voice. It was the same pain she heard in her husband’s voice when he talked about his past. These two men were cut from the same damaged cloth, whether they knew it or not.
“I used to stay with granddad to be with my brother, until I got crazy and started breaking the law. The old man couldn’t contain me anymore, and I was removed and shipped to foster homes. Once I turned eighteen I came back for a year. Callen and I were inseparable that time. They called us the raven and the fox.” Blackhawk took a deep breath. “I once told you someone back home was the reason I had the tattoo. My brother is that person,” he said softly, then looked up at his wife.
“Then I should thank you. That’s my favorite tattoo on his body,” she touched his cheek with her knuckles and smiled down at him.
Whitefox nodded. “We got drunk, we got tattoos, and then we realized how stupid it was after the fact.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.
“Stupid is a generous word,” Blackhawk added, laugh lines forming around the corners of his eyes.
“Isn’t that the truth? How we survived adolescence, I’ll never know.”
Blackhawk smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I regretted that tattoo for a long time, and now not so much.” He winked up at his wife and earned himself a kiss on the lips. Public displays of affection in the office meant she was feeling pretty damn bad for him at that moment. Elizabeth didn’t do kissy-face in the workplace.
“Damn straight, Cowboy,” she leaned against him when he wrapped his arm around her waist, and she played with his ponytail. “Then what happened? You don’t go from best friends, tattoos, and beer to punching out your blood relatives in the office of the FBI,” asked Elizabeth.
“My brother betrayed me, and we went our separate ways on that day.” Blackhawk kept it detail free. This was a conversation he wanted to have with her in private, and not in front of his brother. “I’ll give you the details later, baby. I don’t really want to relive them in our workplace,” he said, turning back to his brother. “I think we’ve strolled down memory lane enough today. Let’s start this assignment.”
Whitefox agreed with Ethan. He was well aware of what he did to turn his brother against him. There was no reason to have both Blackhawks wanting him dead. Right now, he had to stop thinking about the woman his brother was married to, and that was going to be a feat in itself. He was drawn to her inexplicably.
Elizabeth understood that he wasn’t going to go any further, and nothing would make him until he was ready. “As I was telling Chief Whitefox, I think we need to visit the scene and bring the tech team and also our anthropologist. They’ll be able to give us a bit more before we start trying to figure this one out.”
“Agreed,” replied Blackhawk. “Callen, can we call in the anthropologist immediately or will that make the Natives restless?”
Callen Whitefox shrugged. “As I told your wife, they aren’t going to be happy about anyone who is an outsider being there, but if I meet your anthropologist and your tech team on scene, then I can sooth the ruffled feathers and cut off any issues before they start.”
“What about granddad?” Blackhawk hadn’t sp
oken to his grandfather in over ten years, and suddenly he felt anxious at the thought of going there. He was pretty sure he was going to give him hell over how he left, and when he found out he married an outsider the shit would really be hitting the fan.
“He knows I’m here, and he’s going to want to see you and talk to you once he finds out that you’re the man in charge. I don’t think you can avoid it or your wife either. You know how granddad is about things like this.” He was going to want to grill him over marrying an outsider, and he was going to rake them both over the coals, especially the woman. He was pretty sure his brother knew it.
Elizabeth didn’t understand. “Why would I want to avoid your grandfather?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two men, unsure why an old man would be scary. She had just faced down a killer five months ago and nothing is scarier than a homicidal maniac out for your blood.
“I’ll leave you to explain it to her, Ethan. I’ll be out at the site making sure that no one contaminates the scene. Here’s the address,” he scribbled it on a piece of paper. “Good luck,” he said, laughing as he walked out with his ice pack.
Elizabeth refused to break eye contact, and he was desperately trying to avoid it.
“Did he bring pictures?” he inquired, choosing to focus on the assignment and avoid the question that was waiting for his answer.
Elizabeth would let it drop for now, but that wasn’t going to be the case for long. She liked to know what she was walking into at all times, and that included meeting Timothy Blackhawk. Elizabeth pulled up the pictures, and scrolled through them one by one.
“It’s a medicine wheel of some sort,” he pointed. “The center is usually a stone, but in this case it was a fire. Each of the bones look to be the spokes in the wheel and the outer ring is more stones.
“Well, aren’t you useful to have around when someone’s killing people on the reservation,” she laughed, and kissed his cheek. “Now if you can just tell me who and why.”
Blackhawk turned the chair, and pulled her into his lap. “I can tell you that it’s someone’s perverse twist on the medicine wheel. Usually they symbolize peace and harmony and not death and destruction.”
“Always?”
“It’s hard to say. Most are significant to the maker, and this person had an intention behind it. We won’t know that until we find the person and figure it out.”
“As much as I like sitting in your lap, Mr. Blackhawk, we have a team to call in and we need to head on out to the site and analyze what else is out there.”
“Just give me one minute to hold onto my wife, please?” he asked, needing it desperately.
How could she tell him no? He never asked her to just let him hold her, especially at work. Elizabeth placed her forehead against his, and they just sat in silence. She was willing to give him all the time he needed to regroup.
Just the scent of his wife was calming, and he was finally ready to head back to the hell hole from which he was spawned. “Call in the team, Mrs. Blackhawk. We need to get this done.”
Wednesday afternoon
Callen Whitefox arrived at the scene and already the tribe members were beginning to congregate. They were asking questions and trying to get closer to the bones and rocks. His officers were now all on duty, and they would be until the FBI arrived with their tech team and anthropologist. Now, it was going to be a matter of keeping everyone calm once the word got out that they were dealing with the bones of children.
Native Americans tended to be superstitious and believed all things happened for a reason. The harming of innocent children, animals, and all things in nature were the biggest perversions for them. Whitefox couldn’t wait to run it all by his grandfather. As tribal shaman he would be familiar with the details, and Timothy Blackhawk might be able to give him some insight into the mind of the killer.
“Cal, I think your people are coming,” Chet said, pointing.
Three large FBI vans were proceeding towards the grounds, followed by a very sleek and flashy Mustang. There was no doubt in his mind to whom that beauty belonged. Immediately, the tribe members began to whisper and point as the FBI came to a halt.
“Yeah, they’re here.” He started towards them. Whitefox noticed right away no one exited until their bosses got out of the sleek, black Mustang. He had to appreciate his brother’s choice in cars, and he recalled how Blackhawk always said one day he was going to own one and now he did. The only other thing he ever remembered his brother saying he wanted in life was to have the hottest woman on his arm.
Apparently Ethan Blackhawk pulled that off too.
He managed to look the part of FBI agent, getting everything he wanted in life, and that gave him some reassurance. When his brother motioned to his team by simply lifting his hand, they began exiting.
“I told them to wait. They tend to get excited and take over a situation,” he said to his brother, as he and his wife walked past him towards the scene.
“I appreciate it. You know how edgy the locals get.” It wasn’t lost on them that some people in the crowd already recognized his brother, and a few Natives were snapping pictures and whispering.
Elizabeth pulled out two pairs of gloves and handed one to her husband. “Christina, I want pictures of everything. Then I want a complete DNA sample from all the deputies and Doctor Wolman too. The weather’s calling for rain tonight. I need to make sure we get everything in one shot. There’s no redo tomorrow if we forget something.”
“Yes, Director Special Agent Blackhawk!” Christina motioned her team and stepped towards the circle.
At the mention of the name ‘Blackhawk’ there were even more whispers and pointing. Elizabeth noticed that people were now pointing at her, and her husband was keeping his sunglasses in place. As the team profiler, Ethan Blackhawk liked to observe all around him and this was no different. He was in work mode.
“We need a full canvas,” Blackhawk said, eyes still scoping the crowd that had gathered. He pointed to another tech. “I want at least one hundred feet out checked. We’re looking for anything out of place. Photograph all shoe prints and tire tracks.”
“Sir, it’s a camp ground,” he objected, thinking his boss was asking the impossible.
His whining drew his other boss’s attention. “Great, you can identify the location,” interjected Elizabeth, sarcastically. She was well aware of how much evidence they’d be pulling, but it didn’t matter. They needed to suck it up and get it all done. “How about now we stop complaining and we just get the job done,” she said, simply. “Or would you like to start hiking back to FBI West?” she stated, looking over her shoulder. “I believe it’s that way.” Elizabeth pointed through the woods.
“No ma’am. Sorry,” he answered quickly.
“We know that collection is shitty work, but we have one chance at this. Gum wrappers, cigarette butts, all of it.”
That would be one more tech terrified of his wife. He couldn’t help it, but it made him grin.
The techs broke off and the Blackhawks crouched beside the anthropologist, as he took pictures of the wheel. He looked all excited and giddy, and they found that plain weird. They liked their jobs, but no one should get this happy about bones and death.
“What can you tell us about it, Doctor Magnus?” Elizabeth inquired of her old friend. This wasn’t her first assignment with the man. Magnus was the best anthropologist, and she loved working with him. He was always on point with his bone analysis.
“Well agents, I can tell you it is indeed a medicine wheel of sorts. A miniaturized one where the creator decided to use little bones, perhaps on purpose, or maybe because it was a small medicine wheel and large bones wouldn’t look right.”
“Are they human bones?” asked Whitefox, again hoping that Doctor Wolman was incorrect in his original assessment, and then they could go the hell home. Not that he had anything against them. Working with outsiders was normal when he was a deputy. Now he just needed to make sure the tribe stayed calm and c
haos didn’t ensue or that would resonate in the investigation, and everyone’s job would be that much harder.
“They’re definitely human bones. In fact, I would date them to be about eight months.”
Elizabeth didn’t understand. “Eight months?”
“The victim was about eight months old, and I don’t mean post-delivery. Unfortunately, I’m referring to in utero.”
She felt incredibly sick that these bones were unborn children, and they were tossed on the dirt with very little regard.
Blackhawk patted her leg reassuringly. “So we’re looking at a baby not yet born.”
“Yes, there are indeed four femurs, and they’re all from the same age. I would say you have two victims that were children.”
“Great,” muttered Whitefox. “Two unborn victims and this went from bad to damn ugly.”
Doctor Magnus looked up at the man. “Oh no, you don’t have two victims, Chief,” he paused and then pointed. “See these bones? Elizabeth may I see your hand please?” he asked, waiting for her to put her hand in his.
“I guess,” she answered. Something about his request made her feel off balance, and she didn’t want to know what he was going to say or do next.
“Look here,” he placed the bones lying beside the femurs on the top of her hand, almost as if he was reconstructing a skeleton on top of her own. “If you were to squeeze these bones you could feel the difference. I would venture to say that they’re the bones of an adult woman. The bone structure is too delicate to be that of a man.”
Sacred Burial Grounds (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 2)) Page 7