Tracking Bear
Page 18
“Shives’s office is our best bet, then. I’ll go there, and you three check out all the employee rest rooms you can find. Facilities like that are good places for bombers to hide when they need some privacy.”
The rest of the team hurried away, and Ella followed the signs on the wall to the area where Delbert Shives had his office. She’d just entered the lobby when Shives’s door slammed shut and the booming sound of a fast-moving Doors tune, “L.A. Woman,” came from within. Ella had come to hate that song after she’d first returned to the Rez. Navajos here, looking at her as an outsider, had given her the nickname L.A. Woman because she’s served at the FBI office in Los Angeles. Ella knew it was no coincidence that Bruno had selected it. The woman had really done her homework.
Bruno appeared at the door, open now, wearing slacks and a colorful blouse, her long blond hair combed out and gleaming. She was holding a big portable CD player with powerful speakers. Ella couldn’t hear anything but Jim Morrison, but was able to read Bruno’s lips. “You lose,” Bruno mouthed. Then she smiled.
Ella nodded coldly, wondering if the tribe would make her repeat the training if she gave Bruno a black eye.
Still unable to believe that they’d failed the exercise, Ella looked at her watch, her heart still beating fast with excitement and anger. Her mouth fell open. Then she looked at a clock on the wall. Both timepieces showed that it was only 10:55. Bruno had cheated, and set the “bomb” off five minutes early.
An hour and a half later, Ella was back at her office. She’d managed to remain civil through the briefing and evaluation conducted by Bruno in Shives’s office, and something in her expression during the quiet trip back had kept her team from ever mentioning the particular tune Bruno had chosen. Ella could sense, however, that they were all in agreement about two things—Margaret Bruno’s training sessions weren’t boring, and two, the woman was a devious bitch.
Ella glanced at her watch, something she’d been doing more than usual today. She’d missed breakfast, but maybe she could still find time for a late lunch. She picked up the phone and dialed Carolyn Roanhorse. The ME picked it up on the first ring.
“I already sent the Redhouse autopsy report to your office, Ella. There was not much more to find, really. Massive trauma from the bullet Justine recovered was the cause of death, all right, and she’s probably already given you the criminalistics analysis on it.”
“I wasn’t calling about work, Carolyn. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s past lunchtime,” Ella teased. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and have had one hell of a morning. How about getting away for a while? If you’ve already had lunch, at least come with me and I’ll buy you dessert.”
“Hey, that’s a terrific idea. I’m running late myself, and still haven’t eaten.” She paused, then added, “But it’ll have to be off the Rez. I’m not that welcome at restaurants or coffee shops here.”
“You’ve got it. Shall I pick you up, or do we meet somewhere?”
“I’ll meet you over at Con Chile on West Main in Farmington. Know the place?”
“I’ve been by there. Sounds good to me.”
About forty-five minutes later they sat at one of the corner tables inside the small diner. Carolyn’s large proportions made it nearly impossible for her to be comfortable in a booth, but Ella preferred tables anyway. As a cop, she’d learned to keep an unobstructed view of her surroundings while in public, and booths always had two blind spots.
After ordering, Carolyn sat back and regarded Ella thoughtfully. “Okay, give. What’s this all about? Do you need a special favor? If so, you may have to pay for my entire lunch, and I brought a big appetite.”
Ella laughed. “No, that’s not it. Believe it or not, I suddenly realized that all I ever do is work, and that I’d forgotten what it’s like to get together with someone other than family.”
Carolyn’s gaze softened. “It was worse for me, until I got married and at least had someone to come home to. But to tell you the truth, most days I’m too drained to do much else except go home and try to forget about work.”
“I hear you,” Ella said with a nod. “It’s not supposed to be like this, you know.”
“Says who?” Carolyn smiled. “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to become an ME for the tribe. And you must have known what being a cop entailed.”
Ella nodded slowly. “Sure, and when I was younger I loved all the demands work made, but now it can get pretty overwhelming at times. I still love being a detective. Don’t get me wrong. It’s what I was meant to do. Sometimes I hear people talking about their jobs, saying things like ‘work isn’t who you are—it’s what you do.’ But, to me, it’s all wrapped up together—inseparable. The problem is that I have Dawn to think about now, and I’m always worrying that I’m not doing enough for her.”
“Dawn adores you, and she’s a great kid. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t spend enough time with her, and she’s growing up so fast.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad mother—it makes you a modern one who has to juggle many things in her life.”
“I wonder if it isn’t time for me to find another line of work. Maybe it’s a sacrifice I should make for her.”
“You wouldn’t be happy anywhere else, Ella, and being miserable isn’t going to make you a better mom. What we’ve always had in common is that work is the fabric of our world—it defines and fulfills us. In that way, I’d say you and I are luckier than the majority of the population. We both have an incredible sense of purpose. And that’s exactly what makes you a great mom.”
“When I’m working a case, putting in long overtime hours, I sure don’t feel that way.”
“There are plenty of times I don’t feel like I’m a great wife to Mike. For what it’s worth, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about moving away from the Rez and taking a permanent vacation.”
“What keeps you here?”
Carolyn smiled. “The same thing that keeps you from moving away and taking another job. I belong here, though that might sound strange coming from someone who isn’t welcome in most homes on the Rez. Although my job requires me to be in close contact with the dead, and that makes me a pariah of sorts, I do have my place. I’m doing something that’s both needed and essential.”
“Yeah, that’s the way I feel, too.” As they looked at each other, Ella realized how comforting it was to be with Carolyn. They understood each other so well. “It’s not always easy, is it?”
“No, but it’s right—for both of us.”
“You know that no matter how busy I get, you can always count on me if you need a friend.”
“And vice versa. But I’ve got to tell you, I really worry about you now. The police department’s in trouble, isn’t it?”
Ella nodded. “Yeah. Too much work, not enough funds, and not enough support from the tribe. We’re really out there on our own, even more so than usual.”
Carolyn grew somber. “I hear you. I desperately need some new equipment in the lab. I keep hounding administration and the tribe, but you know how that goes.”
She nodded. “Right now, we’re short of officers and reliable equipment, but money that should have been used to repair or replace radios and vehicles was spent on a series of training exercises we’ve been going through. We have one more session to go, but I swear I’m going to kill our instructor before it’s through.” Ella shook her head.
“You looked really whipped when I first saw you today. Was this what that ‘hell of a morning’ was all about?” Carolyn asked.
Ella explained what had happened at the power plant, and when she got to the part about “L.A. Woman,” Carolyn cringed.
“How did this Bruno woman find out about that?”
“She knows one of the chemists from the power plant, Delbert Shives. He’s worked there for several years, and must have heard it from a Navajo employee. Bruno’s really competitive, an ex-cop, and obviously did it just to bug me.”
Ella thought about it for a moment, then sighed. “I failed the team today, Carolyn. I made some mistakes, and we were beaten because of that. I hate to lose, even during training.”
“Come on, Ella. The woman cheated. She said you had fifteen minutes, then set off the imaginary bomb five minutes early when she saw you enter the lobby. She was watching for you. There was no way you could win. It was an exercise in character—or humility.” Carolyn smiled. “You’re the best cop around, nobody could have done better.”
Ella shook her head. “I know. And Bruno was a hundred percent correct to point out in that way that bad guys, terrorists, or mentally disturbed people make their own rules. I should have known that from the very beginning and come up with another strategy where she couldn’t see any of us coming in time to set off the ‘bomb.’ In a real situation, I’d have gotten us all killed, and the knowledge that I could screw up again scares the hell out of me. From now on, in a situation like that, I’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
“Ella, if you’re half as hard on the bad guys as you are on yourself, the rest of us can continue to sleep comfortably at night. Learn from this, certainly, but don’t go beating yourself up just because something went wrong during a drill. You’re supposed to make mistakes in training so you can identify pitfalls and avoid them on the job.”
Ella nodded, then switched the conversation back to the case they were working at the moment. As they talked shop, the connection between them strengthened. Finally, Carolyn looked at the clock on the wall. “I better be getting back. At least I’m not keeping a patient waiting.”
Laughing, Ella paid the bill for both of them, despite Carolyn’s protests, then walked outside with her. “Let’s try to do this more often—despite our schedules.”
“Deal. You going to be okay?”
Ella nodded. “Life always seems easier on a full stomach.”
“Words to live by.”
As Carolyn pulled out of the parking lot, Ella started the engine. She’d just started to back up when she heard the sudden blast of a siren somewhere close, followed by the squeal of tires. A heartbeat later, a vehicle pulled up right behind hers. It was Sheriff Taylor.
Thirteen
Ella pulled back into the parking slot and waited. Sheriff Taylor, a rugged cowboy in his late fifties with pale blue eyes, came over from his unit to meet her.
“Hey, Ella,” he said, leaning in her driver’s side window. “I thought I recognized your Jeep. How about having some coffee with me. There’s something I really need to discuss with you.”
“Sure.”
Ella went back inside the diner and joined him at a center table against the back wall. From where they were seated they both had a clear view of the room and the only entrance.
The waitress smiled, recognizing Taylor, who was in uniform, and immediately brought over two cups of coffee without being asked.
“I was planning on calling you at the station, but they gave me your twenty, and I decided to stop by. I wanted to talk to you about one of your officers, the one that was killed the other day. I didn’t really make the connection until I started catching up on some crime reports the Farmington Police Department sent us as a courtesy since our jurisdictions overlap. Did you know that the officer’s father had his home broken into just two weeks ago?”
“Kee Franklin?” she asked, needing to make sure.
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a physics professor.”
“I’ve spoken to Professor Franklin about his son, of course, but he never mentioned any break-in. I wonder why,” Ella said.
“He probably never connected the two events. We’ve had a rash of residential burglaries in that neighborhood, and the city cops are working on some leads in conjunction with my department. Their jurisdiction ends just west of that area. But I thought I should pass this information along to you, especially when it looks like Officer Franklin was killed when he walked in on a burglary.”
“Have the burglars off the Rez been targeting anything specific?”
“Mostly cash, jewelry, and consumer electronics—stuff that they can stuff into a pillowcase and carry away, you know? But the break-in at Franklin’s place didn’t exactly fit that profile. That’s what bothered me about it and why I thought I’d let you know. They took a laptop computer and some backup CDs, and went through his files. But they left a three-hundred-dollar game system that’s the hottest thing around on the black market. Apparently Professor Franklin is addicted to leading-edge arcade-style games.”
“Burglars never leave those expensive gaming systems behind. They’re too easy to sell at flea markets and such.”
“No kidding. Truth is, I’ve never heard of a burglar passing one up. Sometimes, it’s the only thing missing after a break-in.”
“Was the game well hidden?”
“Yes and no. It was out of sight, but because the burglar had broken into the cabinet where it was kept, he knew it was there. Of course it’s possible something spooked him, and he left in a hurry.”
“Thanks for the tip, I appreciate it.” Ella said, standing up. “I better get back to work now.” She reached into her wallet for money, and the sheriff held up his hand.
“It’s on me. You can buy the coffee next time, Ella.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Sheriff. Thanks.”
“If you uncover anything on the robberies that I can use, pass it along, okay, Ella?”
“Of course.”
Ella left Taylor at the table and walked out. Right now, she wanted to talk to Kee Franklin. She was already in Farmington and knew his address, so she went directly there from the diner. When she arrived Professor Franklin was outside raking up leaves. Officer Judy Musket, a tribal cop Ella recognized, was sitting on the porch step wearing her street clothes and sipping something from a cup.
Seeing Ella, Judy stood and walked over to her immediately.
“I’m on leave this week, in case you’re wondering why I’m visiting Kee during my regular duty hours,” she said.
“I wasn’t,” Ella said. “I’m just here to ask the professor a few questions.”
“Mind if I stick around?”
“No, just don’t interfere.”
Franklin came up then, greeted Ella, and invited her into the comfortable living room. “What brings you back here, Investigator Clah? Do you have a suspect yet?”
“We’re still working on the case, and that’s why I’m here. I understand that someone burglarized your house about two weeks prior to your son’s death.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Other families in this neighborhood have also had break-ins, if I recall correctly. Why do you ask?”
“Do you see any connection whatsoever between the break-in at your house and your son’s murder?”
“No. Is there one?” He gave her a puzzled look.
Ella noted that his response was almost immediate. She’d expected him to think about it first, and his rapid answer made her wary. “Your son was killed during the course of a break-in.”
“Well, yes, but the gangs that run around on the reservation don’t come into the city, and vice versa.”
“What makes you think the break-in at the garage in Shiprock was gang-related?” Ella pressed.
“I’ve been checking around on my own, and I’ve learned that my son befriended a young man, a gang member by the name of Albert Washburn. My son had asked him to keep an eye on things in that neighborhood. If gang activity hadn’t been a factor in the area he patrolled, my son wouldn’t have recruited Washburn.”
Ella remained quiet. She wouldn’t argue police business with him, nor explain that Albert hadn’t just been keeping an eye on gang activity. He’d been watching for any signs of criminal
activity. Instead, she allowed the silence to stretch.
Finally, Dr. Franklin stood and walked to the window. “I don’t really know what to believe anymore. But I still don’t think there was anything of any real value in that garage. My ex-wife liked holding on to things, except me, but she wasn’t a fool. She wouldn’t have kept anything worth more than a few dollars in that old building.” He turned around and faced her. “But if you’re following up on something like the burglary of my home, that must mean you have no solid leads on the murder of my son.”
“I wouldn’t say that, sir. We do have leads. I just don’t like to leave loose ends.”
“Just find my son’s killer.”
“We will do that. But perhaps you can help me a bit more. I understand you worked for the government before you taught in Los Alamos. Could you have made any enemies who have followed you here?”
An emotion she couldn’t quite identify flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in a second. As she gazed at him speculatively, his expression became guarded. “You’ve seen too many spy movies, Investigator Clah. My work at the labs may still be labeled classified, but these days it’s mostly out of habit than the need for secrecy. I don’t rate the kind of enemies you speak of.” He stopped, met her gaze, and held it. “If that weren’t true, I wouldn’t say so. There’s no way I’ll ever find peace and harmony again in my life until my son’s killer is behind prison walls.”
His words rang with conviction, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Professor Franklin knew more than he was admitting. The professor was a highly intelligent man—but not one practiced at deception. She was sure Franklin had an idea about what had happened to his son, but for whatever the reason, had decided not to share it with her.
“Thank you for your cooperation, sir,” Ella said, standing.
“Can I walk out with you?” Judy asked her.
“Sure.”
Judy remained silent until they had reached Ella’s unit. “I know what you’re looking for, but believe me, whatever happened to Jason isn’t connected to his father. Kee’s been looking into his own past, too, wondering the same thing you have, but he hasn’t found any links.” She paused then added, “By the way, I wouldn’t take everything Albert Washburn tells you at face value.”