Emily, still marveling at her sudden rescue, let the stream of tears run down her cheeks while she stared intently into her brother’s eyes. Will squatted beside her, his back to the opening of the cave. He wanted to know everything—how she broke her leg—whether she had any other wounds—if she’d been treated well—and how Chipeta Longtooth managed to bring her to such a remote place.
Emily smiled at her brother and held tightly to his hand. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Is Mom okay?”
While she listened to his reassurances, Emily thought she saw a slight movement behind Will. She caught a fleeting glimpse of Chipeta’s face peering in at the edge of the cave. It disappeared again, as swift as the glance of a falling star. It could have been a hallucination, but her reaction did not escape Will’s keen eyes.
“She saved your life,” he said with a knowing look.
30
Monday, April 16, 1990
Chipeta Longtooth’s Camp
Colorado Back Country
Medics placed Emily on a stretcher and whisked her to a waiting medevac chopper ready to transport Hosteen and her to University Hospital in Albuquerque. She held tight to her makeshift crutches, insisting on taking them along. Hosteen would have stayed on the mesa if his captain, who arrived with a contingent of Navajo police officers, had not ordered him to get medical clearance from the hospital before reporting back to duty. Will and Abe climbed aboard a second helicopter and headed back to the compound. Though hungry and exhausted, they were so excited about sharing the news of Emily’s rescue with Bertha that they’d forgotten the sandwiches and thermos of coffee Mark Newman carried in his saddlebags. Newman remained on the mesa top with his dog, Spike, and two other Colorado state troopers until dusk, futilely searching for any clues leading to the location of Chipeta Longtooth. But the elusive woman had disappeared like a shadow on a cloudy day, and they were forced to give up the search.
Bertha Etcitty fussed over Will and Abe like a mother hen with two precious chicks. She burst into tears of happiness after listening to Will’s account of Emily’s rescue, and his reassurance she was going to be all right. It seemed she couldn’t stop talking.
“Here, eat another bowl of stew. Do you want some more coffee? I brought you clean clothes. After you take a hot shower, we gotta go to Albuquerque. I’ll drive. I know how tired you must be.” Bertha beamed at Will and Abe. “I am so proud of you boys.”
Abe said, “No need, Bertha. I’ll take my truck and clean up at home before I go to the hospital. I need to check on my place and see if Ellen and Danny can hang around a little longer. If you get to the hospital before me, tell Emily I’m on my way. Will can ride with you.”
“Okay, Abe.” Tears threatened to spill once again from Bertha’s eyes. She blinked them away and smiled. “I know I have a reputation for being a tough old Navajo woman, but I’m just so relieved and happy right now—knowing my baby is alive. Emily can come home.” She no longer tried to restrain the tears flowing down her cheeks in rivulets and running past her beaming smile.
Before he left, Abe caught up with the sheriff and updated him on Emily’s condition and rescue.
Sheriff Turnbull’s eyebrows rose a half inch when Abe mentioned that Chipeta Longtooth had found Emily and set her broken leg. “How’d she manage to do that, and where do you suppose she went?”
“I don’t know. Emily said she took off during the night. Newman and a couple of other state troopers are looking for her.”
“Huh. Don’t that beat all? Well, great work finding Officer Etcitty. I’ll release you from posse duty now if you like. We’ve got enough men here to cover our bases, but you’re free to stay—earn a little more money for your hard work.”
Abe extended his hand. “Appreciate it, Sheriff, but I’d like to head on out to Albuquerque to see Emily. How’s the investigation going here? Did you turn up any clues as to the whereabouts of the girls?”
Newman scratched his head before answering. “We know they were here, and now they’re not. The woman who calls herself ‘matron’ broke down and admitted as much. We found the white van used in the kidnapping of Emily Etcitty and Lina Nez, but those two dirtbags who pulled it off are missing. The white utility van was decked out with folding cots secured to the sides, constraint straps, automatic locks on the doors, and shaded windows. The FBI is giving it a thorough going-over for prints and DNA, or anything else they can use. Since the head scumbag took off to parts unknown in a private plane, those other two might have gone with him. We’ll find out, and I’ll keep Hosteen posted. Heard he got whacked on the head and is down in Albuquerque, too.”
“They’ll probably keep him overnight for observation, Sheriff. Make sure there’s no concussion. Tomorrow he’ll be chomping at the bit to get back on the case.”
The sheriff grinned. “Yeah, he’s a go-getter, all right.” After a pause, he added, “You know, son, on my first impression, you didn’t strike me as the lawman type. You’ve got a studious, intellectual air about you. And I don’t believe you’ve had much experience with guns. But, by God, you proved yourself out there. Found your girlfriend. Listen, you take care of her and yourself from now on.”
Abe bid the sheriff good-bye and drove away from the compound. When he reached the highway, he sped up, as he was anxious to get home, take a hot bath, and put on a change of clean clothes before making the three-hour drive to Albuquerque. Knowing Emily was safe had lifted a heavy burden from his mind. But he worried about the girls and whether they had been forced to go with the leader of the cult. There might be other young women in the compound who had been kidnapped at some point, too. The thought was chilling.
He mulled over other aspects of the conversation with the sheriff. One of the women in the compound appeared to be Navajo. She had been given to a cult member as his third wife several years ago and had borne four children. So far, the woman hadn’t revealed how she came to be at the ranch, but Abe suspected she had been so indoctrinated by the Prophet’s propaganda that she no longer knew what was real. He recalled a term—Stockholm syndrome—when a victim becomes emotionally attached to his or her captors.
There had also been references made to a so-called hideout, the whereabouts of which no one knew—or wouldn’t tell. There was a hell of a lot of unraveling to do, but Abe was ready to let the experts handle it. He was relieved but tired, and all he wanted was to see Emily and go home to his dog and bed.
As the sun disappeared behind the western mountains, and a waning moon rose in the east, Abe pulled into the driveway of the sheep-breeding ranch he managed. Before the truck came to a stop in front of his quarters, he was greeted by yips of joy. As soon as he opened the door to his truck, Patch jumped onto his lap and, squirming with joy, planted kisses all over his face. Abe sat there awhile, talking to and petting his dog, enjoying the moment. He looked up and smiled when Ellen and Danny appeared at the door of his house.
“Hi, Abe,” said Danny. “I took good care of your sheep and Patch.”
“Great, Danny. I knew you would, and I’ve got your pay right here.”
Danny beamed with a broad grin.
“Glad you’re back,” Ellen said. “Any news?”
Abe limped from the truck, bone weary and bleary-eyed, but still smiling.
“We found Emily. She’s safe now, at the University Hospital in Albuquerque.”
“What fantastic news. I’m so relieved you found her. What happened?”
“Yay!” Danny interrupted. “Abe’s a hero. He found Emily.”
“No, not a hero. She fell and broke her leg while escaping from the ranch compound. There were lots of people looking for her and the two girls. Will, Hosteen, and I got lucky. But no one has found a trace of the girls yet.”
“Oh, dear. Those poor babies,” Ellen said.
“I have one more favor, Ellen—if it’s not too much of an imposition. After I clean up, I want to drive to Albuquerque tonight, to be with Emily. Could you manage to stay around for a couple more days? I can pay you
and Danny now for your time and help, and give you the rest when I get back.”
“Don’t even think about it, Abe. You can settle up with Danny later, and of course we would be glad to stay on.”
Danny erupted with another loud “Yay!” and clapped his hands.
Ellen said, “But don’t you think you should sleep at home tonight and get a good rest? By the looks of your face, you sure could use it. By the time you drive to Albuquerque, you can bet your boots the doctor will have sedated Emily and she’ll be sound asleep. If you leave at six in the morning, you’ll be there before ten.”
Abe thought about it. What Ellen said made sense. What good could he do by arriving in the middle of the night? He could use a soak in the hot tub, a cold beer, and a good night’s sleep. He nodded his head and grinned.
“You’ve got a point, Ellen. Think I’ll follow your advice. Thanks.”
“Well, we’ll be heading home. I left some fried chicken and potato salad in the refrigerator. Danny will be here by seven in the morning if I can drag him away tonight. He loves it here with the animals so much, he never wants to leave.”
After Ellen and Danny had left, Abe decided to call the hospital to check on Emily and leave word that he would be there in the morning. When he got to the phone, he noticed the message light blinking and pushed the play button.
Mattie Simmons’s strident voice drawled across the lines: “Mr. Freeman, I’m calling to inform you I will be arriving at the ranch in two weeks to check on my breeding stock and buy a new shipment of rugs. I plan on spending a week visiting the weavers and evaluating their work, and I am counting on you to be my driver. I am assuming my ranch is in top-notch condition, and you will oblige my request. Those Indians aren’t real friendly to me and seem to expect more money than I am willing to pay. Very well, I will see you in one week.”
“Shit,” Abe muttered.
I don’t need Simmons around, especially now, he thought. Of course the Navajo people don’t like her. She’s ripping them off by not paying a fair price for those high-quality rugs. But, damn it, she’s my boss. What would she do if she came back and found me missing and Danny Jorgenson taking care of the sheep? She’d fire me. He let out a long sigh. Nothing I can do to prevent her coming out here. She pays the bills.
Abe called the hospital and left a message for Emily about his arrival time. The ward nurse reassured him Emily was comfortable and sleeping peacefully. He locked the door to the main house and walked to the barn to make sure everything was all right before heading for his quarters. Patch, still excited, followed closely on his heels.
It felt good to be home, especially knowing Emily was receiving proper care, and he felt even better when he opened the refrigerator expecting to find his last beer and saw a full six-pack of his favorite brand. Abe gave Ellen a silent thank-you, thinking how much he owed her, and filled a plate with chicken, potato salad, and sliced tomatoes even though he had eaten earlier. Settling back in his most comfortable chair, plate on his lap, he glanced appreciatively around the room. His place was far tidier than before—in fact, it was immaculate. Following a long, hot soak in the bathtub, he crawled between clean sheets and fell asleep minutes after his head hit the pillow. Patch curled up beside him and snored in unison with his master.
A persistent knock on the door brought them both to their feet—Patch barking and Abe grumbling. “Who in the hell could that be?” The alarm clock on the bedside table said eleven thirty-five. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” He opened the door and squinted through half-closed eyes at the figure of Joe Hosteen.
“I spoke to Bertha Etcitty before she and Will left for Albuquerque. She said I’d find you here,” Hosteen said.
“What are you doing in Bloomfield?” asked Abe. “I thought they were keeping you for observation?”
“I talked them into discharging me and caught a ride back with my mother. She’s spending a couple days in Farmington, visiting her sister.”
Abe stepped aside and held the door open. “Come on in. What’s up?”
Hosteen sat on the couch and looked at Abe as he sat in the rocker. “Want to ride with me to Albuquerque tomorrow morning? I was ordered to take some time off. We can stop by and see Emily. I got a possible lead on the two men involved in the kidnapping. There’s an apartment complex in Albuquerque I want to check out. Just thought since we’re going in the same direction . . .”
“What’s so special about this place?” Abe asked.
“I didn’t give it any significance at the time and had forgotten about it until now. When Will and the sheriff were out in the hall, Betty told me her son had been sent to a place in Albuquerque as punishment for listening to rock music. She said one of the Prophet’s bodyguards accompanied him, and he had to stay there for a week. Her boy said it was awful, and he was scared to death. The Crosstown Apartments, I’m pretty sure is what she called it. Maybe someone we’re looking for is using it as a safe place to hide out for a while.”
Abe considered the offer. “You want me to be your backup?”
“Not officially, but yeah. Hell, why not? As long as it doesn’t get back to my boss. Do you want to nail these bastards or not? And I figure you’ve got a personal interest in finding these assholes—not to mention a history of assisting a rogue cop.”
Abe figured Emily must have told Hosteen about his involvement in tracking down the killer of Easy Jackson two years ago. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not good at this, and I don’t like using a gun. As long as I don’t have to shoot anyone, I’ll consider it. But what am I supposed to be doing?”
Hosteen stretched his long legs, stood, and walked to the door. “Well, I’d want you to pack something, just for your protection, but I don’t expect you to have to use it. Just be there as a lookout.”
After another lengthy pause, Abe said, “Isn’t there another cop who can help you?”
“I’m on leave, and no one but me knows the location of the apartment.”
“Why don’t you tell the authorities in Albuquerque, or the FBI?”
“Because they have a way of screwing things up. There’ll be delays—paperwork, a warrant, wasted time, and the perps could get away before they did anything. Besides, this is my case.”
“It wouldn’t be because you want to make sergeant and are trying to look good?”
“That has nothing to do with it. Emily is my partner—those two girls are my people. It’s personal. Are you coming or not?”
Abe gave Hosteen a long, hard look. He began to wonder if Hosteen’s interest in Emily was more than professional. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll be by at six,” Hosteen said as he went out the door.
As soon as Hosteen left, Abe began to question his decision.
What the hell am I getting myself into now? I got involved in this amateur police work once before and nearly ended up dead. I swore I’d never do it again. Freeman, you’re a damned idiot.
He returned to bed with troubling thoughts and misgivings, but fatigue got the best of him, and he fell into a deep sleep.
31
Tuesday, April 17, 1990
University Hospital
Albuquerque, New Mexico
As Hosteen’s Chevy Silverado pickup sped southeast along Highway 44 toward Albuquerque, Abe stared out the window at another beautiful sunrise. Brilliant hues of orange and pink crowned the mesa tops as the sun spread its light across the eastern sky. Traveling along this highway evoked memories of when he had first arrived in New Mexico and was taken into custody by Emily as a suspect in a murder case.
Flashbacks of the FBI interrogation and the overnight lockup with drunks and petty criminals hounded him as they passed the Huerfano Substation. Bright sunlight glittered on the top of the sacred mountain called Dzith-Na-O-Dith-Hle, where, according to Navajo legend, Changing Woman gave birth to First Man and First Woman. As they cruised past the Nageezi Trading Post, he recalled the night he and Will had turned off there two years ago when th
ey followed the road to Chaco Canyon, before heading on to Bisbee, Arizona, in search of the Mexican Mafia gang leader Rico Corazón.
“Ever been to Albuquerque?” Hosteen asked, breaking the silence.
Abe continued gazing out the window, mesmerized by the surreal landscape of the Northwest Plateau. Grotesque mushroom-shaped rocks, or hoodoos, ranging in color from deep gray to shades of purple erupted through the khaki-colored desert floor. Spring had brought patches of green to the usually parched earth, and wildflowers lined the gullies and arroyos where recent rains had filled their banks.
“Not really. Only drove through there on the interstate once. What’s it like?”
“Modern urban sprawl and old-time territorial New Mexico all jumbled together. There are some great places—interesting mix of cultures, good food, beautiful architecture. And there are some dangerous neighborhoods as well. We’ll go to the University of New Mexico to see Emily, which is nice, but sections of nearby Central Avenue are the worst—prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers, runaways, you name it.”
“What kind of neighborhood is this apartment in?”
“I looked up the address of the Crosstown, and I’ve gotta say, not one of the better ones.”
As soon as they left Highway 44 and merged onto I-25 near Bernalillo, traffic became bumper-to-bumper and continued past the “Big-I” intersection and the low-profile city center. Abe couldn’t help observing that many New Mexican drivers didn’t bother to use turn signals or come to full stops at intersections. Nor did they follow the speed limit. They reached the grounds of the University of New Mexico Hospital in a little less than three hours.
When they entered Emily’s room, it was nine thirty, and she was sitting up sipping a glass of water, her leg swathed in a brand-new cast, a drip attached to her wrist, rehydrating her body.
Henry Forbes, an FBI agent out of Albuquerque, sat in a straight-backed chair beside her bed. When Abe and Hosteen entered, he gave them a curt nod, closed his notebook, and stood. “Thanks for your time, Officer Etcitty. If you think of anything else, give our office a call. Hosteen, how’s it hanging?” he said on the way out.
Abducted Innocence (Emily Etcitty) Page 21