Tori was hit with the smell and wanted to vomit. It was the worst stench of death she’d ever encountered in her life. That was saying a lot, since working for the FBI for four years had shown her so much murder and violence.
This was completely above and beyond anything she’d encountered.
“Holy shit,” muttered Julian, scanning the inside of the cave before backing up. “Get out, Victoria!” he ordered, moving with her to escape what he’d just seen.
“What is it, Julian?” she inquired, already sure she knew.
Once outside he grabbed her hand. “We need to get out of here and to the police station.”
“Is it a body?” she asked, knowing her nose never lied.
“Worse. We just found someone’s dumping ground.”
“Oh God!” she whispered.
“You could say that again.”
Two days prior to their discovery.
Sunday Morning
Sometimes being Director of Native American Affairs was the thorn in Callen Whitefox’s side. The last thing he wanted to be doing was sitting at the Red River Reservation, mediating such ridiculous arguing.
When he was given the job in the FBI, his brother believed he was calm and level headed enough to pull it off. Well, that and Ethan Blackhawk had no patience for it himself. With this assignment, he totally understood that. The council was in an uproar, the local police were pissed off, and all that stood between a major argument and a meltdown was him.
Great….
He’d never seen such complete and total jackassery. It was a waste of his time and the taxpayer’s money. At that very moment, there were places he’d rather be. He’d left his family three hours away and honestly, that’s where his mind and heart were every second of the day.
The woman in his life was pregnant with his child, and leaving her side was getting progressively more and more difficult. Every assignment away gave Callen increasing anxiety. Not because he worried about her, because Elizabeth Blackhawk was tough and his brother would keep her completely safe, but because he didn’t want to miss a single moment of their pregnancy. They’d just confirmed that they were definitely having a boy, and he had to run off to mediate this hot mess.
God, he was having a son!
Those words did something to him on a primitive man- level. It brought out the barbarian in him, making him possessive, proprietary and over protective. His woman was giving him a precious gift. Nothing sang to the male part of him more than this pregnancy. Forcing himself to refocus, he stared back up at the men arguing in front of him.
Yeah, there were days when he wished he could bag it all and stick by her side like glue. Today was one of them. This assignment didn’t bode well and getting home in less than five days was beginning to look like an improbability. The more he thought about it, if he was home in two weeks it would be a small miracle.
By home, Callen meant the house that he, his brother, and Elizabeth called their own. ‘Fort Blackhawk-Whitefox’ as they affectionately referred was currently under construction. They’d just finished putting in an apartment over the garage for their father, Wyler. Now, they were adding onto the side of the massive stone house for the new baby. At first they were going to let CJ and the baby share a room, but until EJ was sleeping through the night, no one wanted to deal with two wide awake children at three in the morning.
Now that Wyler was above the garage in his private apartment, they were going to be on baby duty at night and on their own. The man would be tired enough managing the new baby and CJ all day long, let alone evening feedings on top of that.
Of course his brother, Mr. Control Freak, had already worked out a minute by minute schedule, anticipating just about everything with the exception of the zombie apocalypse. His son was going to be entering the world in drill sergeant fashion, courtesy of his uncle Ethan.
Poor EJ. God help him. Chances were he’d end up laid back like his father and be driven mad by his name sake. It warmed his heart that his boy was going to be loved by his idol and his best friends in life.
There was something to be said about their threesome. In theory, it shouldn’t work. Yet it did. They moved together seamlessly, with only minor squirmishes popping up now and again. Being in love with the same woman tied them together. Being partners in everything else cemented their lives firmly in place.
Life was perfect.
Who knew that sharing a ‘wife’ between them would be this fulfilling? Legally on paper, Ethan was the one married to Elizabeth, only because he found her first. Callen’s ‘marriage’ to her was out of commitment and a private vow between them, sealed with the Blackhawk family rings. Although not legal, it was binding in both of their hearts and now with the oncoming birth of their shared child.
Somethings did last forever, and Callen was sure their love was forged in steel. Nothing could break them.
The arguing pulled him back into focus.
“Chief Soaring Eagle, you’re being stubborn!” shouted Sheriff James Duffy. “You don’t even care that someone is crossing from the reservation land and slaughtering the animals on the local ranches?”
“We’re not trying to be being difficult, Sheriff. We’re simply stating that you may not come onto the reservation and search for the animal poacher. Everyone here is aware that you have no local law jurisdiction. Being an outsider, you have no right to question any of our people.”
Sheriff Duffy was getting irate. “So, your people can cross and kill our livestock, but we can’t talk to them? Even when we have eye witnesses stating that the sheep were carried back across the border onto the reservation?”
“Exactly.”
Duffy was outraged. “How is that fair?”
Whitefox stepped into the fray. This wasn’t his first time dealing with the sheriff. The FBI had been to his town before, searching for a serial killer. Now Callen was back, and Duffy wasn’t exactly pleased when they came face to face. “Gentlemen, let’s calm down and discuss this quietly and rationally. We’re all adults here.” Yeah, and as it appeared some more than others.
Duffy raged on, directing his anger and hostility now at the mediator. “This is insane. We have an eye witness that described the man, and I can’t do anything about it?”
Whitefox tried to regain control of the situation. His job was to keep the peace between the two communities, find a middle ground and offer resolution. Unfortunately, neither side seemed willing to bring the most important thing to the table; compromise.
“Sheriff Duffy, we don’t believe what you saw was one of our people taking anything from outsider land. By your own accounts, it was dark,” Shaman Tallman added. “We believe it to be a skinwalker not human poacher.”
Callen simply closed his eyes, knowing where this was immediately heading. If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard about the skinwalker myth, he’d be able to retire and put his son into an Ivy League school. “Okay, let’s discuss this rationally gentlemen.”
Duffy stood. “What the hell is a skinwalker?” He glared over at Callen Whitefox impatiently. There was no love lost between the two of them. Last time he saw the man he punched Duffy in the face, taking out his front tooth, all because he blamed the FBI woman for killing his brother unjustly.
Which everyone knew she absolutely did!
Whitefox sighed. “It’s a legend among Native communities, Sheriff. It’s a creature that kills animals for their skins, and then it steals their abilities and souls.”
James Duffy sat and stared open mouthed. “Are you shitting me? I can’t interview a suspect because these two think it’s a mythical imaginary creature? Am I the only sane one here.”
Callen shrugged at his question of sanity, but kept his comments to himself. Duffy’s family tree had one big scary nut fall from it already. “You can’t interview them because the Natives on the Rez don’t fall under your jurisdiction. It has nothing to do with a skinwalker.”
The man was on the edge. “Here’s an idea, Mr. FBI A
gent. YOU interview them!”
Whitefox leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I can’t. The FBI jurisdiction is limited to crimes related to drugs, multiple homicides and ATF misdemeanors. You requested a mediator. I’m here to help you come to an agreement. Not interrogate a suspect.” It was true. When it came to the Native American Nations, he couldn’t use his badge unless it fell under one of those transgressions. His hands were essentially tied, unless it was to talk someone off the ledge much like now.
“This is unbelievable. Two grown men at this table are sitting here lost in fairytale land with myths and legends, the Feds won’t help, and I can’t go after a poacher because they’re Indian?”
“Native American,” corrected Callen, wishing Elizabeth was there to kick his ass and be the floor show. If she heard him throwing ‘Indian’ around, she’d have a stroke.
“Whatever! You’re the damn FBI first and foremost! Do something!”
Callen tried to rationalize with the Chief. “Can we possibly get the witness to come here, telling us what she saw? Maybe if you hear the description, it’ll remind you of someone and that will help change your mind.”
The men didn’t look like they were going to budge.
“Please Chief. It’s about compromise.” Callen was just about ready to pack it all in and throw in the towel.
Duffy leaned forward waiting for an answer. He needed to figure out a way to get a suspect in for questioning. Lately, there had been a rash of killings. Sheep, goats and even a dog were taken. If he didn’t get some answers, his ass was on the line. The election was coming up in the fall and unfortunately for him, his brother being an accused killer hurt his popularity.
Go figure.
It wasn’t like he had been the one out murdering men and taking bits and pieces off their bodies as souvenirs.
Although, he was about to kill someone, and the two stubborn Indians in front of him were first on his list if they didn't offer up something other than ‘no’.
Callen crossed his fingers.
Duffy wasn’t betting on any help on this one. The Natives had the locals all stirred up and pissed off. The mayor was breathing down his neck to take care of this mess, or in the fall he’d be endorsing a different candidate for election. The entire situation just sucked all around.
What was even worse was Duffy needed the FBI agent in front of him. Without his help mediating, he had zero shot of getting an interview. It wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t have a horrible taste in his mouth from the last run in with the man. Ironically, when he asked for help, this man was one of the last people he expected to see. This was just the straw that was threatening to break the camel’s back. Now he had to deal with the people he loathed. The only highpoint in his day was at least the bitch that killed his brother was nowhere to be found. It was a small consolation in the entire matter.
“You may bring in a witness. If you wish, she may talk to a sketch artist. Only then will we look at the picture, simply because we don’t have time to deal with this. It’s happening off the Rez, and therefore not our problem,” answered Chief Soaring Eagle.
Both men stood, as did Duffy.
“Gentlemen, we at the FBI want to work through this as quickly as possible. How about we reconvene sometime in the next two days and try again. Right now everyone’s a little stirred up and tempers are running a little hot right now.”
As if on cue, Duffy slammed his chair into the table and stormed outside the room, slamming the door behind him. Hot didn't quite describe how he was feeling.
The Natives in the room watched him leave. “Agent Whitefox, you are one of our people and understand where we’re coming from. This isn’t the first time we’ve had the sheriff here accusing our tribe of some problem that keeps popping up in his town. It seems to us that every time the man has an issue, it has to be someone from the Rez. Please see it from our perspective.”
Whitefox did understand. Growing up on a reservation as a child, he’d encountered many of the same issues. They were bussed to non-native schools and the problems carried over there too. Something disappeared then it had to be the ‘Indians’. There was vandalism? Blame the out of control, no good Natives. A car was stolen? Okay, that was probably him and his brother, but at least they didn't spray paint graffiti. Growing up they had some standards.
“I completely understand, Chief, but unfortunately we need to resolve this and go from there. Whether you like the sheriff or not, your land butts Red River, and that means living peacefully together and working out your problems. I can’t come here to mediate every little problem that pops up.”
“I am telling you, son. We have a skinwalker running loose here on the Rez,” the chief said, elbowing the shaman.
“We do! We have other problems than white man’s poacher on the Rez. Wait and see!” stated Tallman. “Ill winds are blowing all across our land.”
Whitefox simply nodded, ignoring the raving craziness. “I’ll call in a sketch artist and get a composite of the drawing to you. Can we reconvene tomorrow?”
The men leaned in to talk.
“Get your drawing, and then call us when you have it finished. We’ll take a look at it.” Chief Soaring Eagle said, standing once again.
Callen was grateful, because at least now they had a starting point. Now he just needed to hunt down the non-native and go from there. “Gentlemen, I’ll be working here out of the police department the next day or so, until this is resolved. If you need me, you can find me there.”
Both men nodded, exiting the room. At the sound behind him, Whitefox turned, hoping the men had a change of heart and were willing to compromise more.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. I thought everyone left,” stated the janitor, grabbing the filled waste paper can. “I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes. I need to straighten up.”
Callen smiled at the man. “It’s not a problem.” He tossed his own papers and empty coffee cup, as the man wheeled the big can around the room.
“Thanks Sir,” the man stated. “I appreciate you cleaning up after yourself.”
Whitefox nodded. “It’s the least I can do here,” he answered. Wasn’t that the truth? It was sad when his biggest accomplishment was tossing away trash.
“Rough day?”
He laughed and shook his head, slipping his badge back on his hip. “Nothing that I’m not accustomed to working on the Rez. Outsiders versus Natives and no one wants to budge.”
“I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
Callen appreciated his positive attitude. Reading his shirt he smiled. “Have a good day, Thomas.” Whitefox grabbed his things, leaving to head out and find Sheriff Duffy. He’d hoped to reach a middle ground for both sides, but this was looking less and less likely that they’d come to a resolution. Outside he noticed the man’s vehicle gone and knew where he was headed. It looked like Whitefox was taking a little trip to the sheriff’s department.
Terrific.
Pulling out his phone, he hit speed dial and waited for the call to be answered, as he hopped up into the Denali. When it picked up on the third ring, the knots in his gut began to unravel.
“What’s up, Cal?” inquired his brother, sitting at his desk and signing off on the mountain of paperwork.
“I have Native and outsider issues big time, and I need a sketch artist,” he answered, pulling out of the parking lot.
Ethan Blackhawk could hear the frustration in his brother’s voice. “That bad, huh bro?”
Callen simply laughed. “I’m mediating between two sides that have no intention of compromise. If that wasn’t bad enough, I have to deal with Duffy again, and trust me when I say he’s not happy to see me.”
Blackhawk cringed. That was their worst case scenario. Before sending Callen out, they’d hoped the man had retired or been shit canned thanks to his serial killer brother. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
“No more than the Natives, but you can tell his temper is just below simmer. One little miss
tep and the man’s going off. I’m beginning to think he’s never forgiven us for killing his brother, turning his town upside down, and beating the hell out of him.”
It was funny when he put it that way. Ethan tried not to laugh. “I’ll get you a sketch artist up there by tomorrow.”
Callen hesitated. “Is Elizabeth there?” Generally, if she wasn’t working, she’d be perched on a corner of one of their desks.
Blackhawk wished she was beside him. “No, she’s in her office working on payroll for the week. We both came out of meetings all morning and had to face the paperwork beast.”
“Is she okay? Is the baby fine?” He hated checking up on her, especially behind Elizabeth’s back, but he was continually concerned about his child’s wellbeing and the woman he loved. Being apart from her was killing him.
“Well, she’s eating, scaring the hell out of the techs and entertained that they have a ‘baby daddy’ pool going.”
For the first time all day, Whitefox laughed. “Who’d she get to cheat for her?”
Both men knew she’d enjoy screwing with the gossiping hens that were betting against her and the men.
“No one would this time. Earlier two techs were discussing it over coffee. Our Elizabeth strolled right up to them and asked who was in charge of the pool.”
Callen started laughing. “That had to scare them shitless.”
“Oh yeah it did. They spilled it pretty damn fast, assuming there’d be fallout. Then she proceeded to track the tech down and put fifty into the pool personally.”
He was confused. “Ummm, she’s aware of who the father is, wont that give it away?”
Blackhawk began laughing outrageously. “Our woman put fifty on ‘spawn of Satan’ and started a new category. I hear it’s a popular choice now too.”
Darkness Of Truth (An FBI/Romance Thriller~ Book 6) Page 3