Death Along the Spirit Road

by C. M. Wendelboe

  “Looks like it.”

  “But Reuben told investigators he tossed the gun after he killed Two Moons. How did Jason get Reuben’s gun?”

  “Good question. Apparently, Reuben lied about tossing his gun, too.”

  They sat, each lost in his own thoughts, until Willie broke the silence. “You know you’ll have to talk with Reuben again.”

  Manny nodded. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Clara’s coming down in the morning, and we’re driving to Chadron for breakfast. I’ll talk to Reuben when I get back. But for now, all I want to do is get some shut-eye.”

  “She forgave you after that article came out?”

  “Finally,” Manny answered. “It took some work to convince Clara that Sonja Myers set me up for that photo op at the Rapid City bistro. I never had a woman get jealous over me.”

  “How’d you explain all the messages from Sonja on your cell phone?”

  Manny shrugged. “I told the truth. I said Sonja called but I never talked with her.”

  “But you did, just yesterday.”

  Manny smiled. “I had to tell Sonja about my exclusive interview with Nathan Yellow Horse, and that your lieutenant had more information on the case than I could give out.”

  After Manny finished stretching his hamstrings, he cracked the door and peered out into the night. The single streetlight near his apartment burned yellow, and he was careful to throw the new deadbolt on his apartment door. His beginning pace was slower than usual, but he was able to work through the pain in his ribs. When he hit stride at just over a mile, the sweat drenched his sweatshirt. He had hit his zone, and he needed to think.

  Tomorrow Elizabeth would be driven to the state hospital in Yankton where she would undergo evaluation to determine her fitness to stand trial. Would Reuben interfere? Would his love for Elizabeth overrun his love for his brother and result in his killing the one person who could testify against Elizabeth and send her away? Manny doubted that, but seeing Reuben’s anger flare yesterday, he knew the man was still capable of bad intentions.

  A dog barked from a house up ahead and Manny strained to see in the blackness. What would Reuben’s motives have been for killing Jason? If he were dealing with the Reuben of the American Indian Movement days, he’d think hatred of the status quo was enough reason. But this was the Reuben who had served his time in prison, had somehow found the Lakota way, and now advised people in spiritual matters. Had Reuben been that jealous of Jason to think that Elizabeth was having an affair with him? Again, this was a different Reuben, yet still like the old Reuben in many ways.

  Manny rounded the block on his last stretch to his apartment. Sweat flowed from every pore, and he had forgotten the pain in his side from the bruised ribs. He fumbled inside his sweatshirt pocket for the key while he slowed to a walk to catch his breath.

  And stopped and listened.

  The streetlight in front of his apartment was out, and he stepped on broken glass. He crouched low, crunching glass where someone had broken the light. Willing his breathing to slow, his heart to quit racing, he hunkered down at the base of the streetlight, straining, listening.

  Footsteps grated on gravel between his apartment building and the next one. Manny took in deep, calming breaths as someone neared, and the glint of a blade reflected light from the apartment window above Desirée’s.

  The figure wore a hoodie, but there was no mistaking Jack Little Boy by the way he filled out the sweatshirt, by the way he held his knife out in front of him. Like a predator, Jack picked his way cautiously in Manny’s direction, but Manny noiselessly circled the base of the streetlight. Jack’s head swiveled, trying to locate him, but Manny hadn’t been raised a victim. Jack searched aimlessly in the dark, unsure exactly where Manny was.

  The knife scraped against the metal base of the light and Manny drew his legs beneath him. How long had it been since he wrestled another man? High school? He was grateful for that, and for the custody control classes the bureau required agents to attend annually.

  Jack looked away and Manny saw his opening. He pushed off from the base of the light and sprang from his crouch. His first blow slapped the knife away and it clattered somewhere on the sidewalk a heartbeat before Manny found Jack’s neck with his forearm. His other hand slipped around to lock in a sleeper hold, one that would put the much bigger man out for the count. If he’d cooperate. Jack turned to Manny and dug his elbow deep into his injured ribs. The blow threatened to do what the stolen truck could not, and Manny lost his grip as he rolled away in pain. Jack reached down, clawing at Manny’s throat. Manny brought his knee up and connected with Jack’s nose. Blood spurted over Manny’s face and got into his eyes. Jack screamed, and Manny hit him on the side of the head before Jack disappeared into the darkness.

  Manny fumbled for his apartment key and half crawled to the door. For all the bad vibes he had gotten from Desirée since he’d been back here, he wished she were looking out her apartment window now, wishing she would dial 911.

  CHAPTER 22

  Heavy, hard, desperate banging nearly burst Manny’s door. He swung his legs over the bed and paused long enough to grab the Glock from the shoulder holster before he cracked the door against the chain. Willie stood on the other side, one beefy hand raised to hammer the door once more when Manny opened it. Manny shut the door long enough to disengage the chain, then let Willie in.

  “Aunt Lizzy’s gone,” he blurted. His breaths came in gasps.

  “Of course she’s gone. They took her this morning to Yankton for her psych eval.”

  “They were supposed to.” Willie sat on a kitchen chair and put his head between his legs and breathed deeply, gathering his thoughts. “Robert Hollow Thunder landed the assignment to drive Aunt Lizzy to Yankton. Before they reached the transport van, she snatched his gun and ran off.”

  “What do you mean, she ran off?” Manny rubbed his eyes, then his groin, then his eyes again in an effort to wake up. “How the hell could she grab his gun while she was restrained?”

  Willie held his head. “The damned fool Hollow Thunder’s head whistles in a crosswind, I swear. He said he knew Aunt Lizzy all his life, and just didn’t feel right putting belly chains on her. So as he walked her to the van, she snatched his gun and ran. And you know what a runner she is. What are we going to do?”

  “How long ago did she escape?”

  Willie checked his watch. “Three hours ago. Robert wanted to get back to the rez tonight, so he started early this morning before sunup on the transport. She’s got a hell of a head start.”

  Willie sat in a chair beside Manny while he pulled his trousers on. “Where are the other officers looking?”

  “They’re out beating the bushes, but we’re spread pretty thin. The lieutenant had damned near the whole force up last night searching for Jack Little Boy.” Willie grabbed his Copenhagen can. He put it back in his pocket without taking a pinch. “Everyone except Lieutenant Looks Twice.”

  “Why isn’t he?”

  A smile spread across Willie’s face for a brief instant. “He finally found his car.”

  “His squad car?”

  Willie shook his head, and composed himself enough to take that pinch of Copenhagen. “Someone called a wrecker out of Gordon to tow his new Mustang away yesterday. The lieutenant put out a stolen on it and located it this morning. The tow service called when he was in the middle of an interview with Sonja Myers, and she drove him down there to pick it up.”

  “Trouble with his new car?”

  “The tow service in Gordon said Captain Black Bear called and wanted it towed from our parking lot. So the wrecker snatched it and hauled it across the Nebraska line.”

  “But you don’t have a Captain Black Bear,” Manny said as he put on his shoes.

  “That’s what the lieutenant is so mad about. He vows to get to the bottom of it.” The smile had left Willie’s face, but not Manny’s as he imagined Lumpy thinking his car was stolen. “You better watch your ass when he finds you.”


  Manny quickly changed the subject. “What else do we have on Elizabeth?”

  Willie frowned. “She could be anywhere. Robert said he last saw her hoofing it cross-country by the powwow grounds. If she’s caught and still armed, one of our guys might cap her.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. Get on the road and keep an ear as to where the other units are looking. We don’t want to go over ground that’s already been checked. I might have better luck in my unmarked. Call my cell when you figure out where everyone else is checking. And what about Jack?”

  “Nada, though we took a break-in report from the Red Cloud Housing last night. The owner reported ten bucks cash stolen and an old Marlin .30-30 wall hanger his grandfather owned. Guy said it isn’t even safe to shoot.”

  “Jack?”

  “He’d be good for it. You be careful out there looking for Aunt Lizzy. I’d hate for Jack to get in a lucky shot at you.”

  Willie ran out and Manny finished dressing. He slipped the Glock into the shoulder holster that, by now, felt natural. He left his apartment and started for his car just as Clara drove around the corner and pulled to the curb behind him.

  “What’s the rush?” She stepped out dressed in plaid pleated pants with a matching top. He thought how suited she was for a lunch date, not for driving dusty back roads looking for an escaped prisoner.

  “Can’t jaw now. Elizabeth’s escaped. I’m going to look for her.”

  “I’m coming along.”

  Clara slid in the passenger side before Manny could object. “This might get dangerous. Besides looking for Elizabeth, Jack Little Boy’s out there somewhere armed and hunting me. Remember what you said about being frightened with certain aspects of my job? This is one of those aspects.”

  Clara buckled up. “Then we’d better get going if we’re to find her. Because you still have just one good eye right now, I might be useful. Where do you plan to look?”

  For the first time, Manny realized he had no plan. He was just going to cruise the bumpy, rutted, dusty reservation roads looking for Elizabeth.

  “Where are we going?” Clara asked again.

  Manny thought of all the miles of reservation Elizabeth could be hiding in. Someone who knew the area could lose anyone, and Elizabeth knew the area well, having hid out on more than a few occasions from Wilson’s men back in her youth.

  “I have no idea where she’d go. Willie’s the only family she’s got here on Pine Ridge, and she knows he’d bring her in himself if he found her.”

  “I know where she’d go,” Clara said as she turned in the seat. “Remember those letters you told me Willie found, the ones where Elizabeth and Reuben corresponded all those years he was in prison? She’ll go to Reuben’s.”

  “For what?”

  “Protection. A woman, even one as self-reliant as Elizabeth, needs to feel her man will protect her. And Reuben’s still her man—at least in her mind. By what you’ve told me, she’s a strong-willed woman who would protect him as well.”

  “She’s had enough time running to get to Reuben’s place by now. You may be right. We got no other place to check right now.”

  They started for Oglala and Reuben’s house, both trying to figure out Elizabeth’s motive for escaping. “She must know her psych eval will show she’s too mentally disturbed to stand trial,” Manny offered. “Even though I think she’s not as crazy as she let on in the interview.”

  “What if she actually is disturbed? Remember when she was caught after she tried to kill you? You said she felt no remorse, like you were talking to a person with no soul.”

  During Manny’s interview with Elizabeth, he detected no remorse, no emotion, just an intense instinct to protect anything that she loved. At the time, Manny thought she wanted to protect Erica. Now he was convinced she would protect Reuben, too, if necessary.

  They turned off Highway 18 onto 41, driving past Oglala, past the forty one-acre tracts with their weathered shacks to the north. As they drove past Crazy George’s house, they saw Crazy George hunkered in the dirt drawing with a stick like the first time he and Willie stopped there.

  At Reuben’s driveway, Manny shut the car off and coasted the rest of the way in. He told Clara to wait and eased the door shut. When he reached Reuben’s front door, Clara nudged him.

  “I thought I told you—”

  “Shush, or he’ll hear you.”

  Manny left the argument for later, and walked to the front of the trailer. He bent low and peeked inside. Empty. He cracked the screen door and spotted a note Reuben left taped inside it: Gone to Ben Horsecreek’s. After a quick look around the back of the trailer, he led Clara back to the car.

  “How would he get to Cuny Table?” Clara asked. “He doesn’t even drive.”

  “He must have ridden to Ben’s . . .” Reuben’s paint was gone from the corral.

  “What is it?”

  “Crazy George’s old Buick I seized for evidence. I asked Lumpy to return it to George after the evidence tech was finished with it.”

  “What’s that got to do with finding Elizabeth?”

  “The car wasn’t there just now when we drove past George’s.”

  They drove back to Crazy George’s driveway and stopped beside his trailer. George still bent to the ground drawing in the dust. He wore an ankle-length paisley dress with low-cut neckline that showed strands of white chest hair peeking out of the front. He stood as Manny approached.

  “You’re here to rub it in, I suppose.”

  “Rub what in?”

  “The car.” George spit tobacco juice on the ground and narrowly missed his own foot. “You guys returned it yesterday. Then you guys came and stole it back. Now you’re here to rub it in.”

  “What makes you think we stole it again? How long’s it been gone?”

  “Well, you took it for no good reason the first time. Hell, you could have left it and did your evidence processing right here. But no, you had to steal it from me again.”

  “How long?”

  “Clementine started raising hell about two hours ago. Hell, you guys use my car more than I do.”

  “Why didn’t you report it?”

  George laughed. “You guys want me to report everything now? Besides, who am I going to report it to, the same cops that stole it?”

  Manny grabbed his cell and dialed Willie. “No cell service here,” George chuckled. “Unless you get up on that hill.” He chin-pointed to the top of road before it dropped off to the north.

  Manny climbed back into his car and drove to the high spot in the road. He got a signal and told Willie he suspected that Elizabeth took Crazy George’s car and might be driving to Ben Horsecreek’s house.

  “How do you figure she knew Crazy George kept his keys in the ignition?”

  Willie answered his own question. “Maybe she ran to Reuben’s this morning and found him gone. Maybe she knew the keys would be in the ignition because she used the car before.”

  “Maybe,” Manny answered, not wanting to complicate things for Willie right now. Manny hung up and started driving toward Cuny Table.

  “Maybe Willie’s right,” Clara said. “Maybe she used the car before, like the night Jason was murdered.”

  “That’s a possibility. Or it may be as simple as Willie mentioning to her that George always leaves the keys in the ignition. Remember, Willie told her everything up until the time she tried to kill me.”

  Manny didn’t want to suspect Elizabeth as the one who had planted the war club in Jason’s skull. There were other plausible suspects. He thought of Ricky Bell, who had more to lose than anyone else. By killing Jason, he would rid himself of the only witness who could testify that he had flown to Minneapolis and killed Alex Jumping Bull. He thought of Jack Little Boy, who worshipped Reuben and would do anything to protect him, even kill for him, as he’d proven by trying to kill Manny on several occasions.

  Then there was Reuben, stone-cold in his own right with a history of violence as far back as Mann
y could recall, who had more than enough reason to kill Jason. He had double-crossed Reuben’s Heritage Kids on the concrete contracts for the Red Cloud Resort. Manny was now certain that he and Elizabeth had been involved all these years, and still were. So Reuben would have known that Jason intended to embezzle the tribe’s money, and, like Elizabeth, he would want his daughter protected from the scandal.

  They drove the next hour in silence. Although he needed to think right now, Manny welcomed Clara’s company. He knew that, when he felt like talking, she would be the sounding board he needed.

  They drove over the White River, now dried up, as was Mule Creek a little farther on. Pronghorn antelope—white-bellied goats, the old ones had called them—grazed along the riverbanks. Their watchful heads followed the dusty rental car with two fenders banged up from hitting something Manny had already forgotten about. The last few years had been dry for this region, and from somewhere in the recesses of Uncle Marion’s teaching, Manny knew the antelope would have a hard winter because of this drought. His own winter would be hard, away from the academy at Quantico, if he didn’t find the killer soon.

  “Did Jason talk about his folks much?” Manny asked at last.

  Clara shook her head. “He never talked about them at all. I thought at the time that it was just his way of handling grief. But looking back, I don’t remember him ever visiting their grave site. Why?”

  “Even before Elizabeth told Willie, I’d suspected that Jason had hired Billy Two Moons to kill his parents so he could take over the business, just like Alex Jumping Bull told Elizabeth he knew about it, too. I figured Jason paid Two Moons quite well, judging from the new Chrysler he was seen driving around the reservation in the weeks before he was killed.”

  “But Jumping Bull got greedy,” Clara said. “He wanted more, so he blackmailed Jason.”

  “He looked at all the years Jumping Bull put the bite on him, bleeding him. Jason was already bleeding great gouts from bad investments and gambling, and he figured he’d save that blackmail money if Alex were dead.”