Bad Medicine

by Aimée

  Spotting her, Blalock came over as the competitors packed up their gear and began to leave. “What have you been up to?”

  She gave him a quick rundown. “Your computer might be able to get us information on those plates faster than mine.”

  “Agreed. I’ll handle it.” He checked his handgun and left the action open. “Let me clean my pistol, then we’ll get out of here.”

  As Blalock walked to his car, Ella stepped over to the firing line and saw that a set of targets remained up at the seventy-five-yard distance. The turkey silhouettes looked small against the earthen bullet trap behind them. She glanced around. Only Blalock was around, still by his car. Apparently the competition officials had left for another meet somewhere on the range. Feeling comfortable with no one else around, she pulled out her service pistol. Each of the ten targets fell, one shot for each. Finished, Ella smiled, proud of herself, and turned to wave to Blalock, assuring him that nothing was wrong.

  As Ella stood at the firing stand reloading her weapon, she suddenly felt as if clammy fingers had been pressed to the back of her neck. She glanced around slowly, noting that Blalock had opened his trunk and was busy putting away his gear. Everything seemed normal. Just as she was about to relax, she noticed a flash of light coming from the rocky hillside to her left, Ella dove to the ground, rolling to the side just as the wooden pistol stand in front of her exploded. The distant report of a rifle shot echoed between the hills.

  Ella crawled down the drop-off in front of the firing line, then waited behind cover in the low spot for several minutes. Nobody came and no second round followed. Moving parallel to the firing line in a crouch, and unable to discern any new threat, she climbed out of the target area and jogged over to what was left of the stand. The bullet had passed completely through the four-by-four post and lodged in the adjacent post, splitting it nearly in half lengthwise. She pulled the wood further apart with her hands and carefully lifted the metal jacket bullet out and wrapped it in her handkerchief.

  Ella walked back to the parking area and found Blalock standing by his car, wiping down his pistol with a soft cloth.

  “Is there a rifle competition today?” Ella asked.

  He shook his head. “You heard the rifle shot, too? There’s no scheduled competition, according to my monthly flier, but a member might be sighting in his weapon. We can use the range after the shoot is over. Members each have a key to the gate.”

  “I did more than hear that rifle shot. I had to dive for cover.” She filled Blalock in and showed him the recovered bullet. They both agreed it was probably from a .308 rifle.

  “I’m going to find Chambers,” Ella continued. “He had a rifle case in his truck. Let’s see what he has to say.” Ella searched the area on foot, but the truck she suspected had been Chambers’ was nowhere on the range. Blalock came to meet her as she stood, scanning the area one more time. “I’m ready to go. Why don’t we run that truck’s license and if it belongs to Chambers, we can have a talk with him.”

  Having confirmed Ella’s tentative ID, and having secured Chambers’ address, they set out in Blalock’s car. Ella shifted in her seat, restless, yet at a loss to explain the sense of impending danger that would not leave her.

  “You want to tear this guy apart, don’t you?” Blalock observed, misinterpreting her reaction.

  “If he is our man, I’d like to use him for target practice. I can’t decide if he should be standing with the silhouette pigs or the turkeys.”

  “Can’t say I blame you, but what do you think triggered the incident?”

  “I’m not sure, unless he saw me writing down license plates. It’s possible that during the times when other relays of competitors were shooting, he left the line to see what I was doing.”

  “Do you think the sniper meant to kill you?”

  “No. It was close, but with a scoped rifle, he shouldn’t have missed. My guess is that it was meant to rattle me. Of course I don’t think he would have gone into mourning had he slipped up and hit me. He might have seen it as a win-win situation.”

  Blalock shook his head. “No, we’re not dealing with total wackos. We’ve got people who think they’re in the right and can’t see past that. My guess is he knew he could hit the target he was aiming for, and he did.”

  As they pulled up into the expansive driveway of a large pueblo-style, adobe home, Ella glanced at Blalock. “This house didn’t come from a miner’s salary.”

  “No kidding.” He glanced around. “I don’t remember a discrepancy like this in any of the background reports I read on the Anglo workers, but I do remember reading that there was one miner who still lived with his parents. This may be the guy.”

  Ella walked up to the front and rang the doorbell. An elderly woman came to the door and looked at her curiously as she flashed her badge. “We’re here to see Steven Chambers.”

  “My son is out in the back cleaning his guns,” the woman said, without any trace of surprise. “I’ll show you the way.”

  Ella glanced at Blalock. Most people she knew would have asked what the police wanted, or if there was trouble. Perhaps Mrs. Chambers had learned not to ask questions.

  They found Steven sitting by a redwood table in the backyard, disassembling his Colt .45. A scope-equipped Remington Model 700 rifle was lying on a soft old blanket, the bolt removed.

  Blalock glanced at Ella then back at Chambers. “Nice rifle. Seven millimeter, isn’t it? Shoot it in competition?”

  “Sometimes. And it’s a three-oh-eight.”

  “There was no rifle competition today, was there?” Blalock asked casually, his tone showing Ella he was pleased to have confirmed the caliber of the weapon so easily.

  “Nope.” Chambers started running a patch through the barrel of the .45. “What brings you here? Are you looking for some shooting tips?”

  Blalock’s expression was as cold as winter wind. “My rifle training qualifies me as a sharpshooter. You probably have a bit to go before you reach that level.”

  “Well, then maybe you can teach me. I’m always anxious to improve my skills.”

  Ella watched Chambers. He was smooth. “Someone took a shot at me at the range today, someone with a rifle of that caliber.”

  He looked Ella up and down. “They must have missed.” He picked up the rifle, inserted the bolt, and checked the action.

  “I recovered the bullet. A full metal jacketed three-oh-eight bullet. I wonder if the rifling marks will match a round fired from your rifle.”

  “I doubt it,” Chambers said confidently, opening the action again to check the magazine from above. “If I’d shot at you, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the rifle I’d used.”

  “You didn’t know we were coming here,” Ella countered.

  “I wouldn’t have risked bringing it home, either way.”

  Ella knew from his answer that he’d probably fired the shot, and now was taunting her. There was no way to prove it without testing the weapon and they didn’t have enough probable cause at the moment to confiscate the rifle he was holding. In an area where many people owned rifles, and there were no registration laws, finding the weapon used would be difficult.

  Ella purposefully slid her hand slowly back toward her own handgun. She saw Chambers tense, and then place the rifle back down onto the blanket. She would have laid odds that he’d seen her skill with her pistol out at the range.

  “I’ve got work to do. If you have something to say, then say it, but if not, then get out of my home.”

  Chambers focused on the .45 again, wiping the action with a cloth he’d sprayed with a silicon product. He refused to look at either of them. Ella realized this was one guy who would never crack.

  “Thanks for your time,” Ella said, then added, “We’ll be talking to the next competitor on our list. It’s strange how people tell you things, even when they’re trying to keep cool. That’s what led us here. Have a nice day.”

  Chambers stopped cleaning his pistol and met her gaze. “Who tol
d you to come here?”

  “He asked us to keep his name out of it, but thanks for your cooperation.”

  Blalock burst out laughing when they reached the car. “Now you’re starting to think like me.”

  “Hopefully the con will make him nervous. Let’s see what he does now.”

  They parked about a block down and kept an eye on Chambers place, but he never left.

  “Too bad we don’t have enough to get a court order and tap his phone,” Ella commented.

  “Yeah. He could have called half a dozen people by now.” Blalock started the car again. “I’m going to take you back to your vehicle.”

  An hour later, she was on her way to the office. Clouds dotted the horizon and again the winds whipped the desert sand into a crazed frenzy.

  Hearing her cellular’s ring, Ella picked it up and identified herself.

  Justine’s voice sounded strained as she said, “There’s something strange going on.”

  “That statement leaves a lot of room for interpretation.”

  “Joseph, Sergeant Neskahi, didn’t come in to work today. At first I thought he’d gotten an early start and was off talking to that cousin of his, or interviewing miners, but nobody’s seen him since yesterday.”

  Ella felt a chill travel over her. Now she understood the restlessness that had plagued her before. She’d sensed something wrong, though she’d been unable to define it. Not having heard from Neskahi must have stayed in her subconscious. Her family, however, would have explained it much differently.

  Ella focused her thoughts. “Did you check his home?”

  “He moved a week ago to a trailer, but he didn’t report his new address. At the moment we’re trying to figure out where it’s parked.”

  “Ask either Phillip or Michael Cloud. They might know. I’ll be at the station in another ten minutes.”

  Ella felt a sense of urgency tugging at her. Neskahi was a good cop, he wouldn’t have gone undercover without notifying them. To stay out of contact like this, particularly after she’d warned him against it, was not his style. There was only one explanation for his failure to report in. He was unable to do so. The possible explanations for that were endless, and all equally alarming.

  By the time Ella arrived at the station her body felt as if a giant bolt of lightning had traveled through it. Her hair stood out as if electrified, and her skin felt as if a million ants were crawling over her. The sense of danger grew with every passing second.

  She hurried toward the door and met Justine coming out. “Anything yet?”

  “I was going to call you on the cellular once I was on my way. Phillip knew the location of the trailer.” She handed Ella a map as they walked back out toward her Jeep.

  Ella studied it for a second, then handed the map back to Justine. “Let’s go. I’ll drive. You can navigate if I get lost.”

  Ella turned on the sirens and hurried out of Shiprock. It was past dinnertime and most people were at home now. The kids would drive in and around the community, cruising, but there wasn’t enough action to draw them out on the open road toward Gallup.

  Her thoughts raced ahead to Neskahi. “Does he have any neighbors who could check on him?”

  “No. Phillip said we were closer to him than just about anyone else, providing we were willing to travel cross country. Turn here.”

  “Right,” Ella said, braking hard, then pulling off into a dry wash. The Jeep slid, but quickly straightened out in response to Ella’s expert touch at the wheel. Frustrated by the uneven center that pulled the Jeep from side to side, Ella was forced to slow down. She was shifting down when they hit a bump and Ella heard a sharp crack. Taking her eyes off the ground ahead for a second, she saw Justine rubbing her head with one hand.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she grumbled.

  “Hang on.”

  It took another ten minutes for them to arrive. Ella glanced around. Besides Neskahi’s trailer and pickup, there was not much else out here.

  Ella knocked on the door and it swung open, hinges squealing. “Sergeant?”

  There was something eerie about the silence flowing out from the interior. Ella drew her weapon, and saw Justine do the same.

  Moving quickly, Ella went in, keeping her back to the wall. Justine followed. There was no sign of a struggle. Ella moved down the hall, then, with Justine behind her, searched the bedroom.

  The trailer was spartanly furnished, with only bare essentials. It was definitely a man’s place, for a man who didn’t spend much time at home.

  Justine went into the last room, and Ella slipped past her, checking the bathroom.

  “We need an ambulance,” Ella yelled the second she stepped inside.

  Neskahi, still in uniform, was curled up on the floor in front of the sink, his body jerking slightly from muscle spasms. But at least there was no sign of blood.

  Ella crouched beside him and felt the pulse point at his neck. His heart was strong, but his breathing was labored. Remembering the rash of poisonings, her skin went cold. “He may have been poisoned,” she called out. “Ask for permission to transport now.”

  Justine returned a moment later and handed her the phone. “The doctor wants to talk to you.”

  Ella described Neskahi’s condition to Dr. Natoni, reminding him of the other poisonings. “Transport,” Dr. Natoni said. “Do you suspect any particular toxin?”

  “It could be jimsonweed, or monkshood or something else entirely, I just don’t know.” Remembering she still had the remedy for jimsonweed, Ella asked the doctor for permission to use it. “If it isn’t jimsonweed, it won’t hurt him. But if it is, it may help.”

  “All right, do it,” Natoni agreed. “Just don’t let him choke. Then get moving. The faster you get him here, the better chance he’ll have.”

  “Understood.” Ella closed the phone unit, then placed a pinch of the herb inside the sergeant’s lips. Grabbing Neskahi under his arms, she motioned to Justine. “Let’s go. Every second counts.”

  SIXTEEN

  Ella waited in the lobby as the emergency room team worked on Joseph Neskahi.

  Justine’s face looked drawn. “I can’t believe that someone would try to kill him. He’s part of our team, yes, but his death wouldn’t have accomplished anything. We would have gone on with our investigation.”

  “It would have affected us, though, whether or not we admit it, and it would have sent a message to everyone we’ve been dealing with that we’re unable to keep even our own people safe.”

  “Is it possible that Joseph stumbled onto something that made the killer nervous?”

  “Sure, but we won’t know about that until he can talk to us. While we’re waiting, I want you to track down what he was doing before this happened. He may not have filed an official report yet, but Neskahi is methodical. Look at his notes, then check his computer at the station. See what you can turn up.”

  As Justine left, Ella went to the elevator. She’d stay in touch with the hospital, but for now, she had things to attend to. She intended to return to Neskahi’s home and search it and his pickup from top to bottom. Perhaps there was a clue there.

  As the elevator doors slid open, she heard her name being called. Dr. Natoni, the Chief of Emergency Medicine at the hospital, waved to her. Ella approached him, bracing herself for whatever news he might have.

  “I think he’s going to be okay,” he said somberly.

  Ella breathed, “That’s great news! Why are you so glum?”

  He smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s the implications of this that bother me. The hospital is going to come under fire, and that’s the last thing we need.”

  “Under fire? You’ve lost me.”

  “We were running out of time trying to identify the toxin that was killing the sergeant. Then one of our interns remembered a report downstairs this morning about a missing bottle of furosemide.”

  “Of what?”

  “It’s a drug used as a diuretic for patients with congestive h
eart failure, among other things. Our pharmacist discovered a bottle missing right after Dr. Roanhorse went in to get some allergy medications. They have several med students working down there, and the pharmacist was worried that it might have been mislabeled. Since some of Neskahi’s symptoms matched an overdose of that drug, like bleeding under the skin, labored breathing, and muscle spasms, we added potassium through the IV while we checked. He began to improve even before we had confirmation that furosemide was the toxin in his system. We’ve checked. The sergeant wasn’t on that drug as therapy. Neskahi’s still got a long road ahead, but what caused his collapse was severe dehydration and electrolyte depletion. We’re making sure he gets what his body needs most right now.”

  The mention of Carolyn’s name in conjunction with the missing medication made Ella’s stomach clench. She could see a new possibility emerging. What had happened to Neskahi wasn’t just a poisoning, it was part of a frame-up, and she now needed to know how the drug had been administered.

  “I should be able to release him in a few days,” Dr. Natoni continued, “but he’s going to have to take it easy for about a week or so. This is going to leave him feeling pretty weak.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Thoughts racing, Ella watched Natoni return to the ER. There was no need to go to Neskahi’s trailer now. Her first stop would be the pharmacy downstairs.

  Ella went directly there. The pharmacy was directly over the morgue, one story above. The proximity to the place where her friend worked would undoubtedly come into play. Carolyn would soon come under as vicious an attack as Neskahi. Ella could feel that in her bones.

  The pharmacist, a middle-aged Anglo man, came out from behind a metal shelf stocked with medications. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  Ella flashed her badge and saw him tense. “I need to ask you a few questions about the missing bottle of furosemide.”

  “They called the police? I assure you, we’re tracking it down right now. It just takes time—”

  She held up her hand. “It’s more complicated than that. The emergency room just treated a man who almost died from furosemide poisoning.”