Her cheeks grew rosy and they offset her smooth complexion. “I never knew it would end so badly for him.”
I set my jaw. “Yona, you’ve got power here to stop this.”
She shook her head, and her petite shoulders sagged. “I can’t turn on my family. I know that Chaska and my brother seem horrible to you, but they didn’t start out that way. They’re legends for fighting for the rights of their people. A lot of us, including Chaska, were disappointed when Watters started casinos because we wanted to rise through other means. We have really gifted people in our tribe—writers and athletes and a young man who even won the state science fair last year. But Watters’ business is pulling us down. There’s a high rate of alcoholism and teen pregnancy and a low rate of college degrees, not to mention the horribly high rates of murder, drugs, rape, and sexual abuse.” She sighed. “Chaska votes against the casinos every year, but Watters has a lot at stake. With the elections coming up, Watters will do anything to become chief so his beloved casinos will stay open. And Chaska is cornered.”
“Cornered men are very dangerous.”
“Exactly, and with the money the tribe makes off the casinos, he’s swaying the vote.”
She went on to explain some of the laws and cultural expectations surrounding a murder of one of their own. If they let Timothy go right now, it’d look like Chaska was catering to him—and if he started an investigation in the tribe, he’d be kicking an already-angry tribal council.
A crazy thought went through my mind. “Unless he killed her himself.”
“Sarah!” Her voice took on a chiding tone. “How could you think that? He’s a respectable man.”
“Right, sorry. But everyone’s a suspect, and I have to follow the facts if we want to help Timothy and find out the truth.” I took a gulp of wine. “Listen, thanks so much for talking, and for taking me in.”
“I’ll do anything to help Timothy. Or…” she amended, “almost anything.”
“Then help me!” I tried to say as gently as possible, but my frustration must have shown through. “Please, how can I prove Timothy’s innocence? Who has the most to lose if that story gets out?”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know, I swear. God, of course I don’t know. But …”
“What?”
“You should talk to Mika and Skah at the Wild Wild West show. They know what goes on behind the closed casino doors that I don’t. My brother tries to keep my hands clean.” She took another sip. “But no one’s clean. We’re all guilty.”
I was about to ask what she meant by that when she turned away. She showed me into my room, which was a nice, albeit simple, guest room. Then she softly said good night. She was done talking, and I wondered if I’d pushed her too far.
I gave a long, drawn-out sigh and closed my eyes. Yona talked as if she were powerless, and I wished she could find the strength within herself. At least she’d given me something to go on.
Just as soon as I flopped down on my bed, my phone buzzed. It was Solomon.
“Hey, babe, you home tonight or out hunting?” he said with a hint of humor in his voice.
I missed him, and even with everything going on right now, a part of me wanted to skip town with him and forget the world for a month or two. “I’m staying at the reservation. Don’t worry, I’m okay.”
“You’re hard not to worry about. Trouble seems to like you.”
“Tell me about it. That’s why you like me—because I’m trouble.” I laid my head back on the pillow.
“Maybe. I like a little adventure in my life.” He was flirting, and I changed the subject.
“I sent Joshua home. I don’t really need a car around here, and he has to work tomorrow.”
“Why do you do that? When I try to flirt, make a sexual joke, or just tease you, I get the cold shoulder,” Solomon said, tension lacing his voice.
“I’m sorry. I’m just in the middle of this case and my mind isn’t, you know, in the mood.”
“Sarah, you started it. You made a joke, and this isn’t the first time. I thought we had something here, that you and I were official and working toward something …”
He let his voice fade, and I hated myself for doing this to him. I wanted to be close, but it was so hard. Why did I shut down and push him away? I knew I did it, but I didn’t know how to stop.
“I’m sorry, Solomon. I could give you a million reasons why, but they’re just excuses.” I wanted to cry but held it back, pushed it away like I did with so many people in my life.
There was silence on the other end and I wondered if he would end it with me right here and now on the phone. “Sarah.” His tone was soft, forgiving. “I care about you, I want to be with you, but you have to let me in. Quit pushing me away. I can take a lot, but the one thing I can’t take is being pushed away.”
“I know.”
“I like you and your sexy legs, your sweet smile, and the way you kick butt in and out of the courtroom. You are the perfect mix of badass and sweet sugar.”
“Now who’s starting it?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop being a sap bucket.” Changing gears, he grunted and cleared his throat. “So are you making any headway on the case?”
My insides melted and relaxed all at the same time. Solomon knew how to push me, and sometimes he knew exactly what I needed. And right now it was to stay focused and to put him and our relationship problems on hold.
I RATTLED ON ABOUT the case, and Solomon listened and said yes and no and hmm in all the right places. “Joshua found out that Lina Sever was a cocktail waitress at the Golden Nugget. I’m going to run down some leads, see if there’s any connection between the murder and past killings.”
“How many have there been?”
“Five, maybe more. And that’s just in the past year.”
Solomon whistled. “And you say there’s going to be an election?”
“Yeah, a big one. If Chaska loses his seat, his whole family could be kicked out of the tribe one way or another. If that happens, it’s going to get ugly. Chaska won’t go down without a fight.”
On the ride out to her house, Yona had told me that people were getting tribal council letters bringing their blood heritage into question. They demanded proof of tribal membership by a blood test or direct birth line.
“It’s like this twisted power play, with so many different angles to look at. I think Timothy James just happened to get mixed up with the wrong tribe at the wrong time.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I was wondering the same thing myself. Without finding the real killer, I would never get Timothy out of jail. And to make matters worse, nothing about the murder was public. There was a local paper, and so far, nothing had been said about it. They were working hard to keep it under wraps. “I don’t know. I have to find the real killer, but I’m scared that it’s someone they’ll fight to protect. Either Chaska or Watters knows who it is already. Heck, maybe both of them do.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do on my end. I’ll help out as much as I can.”
“Thanks, I will. So, I need something nice to think of while I go to sleep.” I smiled and hoped that our little spat didn’t put him off too much. “What are you wearing?”
Solomon laughed and lowered his voice. “Just a smile, babe, just a smile.”
After we were done talking, I hung up and got into my pajamas—aka yoga pants and tank top—and cozied up under the plush comforter and downy pillow, and then it happened. My insomnia woke up. It’d plagued me ever since the Williams case and it was beginning to get on my nerves. With a huff, I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk so I could down two melatonin pills.
The house was insanely nice. Wood beams throughout every room, tall windows looking out to the desert and stone accents around the fireplace and in the kitchen. Distracted, I walked from room to room and did the math, guessing the house was around fifteen thousand square feet.
Yona lived alone
and drove a black BMW. The casino was paying all the tribe members really well. And even if they had to live out in the middle of nowhere, they did it in style.
I found a Key lime pie in the subzero double-door fridge and took a slice to go. It was just what I needed—a little cold and sweet mixed with the perfect amount of sour.
Wandering from the kitchen, I found myself in a long hall with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side overlooking a pool. It was blue and illuminated by small lights placed in the landscaping around the outdoor oasis. Not bad—palm trees and everything.
The feeling of being on some other world washed over me. It was like this place—the casinos, the way everything was set up—was just not right, as if it was a kids’ playhouse in the courtyard of a maximum security prison. But here it was, in all its glory—its lonely, sad glory.
All the way in the back of the house and down a flight of stairs was a full basement and game room. Pool table, big movie screen, and even an old-school arcade game, The Lone Ranger. I liked her style.
Everything smelled new and unlived in. I wondered if she ever used half this stuff, ever had parties or people over. Somehow I doubted it. I had expected her to live a little less extravagantly with how much she gave to the shelter. Something was not right, not right at all.
I was about to go back upstairs when I saw a wooden door almost hidden in the corner. I assumed it was storage or something like that, but it was placed wrong. Yona’s office?
Pushing the door open, I saw a cluttered desk with books all over it, like a used bookstore blew up and it all landed in this room. Now this was more like it—this room was used.
Flipping on the light, I shut the door behind me and sat in the big well-worn chair and ate the last bite of Key lime pie.
Yona’s office was not huge like the rest of her house. It was dimly lit, with stacks of books on the floor, all over the desk, and bookcases around the room stuffed with paperbacks and papers. There was just enough room for the door to open and the chair to move around on its little plastic floor pad.
Pictures tacked to the walls showed Yona and much younger versions of Chaska Tate and Watters. In the pictures was the sad story. Smiles, Yona holding a fishing pole, and Chaska kissing her on the cheek. Watters and Chaska sitting on a log eating their lunch. Even though Chaska was at least ten years older than Watters, it was clear they were best friends at one time.
What happened to them? How could they go from being three best friends to enemies?
I flipped through old photo albums and saw more of the same. The bottom drawer of the old desk was locked, but I worked it with a bobby pin. Inside was a box covered with soft pink flowers. It was coming apart at the seams, and inside were letters. Love letters.
I felt bad looking through them, but they put more of the story into focus. Yona and Chaska were lovers. He told her he wanted to marry her. Once she was old enough and her brother was back from college, they would set a date. Chaska wanted Watters to be his best man.
Finding the envelope with the most recent date, I read the last letter Chaska wrote to Yona.
Dear Yona,
My love, my heartbreak, my pain. All I ever wanted was you. All I ever dreamed of was you and the life we could have as one. But you have betrayed me, left me for him, to take the side of your traitor brother over the man who has given up everything for you.
Why?
I see you and my heart is torn open all over again. I remember holding you in my arms, kissing you, loving you, and now you won’t even look at me.
Can’t you see what he is doing? He wants the casinos, is hungry for money and filled with greed. That school, the one I paid for, has turned him against us. Yes, we are all making more money, but at what cost? At the cost of our love?
I will not fight him. I love you too much. Let this act be the proof of how I feel. I will give Watters the casinos. He can have them, make them into what he wants, and I won’t stand in his way.
I do this for you. You mean more than any amount of money, more than any earthly possession. Come back to me, love me like you did once before the poison of bitterness swept over your soul.
I will never give up on us. I will always love you even if from a distance.
Yours always and forever,
Chaska
I folded the letter back into its faded envelope and put the box away. My heart felt heavy and I could see now that all this was because of two lovers who had to choose between love or family.
Some say blood is thicker than water, but I never believed that—sometimes blood was just blood.
THE NEXT DAY, I decided to wear something a bit more salacious. I wore a skirt, black leggings, and a V-neck top. A hint of my cleavage popped out, and when I slipped into my red heels, it completed the transformation. Now I looked like I would fit in at the casino if I were there to gamble.
After a simple breakfast of eggs and toast and rich coffee, Yona took me to the Golden Nugget, where the Wild Wild West show was. She said she was going to visit Timothy. I gave her my number and wished her luck.
I easily found the theater, as signs were plastered for it all over the place. The cowgirl in the photo was cute, and looked to be about sixteen years old. The man in the picture had war paint and leather buckskin pants, pulling back a bow. There was a scar on his forehead. He was handsome, but had the body of a boy, not a man. Something about him made me uneasy.
The theater held at least five hundred people with stadium seating, and up front was a VIP section. There were even box seats up top, and I could only imagine the ticket price.
Walking with an air of confidence and hoping no one noticed I didn’t belong, I made my way backstage. It was total chaos, with horses and carriages and more weapons than I’d seen in ten years in the city. It smelled like a strange mixture of horses and hairspray. I asked around for someone named Mika.
A young man who wore a tight leather shirt and looked as out of place here as I felt as he held a shiny bay gelding motioned down the hall. “She’s in her office—down the hall and second door on the left.” I thanked him and found a small office marked “Director”.
“Mika?” I peered in and saw a middle-aged woman with black-and-silver hair bent over some papers. “I’m Sarah Steele, assistant distri—” I caught myself. “I mean, I’m here because of Lina Sever.”
Mika slumped in her chair. Her eyebrows creased and a deep sadness washed over her face. “What of Lina?”
I sat in a dusty folding chair and put my elbows on my knees, leaning forward. “I am trying to save a man’s life and find the real killer, but it’s very important that you tell me everything you know about Lina. I know you’re a strong woman and can help me see this through until the end.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down on it as if to cover up how she felt inside. “Are you that lawyer everyone is all worked up about?”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Yes, and Yona said you were a good woman. You’re the one who wrote The Horse Herder, didn’t you? And won several awards for it.”
Something flashed in her face—was it guilt? Or shame? “I’m a long way from the college girl who wrote that.”
“You’re who you choose to be,” I said with a little smile. “Now, can you tell me who would gain if they harmed Lina?”
She sat for a moment, picking at her nails. Music blasted from the stage, muted by the door. Finally she said, “We not only have to find out who killed Lina—we have to find out who had Lina killed.”
“And who framed Timothy James for it.”
She sighed. “That poor reporter. He had no clue what he got into. And Lina—foolish girl with her foolish tongue. Talking about things that she should’ve kept quiet.”
I felt like she was going to be one of my best allies if only I could get her talking. “So Lina was collateral damage?”
Mika put her face in her hands and wouldn’t respond.
“Who’d be worst off if Timothy published his piece?”
&
nbsp; Mika appeared stressed and shook her head. “I can’t talk about this right now, not to you.” Her eyes grew wide and her right hand shook, so she shoved it in her lap.
Why was she so afraid right now? She glanced down at her desk, and I wondered if maybe someone had bugged the place or monitored her here. I nodded, not wanting to push her or get her into trouble. “You know, when I’m stressed, I like to work out. Pound away on a heavy bag or go running to burn it off. Do you like to run, Mika?”
She swallowed and then nodded.
“I was thinking of going this evening. You could join me if you like. Eight o’clock? At the lovely little hiking trail south of town?”
She nodded again. I stood and held out my hand. “I’m going to watch your play later today.”
“Oh, please don’t.” She flushed. “It’s terrible. Completely trash.”
I winked at her. “But the masses love it.” I sighed. “The show must go on, huh?”
“Yeah, the show must go on.”
A young girl with a clipboard came from another room in the back, passing racks of costumes. She smiled at me, then said to Mika, “They need you upstairs. Hotah got hammered and punched a guard. They need you to check to see if he’s still able to go on stage.”
Fire lit Mika’s eyes and she stood and stomped out of her office. “I’ll deal with him.”
“Be careful!” the girl called after her.
Mika stopped and took note of me. “Skah, please show Sarah around and get her a good seat for the two o’clock. I have to go see if our star is going on stage or to bed.” She stormed off, muttering something about babysitting.
Skah smiled. She was a cute college-age girl with glasses and a small mouth. “Come with me. We’re running late and our actors are divas today, but you’re welcome to spy on us if you like. ”
“How’d you know about my secret identity?” I smiled.
“Oh, everyone knows about you by now, Sarah Steele.”
IT WAS A RUSH, like the first time he picked up a bow at his grandmother’s prodding. He took to it at once, became the best shot in the tribe, and traveled to archery competitions all over the States.
The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers Page 33