by Vr McCoy
“So, did both of you experience the same thing I did?” she asked.
“Yes, everything you did and then some,” Dianna answered with a grin as she prepared coffee for us.
It was truly amazing to see how well they were taking this. Then I became aroused and began thinking with my libido that something else was going to happen. Dianna knew me and gave me a look that I understood well.
“So, you're not upset?” I asked Nina, squashing my inappropriate feelings.
“No; I feel a little embarrassed, but I understand how drunk we were.”
“So we can continue to work together in spite of it?” I inquired.
“I don't see why not, just don't do it again. As charmed and flattered as I am with the compliment. It could pose problems if it continues.”
“I agree!” Dianna interjected quickly. We all laughed at it afterwards and met for breakfast in the hotel.
Wow; I just knew this was going to implode. Not only did we subconsciously share our bed with Nina, she was alright with it and flattered by the experience. She knew a little more than most at this point about Dianna and me. I had a feeling that too many people were finding out about our relationship. We needed to be a bit more careful just in case. Nina never inquired about my relationship with Dianna; there was no need, she already had all the information. On the flip side, we knew her intimately also.
The women didn't have a problem with it, so I just rolled with it. Nina, as was the case with many others, was just interested in my abilities and sharing or exchanging heritage information. Since Nina was of Cherokee heritage, I think the dreamscape helped Dianna deal with it all. It brought us all closer, since Dianna wasn't Native American. I guess the dreamscape was an excellent ice breaker and made us all better professional partners. This time it proved to be a gift instead of a curse, but it could have gone catastrophically wrong.
The morning briefing was a little less turbulent than yesterday's. The A.D. didn't have anything to say. He just sat in the back and listened to Steve and all the updates, which were minimal to say the least. What continued to bother and pose questions for Dianna and me was why Jay Horse had led us into an ambush. There must have been something more that spooked him. Perhaps he just gave us that miner skirmish to satisfy us. Or perhaps he was hoping we'd be killed and our bothersome investigation would die with us. Either way, he was left up to the locals, ATF and DEA to sort out.
We weren't assigned additional team members after the shooting, so it was just the three of us, which we didn't mind at all. We now had a closer bond than any. We had our own sub-meeting after the briefing to discuss our strategies for moving forward.
“I don't know about you guys, but that whole Jay Horse thing has really gotten under my skin,” Nina stated as she handed us a cup of coffee from the cup tray she was holding. We smiled and thanked her in return.
“We were discussing the same thing earlier. He set us up big time,” Dianna stated.
“Yeah; not only was he not drunk, but he knew we were following him,” I added.
“And he led us right into an ambush,” Nina followed up.
We were very in sync at this point and appeared to know each other's thoughts. “I guess there's no need to ask what you ladies want to do.”
Then they both smiled and Dianna stated, “Yeah; let's find him.”
“You both do realize that the A.D. will have our asses for this,” I replied.
“Jay Horse is a part of this investigation, whether the A.D. likes it or not. Are you in?” Dianna inquired of both of us.
“Hell yes!” Nina responded. I nodded my head in agreement.
“I guess you didn't see anything last night that would assist?” Nina asked.
I looked at her with trepidation, because she still had hopes that Jessica was alive after I briefed everyone on her death. I responded solemnly, “He killed her,” and left it at that.
We ventured back up to Shiprock and instructed Steve that we were going to remain up there for the next couple of days and would keep him briefed. After checking into the Holiday Inn in Farmington we paid another courtesy call to the Council Chambers. This time it wasn't going to be as pleasant as our first meeting. Our timing was impeccable; when we arrived at the chambers, Mr. Hawthorne was there also.
“Good morning, agents. I've been meaning to reach out to you. I received a call from the Gaming Commission this morning and the local authorities, in reference to some drugs that were at a party held in the casino Friday night. I wasn't present at the party, but I was giving it in honor of the Code Talkers; a celebration that ended Saturday. I was informed that some patrons got carried away and were in violation of the law. Well, you can rest assured that you have my full cooperation in this investigation.”
Then he extended his hand to shake from the three of us. He had the smell of corruption all over him and we weren't buying it at all. We already knew that Jay Horse worked for him. Horse bragged about it himself!
“Well, I have to be going now. I hope you enjoy your day,” he stated before departing.
After Hawthorne departed Dianna read the riot act to the council. She came down on them hard, informed them that we weren't going anywhere and that it was in their best interest for all to cooperate, if they wanted us to get off their lands. She also stated that the previous arrests and shootings were only the beginning. Dianna was taking a big chance with her approach. She could ostracize them and make them even more noncompliant. She was also taking a risk that they would take this over our heads and complain of harassment, which the local news would just love to hear. They summoned the local reservation police chief to assist us in finding Jay Horse.
We spent all day looking for Jay Horse, with no results. Once again we discovered numerous crimes unrelated to the case. We were exhausted, so we called it a day and went to dinner. We discussed the case over dinner and came to the conclusion that once again the Council was misleading us and had sent us on a wild goose chase. If we wanted to find Jay we would have to do it ourselves, without the help of the Council.
Dianna's speech hadn't gone over as well as we thought. The Council was famously stoic when it came to displaying their true feelings to the FBI.
The next day we began at the FBI Farmington Residence Office, a small satellite office which covered San Juan County only. We needed a base of operation while in Farmington, especially if we were going out on our own again. We needed to coordinate with Farmington local law enforcement and see what information they had about Jay Horse.
We came in contact with a real tough Farmington Sheriff by the name of Carroll Hughes, an ex-Ranger, who offered to assist in any way. Sheriff Hughes was a big burly man, but all muscle. He didn't look like the type to spend a lot of time in the gym lifting weights; he was just naturally that way. He was 6 feet 5 inches and weighed about 250 lbs. A man of honor and conviction, he wasn't wore an air of incorruptibility as sincere as the star on his belt buckle. He wore a black t-shirt displaying his large biceps and muscular physique, jeans, black cowboy boots and a black cowboy hat. He had one of those old western holsters with an old Colt revolver strapped to the right side. He looked like a throwback from one of those old Clint Eastwood movies, and definitely wasn't someone you would piss off or invite into a dark alley; unless he was on your side, of course.
We went to several bars, brothels and places of ill-repute inquiring about Jay Horse. Sheriff Hughes had a flair for getting what he requested from the degenerates that we were questioning. There were times when he just asked us to remain in the bar area as he went to the restroom with some hard case he was questioning. He would return with the answers we needed and the hard case would remain in the restroom. It would be a fair assessment to say the reprobate was attempting to recover from the questioning.
We had received valuable information that led us to a particular brothel on a ranch, located about 10 miles outside of New Mexico, in Durango, Colorado. Everything ever written about Durango was true. It was a pla
ce that lived up to its reputation. It was an infamous mainstay for bikers, smugglers and outlaws of all types.
The brothel was located on a dude ranch. These were plentiful in and around Durango. It was an old-style ranch house, flat-roofed, with just one story, but sprawling due to all the additions. It was retro in design; right down to the wooden log post fence surrounding it. There were several vehicles parked in a designated parking area for visitors. There were no CCTV cameras that we could see. We didn't see Jay's vehicle parked with the others. He was smarter than that; he parked in the rear of the house, near the back door.
We decided that I would be the one to go inside. Jay was clever and slippery. He had already led us into an ambush and eluded us once. We stationed ourselves around the brothel as best we could. Sheriff Hughes covered the back door where Jay's vehicle was parked. If he attempted to escape, he would most likely run for his vehicle.
When I went inside I was greeted by several women in the parlor, waiting for dates. I must admit, they were seductively dressed in sexy lingerie. They were like sirens, each with a provocative and alluring beauty. One of them approached me and took off my thick, black-rimmed 50s style glasses.
“You're a very handsome man. Why are you hiding those pretty green eyes behind glasses?” she inquired. She was close enough that I could smell the honey milk body cream she was wearing, and the cinnamon on her breath. These ladies were appealing in every aspect. The funny thing I kept thinking was why people assumed because a person is a nerd or a geek that they are unattractive. Some of the most attractive women I've ever met were gorgeous nerds.
I asked to speak to the madam of the house. They were reluctant at first, but they found their way to getting her. I asked the madam if we could discuss business in private, and she agreed. I had one of those trustworthy boyish faces and I seemed harmless to most. I was the exact opposite of Sheriff Hughes, waiting out back to take down Jay. I was just there to gather information and report. Everything about Sheriff Hughes said enforcer and he had a `don't fuck with me' attitude to go with it. Once alone, I showed the madam my credentials and explained to her the reason for my presence.
“We have the place surrounded,” I said, exaggerating. I had always wanted to say that. “We're not here to disrupt your business in any way. We're just here for Jay Horse, that's all.”
Then she inquired, “Do you have a warrant?”
“Well, I can have several official police vehicles here with sirens to surround the place and scare off a full night's work while I wait for a warrant. It might even take a second day to get one. I have the manpower to put you out of business just by being present outside your ranch. Now, all I need is the room Horse is in. We don't want anything else.”
She paused, then replied, “He's in room 13, down the hall to the left, near the back door.”
Jay Horse wasn't a superstitious guy, that's for sure, because who in their right mind would check into room 13 on the left? How much bad luck is that? The Madam escorted me to the room and I let Sheriff Hughes in the back door when I arrived.
“He's in there with two of my girls. Nothing better happen to them,” she said firmly.
“Can you get them to open the door,” I asked her.
“And what is it you want me to say. Room service?” she drawled sarcastically.
Then Sheriff Hughes interjected, “You can either get them to open the door or I'll break it down!” She looked up at the giant sized man and rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn't kidding and had the power to back up his threat.
“Look, I don't want anything to happen to the women in there either, so we need you to get the door open without attracting suspicion.” I stated.
“This isn't a hotel,” she retorted, “I can't just knock on the door and…” before she could complete the statement, Sheriff Hughes kicked down the door with his shotgun in one hand and the other balled into a fist.
Jay was caught naked as a jay bird, excuse the pun, in a compromising position. The women jumped up naked and screaming, and Jay attempted to roll off the bed and make it to the table where his things were lying, but the sheriff was lightning-quick for a big man. He was standing over Jay before the man could make it across the room. He had zeroed in on him since he kicked down the door. He anticipated and checked his every move. You could see his military skills shining through. He didn't wait for Jay's next move, as he didn't want to give him the slightest opportunity to reach for his gun. He didn't want to kill him, since we needed to question him, and therefore hit him with the barrel of his shotgun, knocking him out cold.
During the scuffle the women remained naked and screaming with fear. They were in shock and couldn't move, even when the incident was over and Jay was unconscious. Then the Sheriff turned to them and yelled, “Shut the fuck up,” and they stopped immediately. Dianna and Nina arrived just as the screaming stopped, to witness Jay Horse lying on the floor, naked and unconscious, with the two trembling naked women whimpering softly.
The madam then snapped out of it. She had been hiding outside the door to avoid any gun play that might have occurred. She must have known Jay had a gun and didn't warn us. I wanted to have her arrested, but the Sheriff was outside his jurisdiction. We were already in the hot seat with the A.D. and the arrests of prostitutes wouldn't go over well at this point.
Jay finally gained consciousness while handcuffed in the back seat of the Sheriff's SUV. We had the working girls dress Jay while he was unconscious. They probably assisted him in getting his clothes off, so why not place them back on him? Sheriff Hughes followed us back to the Farmington Satellite Office where we would question Mr. Horse. The Sheriff had been a great help in the apprehension of Jay, and I was going to make sure his supervisors knew of this.
“If you folks need any further assistance, here's my card,” Sheriff Hughes stated. He was really making a play for Nina. He wanted to make sure she had his phone number. He just gave his card to me and Dianna out of courtesy. Then he turned and looked at Nina again, smiling, and said, “I mean anything at all, just give me a call.” Nina smiled and looked at us, blushing and waved the business card. It was clear she liked Sheriff Hughes also.
“Get a room already,” I replied, making Dianna and Nina laughed. We all agreed that the sheriff had been a valuable team member. I would inquire from Steve in the morning if we could make him a temporary member of our team for this case. Next on the agenda was to interrogate Jay. We didn't know what, if anything, he knew that could contribute to this case, but scum usually sticks together, like the residue left in the tub.
It was already early in the morning of the next day, January 31st. We couldn't afford to worry about the time or sleep because the clock was ticking. Dianna was an expert interrogator. We always said she could pry water from a stone, so we let her do her thing with him. He began breaking down after about two hours.
“You people think you can just come here and do what you want? We've been here since the Long Walk and we're going to remain here long after you're gone,” Jay stated.
“Well, they might be here, but you're not going to be. You see, that little ambush of yours killed an FBI agent. He was pronounced dead this morning, which means you're an accomplice to the murder of a Federal Agent. You will be sent to a Federal Penitentiary, not some Res jail, for the rest of your life. You might even be executed. I'm uncertain if they have the death penalty here in New Mexico,” Dianna stated.
“You can't pin that on me, I wasn't even there,” he sneered.
“Yes we can. You knowingly led us to that ambush to murder us. We have you on murder in the first and five counts of attempted murder,” Dianna retorted.
She had made it all up in order to get some information, and her strategy worked.
For just a moment, Jay stared. His copper skin paled to the color of a rattler's underbelly. His chiseled lips turned downward, and was that a hint of a quiver? It was gone before I was sure what I had seen. He lifted a Styrofoam cup to his lips, attempting to cover
his fear with a nonchalant sip, but the coffee in his cup wavered in his less-than steady hands. Defeated, he slammed the cup on the table, splashing its contents all over the wood and burst out. “You're looking in the wrong place. I heard some Hopis talking about death dealers coming back to right the wrongs of the white man. You should be looking at the Hopis,” he insisted.
The Hopi Nation was within the center of the Navajo Nation. They were left alone by the Navajo because they feared the Hopis as great medicine men and guardians of the underworld. The Hopis weren't even on our radar. They were a part of the Pueblo Indian tribes and were considered a placid group. We didn't know if Jay was blowing smoke up our asses or what. He was already proving to be a great deceiver. We said our goodbyes to January the 30th and still weren't close to catching the serial killer.
Fall from Grace
When I woke the next morning I had received all the information I needed to know, through dreamscape, that Jay wasn't involved in these murders. He was a sexual deviant and a petty criminal, but not a serial murderer. The rest didn't really matter at this point since it didn't pertain to the investigation, and he was already in custody. Everyone had been called back to Albuquerque for an all hands mandatory meeting by the A.D. As usual, Steve didn't go into details. We left Jay Horse at the Residence Office in Farmington for questioning by the ATF and hit the road early that morning.
We knew the information given by Jay was 50/50 and whatever the A.D. had to say wouldn't be anything favorable for us, so we weren't in any rush. The A.D. probably received information by now of our questioning of Jay Horse at the Residence Office, or the Council made some calls in reference to our last meeting. I drove on the way back down to Albuquerque. I let the girls get a couple more hours of shut eye on the highway. I could function on four hours or less sleep by now; my body had gotten used to it.
Everyone was tight-lipped at the meeting, and curious to know why the A.D. called us back. It was the proverbial elephant in the room. We were all working diligently in the field and researching, but the clock had reset and was ticking down to another abductee. What would happen after the countdown expired for the last victim? Would he retire never to be seen again? Would this become a cold case?