Ella thought of Kevin and ex-army sergeant Lonewolf, an authentic war hero who’d been awarded his country’s second highest medal for his heroism in Afghanistan. Now he was fighting for his life after being ambushed, unarmed, at a small Navajo airstrip over three hundred and fifty miles inside the borders of his native land. He’d survived the war abroad, with its IEDs, mortars, snipers, and machine-gun fire, only to have to face his own mortality here at home.
It was now up to her to restore the hózh, the harmony. That’s what she did. In the bilagáana world, a police officer upheld the law. Here on the reservation, her job went beyond that. She needed to restore the balance, honoring both the laws of nature and of men, so all could walk in beauty.
As they drove south out of Shiprock, passing the airstrip on her left, she saw the airplane still sitting there. Heat waves rose from the asphalt where she’d nearly died a few hours ago. Ella forced herself to look away and focus on the job ahead. Her work had only just begun.
THREE
“Hey, Ella, you okay in there?” Blalock called out.
“Yeah, sorry it’s taken me so long, Dwayne,” she yelled from the back bedroom. “Normally I can shower and change in five minutes, but I’m sore all over. All that hitting the pavement and rolling takes its toll.” She crossed the narrow hall, and entered the living room, where he was waiting.
“I’d suggest that you’re getting too old for this field work crap, but I have a dozen years on you and I haven’t got the sense to start looking for a desk job either,” Blalock said, getting up from the sofa.
“Have a seat again while I grab a glass of my mom’s herbal tea, will you? I’ve been looking forward to that for the past four days,” Ella said, heading toward the kitchen. “Want one?”
“No thanks.” He eased back down onto the soft cushion. “Have you decided if you’ll be taking the job at PPS? After what happened to you today, I was wondering if working for three times the pay in an air-conditioned D.C. office has suddenly become irresistible.”
Ella poured herself a glass of the cool brew from a gallon jar her mom kept in the fridge. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. The money and benefits are hard to beat, that’s true, but I’d be giving up a lot.”
She stopped in the doorway, looking at FB-Eyes as she sipped the cold tea. “I spoke to three of the women who work at PPS. Two of them are former police officers, and the one thing that struck me is that they’re lonely after hours. They were always looking for ways to connect with other people, through clubs, churches and things like that. On the Rez that’s all built in. We’re all connected—part of the tribe. We have our neighbors, our clans, and our families.”
“You could still stay in touch with everyone here. E-mail, phone calls, text messaging, video conferencing in front of your computer, even. It’s pretty much instant gratification.”
“I’m not sure that would be enough for me. But like I said, I’m still thinking things over.” She walked back to the sink and rinsed out her glass. “Right now you and I better get going,” she said, grabbing the paper bag that held her soiled clothing.
Blalock reached for his keys. “I’ve done some homework while you were cleaning up. Robert Buck, Kevin’s boss, graduated from Harvard and has worked for the tribe ever since. He flies back and forth from his office in Window Rock to D.C. about once a month. He also keeps his nose clean. He doesn’t even have a parking ticket, and his credit rating is excellent. No big bills, and no money problems, apparently.”
Moments later, Blalock drove down the gravel road leading from Ella’s home to the main highway to the east. “You’ve checked Buck’s background via our normal channels. Now let me go through the back door,” Ella said. Then, using her cell phone, she dialed her mother, who was still at the hospital.
Rose was well connected, and, more often than not, managed to get the kind of information that went well beyond legal channels.
Rose answered on the first ring. These days her mom not only carried a cell phone, she actually kept it on. For many months, though she’d take the phone with her wherever she went, she’d refuse to turn it on. She didn’t want to be bothered. Ella smiled. Dawn had finally convinced her to leave it on so she could reach her grandmother anytime in case of an emergency.
Ella wasn’t sure what career her daughter would end up choosing someday, but her powers of persuasion were second to none.
Ella told her mom what she needed, asking her to keep the request totally private. “Anything you can tell me about him might help, Mom.”
“I know the attorney general’s grandmother. She’s very proud of her son, the lawyer from Harvard. She thinks that he places too much importance on what the bilagáanas think, but he told her that he has to play by their rules so he can get some cooperation on matters that affect the tribe.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Ella said, then hung up.
“What did she say?” Blalock asked.
Ella shared what she’d learned. “Kevin’s like that, too—he plays to win. The difference between men like Adam and Kevin is the site of their battles.”
Blalock glanced over at her, then back at the road.
She waited for his comment, but it didn’t come. “What?” she finally asked.
“For a moment there it almost sounded like you still had a thing for Tolino.”
Ella shook her head. “No, we’ll never be more than friends. But he’s a good man, and without him, my life would be minus the one person who means the world to me—Dawn.”
“Most women I know would have tossed a criticism or two in there to justify why they let him go,” Blalock said. “But then again, you’re not like most women.”
“Is there a compliment in there somewhere?”
“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled, speeding up to pass a slow-moving pickup loaded with firewood.
Ella started writing down notes in the small leather notebook she carried in her breast pocket. It had been a Christmas gift from Dawn. The first page still read, “To Mom, the best cop on the Rez.”
A few months ago Dawn had been fascinated with police work. Now, she wanted to become an actress. Ella had taken it as a win. Anything was better than having her daughter in law enforcement.
“Whatcha got there?” Blalock asked.
Ella looked down at her notes—most of it questions that needed to be answered. “I’m still trying to figure out if the gunmen picked up those assault rifles—the ArmaLites—locally. Since they would have been far too easy to trace if they’d come from a sporting goods store, I was thinking maybe an area gun show?”
“There are lot of AR assault rifles in the hands of civilians. You sure they were 180Bs?”
“Pretty sure. The receivers looked flat, not rounded like with the earlier AR-15s and the M-16s. There was no handle on top, and the stock looked more tapered near the pistol grip, setting them off from the earlier 180s, if I recall correctly. They’re supposed to be improved models, not that I’ve ever fired one. I just got a good look every time they shifted targets. Lucky me.”
“At least that narrows down the search. The bad part is that a lot of assault weapons are being bought and sold at the moment. The drug wars in Mexico have created a hot market and getting hold of weapons and ammunition is easy, if you know where to look. On the outside chance that the two weapons were stolen from a gun dealer, I’m having the Bureau check out reports in surrounding states. A security camera image would sure help us out.”
She nodded, closing her notebook.
After a long silence, Blalock spoke. “You’re right about Kevin not liking to lose. That’s why he’s going to want to nail whoever did this.”
“I’m hoping he’ll be able to give us some leads. But, if not, we’ll find them on our own,” Ella said. “I don’t like to lose either.”
This corner of the Rez was closer to the mountains. The piñon and juniper trees were taller and more numerous, scattered over the low hills and alongside the many arroyos
that flowed from the south. Farther west lay the Chuska Mountains, where actual patches of forest could be found on the higher slopes.
After making a left onto tribal Highway 9, which led past Coyote Canyon all the way to Crownpoint, she saw a solitary house about a quarter mile from the road. The one-story ranch-style structure, complete with two car garage, was surrounded by junipers except for a big garden patch at the rear and a large fenced-in corral with a loafing shed on the west side.
“A big garage and no hogan in the back, so these are Modernists, right? We won’t have to wait by the car?” Blalock asked as he drove down the gravel lane.
“Some of the tribal officials react badly to those who look like they’re disrespecting the culture, so let’s play it safe. We’ll get out and wait by the car. If we put the family at ease by extending them that courtesy, things might go more smoothly.”
Blalock parked beside a flagstone walk that led to the front door, then they both got out of the vehicle and stood by the front bumper. A minute later a tall Navajo man in dress slacks and a long-sleeved yellow shirt stepped out, holding a cell phone to his ear. Ella recognized Robert Buck immediately. As he continued speaking to the person on the other end, the tribe’s head attorney motioned for them to approach.
When they reached the concrete porch, he opened the front door and silently invited them inside. Buck led them through an ordinary-looking living room, where a wall-mounted large-screen TV was tuned to a baseball game, then down a hall into his office. He waved them toward a small sofa and continued his conversation.
“The officers are here right now,” Robert Buck told the person on the other end. “I’ll let you know what progress has been made as soon as possible.” Buck closed up the phone and focused on them, standing with his hips pressed against the front of his desk.
“Special Investigator Clah, I’m glad to see you’re not seriously injured. And Special Agent Blalock, it’s good to see the Bureau’s going to work with us on this.” He reached out and shook Blalock’s hand, an Anglo political concession. Casual physical contact was something that didn’t come naturally to the Diné.
Buck walked around to his desk chair, then sat. “Our tribal president is going to be watching this case very closely. A national hero and one of our tribe’s most respected attorneys have been attacked here on our land. A security lapse like that should have never been allowed to happen.”
Ella felt the implied criticism in his words and struggled for a moment to suppress her resentment.
“Have you uncovered a motive for the attack?” Buck asked.
“It’s too soon for that,” Ella said.
“Have you considered the possibility that you, Investigator Clah, were the real target?” Buck asked. “As a police officer, you make enemies with nearly every arrest.”
“We haven’t ruled anything out, but the events suggest that the two men wearing business suits were the focus of the attack—not me. The gunmen opened fire on Kevin Tolino and Adam Lonewolf first, though I was a closer target. Most of the shots were directed at them, too. The suspects didn’t shift their aim to me until I returned fire. They also withdrew even though I was obviously still alive.”
Buck nodded thoughtfully, but didn’t comment.
“That brings me to the reason I’m here,” Ella said. “I need to fill in some gaps.”
Ella told him about the cash they’d found—$75,000 according to Justine, who’d text-messaged her the amount during the long drive. “I’ll be speaking to Mr. Lonewolf’s family later, but at this point we have no idea why Adam was carrying so much money, where it came from, or why he chose to conceal it from airport security.”
Buck leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out before him. His angular features sharpened even more as he weighed what she’d told him. “That money didn’t come from our office. I can tell you that much for sure. I also can’t imagine that amount having come from any branch of tribal government. In a world of accountants and financial responsibility, all our tribal business transactions and payouts are conducted via money transfers or checks. Nobody in government uses that amount of cash.”
“Is it possible that Kevin negotiated some kind of settlement with casino management and that was some of the money being returned to the tribe?” Ella asked. “Something done in cash might help keep the paperwork low profile and save some embarrassing disclosures.”
“Just the opposite, I’d say, but either way that couldn’t have happened without my knowledge.” Buck regarded her thoughtfully. “Kevin’s had a tough time making his case. Casino Enterprises covers their paper trail well, and they want certain things to stay hidden. I’ve heard rumblings about a move to get him fired, or demoted. They’re also willing to play as rough as it takes to divert from the real issue.”
Ella sat up, sensing there was more to the story. “What do you mean?”
“About ten days ago, Kevin was assaulted outside our D.C. office late one evening. He believed that his assailants were people hired by casino management to get him to back off, because he wasn’t robbed, just roughed up. Of course that made Kevin even more determined to see the case through.”
Ella glanced at Blalock and saw him nod imperceptibly at her. He’d follow up on the crime report later.
She focused back on Buck. “I’m going to need to know more about the lawsuit. What kind of evidence did Kevin have that the company was stealing from the tribe?”
Buck took a deep breath and expelled it in a hiss. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. Your chief of police called the tribal president earlier and he asked me to give you all the details. For the record, I don’t agree with that decision, but I’ll go along with it.”
Ella waited, knowing, eventually, he’d continue.
“The tribe ordered an audit, and every dollar we’d paid Casino Enterprises was accounted for, but when Kevin took a closer look, new details came to light. Their charges for administrative services, equipment, and supplies were often way out line compared to established rates, and some transactions looked like duplicates of earlier orders with just the dates and invoice numbers changed. Then he discovered that Casino Enterprises had been hired to run the casino through a series of smaller, concurrent contracts. That allowed them to avoid the single, larger contract amount that would have required competitive bids.”
“What put Kevin onto the scam?” Blalock asked.
“An informant sent him an e-mail with copies of the invoices. When management was asked to account for discrepancies, we got accusations of harassment, then a stall, asking for time to conduct an internal audit. That’s when the coverup began. Kevin learned that the manager had been allowed to use his own people to conduct the initial audit, so we decided to get informants to fill in the gaps and take the company to court once we had a case.”
“So Kevin’s been trying to find additional informants so he can gather more evidence?” Ella asked.
“Exactly. What works in our favor is that Casino Enterprises Management can’t afford the unfavorable publicity. They’re trying to close a deal with another tribe in Oklahoma. Mind you, CEM is still capable of playing hardball, but we’re not sure to what extent.”
“So it’s possible, maybe even likely, that Kevin was the target and Adam got caught in the crossfire because the gunmen had to make sure they got the right guy. Both victims were dressed alike and share similar physical characteristics,” Ella said. “But that still doesn’t explain the money Adam was carrying.”
“Adam was—is—a lobbyist, and his job is to represent tribal interests. That includes promoting the passage of favorable legislation and bringing investments and industry to the Navajo Nation. I suppose the cash could have been a payoff for one of the companies he contacted, but who funded it? Had it been a legitimate money transfer, it would have gone through the banking systems,” Buck said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Blalock agreed.
“I’ll try to get more information for you about the governmen
t officials and business concerns he was supposed to be in contact with,” Buck said, “but tread carefully. We can’t risk embarrassing the wrong people.”
A few minutes later, Buck saw them to the door. “Keep me updated,” he added just before going back inside.
Ella remained quiet as they got back on the main highway, heading north on Highway 491.
Finally Blalock glanced over at her. “Something about Robert Buck annoyed you big time,” he said. “Don’t bother to deny it. What’s the problem?”
“His first priority wasn’t the injured men. It was protecting the case one of his trial attorneys was working on and making sure no blame could be pointed in his direction.”
“He’s a politician. Covering their tails and trails is what they do best,” Blalock said with a shrug.
“Maybe so, but not embarrassing the wrong people isn’t high on my list of priorities. Getting answers is.”
FOUR
MONDAY
The following morning Ella awoke slowly. Although it felt as if she’d just fallen asleep, the alarm clock was ringing insistently and loudly. Grumbling, she reached over and shut it off, wishing she could just go back to sleep. As she lay there wondering if she could steal five more minutes, she could hear Rose fixing breakfast.
Ella joined her family in the kitchen a short time later and headed straight for the coffeepot. Dawn was drinking orange juice while Rose fixed oatmeal from scratch. Her mom added milk from the very beginning, then cooked it slowly and thoroughly, bringing out the flavor and filling the kitchen with the wonderful scent of home-cooked breakfast. Rose wouldn’t even consider buying the thirty-second kind, much less instant.
As Ella sat down she heard a knock at the door, followed by footsteps announcing that the person had entered the house. Even before he called out a hello and came into view, Ella knew it was Ford. The sound of his footsteps were as familiar to her these days as Rose’s and Herman’s.
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