Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  “Getting clear prints from bills is nearly impossible,” Ella said. “Maybe the crime scene team will be able to lift other prints inside the house that’ll lead us to whoever paid Perry and O’Riley.”

  Blalock removed a worn photo showing two soldiers from the victim’s wallet. “Perry and O’Riley, in their younger days,” he said.

  Less than ten minutes later, the county’s crime scene van arrived.

  Time slipped away as the house, Jeep, and the surrounding grounds were swept for evidence. The findings would take even longer to process. Knowing that, Ella glanced at her watch, then at Blalock.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  “If ballistics confirms that Perry’s weapon is a match for either of the guns used in the previous incidents, we should keep that information under wraps. We might be able to use it to our advantage somewhere along the way.”

  Blalock considered it, then nodded. “Let me go talk to the crime scene supervisor, then I’ll call Sheriff Taylor.”

  “It might also be good to hold off releasing Perry’s identity for the same reason. The public information officer could say that the name of the deceased is being withheld pending notification of next-of-kin.”

  “Good strategy, Clah.”

  As Blalock went to talk to the others, Ella touched bases with Justine and asked how the plan to move Kevin was going.

  “It’ll happen at around two-thirty a.m. I’ll leave my house driving my pickup, and head over to the hospital. Joe’s going to cover my back and make sure I don’t pick up a tail.”

  “Excellent plan. Have you let Kevin know?”

  “Yes, it’s only a matter of telling Rose now.”

  “I’ll handle that.” Ella telephoned her mother next, and quickly told her what to expect.

  “I think this is the right step, daughter,” Rose said.

  “So do I, but I’d like Dawn to spend the night with her friend. That’ll keep her out of the way. Can you arrange that?”

  “Getting her over there to spend the night won’t be possible. She’s not talking to her best friend right now. They had an argument. But I have another idea. I can ask her if she’d be willing to sleep with me and let my husband have her room just for tonight. I can tell her that I haven’t been able to sleep because he snores so loudly. She wouldn’t question it.”

  “Of course not. She knows he snores like a buzz saw,” Ella said, laughing. “And since she’s such a sound sleeper she’ll never hear her dad arrive.”

  Blalock joined her just as Ella hung up. “What are you up to?” he asked.

  She told him about Kevin’s move.

  “You’re planning to keep Kevin at your place, and you don’t think Ford’s going to find out?” he asked incredulously.

  “This has to be a need-to-know only.”

  “Your call,” he said, checking his watch. “It’s close to nine now. Why don’t I drive you home? Maybe you can get at least a few hours of sleep tonight.”

  “No, I have a better idea. Let’s go pay Councilman Begaye an impromptu visit. He should be home and tired after a long day of trying to ditch me.”

  “I’m game. How do you want to play this?”

  “I want him to think that the Prickly Weed Project is now getting Federal attention—from the Justice Department, not the Department of Agriculture. If there’s something dirty going on, maybe that’ll rattle him, particularly if he’s involved.”

  “The county has matters in hand here now, so let’s go,” Blalock said. “I’ve also placed an ATL out on O’Riley, so everyone will be on the lookout for him.”

  As they headed back to the reservation, Blalock glanced over at her, then back at the road. “It’s going to hit you hard later—just as soon as you sit down and get more than three seconds to yourself. And we may never know which of us fired the fatal shot,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  “I know. Even if it was a clean shoot, the dead follow us in nightmares we never outrun,” Ella said.

  “You’re right, it never gets easier no matter how many years you’ve been carrying the badge,” Blalock said.

  “Our own humanity won’t let us forget.” Ella thought of Dawn, her mother, and Herman. “But knowing that what we do keeps others safe—that’s what ultimately keeps me going.”

  “There are lots of people out there who never have to deal with this, Ella. They get up, go to work, come home tired, and sleep easy. Do you ever wish you were one of them?”

  “You and I would have died by inches in a job like that,” Ella said with a rueful smile. “When I get up in the morning I know why I’m bothering to kick the covers aside. What we do carries a price, but it also makes a difference. You and I need more than the length of days to be happy.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “What makes us good at what we do is our ability to brush the crap off ourselves and keep going.”

  “Or maybe it’s just fear,” Blalock said. “Without the rules we’ve chosen to follow, we’d push the limits and become the enemy we’re fighting.”

  Ella said nothing for a while, just staring at the road in the headlights. “The same rules that bind us also define us. All in all, it’s not a bad trade-off.”

  FOURTEEN

  After picking up some coffee at the Totah, they set out to find Councilman Begaye’s home. Soon they were in a rural area of narrow roads and farms.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. How are we going to find the right place at this time of night?” Blalock muttered. “The GPS is not much help on these unnamed lanes.”

  It took them another half hour, but they finally found the residence, a ranch-style house with a metal roof, surrounded by fruit trees. “It’s the one with the coyote fencing around it,” Ella said, pointing. “Justine told me that the Begayes have been having problems with coyotes and the councilman’s wife is terrified of them.”

  “Why? They’re less aggressive than most dogs. They usually run when they see a human.”

  “I dunno,” Ella said with a shrug. “You see them so often around here they’re just part of the landscape, as far as I’m concerned. And like you said, they run.”

  Moments later, Blalock pulled up to the front of the house and parked. “Do you want to extend them the same courtesy we would Traditionalists, even though they’re probably not? Or should we just go up and knock on the door? Their porch light came on when I turned up the drive.”

  “Looks like we won’t have to decide,” she said, pointing with her lips to Alfred, who’d stepped out to his front porch and was waving an invitation.

  Ella and Blalock left the car and went up to join him.

  “Good evening, Investigator Clah and Special Agent Blalock. You two get lost?” he asked.

  Since he’d recognized both of them, Ella dispensed with the formalities. “Councilman, please forgive the late hour, but we need to speak to you tonight.”

  “Then come in, but please be quiet. My wife has already gone to bed,” he said, leading them down the hall to his home office, then shutting the door behind them.

  “How can I help you?” he asked, taking them to a sitting area across the spacious room where there was a fireplace, a large leather sofa, and four overstuffed chairs.

  Ella took a seat on one of the easy chairs, as did Blalock. Before she could ask the councilman anything, Alfred spoke.

  “You must be here about Sergeant Lonewolf. That man was a real American hero—a Navajo patriot who honored us all. He deserved to be put to rest at the National Cemetery—buried with respect and dignity. But, according to the hospital administrator, the family left word that they wanted to grieve in private and that the body would be buried at a family site according to the Navajo Way. They wouldn’t even respond to a request to allow our leaders to place a flag on his coffin. That’s what makes it so frustrating. The People need to honor their heroes at times like these.”

  Ella nodded, but didn’t comment. The strategy they’d chosen ha
d allowed them to explain away the absence of a body. Adam’s parents were Traditionalists, and the Old Ways still carried weight, even with Modernists and those who followed new religions. Only people like Begaye, hoping to make political points, would dare to even question it.

  “Do you think his death was linked to the Prickly Weed Project?” Ella asked him directly.

  “Why would you even ask that?” Alfred’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head adamantly. “That deal closed while Adam was still in D.C. It was his last victory.”

  Ella instantly noted the discrepancy in timetables. Billy had told her that the deal had gone through the day after Adam’s death, and Teeny’s source had also suggested that things hadn’t been settled the day of the shooting. “I was led to believe that the agreement with IFT had remained on hold until recently. Do you know what finally changed that allowed the tribe to close the deal?”

  “I’m sure there’ll be others who’ll try to take the credit, but it was Adam’s efforts that made all the difference,” he responded.

  Ella regarded him thoughtfully as he continued singing Adam’s praises.

  “We needed IFT’s cooperation, but we first had to convince them that there was going to be a reasonable return on investment,” Alfred continued. “Right now the only cost-effective ethanol extraction comes from corn, but that’s a necessary food crop—not just for humans, but animals as well. Although we’d all save on the cost of gasoline, we’ll be paying through the nose for food. On the other hand, extracting ethanol from tumbleweeds doesn’t have much of a downside. Though the yield will be lower and require a higher biomass, tumbleweeds are a nuisance and almost grow themselves, even on land where nothing else seems to thrive. And if it turns out ethanol fermentation has too low a return on investment, we can always switch to biofuel or biodiesel. The plant is suitable for those alternatives. This pilot project investigates all the options.”

  As she listened, she was sure this had been his sales pitch. It appeared to be well rehearsed.

  “So who would you suggest was responsible for the shootings at the airstrip?” Blalock asked when Alfred finally finished.

  “I think the killers were hired by those casino hoodlums. As a council member I’m very much aware of the lawsuit Kevin Tolino has pending, and it’s clear to me that they went after him. With Kevin out of the picture for good, management would have had even more time to cover their tracks.”

  Ella noted that he’d made the assumption that the armed men had been hired. The possibility that they were the result of a personal problem facing one of the victims hadn’t even entered his mind.

  “The FBI might want to take a closer look at Grady. I’ve heard he keeps in contact with some underworld figures,” Alfred added.

  Alfred couldn’t be moved from that position, so a short time later Ella knew it was time to leave. She walked with Blalock to the door, then stopped, and glanced back at Alfred. “One more thing, Councilman. I’ve heard that the Prickly Weed Project was almost shelved because the tribe couldn’t come up with the necessary funds. Does money continue to be a problem?” It had been nothing more than a shot in the dark, but seeing Begaye’s expression run the gamut from alarm to anger, Ella knew she’d scored a hit.

  “Everyone knows that tribal resources are stretched to their limit right now. Between the new casino and the vast outlay of resources required to open the nuclear generating station near Hogback, our cash balances are at a historical low and the budget’s naturally very tight. But if our partnership with IFT is successful, we should be showing a substantial ROI, return on investment, within three years—five years tops. Alternative energy markets have no way to go but up.”

  Ella blinked. He’d said nothing of import. Lots of words, but no substance.

  Alfred politely reached for the door handle. “I’m sorry, but it’s late and I have a very early schedule.”

  Blalock said nothing else until they were back in his sedan. “I’m going to check the casino’s surveillance videos—including those for the parking lots. If Perry and O’Riley were working for Grady, it’s possible we’ll see them there.”

  “I’ll follow some of this up, too, by talking to some of Kevin’s sources.”

  “Home?”

  “Yeah, finally. I’ll need at least a couple of hours of sleep before everything there starts going to hell.”

  THURSDAY

  Ella’s alarm clock went off at 3:30 A.M. She’d just pulled on a pair of slacks when Justine called on the cell phone.

  “I’m on my way,” Justine said. “I’ve got Kevin, and we haven’t picked up a tail. With the roads as clear as they are, it would be easy to spot one.”

  “Neskahi’s watching your back?” she asked.

  “Yes, and Herman’s nephews, Philip and Michael, despite being off duty, are watching the road coming in from the west that goes by Clifford’s house. Marianna Talk’s staying on Hattery. He’s a guest at the Turquoise Nugget, and his SUV’s parked in front of his motel room as we speak. He hasn’t come out since nine p.m., and his lights are out.”

  “Good. Excellent idea getting Marianna to cover him, partner.”

  Justine pulled up with Kevin less than fifteen minutes later. Herman was in the kitchen, in the dark, sitting there with his rifle on his lap. Rose went to the door to greet their guest, her expression unreadable in the dim lighting Ella had requested.

  “Mom, you’re sure my daughter’s asleep?” Ella asked her.

  “Yes, and don’t worry. She sleeps very soundly, particularly when she has her earphones on.”

  Ella smiled. Dawn loved going to bed playing her music. Although normally they didn’t allow her to do that, she could see why Rose had relented today.

  “I’m going back to check on her one last time,” Rose said. “That’ll give you and your daughter’s father a few minutes to talk privately.”

  Ella gave Kevin a hand as he struggled to walk the short distance to the back door, his path illuminated by the beam of Ella’s flashlight. From the look on his face, Ella could clearly see that the trip had exhausted him and he was still in pain.

  “Do you want to rest for a second before we go down the hall?” she asked softly.

  He nodded, his breathing heavy. “I didn’t want to risk taking painkillers because they dull me out. I need to be on my guard.”

  “No one will think of looking for you here,” Ella said, nodding to Justine, who went by them carrying Kevin’s suitcase.

  “I agree with you there,” he said with a weary grin. “Me, staying in the same house as your mother and you . . . No one who knows us would ever think that was possible.”

  “You’ll still have to be very careful to stay away from the windows,” Ella whispered as they continued to the back bedrooms.

  “I’ll be on my guard, don’t worry. But what about Dawn? Does she know I’m taking over her room?”

  “No, I haven’t even told her that you’ll be staying here. I figured it could be a surprise, and you and I could talk to her when she wakes up tomorrow.” Ella sat on the edge of Dawn’s bed, noting the men’s toiletries on the night stand—purchased by Herman, no doubt. “The bed’s a twin-size, but it’s very comfortable and low to the ground, which should make it easier to climb in and out. I’ve slept in it myself from time to time.”

  He took a deep breath and pointed to the bag Justine had just placed in the room. “I’ve got some clothing one of the officers picked up at my house earlier tonight, including a set of pajamas. Care to give me a hand putting them on?”

  Ella brought the bag closer to him, chuckling. “I’ll get Herman to help you.”

  “That won’t be nearly as much fun.”

  “Do you really need help?” she asked him seriously. “I don’t want to get Herman unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it. I can’t move my left arm, and my right leg is stiff where the muscles were damaged. With a hole in my rib cage that
has a matching exit in my back, it also hurts like crazy if I even try to turn to the side. But what the hey, at least I have one functioning arm and I can feed myself. And hobble to the bathroom.”

  “Okay, hang tight. I’ll go get him,” she said, heading to the door.

  “The worst part is having to ask for help. You should understand, you’re not big on that either,” he muttered as she reached the door.

  “True enough,” Ella answered, turning and giving him a sympathetic smile. “But look at it this way. We had to have had something in common, right?”

  It was six-thirty by the time Dawn’s alarm clock went off. Fifteen minutes later, she was in the kitchen, still in her robe and pajamas.

  Ella and Rose were already there and, gathered around the breakfast table, told Dawn what was going on.

  “Dad’s here?” A smile of pure happiness instantly formed on her face. “We’ll take great care of him, Mom. Shimasání can make her special teas for him, and I . . . won’t play my music out loud, even during the day, because I know he’ll have to sleep a lot,” she added.

  To Dawn, there was no greater sacrifice. Ella bit back a smile. “Your father’s stay will have to remain a secret. You can’t tell anyone he’s here, and you can’t mention anything in e-mails or text messages. Even the tiniest hint could endanger his life—and ours. That also means your friends won’t be able to visit you here after school, not until your dad’s well and able to return to his own house. And one last thing. You’ll have to sleep with me in my bed, or on the living room couch. Your choice.”

  “I’ll take the couch—you squirm too much.”

  “There’s a guard inside the house right now,” Ella said as Rose went to fix herself another cup of tea. “His name is Preston Harrison, and his job is to watch over us. Don’t talk to him or distract him. He’s on the job.”

  “Sure. I’m cool with that, Mom.” Dawn stared at her cereal bowl, deep in thought, then looked up and in a hopeful voice, added, “If I could stay home from school, I can help Shimasání take care of Dad.”