Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  He looked at Justine. “This is harassment, pure and simple. You gonna let her get away with this?”

  Justine yawned. “Excuse me, I wasn’t listening. Did she say something?”

  Rudy looked back at Ella and grinned slowly. “Looks like you and I have a lot more in common than you want to admit.”

  “What we have is a connection—people like you belong in cages, and I’m good at putting them there,” Ella said.

  As they left the room and stepped into the hall, Big Ed came out of his office and motioned to them. “Abigail Yellowhair just called,” he said, closing the door behind them. “Someone spray-painted the word anaashii on her garage door.”

  “Sounds like Emerson Lee’s work,” Ella said thoughtfully.

  “Abigail asked for you specifically. She said that since your mother’s also part of the Prickly Weed Project, you need to see what Rose is going to be up against. I don’t take requests when it comes to assigning officers to a case, so it’s up to you, Shorty. I can send another officer.”

  Ella’s expression hardened. “I’ll go. There’s a reason behind her friendship with my mother, and I need to figure out what that is.”

  “One more thing. That reporter, Hattery, showed up at Abigail’s.”

  “Did she speak to him?”

  “Yes. She said it was time someone told the general public that the project leaders are being victimized.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. “All right. I’ll handle this, Chief.”

  As they turned toward the door, Big Ed spoke again. “There’s one more thing.”

  Ella and Justine stopped and glanced back.

  “Hattery’s agreed to help the Diné Times by passing on information as he gets it. Jaime Beyale, the editor, has been forced to cut staff and agreed to use him as a stringer.”

  “Things must be really tough if she’s using Hattery.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Shorty, he gets results. Lots of press awards next to his name if you Google him.”

  “Yeah, but he got fired from one of the Albuquerque TV stations a few years ago for screwing up big time,” Ella replied.

  “That’s why he’s working so hard to rebuild his reputation. He wants to break a story certain to make the national news,” Big Ed said.

  “Just the kind of reporter I need underfoot,” Ella muttered.

  “Tread carefully. Even with that black mark against him, he’s still got connections in the industry,” Big Ed added.

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” Ella said.

  “I know you don’t like Hattery nosing around our case, but you heard the chief,” Justine said as they headed to the car. “We’ve got to treat him with kid gloves.”

  “So what do you propose?”

  “Let me handle him while you question Mrs. Yellowhair.”

  “Partner, that’s a great idea. I’ll get more from Abigail if we go one-to-one,” she said, then with a mischievous smile, added, “And who knows, Hattery and you might hit it off. He could even give Mr. Romance some competition.”

  Justine choked. “Forget it. I like to keep things simple. One guy at a time is more my speed.” She paused and in a soft voice added, “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

  “Huh?”

  “Cuz, I’ve known you all my life. No matter what you say about Kevin being out of the running, he’s never given up on you. With him, what you see is what you get. The problem is that you don’t like to play it safe, and Ford fascinates you. Behind that conservative, pious image is a brilliant man with a hidden past. Unfortunately, it seems you need more from a relationship than Ford can give you.”

  “And less. Before we’d go the next step, he’d insist I marry him and join his church, and that would end it, I’m afraid,” Ella said.

  “Maybe he’d change his mind—about the church thing. It’s clear he’s in love with you.”

  “No, that wouldn’t work for him—or for me. I keep thinking of my own father and mother. They loved each other, too, but I’d never want to live that way again and have my daughter caught in the middle, like Clifford and I were. Clifford chose the Navajo Way and fought with Dad constantly. I ran off and got married.”

  “Yeah, and when your husband was killed, you joined the FBI,” Justine admitted. “Took years before you came back. So, are you really going to leave again?”

  “I still haven’t decided about the D.C. job. Let’s stick with nostalgia, okay?”

  A short time later they arrived at Abigail’s home, a modest frame structure west of the river in an area of small farms. A new-looking SUV was parked on the street in front of the house, and Abigail’s fading yellow sports sedan was on the left side of the concrete driveway in front of the double garage’s door.

  As Ella parked across the road from Abigail’s house, she took in the scene. Abigail was scrubbing off the painted, foot-high letters with rags and a strong solvent, judging from the scent that wafted over. Norm Hattery, dressed in tan slacks and a tropical-pattern shirt, was beside her, ostensibly helping.

  Seeing Ella as they climbed out of the vehicle, Abigail waved. “Do you know each other?” she asked gesturing to Norm as Ella and Justine crossed the street.

  “We’ve met Mr. Hattery.” Ella gave Norm a nod, then focused on Abigail. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  Abigail took a few steps away from Hattery, turned her back to him, and lowered her voice. “My money’s on someone from Emerson Lee’s clan. Ever since that last chapter house meeting, they’ve been busy stirring people up. They present themselves as martyrs—you know, poor Navajos out to protect their way of life from tribal politicians—but the truth’s a lot simpler than that. They don’t want to relinquish that land to the tribe.”

  Still pretending to be scrubbing the paint, Norm edged closer to them.

  Noting it, Ella glanced at her partner, then back at Abigail. “Why don’t you and I go inside and talk in private for a bit?”

  “I’ll help Norm with the scrubbing,” Justine said, picking up a pair of rubber gloves resting on the rim of a plastic bucket.

  Abigail led Ella into the kitchen and offered her a seat at the table. “Things are going to get worse before they get better. That’s why I’m so worried about your mother. Rose is a beautiful, gentle woman who doesn’t deserve to become a target for these idiots.”

  Ella knew that Abigail had gone to Rose a few months ago and convinced her to participate in the Prickly Weed Project. “I recall that you were the one who got her involved in this.”

  “At the time, the only clear risks were calluses accompanied by sneezing,” Abigail said. “But if your mother wants out, all she has to do is tell me. . . .”

  “We’re getting sidetracked,” Ella replied. “Did you see anyone hanging around when you came home? Also, was Norm already with you or did he arrive afterwards?”

  Abigail smiled slowly. “To answer your real question, Norm and I aren’t hanging around together. He showed up about twenty minutes after I got here. I was already outside scrubbing the graffiti.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He was very interested in Adam’s role in the Prickly Weed Project, but we haven’t had much of a chance to talk. I wanted to scrub that paint off my garage door before it set up. I find that particular word highly insulting. I belong to the Navajo tribe, and I grew up on tribal land. I am not an outsider or a squatter.”

  Ella nodded slowly. “Does it strike you as odd that whoever did that came all the way out here? Scratching Begaye’s car was one thing. He was in a parking lot in the center of Shiprock. You’ve got, what, three neighbors on this street?”

  “I see your point. The message was obviously intended solely for me.” Abigail stood. “Let’s go back outside so I can work on that paint.”

  Moments later as Abigail bent down to put on her rubber gloves, something thumped against the garage, and a shot rang out.

  “Gun!” Ella yelled, forcing Abigail to the concrete and reaching
for her pistol. A bullet had struck the garage less than two feet away from the woman. “Abigail, get behind the hedge and stay out of sight.” Ella reached over to push her in the right direction, but Abigail was already on the move.

  Justine rolled away from Norm, who was flat on his belly. “Get over there with Mrs. Yellowhair,” she told him. “But stay low and move fast.”

  The farmland in this neighborhood lay atop a low mesa that rose to the north and west, but the shot had come from the river valley. Ella ran in that direction, zigzagging randomly to throw off the gunman. Too angry to be scared, she used the extra energy to give her strength and speed.

  Justine followed, angling to the side so the sniper would have to choose between targets.

  They were about thirty yards away from the rim of the bluff that defined the outward reach of the river when Ella heard a vehicle starting up below. She raced forward, hoping for a glimpse at the suspect’s vehicle, but by the time she reached the edge of the embankment, there was nothing on the gravel road below them but dust. The vehicle had gone west and had disappeared in a farming area covered with a network of roads.

  Walking along the embankment, Ella and Justine soon found the location the sniper had used to target them.

  “He didn’t even leave a shell casing behind,” Ella said, looking to what would have been the shooter’s right, the direction most firearms ejected spent cartridges.

  “The sand’s soft where he scrambled up and down the bank, so it buried his boot prints,” Justine said.

  “Let’s check at the bottom, by the road,” Ella said, making her way down the ten-foot-high slope.

  Not finding anything but smeared-over prints and impressions in the gravel, they climbed out of the old river bottom onto high ground and walked back to the Yellowhair house. Hattery’s SUV was gone from the driveway.

  Ella knocked on Abigail’s door, and hearing the invitation to enter, went inside, followed by Justine.

  Abigail was sitting on the couch, a large shotgun on her lap.

  “You won’t need that,” Ella said, deliberately keeping her voice calm. “Why don’t you put it away?”

  “It belonged to my husband. He used it to chase away coyotes,” she said, then propped it up against the wall in one corner of the room. “These people are animals, too. They’re never one bit sorry for the trouble they cause.”

  Ella took a seat. “Where’d Hattery go?”

  “Norm said he had to go file his story,” Abigail said. “He didn’t think you’d catch the gunman, and it looks like he was right. This is the third time you’ve let these criminals get away, isn’t it?”

  Ella refused to take the bait. “To your knowledge, has anyone else in the Prickly Weed Project been the target of violence?”

  “Adam and Billy Garnenez had some problems at the last chapter house meeting.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, then continued. “Someone took a swing at Billy after Emerson got the crowd worked up, reminding them about the mess the coal and uranium mines left behind. But Adam stepped in, and since nobody wanted to raise a hand to him, things calmed down.”

  “Do you think Emerson was responsible for the shot fired at you today?” Ella asked.

  “Not Emerson himself, no,” Abigail said. “The man’s sight is all but gone. I doubt he could hit my house from across the street. But his son-in-law . . .”

  “What do you know about him?” Ella asked.

  “Until recently, Chester Morgan worked at the government offices in Farmington, but he lost his job when they cut back at the beginning of the fiscal year. He’s the one who decided to plant a vegetable garden and turn out a few head of sheep to graze on the property. He told everyone that was the only way a Navajo could guarantee that neither he nor his family would go hungry,” she said. “Mind you, he’s got a point.”

  “So a part of you thinks they’re right and should fight to keep their land?” Ella asked, sure she wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

  “We never wanted all their land, just, say, seventy-five percent of it on the side closest to the existing Navajo Irrigation project. Compromise is the only way to go on something like this. But the family refused to even consider the options. With only Trina working full time now, they’re afraid of what the future will hold for them. It’s not that they’re in dire straits—they’re not—but it’s pretty clear that the ‘what-ifs’ terrify them.”

  When Ella’s phone began to vibrate, she left Justine to finish taking Abigail’s statement and answered the call outside.

  “I’ve got good news, but you’ll need to come over.” Teeny’s unmistakable sotto voice came through clearly. “This isn’t the kind of conversation we can have over an unsecured line.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty, maybe sooner.” Ella shut the phone and signaled to Justine, who had just stood. “Time to go.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Ella followed Teeny inside the main office, and waited as he settled his enormous bulk onto the chair closest to his favorite desktop computer. He’d had special programs uploaded into multiple hard drives, added a host of peripherals, and had tweaked every component until it had practically become an extension of Teeny himself. As she looked at him staring adoringly into the screen, she had no doubt she was witnessing a case of compumance—that special romance between a man and his computer.

  “I have the information you need from Adam’s BlackBerry. I’ve made a printout of the content—names and address, his schedule, meetings, and his daily notes—kind of a log, or diary. It all came out to around forty pages when I copied everything into one text file. I’ve also downloaded everything onto a flash drive and placed it inside the same envelope.”

  “As you retrieved the information, did you take a look at it, and if so, is there anything you can tell me?”

  “I skimmed some of it to make sure I’d broken the encryption, but that’s about it. My job was to make it readable, so I focused on that.”

  “Anything particularly interesting that stuck in your mind?” she asked, hoping for the short version.

  He considered it for several moments. “It’s clear to me that Adam had divided loyalties, Ella,” he said at last. “He was frustrated with the way the Prickly Weed Project was being handled and wanted to do things his own way. He felt that the project leaders were holding him back, yet still expecting him to get results. He couldn’t do both and the guy liked to win.” He met her gaze. “I can understand that. I’m the same way.”

  “Me, too,” she admitted.

  He handed her the padded envelope with the information. “I heard what happened at Abigail’s.”

  Ella wasn’t surprised. Teeny’s sources—electronic and human—were second to none. “We told Abigail to lay low for a while, but I have no idea if she’ll do it or not.”

  “Here’s something you can count on. No one’s getting near your mom’s place without our knowledge. I’ve increased security just to stay on the safe side. Mack Kelewood will be inside your home, and take turns with Jimmie Harvey and Preston Harrison. Outside, you’ll have a man who’s had extensive sniper training in the Rangers, Eugene Nakai. He’s the only person I know who can pick off a target the size of a baseball at a hundred yards—while it’s rolling.”

  “That’s some marksman.”

  “Which is why he’s there,” Teeny answered. “He’ll have the others as backup anytime, but he told me that he rarely sleeps more than four hours a night when he’s on the job. With anyone else, I would have said that’s a bad idea, but not with this man. He goes by different rules.”

  Ella stood. “By the way, we’ve lost track of that pain-in-the-butt reporter, Norm Hattery, after he left the Yellowhair residence. If you hear anything about his whereabouts, let me know. I don’t like not knowing where he’s at, or where he could pop up next.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  As Ella walked to the door, Justine, who’d been in the next room talking on her cell phone, joined her. “You ready to roll?” she ask
ed Ella.

  “Yeah. Let’s get back to the office. I want to go through what Teeny handed us and update Big Ed.”

  They were on the highway a short time later. Not wanting to waste time, Ella pulled out the printout as Justine drove. “There’s nothing here that links Grady to Lonewolf. From what I can see here, Adam was completely focused on getting IFT to work with the tribe. The IFT rep, a man named Williams, was his contact, and Williams was being a hard-ass.”

  Hearing her phone ring, Ella picked it up, hoping it was Teeny and he’d found a lead to Hattery. But it was Blalock’s voice she heard at the other end.

  “We’ve got a minor problem,” he said. “Marie Lonewolf went over my head and got permission to leave Kirtland Air Force Base. She’s on a special flight back as we speak.”

  “What happened?” Ella asked.

  “Since Adam hasn’t regained consciousness, the family hired your brother to make a special medicine pouch for him. Marie’s landing in a half hour, so I’m on my way to the airstrip to pick her up.”

  “So that means she’s spoken to Clifford and he now knows for sure that Adam’s alive,” she said in a thoughtful voice.

  “No, not quite. All she told your brother is that she needed a medicine bundle that would restore the hózh.”

  Medicine to restore beauty and harmony. That made sense. “My brother wasn’t fooled, believe it,” Ella said.

  “Yeah, he’s too smart for that.”

  “Whoever’s watching her back also needs to make sure she doesn’t come across Norm Hattery. I don’t know where he is right now.”

  “Noted. I’ll be taking her by her home first, so that’ll buy me time to spot a tail and deal with it, if necessary,” Blalock answered.

  “The family’s cover story has been that they went up to one of their sheep camps in the Chuskas to grieve in private. If you need to, say Marie came back to gather up her husband’s belongings so she could give everything away to a church group off the Rez. Adam’s parents are Traditionalists, so people would understand that they wouldn’t be comfortable visiting Marie at her home if Adam’s stuff was still there. Traditionalists avoid all contact with the possessions of the deceased.”