Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  SUNDAY

  After a wake-up call to Big Ed, who’d returned to the station despite the fact it was nearly 2:00 A.M., they had the warrants needed to legally verify the state of Abigail’s finances.

  Back in the chief’s office, bleary-eyed and coffee-stoked, the group of four discussed the revelations of the past several hours. Blalock was the first to point out that their case still had flaws. “We can’t arrest Mrs. Yellowhair, or even take her to court with what we have right now. She’d walk,” he said.

  “It’s hard to nail mud to the wall,” Ella muttered, taking another sip of cold coffee.

  As silence fell over the gathering once again, Ella realized they were out of energy and options. “We have one shot. It’s a crazy idea, but I think it’ll work,” she said, filling them in.

  Once she finished speaking, Ella glanced around the room. No one even looked up, and the silence was deafening. “You guys still awake, right?”

  Blalock sat back in his chair rubbing his chin. “Hell, it might just work, and at the moment it’s all we’ve got. I say we go for it.”

  Big Ed nodded slowly, then stifled a yawn. “Okay, Shorty. I’ll back you up if things go south.”

  “We’ll need someone who can pass as Adam,” Ella said. “Any suggestions?”

  Justine sat up straight in her chair. “How about Benny? They’re about the same size and weight. Same Army buzz haircut, too. If we obscure his face with some bandages, he’ll pass.”

  “You’re right,” Ella said after a beat. “The key will be getting Marie Lonewolf to cooperate.”

  “Once she hears the whole story I think she’ll be willing to help us out,” Justine said. “Marie wants all this to be over with, I’m sure.”

  “Now we need a reason to bring Charles Williams in. I don’t care if it’s speeding, or for spitting on the sidewalk,” Ella said.

  “Leave that to me,” Blalock said. “I can be downright creative when the situation calls for it, and if there’s any way to put some additional pressure on him, I will.”

  “You’re good to go then, Shorty. Keep me updated,” Big Ed said.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Just before eight in the morning and already exhausted, Ella picked up the phone. The thought of making any kind of deal with Norm Hattery went against the grain, but he was the only logical choice. Once he leaked the story she was about to give him, it would hit the Internet, the press, and the media all about the same time. She pulled out his business card and called his cell number.

  Hattery picked up on the first ring. “Investigator Clah, you’re the last person I expected to hear from so early this morning. You must want something from me and are finally ready to trade.”

  His reporter’s instincts were right on target. She hoped that hers, as a police officer, would turn out to be as good. “I’m calling to offer you the story of a lifetime, but I’m going to need something from you in exchange,” she said, then explained. As she spoke, she could hear him typing.

  “I’m putting this up on my blog right now under breaking news. Then I’ll call Jaime Beyale and tell her I got it from one of my most reliable sources. Your name will never come up,” he said. “Basically, my story will reveal that war hero Adam Lonewolf is still alive, out of danger, and on his way back to the station to help identify his attackers. I’ve also said that he’s bringing evidence that’ll break the case wide open and implicate an important and respected member of the tribe.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You see? I told you we’d both benefit from some cooperation. This way, justice is served and we both come out ahead.”

  Ella tried to ignore the bad taste the creep left in her mouth. “In a few hours, we’ll announce a mid-morning press conference here at the station.”

  Ella called Teeny next, and after a quick update, added, “I need you to prepare an audio that will use Begaye’s and Abigail’s voices.” She continued, describing the contents of the conversation she had in mind.

  “That’s all, huh?” Teeny asked, chuckling after she finished. “And let me guess. You want it yesterday.”

  “Even with your toys, is it possible, or do I need a new plan?”

  “I can get voice samples from Justine—she tapes all her interviews, like you should, by the way. In addition to the right toys, I also have access to a professional impressionist who does voice-over gigs on movies that have to be cleaned up for network TV. That means I can do this with my eyes—ears—closed. But you’re going to owe me big time.”

  “Deal.” Ella hung up, wishing she didn’t know that Teeny had probably faked other conversations in the past. Still, if there ever was a good time for deception, it was now. She’d heard from Blalock a while ago, and he had good news about Charles Williams, but they’d still need a little more to nail the key player still in the picture—Abigail Yellowhair. She was slippery, and they needed to come from all directions or the woman might just get away.

  Justine walked in a half hour later, and her expression was grim. “I have some bad news—in more ways than one. We may be close to losing Adam. He’s gone into surgery again. He’s bleeding inside the brain and it doesn’t look good, but he’s got the best doctors in the state working on him, so there’s still hope. Marie was already en route here, so she’s decided to stick to the plan. There’s nothing she can do at the hospital, and, according to her, this is the best way to honor her husband, no matter how it turns out.”

  Ella sighed. Just when they were getting close. “I agree. In the meantime, let’s do what we can to nail these lowlifes. Keep working on the details with Benny.”

  “I’m on that,” Justine replied.

  “Good. Once everything else is set, we’ll go pay Abigail a visit,” she said just as her phone rang.

  Ella looked at the caller ID. It was from the hospital at Kirtland AFB—Captain Marcus. Ella thought of Adam, and his family, then brought the phone to her ear.

  “With Blalock’s big score this morning, we’ve got enough to arrest Abigail right now. But I’d sure like to nail her for every crime she’s committed. What if she doesn’t take the bait?” Justine asked, as they got into the tribal cruiser. It was nearly noon, and the operation was underway.

  “A lot has changed in the past few hours, and we’ll have to make the most of what we have. Ever play poker? Think of this as the hand of a lifetime,” Ella said. Over the years, Abigail had been a formidable opponent, but her time had run out. At long last, Abigail was going down.

  As they traveled along the road, Ella studied the sunlit mesas, nature’s apartment complex, housing thousands of other heartbeats. Among the millions of hiding places, large and small, were those of coyotes and rabbits, burrowing owls and bats, hidden deep inside rock crevices and caves, waiting for the right time to come out and hunt.

  Ella thought of the rhythm and cadence of the desert—life and death, heat and cold, night and day, even the cycles of drought and monsoons that linked all of life, human and animal, together. Here on the Rez, Navajo ways taught that everyone and everything was connected. Those beliefs, as old as the tribe itself, renewed the courage of the Diné daily, even in the toughest of times. Today a measure of balance would be achieved, though harmony often came with tragedy in its wake.

  Years back, eager for adventure and the opportunity to explore a world she’d barely known, she’d left the Rez to join the FBI. Now, with every breath she took, she could feel her ties to this land, bordered by the sacred mountains.

  More than ever, she wanted her daughter to grow up appreciating who and what she was. On the outside, prejudice still existed, and she didn’t want her daughter to hear others devalue what it meant to be a Navajo before she could fully understand the treasure it was.

  Though Kevin’s argument for sending their daughter to school in D.C. had many valid points, it was one based on an Anglo’s definition of success. Ella suddenly realized that she knew what her answer to the job offer would be.

  “Thinking this mig
ht be a good time to take that job offer in D.C.?” Justine asked.

  “I suppose,” Ella said. “But neither one of us should get sidetracked now. Concentrate on Abigail and the plan. Our only chance to put her away for good depends on what happens in the next hour.”

  They arrived at Abigail’s home a short time later. The curtains were open and they could see someone inside, moving about. Before they’d even parked, Abigail came to the front porch and waved them in, cell phone still at her ear.

  As Ella approached, Abigail smiled and placed her phone on a side table. “The news is all over the Four Corners. Adam Lonewolf is alive and starting to recover—though you knew about that all along, no doubt. I understand he’s going to be present at a press conference within the hour. If what I’ve heard is all true, you should be able to close your case before too much longer. Hopefully, Lonewolf will be able to fill in the missing questions you and the department have been asking yourselves since the shootings.”

  “Which brings me to the reason I’m here. I suggest you come down to the station of your own volition. It’ll look better that way,” Ella said.

  “You’re not serious. You think Adam plans to implicate me?” She laughed. “For what crime? You and I have a long history, Ella, but I think you can definitely file this under ‘wishful thinking.’ ”

  “I’m not here to arrest you, Abigail. I have no idea what Adam’s going to say. My visit is simply a courtesy to my mother’s friend, and someone whose work has had a great impact on the tribe. I figured you would like to be present in case your name comes up. You had ties to Councilman Alfred Begaye, and as you undoubtedly already know, he was murdered yesterday afternoon.”

  “I knew Begaye, but our only connection was that we both invested in the Prickly Weed Project. All your suspects are dying off, dear, but if you’re looking to me to fill the holes in your investigation, you’re grasping at straws. I know nothing that can help you.”

  “If you’re so sure of yourself, why don’t you follow us to the station?” Ella countered smoothly.

  “Of course. This is something I wouldn’t miss.”

  Abigail was true to her word, though Ella kept her sedan in sight the entire trip, just in case she decided to make a run for it. The drive took less than fifteen minutes, and when they arrived at the station, the press and media were already crowding the front and side door. Among them were a hundred or more onlookers, some waving small flags, and most carrying digital cameras and cell phones, waiting to capture the historic moment when Adam arrived.

  Ella and Justine walked over to join Abigail as she got out of her car.

  “Making people believe that Adam had died probably saved further attempts on his life,” Abigail said softly, waving at someone in the crowd. “And, with him coming back today . . . well, The People do need their heroes.”

  Ella realized that Abigail had known all along that Adam hadn’t died in Shiprock, merely been relocated somewhere she couldn’t penetrate. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Informants were everywhere. For a price, one could buy almost anything these days. The question now was, what else did Abigail know?

  Seeing the look Justine gave her, Ella shook her head. She didn’t want to give Abigail any more information. She had enough already.

  Ella stood beside Abigail as Marie Lonewolf pushed the wheelchair containing the expertly bandaged Benny Pete into the crowded station lobby. Cameras went wild and there were so many lights and flashes that Ella found it difficult to see.

  Standing beside the undercover officer, who was slumped down, his head resting on his shoulders, Marie held up her hand. The gathering went dead quiet within seconds. Tears filled her eyes—it wasn’t an act—and for a while she couldn’t speak. Everyone remained silent, respecting her situation, but cameras continued to flash.

  Finally Marie found her voice. “My husband was brutally attacked, and for his protection he was moved to a hospital in Albuquerque. We all went into hiding, unable to tell anyone—even our closest friends and relatives. For that, and for the lies that had to be told, we apologize and ask for your understanding. But now we know the truth behind what happened to him and Mr. Tolino, and those responsible will soon face arrest—and justice.”

  More camera flashes went off, and cell phones were aimed, recording every second in photos and video. Ella’s gaze drifted to Abigail, who was trying not to look too interested, but it was clear she was hanging on every word. Then Ella noticed Abigail glance to the left, where Martin Tallman, the attorney, was standing. He nodded slightly, and Abigail switched her gaze back to Marie. Abigail had probably been on the phone with him this morning. The Yellowhairs had a sixth sense for danger, and always lawyered up when trouble loomed on the horizon.

  Marie continued, shifting her attention back and forth between the media cameras. “I’m speaking on behalf of my husband. Afterwards, I’ll try to answer some of your questions.”

  Marie gave them a brief rundown of what had happened, then according to Ella’s plan, added, “Adam couldn’t remember anything connected to the shooting for days. Then his memory began to return just as the doctors said it would. But there were still a lot of gaps in what he recalled. That’s why he didn’t think he’d be much help to the police. All he could do was tap his finger—once for yes, two for no.”

  “What changed?” one of the Anglo reporters called out.

  “Yesterday, I began sorting through some old mail I picked up on a secret trip back home. That’s when I found a small package Adam had mailed to himself—a memory card full of audio recordings.” She held up the small memory chip so everyone could see and photograph it. “Once I realized what it was, I called the police immediately,” she said, then taking a breath, continued. “Although we were asked by the authorities to keep this private for now, we’ve decided against that. Too many questions have been raised about my husband’s loyalties, so we wanted to set the record straight once and for all. Someone betrayed my family and the tribe in the process. I want that person unmasked now in front of everyone.”

  Marie stuck the memory card into a small handheld player, then turned up the volume.

  First they heard the voice of Councilman Begaye explaining that the bribe money hadn’t been delivered. That was followed by Abigail Yellowhair, demanding to know what had happened to the money, and saying that, one way or another, she’d make sure that her investment in IFT paid off. The recording was slightly muffled to make appear as if it had been made by a handheld device hidden, maybe, inside a pocket.

  As the recording continued, those familiar with Abigail’s voice turned toward her. By the time the brief conversation ended, everyone’s attention was focused in her direction.

  Tallman came over. “Tell everyone the truth,” he advised, placing a hand on Abigail’s shoulder.

  “That’s a fake. I never had that conversation,” Abigail said confidently, directly into the cameras. “This is a scam played out by police officers who don’t have a clue about what’s really going on.”

  Ella watched her play it cool—all self-righteous indignation without any trace of hesitation. Unfortunately for Abigail, her voice matched the one they’d just heard on the audio recording. Even her lawyer had seemed surprised at first, though he’d quickly recovered.

  Benny raised his arm, very slowly at first, struggling. He managed to get it up nearly to his eye level, then held out his hand. He wiggled his finger twice. Marie started crying, and Blalock, who’d come up beside her, put his arm around her shoulders with surprising tenderness. Sheriff Taylor was there as well, his eyes on Ella, in on the plan and waiting for the reaction.

  Chaos erupted as reporters yelled yes or no questions, each louder than the last.

  Abigail took a step forward and pointed her finger at Benny, pure hatred on her face. “You’re a fake and a liar. The real Adam Lonewolf died this morning during surgery!”

  “How did you know, Mrs. Yellowhair?” Ella spoke, realizing she had to use the evidence they a
lready had on hand. “Another spy you’ve paid off? I’m taking you into custody right now. Even if you somehow manage to avoid a life sentence for the murder of a tribal hero, we already have enough to send you to jail for a long, long time. Somebody in your little conspiracy decided to cut a deal this morning.”

  Ella motioned toward the booking area, where Justine was standing. Next to her was IFT employee Charles Williams, the county’s district attorney, and another man in an expensive suit that screamed lawyer. Williams didn’t look happy at all. Justine was in a good mood, however, and smiled as she removed a set of handcuffs from Williams’ wrists.

  Abigail managed a laugh, though her bluster was rapidly fading. “Lying to save his own skin, no doubt. You’ll never make any of those accusations stick,” she said. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Clah. I’ve lost my husband and two daughters trying to better myself and the tribe. I’ve given everything I had, even my fortune, for others. You’ve given up, what, a few weekends on the job when you couldn’t go for a hike with your little girl? Prepare for the biggest fight of your life. I’m not rotting away in some jail cell.”

  Ella grabbed Abigail’s wrists and slapped on the handcuffs tightly. “That’s a sad excuse for all the harm you’ve caused to innocent people. She’s all yours, Agent Blalock. Her interstate crimes place her under federal jurisdiction.”

  Anger flashed in Abigail’s eyes. “You and I aren’t through, Ella Clah. I have a long memory. Tallman, get me in front of a judge. I want to be home before dark.”

  Blalock stepped forward, then turned Abigail over to Sheriff Taylor and Sergeant Neskahi. The officers motioned her toward the entrance, currently blocked by photographers with flashing cameras. Abigail stopped and turned around one last time. “Don’t think you’ve won,” she said, glaring at Ella. “The tribal chairman won’t want this cloud hanging over him. You’ll need more information than you’ve got, and I’m your only hope of getting that.”