Authors: Aimée & David Thurlo
As she approached, Ella tried to look confident, though she was mentally preparing herself for the worst. But, as she reached the victim and got her first good look, Ella felt the world start to spin. Turning away, she took several gasping breaths.
Justine, who’d come up beside her, froze to the spot. “Oh, crap.”
“If you think you might be sick,” Ella warned, seeing the pallor on her
assistant’s face, “get away from the scene.”
“I’m not going to be sick,” Justine said flatly. “I can—” Suddenly she took off running.
Alone, Ella wiped away a stray tear that had rolled down her cheek. The boy’s kneecap and most of his knee joint was missing, destroyed by a large-caliber bullet or shotgun blast at point-blank range. Though the body was facedown, she could see bloody bones protruding
sideways through the pant leg and skin. It was impossible to make a visual ID, because half of the victim’s head was missing. It had been obliterated in an execution-style killing. After seeing this, Ella leaned toward the shotgun theory.
Crouching by the body, Ella smoothed the pair of disposable gloves she’d put on and looked around. Some coins had fallen from the boy’s outturned pockets, indicating
that if robbery was the motive, they didn’t take all the money. There were mostly quarters, but the two old-looking silver dollars among them caught her attention. Ella called out to Justine. “Check the list of merchandise reported stolen during the recent burglaries for silver dollars, maybe part of a collection. One here is stamped 1873, the other is 1881. In particular, see if these were
part of what was missing from the Aspass residence.”
Working methodically while disturbing the site as little as possible, Ella searched the area in a precise pattern. Soon, her crime-scene team would arrive and photograph everything, and collect and mark all the footprints and evidence.
While Justine and Officer Cloud taped off the perimeter, she studied the tracks around the body. The only
athletic shoe imprints here were those of the victim. The other tracks were made by three different pairs of boots.
The Fierce Ones would probably be wearing that type of footwear, most adults on the Rez did, but it didn’t make any sense that they’d be responsible for a crime so violent, not unless their vigilante tactics had gotten out of hand fast. From the pattern of the tracks, it looked
as if two men had led the boy to this spot, holding him from both sides. A third had followed close behind.
Hearing a vehicle, Ella turned her head and saw Carolyn driving up. While Cloud and Justine continued the search for evidence, Ella went to meet the ME. Tache and Ute would be here soon, too. They’d scour the area like the pros they were, and, hopefully, the scene would reveal something
that would point them down a solid investigative trail.
Ella filled Carolyn in as they walked back to where the body lay. Being careful not to disrupt the scene any more than necessary, Ella led Carolyn along her own previous path. “I need everything you can get me on this, as fast as you can.”
Ella stopped when she was ten feet away from the body, and Carolyn continued. When the ME saw the
victim for the first time, her eyes narrowed. She looked back at Ella. “It looks like they tried to kneecap him first to get him to talk. I doubt he would have done anything but scream, though, after that. This can’t be the work of other kids, can it? I don’t see those boys as being capable of this level of brutality.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer to that. This is what terrorists and mobsters
do to people. But on the Rez?” Ella leaned back against a tall boulder, feeling the cold of the rock seep through her clothing. Nothing made sense, and instinct told her that until she found some answers, things would continue to get worse.
TWELVE
Ella was driving home the long way to give herself time to think. It was 11:00
P.M.
and the day had passed before she knew it. They now knew the identity of the murdered boy. George Nahlee, the boy who had tried to quit the gang. Had this been his payback? Justine and she had spoken to those in the gang that they knew about, trying to get a lead, but it was soon clear they could expect
no help from the other gang members. As usual, Justine’s cousin Thomas had been out of the house, and her aunt didn’t know where he was at the moment.
Though none of the officers had given out the details of the murder, the viciousness of the act had been hard to keep secret after the family had been called to identify the victim. Rumors were running rampant, and members of the press were calling
the station constantly, asking for details and interviews. Particularly gruesome crimes always made the biggest headlines.
Ella was halfway home when Billy Pete called on her cell phone. She pulled off the highway to talk so she could give the call her full attention without worrying about watching the road. She wanted to pick up every nuance of this conversation. It didn’t surprise her that
the Fierce Ones would have heard about the latest killing. If they hadn’t been responsible for it, and she doubted they were, the question was how they’d react to the news.
Billy had a question right away. “Do you think the boy was killed because he wanted out of the gang? That’s the word that’s going around. His own gang members had beat him up just the other day. Everyone at school saw the
results.”
“I don’t know yet, and it’s premature to even guess. Because it’s an open case, I couldn’t discuss it with you even if I knew.” Ella reminded.
“If you don’t know why he was killed, then we can rule out robbery, which narrows it down. It’s a bit coincidental, don’t you think, that he tried to get out of the gang, and now less than two days later he’s dead, execution-style?”
“What makes
you think that was the way he died?” Ella asked.
“I thought you might be handing that question back to me. It’s a great way of not confirming the facts without lying. So I guess my sources were correct. I’ll be talking to you later.” Billy concluded.
“No, wait. Listen to me before you hang up. Righting this particular wrong isn’t the responsibility of the Fierce Ones. The police will handle
this.” Ella pleaded.
“You’re not doing a very good job so far. I bet you don’t even have a suspect.”
“Every investigation takes time, but we do solve most of our cases, especially murders. The only help we want or need from the Fierce Ones on this is limited to the presenting of evidence or testimony.” Ella was adamant.
“Who said you’re getting their help, or that I speak for them? I was calling
out of curiosity.”
“This late at night, on my cell phone? Don’t screw with me, Billy.”
“The deaths, the killings, the gang violence, they have to stop, one way or the other.” He reminded her.
“We’re working on it. The whole department is putting in long hours on the job. Just don’t interfere. You don’t want to help the killers by sidetracking us. We’ll have to investigate every incident—the
ones you cause included. You’ll dilute our strength and muddy the water.” Ella said.
“Interesting point. I wish you luck solving this quickly, then.”
He hung up before Ella could say anything more. Ella got the number from dispatch and dialed the Power Plant. Billy Pete was not there at work, nor was he at his home, the number she dialed next. She decided to trace the call. The cellular phone
company took a while, but was able to tell her the call originated from a pay phone at the Totah Cafe. He would be tough to track down, but Ella put out a request for any officer to hold and detain him until she arrived. She had a few more questions for Billy Pete.
At least, hopefully, The Brotherhood wasn’t involved in the Nahlee killing. For that particular group of activists, trouble on the
Rez from gangs would be a cause for amusement, not anger.
Ella drove through the residential area where the Many Devils hung out, but it was quieter than it had been for days. Nothing like a couple of brutal murders to keep everybody off the street. There was no sign of any kids hanging out, and the only vehicles she saw were parked and appeared to be unoccupied. The discovery made her uneasy.
Sensing trouble, despite the lack of people, Ella called in her location, and left her vehicle to check a few blocks out on foot. Her skin was crawling, and her blood racing. The badger fetish around her neck felt warm, a sign she had come to associate with danger.
Fear crept into her, touching her on a primal level that made it hard for her to remain focused, despite her years of law-enforcement
experience. Something within was warning her of the presence of evil, of skinwalkers, but there was no physical evidence Ella could detect to support the warmth she sensed from her fetish.
Clipping her hand-held to her belt, and forcing the fears down to a level where she could deal with them, she walked down the street, listening and alert to danger. Though she had a flashlight in her hip pocket,
she preferred not to light up her location.
She was near the end of a cul-de-sac when a piercing, agonized scream rose in the air. Only absolute terror could have elicited that raw sound from a human. For a moment she stood frozen, beating back her own fear as she struggled to pinpoint the direction. As another, weaker sound followed, her training took over. Ella called for a backup as she ran,
gun in hand, toward the house at the end of the street. She went through an open gate and entered the back yard just as a shadowy figure ran out of the detached garage and leaped over the fence. Uncertain if it was man or beast, she raced after it. The outline had been hard to define, veiled by the darkness that surrounded her. But whoever or whatever it was had possessed the agility of an animal
or an athlete, clearing a four-foot barrier cleanly. Peering over the fence cautiously, she saw nothing but an open field.
Ella studied the area. To her surprise, she saw that no lights had gone on in the neighboring houses. Surely someone had heard the cry that had brought her here.
Hearing a faint metallic scrape coming from the garage, and seeing the side door to it was wide open, Ella went
forward cautiously. Only moonlight coming through the doorway illuminated the interior. Ella stood by the door for a moment, noting that, from the broken wood near the lock, it had been forced open. She entered low, gun ready, choosing again not to use the flashlight.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and felt a rush of air. She stepped back just as an ax swung down. It struck the
concrete floor of the garage with a loud clank and a flash of sparks. “Police officer. Put down your weapon!” She yelled, jumping to the relative safety of the other side of the entrance.
Her attacker replied with another swing of the ax, striking the doorjamb where she’d been standing only a few seconds earlier. Ella dove forward, and fired into the corner where her attacker had been standing.
A faint grunt told her she’d struck her mark.
As a figure staggered forward into the zone of light coming through the doorway, she heard a loud noise behind her. Ella spun around. A paint can rolled off the garage shelf onto the floor with a thump. A diversion. She turned to her adversary again, and caught a glimpse of a second person dragging the wounded man out the door. An instant later, the
door slammed shut. Ella tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. The garage was now in complete darkness. The silence that followed had the same impact on her nerves as an ice cube suddenly pressed to the small of her back.
Ella reached for her flashlight, found nothing, then remembered hearing it fall from her pocket as she’d dived forward earlier. She felt around until she found a wall, then
checked for a light switch. A few moments later she found what she was looking for, and the darkness was replaced with the bright glow of a single incandescent bulb. The first thing Ella saw was a teenaged boy lying in the middle of the oil-stained concrete, his throat slashed. She didn’t recognize the victim.
Ella called in dispatch, reported her situation, and requested an APB on any gang members
spotted in the area. She also asked that the hospital be put on alert for anyone coming in with a gunshot wound.
As Ella crouched next to the victim, waiting for her backup to release her from the locked garage, she began to investigate the scene. She suspected from his red sweatshirt that the victim had been one of the Many Devils. A glance at the crude MD carved into the back of his hand confirmed
it.
She noticed a small wrecking bar in his hip pocket, along with a penlight and yellow rubber gloves. There was no wallet apparent. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he’d been doing here. But who had surprised the young burglar? The people in this neighborhood were not offering any resistance that she knew of and, despite their apparent tough attitude with Mrs. Peshlakai, they hadn’t done
anything publicly to retake control.
She retrieved her flashlight, wondering about the occupants of the house next door. They must have heard the chilling screams and her gunshot. Were they home, and if so, why hadn’t they reacted by now? An oppressive silence encased her. Ella went to the main overhead door, but it had been locked from the outside.
Her two-way crackled to life and her call
sign came over the air. Ella answered the summons. Officer Jimmy Frank was trying to locate her. He’d found her Jeep, and now was searching for the garage. Ella called out to him and heard him respond almost immediately.
Jimmy Frank wrenched something away from the side door, then pulled it open. Jimmy’s boyish looks were deceptive. He was a seasoned officer, though he looked no older than some
of the boys in the gangs. He would have made a wonderful undercover officer if the kids didn’t know him so well.
“Seal off the garage. I’m going to see if the owners of this house are okay. And take a look at the victim. Maybe you can ID him.”
Once outside, she looked around and noticed that some of the neighbors had finally turned on their lights. If the presence of the police was what had
given them courage, maybe some progress was being made in the area after all.
As Ella walked across to the house, she used her flashlight to study the ground for evidence. Athletic shoe tracks were clear but, a little further from the door, about halfway to the house, she noticed the now familiar cane-like dots and scuff marks left by moccasins. Anger filled her.