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Authors: Aimee Thurlo

White Thunder (18 page)

BOOK: White Thunder
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“Okay, Melvin. But
don
’t run away again. I want to be able to find you, night or day. I won’t be as nice next time. You get me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Melvin gestured over at the house. “She’s not going to let me back in. Can you give me a ride to my cousin’s? He lives about two miles from here.”
“Two miles? Aw, come on, Melvin! You can walk that far.”
“Hey, it’s cold outside! It’s got to be forty something and I don’t even
have a jacket.”
“Then be ready to do a little shivering, Melvin. Now get out.”
“But—”
Teeny reached over, grabbed him by the shoulder, and hauled him out onto the street. “You heard the officer. Now get going.”
“Melvin,” Ella added, “where is your Blazer anyway?”
“Not here, or I wouldn’t be walking, would I?” Melvin set out, muttering under his breath. He looked back at them, raising his
hand as if he were about to flip them off, then changed his mind and disappeared quickly into the dark.
“Now what?” Teeny asked with a chuckle.
“I’m going to ask Joseph Neskahi to keep an eye on him while you and I catch a few hours of sleep. I noticed you stifling a yawn a few times, and I’m beat.”
“You know Melvin hasn’t told you everything, right?” Teeny asked.
“Sure I do. But we aren’t
going to get anything else from him right now without breaking all of his … civil rights.” An intense weariness swept over her and she blinked twice to ease the burning in her eyes. “I’m going home, Teeny, and I suggest you do the same.”
Teeny looked at her and expelled his breath slowly. “If that body you found really is Agent Thomas, that means the race is over and we lost.”
She didn’t argue,
she didn’t have the energy, but something was telling her that the worst was yet to come.
Day three
E
lla stood at her bedroom window, staring outside as the predawn light fell softly over the rocks and sandy earth that comprised the backyard. It was around fivethirty, but she’d gotten all the sleep she could already.
First had come the nightmare. She’d been driving around the desert, car window open, when she heard Andy Thomas calling out for help. She’d stopped
her unit and, as she walked toward the sound, she’d discovered his headless body, his voice coming out of the raw opening at his neck. Terrified, she’d become frozen to the spot, but suddenly the headless man sat bolt upright and reached out to her with his handless arms. That’s when she’d woken up covered in sweat, a scream dying at the back of her throat.
Her heart rate had returned to normal
afterward, but with all the questions circling in her brain her attempt to go back to sleep had proved futile. Her eyes open now for good, Ella noticed the faint glow on the horizon. Somewhere close, a solitary bird was chirping in her mother’s garden.
Tossing the covers aside, she swung her legs over the side of
the bed and stood, stretching sore muscles tightened from what little rest she’d
managed to salvage from the night
Getting dressed quickly, she grabbed a banana on the way through the kitchen, then crept out of the house. Two, their old mutt, was curled up on the porch atop a worn-out quilt, but he just lifted his head and watched as she climbed into her unit. A minute later she was driving down the dirt road toward Clifford’s place. He’d be up, offering his prayers to the
dawn.
It was a little past daybreak when Ella arrived at her brother’s hogan, parked, and looked around. The sky was clear and clean, and everything was quiet. The beauty of the stark land and the relative absence of modern civilization soothed her.
She thought about her past, working in the FBI and being assigned to cities where the only discernible change between night and day, besides the
obvious, was finding a different crowd walking along the streets. She remembered being surrounded by lush vegetation, too, in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and parts of northern California, but as undeniably beautiful as those places had been, theirs was a flashy kind of beauty that didn’t seem real to a Navajo woman with her background.
In comparison, the desert’s subtle charm called out to her soul
in red dawns and dusty orange sunsets that draped the land in a mantle the color of life. The distant peaks that rose up from the arid landscape spoke of endurance and power. The Dinetah, the land of the Navajos, whispered to hearts wounded by poverty and trials, imparting serenity and quiet inspiration.
Ella was glad she’d chosen to return to her homeland. Although it had taken her many years,
she finally understood why many Navajos chose to stay on the reservation despite the hardships. To those who understood the Way, there was beauty and harmony in the land between the sacred mountains.
Spotting Clifford climbing down a low hill carrying an armful of firewood, Ella waved and went over to help him. Clifford entered the hogan with his load but Ella remained outside.
Turning his head,
Clifford gave her a curious look and went
back to take the piñon branches from her arms so he could place them with the rest. “What’s up?”
Ella gestured for him to join her outside. “I’d like to show you something,” she said. Ella retrieved the plastic bag that contained the flint arrowhead from her jacket pocket and showed it to him. “Can you tell me what this is?” Since she’d found it near
a body, she hadn’t wanted to take it into the hogan out of respect for his belief in the
chindi
.
Suspecting that something wasn’t right, he looked at it, but made no attempt to touch the plastic bag. “It’s from a one-day Evil-Chasing Sing. The arrowheads are given to the participants and covered in gray ashes from the fire. Then the ashes are blown toward the smoke hole to chase away the
chindi.

“Thanks,” she said, putting it away. “That fits in with what I already know.”
“Should I ask where you got that?”
“No,” she said quietly.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
As Ella drove away, she considered stopping by home for breakfast, but it was six-fifteen and still too early for Rose to be waking up. And stopping by Kevin’s to see Dawn was also a waste. Kevin wasn’t an early riser either, and
Dawn often took advantage and slept later than usual herself. Typically, according to Dawn’s amused accounts, Kevin would barely get her to school on time.
Ella continued past the house and arrived at the highway within minutes. From there, she drove north to Shiprock.
On the strip downhill from the hospital, like on the opposite side of Shiprock toward Farmington, local vendors usually gathered
selling breakfast burritos, Navajo style, for people on the way to work. Problem was, she was still about fifteen minutes too early, despite the travel time. The vendors, who sold from the tailgates of their pickups for the most part, didn’t normally set up shop until around seven. But the food was always good and worth
the wait, as was the gossip she picked up there from time to time. In the
past, she’d been able to turn that information into some very promising leads.
Luckily Ella discovered a vendor just starting to set up—a friend of Rose’s. Raylene Curtis wasn’t a member of the Plant Watchers, but her youngest daughter, Dulce, had dated Clifford years ago, and, as far as Rose and Ella were concerned, Dulce would have made a far better match for Clifford than Loretta.
These days,
Raylene raised cash to supplement her social security by selling breakfast burritos. Ella ordered four—two intended for Justine, unless, of course, she ate them first.
“And how are your mother and daughter?” Raylene asked her as she took the money Ella handed her.
“Both are doing great. Thanks for asking.”
Raylene started to say something, then stopped. Moving slowly, she sat down on the folding
chair she’d brought along and began her wait for customers.
“Something on your mind?” Ella asked, taking a large bite. The burrito was delicious, filled with soft fried potatoes, fresh eggs and bacon, and the aroma was particularly enticing on this cool morning.
“Did you know that the police aren’t the only ones interested in where that Anglo agent is?” Raylene asked.
Ella swallowed quickly,
barely avoiding choking. “You heard about that?” Seeing Raylene nod, she quickly added, “Who else has been asking questions?”
“The patient from that Sing. You know the man I’m talking about?”
The news that Melvin had been searching for Agent Thomas, too, came as a complete surprise. Was that because he wanted to avoid being blamed, or because he wanted to try to finish him off?
“I understand
that the police think that the red-haired Anglo disappeared after the Sing because of something the patient’s cousins did. But, from what I’ve heard, the FBI man had someone else come after him—another Anglo.”
Hearsay wasn’t evidence, it had to be sifted and evaluated carefully. But often tales like this led to the truth. “Have you heard who the other Anglo was?”
She shook her head. “No one’s
said. But there are other Anglos—people not with the FBI—looking for the agent, too. No one seems to know where he is, but everyone wants to find him.”
Knowing how strapped Raylene was for money, Ella tipped her ten dollars because twenty might have been considered an insult, then thanked her for the information and continued on down the highway.
Ella’s thoughts were racing. Maybe those people
Raylene had mentioned had already found Agent Thomas and killed him. But who were
they
, and why would they mutilate the body in a way that would slow down the identification process? Why not just bury him someplace where he’d never be found? She’d need more pieces before the puzzle made sense.
A short time later Ella walked in through the station’s side door, carrying her paper bag containing
the burritos, and discovered Justine standing by the coffee machine. Joining her, Ella reached into the bag.
She gave Justine a sheepish smile as she brought out the one remaining burrito, double wrapped in foil. “I bought two extras but I guess I ate one of them on the way here.”
Justine grabbed it immediately. “Double wrapped?”
“Yeah. Raylene’s trademark,” Ella nodded.
Her cousin smiled.
“I’m surprised you resisted temptation and left any at all, Ella. I can down four in one sitting easily. Thanks, partner.”
Ella nodded.
“Can I buy you coffee?” Justine offered.
Ella shook her head, still feeling guilty about being such a pig and leaving only one for Justine. Maybe they could buy another one or two later this morning if the opportunity arose.
Leaving Justine to retrieve the
coffee, Ella continued down the hall. The minute she stepped inside her office, the phone
began to ring. Ella picked it up and heard Carolyn Roanhorse-Lavery’s voice.
“I’ve got some interesting news, Ella. We don’t need fingerprints or a face. That body
isn’t
Agent Thomas. The blood type doesn’t match.”
“Whose body is it, then?” Ella asked quickly.
“I don’t know. I’m having to wait until I
can access local records. There are no hits with any of the missing-persons files I’ve checked. Maybe the victim is from out of state.”
“You might compare the body with the description of those picked up by Mesa Vista Mortuary. They’re contracted by most of the area police departments, the county coroner’s office, and one of the area hospitals. But don’t call the funeral home itself and try to
get that information, okay? They’re on my suspect list.”
“All right. I’ll start making calls, and get back to you if I identify the victim.”
Ella hung up and hurried down the hall, meeting Justine, who was headed in her direction.
“Good news—the body doesn’t belong to Agent Thomas,” Ella said, taking one of the cups of coffee. “The hunt’s still on. Go call Tache and Neskahi and let them know.
I’m on my way to Big Ed’s office.”
Ella, seeing the chief’s door was wide open, knocked and went inside immediately. “The body we found
isn’t
Agent Thomas’s. Someone just tried to make it look that way.”
“So we’d stop looking? That puts a new spin on things,” he said.
Ella filled him in on what she’d learned from Raylene. “I think that after Melvin’s cousins told Andy to leave—and this corroborates
their story—someone else came in that vehicle they claimed to have seen, and confronted Thomas. There must have been a struggle, or he was momentarily under someone else’s control, because Thomas obviously lost his badge and ID. After that it gets a little fuzzy.”
Big Ed leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he considered possible scenarios. “He was able to use his cell phone, but
said
he was trapped in some dark place … .” Big Ed rocked back and forth in his chair as he spoke.
“Maybe he lost control of his weapon and ID, but managed to break away and run for it,” Ella said. “Later on, he either fell or was pushed into a place where they couldn’t get to him. And he either was knocked unconscious for several hours, or lost his cell phone and it took that long for him to find
it again. All we know for sure right now is that they didn’t have him at the time he called.” She took a sip of coffee from the foam cup. It was still hot.
“And they don’t have him now, either, or they wouldn’t be trying to interfere with the search. If Raylene’s information is right, and they’re trying to find him too, then we better get to Andy Thomas first,” Big Ed concluded.
“Do you think
they’ve found out that he managed to get a call through to us, and either know, or can guess, what he told us? If we knew one way or the other we might be able to use that to our advantage.”
“Since we have no way of knowing, that’s not a card you can afford to play. It could backfire badly.”
“His time is running out, Chief. It’s been nearly three days now.”
“Get Neskahi to round up the search
team and send them back out there twenty-four/seven. You and Justine keep working Agent Thomas’s last case and see where it leads you.”
Ella nodded. “I’m going to ask for Sheriff Taylor’s help again. Social Security Administration gave me the names of two people who’d requested a change of address and I’ve verified that both are deceased. Since social security checks will come out in a day or
two, I’m going to request a stakeout on the post office boxes those checks are being mailed to so we can see who shows.”
“Taylor’s a good man. He’ll put his best people on it.”
“It’s also time for me to follow up another hunch,” she said, recalling the seeds she’d extracted from the SUV in Krause’s garage.
“Care to share?” he asked pointedly.
“Actually, Chief, no. Give me a chance to work
things out in my own head first.”
“All right, but you should know that Agent Simmons called me earlier this morning. He finally got into Albuquerque late last night on the red-eye, and is going to—get this—take a quick hop to Flagstaff and ‘motivate those slugs’ searching the Arizona side of the Rez. He plans on returning to Albuquerque later today, then catch an evening flight into Farmington.
Simmons should be in Shiprock by nightfall. If we don’t have this thing wrapped up, or close to wrapped up, by then, he swears he’ll dig up every fed he can and blanket the Four Corners. Simmons probably knows that it won’t make much difference, and may make things worse, but my guess is that he’s been reamed out by his own superiors and is trying to save his own butt. So go out there and get
the job done, Shorty, before he adds to our problems,” Big Ed ordered.
BOOK: White Thunder
13.56Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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