Authors: David Thurlo
Despite the long day—it was nearly eleven—Ella wanted to pool information and talk strategy so they could start on the run tomorrow morning. Seeing Nez, wearing a visitor’s ID around his neck, appear at the door, Ella gestured for him to come in.
The sheriff’s detective glanced at the others. “If I’m interrupting, I can wait,” he
said.
“No, we’re working together now, so you belong here.” Ella told everyone what she’d learned about the victims from Carolyn.
“Sergeant Marquez and I interviewed most of the off-reservation residents within a mile of the fence line. They all agreed on one thing—the local high school kids love to go to the Hogback area to party and cut loose—Kirtland Central and Shiprock both,” Dan said.
“I can’t see these murders as something that was carried out by high-school-aged kids,” Justine said. “They were premeditated, and we’re talking about a span of years, too.”
“But here’s the thing,” Ella said. “Any of the kids who party in that area could have witnessed something. Does anyone know a high school kid who’d talk freely to us?” Ella asked, looking around. “Keep in mind that, judging
from the tracks and other evidence, the killer has been in the area, maybe scouting out the place in preparation for his next victim.”
“My nephew goes to Shiprock High and I’ve already given him a call,” Dan said. “He told me that it’s a regular hangout, but the only people he’s ever seen there are kids his age. He’s going to ask around and see what his friends have to say.”
“Did you tell him
what was going on?” Ella asked him.
“Not the particulars, no,” Nez said, “but the story will be public knowledge soon enough. The networks carried it and there was Internet coverage.”
Ella nodded, accepting the truth. These days news traveled at lightning speed. “We need to move quickly on this and get answers, people. These murders have been going on for years, so I don’t think this is over
yet. If this is a yearly thing for our suspect, he may already have his next victim in mind.”
“What about that shooting incident at the abandoned trading post? There’s no doubt the boy was the target?” Dan asked.
“None,” Ella answered.
“I also saw the red spot on the boy’s forehead just as my partner reacted,” Justine said.
“Okay then. Does anyone know why the boy was attacked?”
“He wouldn’t
admit it, but evidence indicates that he’s been playing near the grave sites,” Ella said. “Maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have. Our suspect doesn’t strike me as the type to leave loose ends.”
“Where’s the kid now?” Dan asked.
“The family’s staying with a relative,” Ella said. “I’ve got an officer watching them now. Tomorrow, I’m going back to see if I can get him to loosen up a bit.”
Ella turned to Sergeant Neskahi, who’d been silent up to now. “Any word on today’s manhunt for the shooter?”
“We had a dozen officers combing the area, both tribal and county but, somehow, he slipped past all of us.”
“I turned the rounds we retrieved from Ella’s vest over to county because your department can handle things like that faster than we can,” Justine said looking at Dan. “Have the
bullets been processed?”
He nodded. “That’s one of the things I came to tell you. I’m having the results e-mailed to your lab, but here’s what it comes down to. All the bullets used on the vics and on Ella, including that pair of AP slugs, were fired by the
same
weapon—a nine-millimeter Glock. It looks to me that the snake-eyes killer was at the scene today.”
“Snake-eyes killer?” Ella asked.
“One of our county techs suggested the tag. The roll of the dice found near the graves, two shots in each skull—you get the idea,” Dan said, then shrugged.
“Any way of tracking who bought those AP rounds?” Joe asked. “Maybe we could narrow down which local agency may have purchased some for their department, or see if there are any reports of thefts of that type of ammunition.”
“That particular
round was discontinued about five years ago, and the manufacturer recalled all unsold inventory,” Justine said. “Some kind of powder instability problem in a batch. But I’ll see who ordered locally, and check the crime reports and see if we can get any hits on stolen ordnance.”
“Do that, then. But let’s also settle on a plan of action,” Ella said. “Our first priority is identifying the victims.
Justine, I want you to get the best description Carolyn can give you of each of the victims—size, weight, age, anything that’ll narrow things down. Then I want you, Joe, and Benny to work together, and compare that to the list of missing whose time frames match. Pay particular attention to Kelewood—I’ve already suggested the name to Dr. Roanhorse.”
“Not every Navajo who disappears is reported
missing,” Benny said. “Even before the economy went south, people around here often dropped out of sight or drove off unannounced.”
“We’ll have to work with what we have,” Ella said.
When their meeting came to a close, Dan stepped out to meet with Police Chief Big Ed Atcitty, who was still at the station despite the late hour. Ella was about to join them when Justine approached.
“Earlier today
I ran Chester Kelewood’s height and time of disappearance against that of the most recent murder victim,” Justine said. “They’re a match. Maybe we’ll get lucky and be able to make at least one positive ID.”
“Do you think these people were killed so their identities could be stolen?” Ella asked her. “It sounds a little extreme, but that would fit with the check-cashing scam that started our day.”
“Yeah, but why wait a year to try and pass a bad check?” Justine said.
“Patience, stupidity, who knows?”
“I’ll look into it and see how far I get.”
As Justine walked away, Ella glanced around. Dan was gone now, but Big Ed had remained behind. “My office,” he said with a toss of his head.
Ella followed him down the hall. Over the years she’d learned to read Big Ed, and right now, judging from
his purposeful strides despite the late hour, she knew that he had an agenda. Their meeting wouldn’t just be a request for an update.
At his invitation, she took a seat across from his desk and waited for him to begin.
“You were shot today—twice—and if you hadn’t been wearing a vest you’d either be in intensive care or one of Roanhorse’s patients. I want you and your team to continue to play
it smart. And speaking of that, did you have someone look at those injuries? I noticed you flinching when you sat down.”
“Dr. Roanhorse looked me over,” Ella said. “It’s just bruising. I’ll be sore for a few days.”
He looked at her closely. “Take care of yourself, Shorty,” he said, using the nickname he’d given Ella, though at five foot nine inches, she was taller than most other Navajo women.
“And keep me updated on this case. I want you to make it your team’s top priority. I’m in talks with the tribal president and the council. Any progress you make—or fail to make—will have an impact on those.”
Ella looked at him, surprised. Big Ed wasn’t the type who played politics, and this seemed out of character.
“I’ll do the best I can, Chief. I’ve already pulled Marianna Talk for special
duty, guarding the child who was targeted this afternoon, but we need more manpower. Even with county sharing the load, we’re going to be handicapped working on a shoestring budget. Just today’s overtime is going to cost us a bundle.”
“I know, that’s why I’m meeting with the president and the council. It’s no secret that the tribal funds are tight, but I want them to know the pressure we’re under,
even though we can’t expect much help from them.” He leaned back in his chair, took a breath, then let it out slowly. “I’ve also spent the last few months working on a federal grant that, among other things, will give us the funds needed to upgrade the crime scene van. Let’s face it, that old hand-me-down we got from the sheriff’s department is barely adequate.”
“It’s been giving us problems,
that’s for sure,” Ella said. “A few weeks ago the van refused to start. Then as soon as the engine was fixed, the refrigeration unit broke down. All in all, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before evidence is compromised. Today it worked, but a month from now, when it really gets hot, we could have problems.”
“This investigation is going to generate a lot of publicity, and our elected officials
are going to want answers quickly. This is the perfect time for me to point out that we’re currently working with insufficient resources. But I need you to give me something straight.”
He paused, and as his silence stretched out, she waited. She’d learned the hard way never to interrupt the chief or try to press him.
“I know you hate speculating, but I need you to do just that. Are we really
up against a serial killer, and is it likely he’s going to strike again?”
Ella hesitated, then nodded. “Based on the little we know and today’s incident, I’d say yes. He’s also very smart, careful when it comes to leaving any evidence behind. None of the rounds collected match anything we can link to any other crimes, so until we find the weapon, we’ve got nothing except the bodies themselves.”
“Those two AP rounds are available only to law enforcement. Someone in that career field knows about evidence collection—and how to minimize a trail.” He added, “You think we might be dealing with a cop?”
“We can’t rule that out, and it would explain how he managed to slip out of the area after the trading post incident. Nobody paid much attention to the other officers or their vehicles. But
what would be the motive?” Ella asked.
“To a serial killer, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time is often enough, and police officers face a world of stress and tragedy that can turn them upside down. I just hope that’s not the case. What do you think was going on today that led to the shooting?” Big Ed said, leaning forward in his chair.
“My guess is that he was scouting out the
area, in preparation for his next hit, when he came across the boy. Once he realized he’d been seen, and we’d found the bodies, he tried to neutralize that witness—his first major mistake that we know about. Now that he’s failed, he may go to ground, or at the very least, he’s going to be more cautious next time. He’ll probably scout out another burial site. With luck that’ll set back his schedule
and give us the opportunity to track him down before he can strike again.”
“I hope so. The press is going to be all over this,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. TV and the Internet already have the story and by tomorrow it’ll also be the front page headline in all the local newspapers.”
“What there are left of them,” he said.
Ella nodded. The
Diné Times
had cut back to publishing only twice a week,
and the statewide papers and the Farmington daily were clearly in trouble. The afternoon paper in Albuquerque, second largest in the state, had expired two years ago. These days, most newspapers seemed to be on life support. “They ran into problems when they could no longer compete with real-time news, and advertising revenue fell off due to the recession. Now their only salvation is to give readers
more in-depth, local pieces that can’t be found on the Internet or TV. That’s why the reporters are getting so aggressive. They’re fighting for their jobs.”
“Watch your back on this one, Shorty—literally.”
“Always.”
Ella walked out of the chief’s office, and hearing her stomach growl, checked the time. She hadn’t eaten since noon, when an officer had brought pizza for the crime scene unit.
Dinner at home had probably been consigned to the refrigerator by now, but her mother’s leftovers were second to none. Looking forward to that, she got ready to leave.
Ella passed Justine in the hall and asked, “Are you on your way home?”
Her partner nodded. “You asked me to talk to Emily, and this is the best time to catch her. She should still be up, tending the plants in her greenhouse, and
we can walk around and talk. It’s how we both decompress at the end of the day.”
“You like having her around, don’t you?”
Justine nodded. “When I first moved into that house, I thought being alone was great. For the first time in my life I didn’t have seven brothers and sisters in my face. For a while, I loved the silence,” she said. “But as the months went by, I found the quiet … unnatural.
I started to bring people over more often, but that’s not the same thing as actually sharing a home.”
Ella nodded. “It would take me a long time to get used to living alone again. I haven’t done that since my years in the FBI. I thrived on action back then, and my apartment was just a place to sleep, shower, and change clothes.”
“Have you ever wondered what it’ll be like for you once Dawn goes
away to college?”
“Are you kidding?” Ella laughed. “I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to survive her high school years!”
They parted company in the parking lot and Ella drove the SUV home. Dawn might still be up, and if she was, Ella intended to spend some time with her. Although rigid bedtimes weren’t really part of traditional Navajo culture, the Modernist in her insisted that Dawn
be in her room no later than ten. Months ago, that had meant Dawn would be asleep, or nearly so, shortly thereafter. Now, more often than not, she’d find her twelve-year-old still on the computer. That was why Ella had implemented a new rule. No social networking after nine.
As Ella walked through the living room door, Rose, who’d been sitting in her chair reading, looked up from her book with
a worried look on her weathered face. “Are you okay? I heard that there was a lot going on today.”
Although that was all she’d said, Ella heard more in her mother’s worried voice. Rose hated what Ella did for a living, though she understood the part it played in helping others walk in beauty. Hopefully, word about the shooting wouldn’t reach her for at least a few more days.
“I’m glad you hired
your brother to do a Sing for you and the others,” Rose continued. “Under the circumstances, you all needed more protection than a gun could give you. And it seems to be working already. Your second cousin said your vest stopped a bullet this afternoon.”
“I wish Justine hadn’t told you.”