Earthway (30 page)

Blalock fell behind almost immediately, and she could hear his wheezy, labored breathing. “Clah, where’s he going, to the top of the hill so he can—what,
fly off?”

“Go back to the four-wheel drive,” she called between breaths. “Make sure he can’t get to the highway.” For a man close to sixty, Blalock was in good shape, but this was no weekend run. The terrain was uphill and uneven. “I can outdistance him,” Ella added. “Keep him moving up while I circle around and cut him off.”

As she raced around the hill in an intercept course, she saw the suspect
slowing down, looking around in a panic for a place to hide. The rocky hill was naked of vegetation higher than grass, however, and there were only a few rock formations big enough to provide any cover at all. She stopped and watched as he circled a big rock, then slipped down into a gap where the shade quickly hid him from view.

She waved to Blalock, who’d driven up, and pointed to the hiding
place as she approached from above and behind.

For a minute she was reminded of a rattler seeking cover under a rock. If you reached in, or got too close, it would strike. Ella moved in cautiously, gun drawn, then peered down into the dark, narrow crevice. The split in the rocks extended to the far side of the hill, but it was clear there was no safe exit at that end. The only way out was to
jump—more than a hundred feet straight down—onto a rock-covered slope.

Ella climbed around to the place where he’d dropped down, then stood there, blocking the exit, her pistol drawn. “Ernest Haske, I’m Special Investigator Clah of the Navajo Tribal Police. Give up and climb out,” she said. “Unless you can sprout wings, you’re not going anywhere.”

The man didn’t answer, looking back at the drop-off,
desperately trying to find another option.

“You don’t have any way out of this, guy, except past me. Be reasonable and climb back up. Keep in mind that I can sit here and wait you out. There are others who would come up and spell me when I got tired or hungry, but you don’t have that choice.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” he said after a long pause. He was halfway up the crevice when he muttered a curse,
grunted, and stopped.

“Don’t play games, Ernest. I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Ella said.

“I’m not playing with you, I’m stuck,” he said. “I had the two-way on my belt, and now I’m jammed tight.”

“So take your belt off,” Ella said.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Two minutes later, Haske emerged. He held one hand up in the air, but his jeans had slid down around his hips and he was using his other
hand to hold them up. “Let me go back for my belt. I’ve lost weight and these pants won’t stay up.”

“Stay where you are,” she ordered.

Blalock appeared just then, breathing hard, and slipped far enough into the crevice to grab the belt. Seconds later the man was handcuffed.

“Why did you run?” Blalock demanded.

“I didn’t know you were cops. I owe money to the pueblo casinos and I thought you
guys were here to collect.”

“Try the truth,” Ella said.

“I want a lawyer,” he answered.

“Okay, play it your way,” Blalock said. “Makes my life easier, turning you over to Homeland Security. The bombing of a school . . . well, that goes under the category of terrorism.” Blalock shrugged.

“No, wait a minute,” he said quickly. “Terrorist? No way, man. I’m a good American.”

“Thing is, Ernest,
you’ve got access to explosives. In fact, you’re the one who buys them for Valley Construction, and we know there’s a big discrepancy between what was ordered and what Gary Ute has on hand. Since he doesn’t order the explosives—you do—that makes you a person of interest,” Blalock said. “Hey, don’t worry. I hear Guantanamo isn’t all that hot this time of year.”

“No, listen, you can’t turn me over
to the military. I’ve got nothing to do with that bombing. I just do a little business on the side, that’s all.”

“What kind of business?” Ella snapped, urging him back down the mountain.

“A lot of small construction companies on the Rez are subcontractors on bigger jobs. Problem is, they don’t have the permits they need to get explosives that’ll cut away a hillside or break loose stubborn rocks.
That’s when they come to me. I provide them with small amounts of both explosives and detonators—just enough to do the job,” he said, then added, “We make a small profit, that’s all.”

“Meaning you and Gary Ute?” Ella pressed.

“Well, um, Gary’s doing real well for himself, and subcontractors get paid, too, so actually I’m picking up the extra money. That way Gary doesn’t have to give me a raise.”

“How noble of you,” Ella said. “Then Gary approves of this little side operation—which, of course, is illegal?”

“I never told him about it. I work long, hard hours, and I never complain. I figure it all balances out in the long run.”

“You’re a treasure,” Blalock spat out.

As Ella loaded him into the back of the tribal SUV, Gary
Ute came over. Once the prisoner was secure, Ella told Gary what
they’d learned.

“That piece of slime,” he said, his fists clenched. “I trusted him, and now he’s going to rain down all kinds of crap on my company.”

“We’ll need to track down the people he sold the explosives to, but you’ll probably be cleared of any charges. He’s already admitted that you were in the dark about this. Unless we discover otherwise, you’ll undoubtedly keep your license,” Ella
said.

“Will I need an attorney?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t hurt to provide initial representation for him and yourself in order to protect your company, but from what we’ve heard so far, it’s likely he’ll be the only one going down. You’ll be called to testify against him, though,” she responded.

“No problem,” he said, understandably relieved.

On the way back to the station, Ella noted that Blalock’s
color and breathing were normal now.

“I’m going to have to start working out again,” he muttered.

“If you want a jogging partner, I’d be glad to come along.”

“Great. You’re bound to have enough breath left over to call the paramedics,” Blalock said, laughing.

E
lla and Blalock split a can of soda while taking a break in Ella’s office. They’d wanted to let Haske wait—and worry—before questioning him.

After thirty minutes they went into the interrogation room, and found Haske eager to cooperate.

Ella slid a notepad and pen across the desk. “You can start by giving me a list of your customers.”

“They’re all
legitimate businesses.” He wrote down four names and the companies they worked for, then pushed the notepad back to Ella. “I was making their lives a little easier, that’s all. Permits cost money. This way, they saved some, I made some, and nobody got hurt.”

Ella studied the list. She recognized all but one of the names. “Anyone else? And keep in mind that if I find out that this is incomplete,
I’ll fry your butt. You get me?”

“That’s it, I swear.”

Ella reached into the file she’d brought in and pulled out Whitefeather’s photo. It had been cropped so that only his face showed. “Do you recognize this man?”

He studied the photo, then leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Don’t know him.”

“Take another look,” Blalock said.

Haske did as he asked, and then shook his head once
again.

“I recognize three of the names and the companies on your list, but not this last one,” Ella said. “I’ve never heard of Jim Nafus or Roadrunner Construction.”

“Guy’s an Anglo. He works off the Rez.”

“So how did you two hook up?” Ella asked.

“He used to work for Valley Construction as a day laborer. We sometimes need extra help, so we hire temporary workers.”

“How often did you sell
explosives to Nafus?”

He considered the question for several moments. “I think I’ve sold to him twice. He’s the new foreman at Roadrunner Construction. They’ve got a small operating budget and low credit, so he was looking for ways to save the company money up front.”

“We’ll be back in a few minutes.” Ella stood and signaled Blalock. “See if you can remember anything else. If you do, write it
down.”

Blalock met her out in the hall. “What’s up?”

Seeing Justine farther down the hall, Ella called her over. “Forget about seeing Kim Mike at all today. I want you to check out Jim Nafus and Roadrunner Construction,” Ella said, then motioned Blalock back to her office. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to proceed with Haske,” she said, still standing, but offering him a seat.

“What
have you got in mind?” Blalock responded, sitting and putting his feet up on her desk.

“With his access to explosives, Haske might be an asset we can turn. . . .” Before she could continue, Justine came to the door.

“I couldn’t find Nafus or Roadrunner in the phone book. I’ll need a little more time.”

“Okay. Think in terms of a small company—and new. Check with the phone company and county
records.”

As Justine walked away, Blalock spoke. “Haske would be a great asset, but let’s give him a few more minutes to worry before we offer him a deal.”

A moment later Justine ducked her head into Ella’s office. “I just got a call from Betsy at the Save More. Whitefeather’s there. He’s driving an oversized white truck, but she can’t see what make it is from where she’s standing. She did notice
that it has a PAL, Police Athletic League, sticker on the rear bumper. If we hurry, we might be able to get there before he leaves.”

“Let’s go,” Ella said. “Blalock and I will ride together. You take another unmarked and we’ll work in tandem so he can’t make us.”

Seeing Anna coming out of the lab, Ella went over to meet her. “We’ve got Ernest Haske in room B. If we’re gone for more than thirty
minutes, offer him a cup of coffee and a bathroom break, then put him back in the interrogation room. Tell him we’re checking out his story.”

“No problem.”

Ella and Blalock were back in his sedan five minutes later. “Tailing a suspect at night is going to be tricky,” he said.

“That’s why I’m getting Justine’s help. We’ll have to stick close.”

“What part do you think Whitefeather plays in all
this?” Blalock asked. “You think he could have planted the bomb and been the shooter in both incidents?”

“He certainly has the skill levels necessary, and his position of trust would give him some latitude and access. The night of the attempted break-in at Ford’s house, Deputy Whitefeather showed up almost immediately, then admitted being one of the officers who helped at the bomb scene earlier.
No better way than that to get a close look at the results. The county lab also insists he never signed over the bullet I recovered from Ford’s porch. Being Navajo, he might have a
serious problem with the power plant, nuclear or not,” she answered. “But what’s really bugging me is that Ford can’t remember where he first met him. My instincts tell me we’re missing an important connection.”

“Trust
your instincts. If it happened during Tome’s previous occupation, that could be a motive for the attacks—not Ford’s code-breaking efforts. Whitefeather may have had no problem remembering Ford. Have you been able to find any connection between Whitefeather and Dr. Lee, romantic or otherwise?”

“Not so far, but your speculation about Ford and Whitefeather intrigues me. We’ll have to follow up on
that. Without a motive, we can’t be sure, but at this point we’ve got more reason to suspect Whitefeather than we do anyone else who fits the profile.”

“Which makes it even more important that we find out where Whitefeather lives,” Blalock observed.

“Yeah. I’m also trying to find out what clan he belongs to, or anything else that’ll give us some personal information about him. Unfortunately,
we can’t get access to his personnel files without turning too many heads.”

“I’m guessing you asked your family to ask around? The Navajo network?”

She nodded. “It was the best way of making off-the-cuff sounding inquiries that wouldn’t necessarily get back to him.”

He nodded slowly.

“In fact, let me call my mother right now and see if she’s got something for me.” Ella tried her mother at
home and Rose picked up on the third ring.

“You sound kind of winded, Mom, are you all right?” Ella asked quickly.

“Yes, daughter, I’m fine. I ran to the phone, that’s all. I just got back from my Plant Watchers meeting.”

“Anything on the person I asked you about?” she asked, avoiding the name this time.

“Your brother and I know just about everyone on this part of the reservation—if not individually,
we can usually link them to their clan. It’s part of being Navajo and knowing that we’re all connected. But this man is a complete stranger to us.”

Ella heard Clifford’s voice in the background. “What about my brother? Did he have better luck?”

Her mother asked, and Ella heard Clifford’s negative reply. “We’ll keep trying, daughter,” Rose said.

“Thanks, Mom. Thank my brother, too.”

“Are you
coming for dinner?”

“Probably not. Just leave a piece of tamale pie in the fridge and I’ll get it when I come home.”

Ella hung up and glanced at Blalock. “A Navajo without family or a clan is almost an impossibility. Clans include second and third cousins and so on. I can’t even imagine not being able to track him down through his relatives.”