Ghost Medicine (23 page)

“I’m okay,” Ella said, staying
low but inching out from the wall, hoping to provide cover for the upcoming assault.

Two SWAT members carrying MP-5 submachine guns with attached flashlights provided cover for a third officer, who carried a battering ram.

The officer looked at the lead officer to his right and, getting a nod, swung the ram, breaking the lock away from the jamb.

The SWAT leader, pistol in one hand and the shield
in the other, gave the door a mighty kick, and it swung open with a crunch.

A shot went off inside, and the officer with the shield flinched as a bullet clanged against the metal shield, ricocheting off into the wall.

Both men beside him returned fire, then advanced into the room. “Drop your weapon!” one of the SWAT team members yelled.

There was another shot, then the sound of a door slamming.

Ella reached the shattered entrance, Blalock behind her, and in the soft glow of a hall light saw the silhouettes of the SWAT team. All four were crouched low in the living room, their weapons trained on a door down a short hall. The SWAT leader called for the next move via his radio link. “Tear gas, front bedroom.”

Ten seconds passed before there was a muffled bang; then tear gas began to seep
from beneath the door. Ella quickly detected the fumes, and her lungs started to react. Moving fast, she and Blalock backed out of the house and into the yard.

Less than a minute later, they heard the sound of loud coughing, followed by several men yelling “Clear!” in succession.

Robert Kirk, coughing and cursing, was led out of the house by two members of the SWAT team. His hands were handcuffed
behind his back.

One of the officers still inside turned on the porch and house lights, and suddenly everything became brighter.

Kirk was ordered to lie facedown on the grass by the SWAT team leader, but seeing he was still in distress, Blalock jogged over to a garden hose coiled by a faucet. “He needs to be hosed down,” he said.

The SWAT leader nodded his okay, and Blalock turned on the water.
“Sit up and close your eyes,” Blalock told Kirk, coming closer, then spraying his face and hands with a fine mist from the sprinkler head.

After the SWAT team’s medic wiped the prisoner’s face and arms with a cloth soaked in some kind of neutralizer, Kirk was ready to be questioned.

Ella and Blalock were soon joined by a young sheriff’s deputy, who began reading Kirk his rights.

“Save it for
someone who cares, kid,” Kirk said, shaking his head. His eyes were red, floating in tears from the aftereffects.

“You might want to save yourself some prison time by helping us out, Kirk. Where’s your partner?” Blalock asked.

“If you’re looking for Billy, you’re wasting your time. He’s long gone.”

“Where is he?” Blalock said.

“How should I know?”

“How long have you been selling O’Donnell
county property?” Blalock demanded.

Kirk sighed, a sad, resigned expression on his face. “A year and half, maybe two. In the beginning, it was a real sweet deal—no one got hurt, not even the department. I only removed inventory that was scheduled to be destroyed, either because it was confiscated weaponry, obsolete, or surplus. All that crap was just taking up space. I had a set of keys that
gave me access, and it seemed a shame not to get rid of the stuff and make a buck. Billy’s old man didn’t have a clue what was going on.…” His voice trailed off at the end, and he shook his head slowly, clearly defeated.

Ella looked at him curiously. Though it wasn’t fancy, Sergeant Kirk had a nice home, a decent vehicle, and, being employed and single, was probably not hurting for money. “You
draw a good salary from county. Why did you risk it all like this?”

“I gave twenty years to the department, but I never made it past sergeant. My time was almost up, so this was my last chance to score before I was put out to pasture. I wanted money to travel anywhere I chose—first class. The way I saw it, I had nothing to lose,” he said, and shrugged.

“But why get greedy now?” Ella pressed.
“You could have retired with a decent pension and taken it easy for the rest of your life. Or you could have chosen a new career. Now you’ll be going to prison.”

“Six months—max.”

“Not with Harry Ute’s death on your hands,” Ella said, pushing just to see how he would react.

“You mean the Navajo PI on Billy’s trail?” Seeing her nod, he perked up and continued. “Hell, Billy and I had nothing
to do with his death. Okay, we’ll cop to firebombing your unit with that cooking oil. I was the guy behind the wheel. But that was just a sideshow to misdirect the investigation of the stolen inventory. Trust me, neither of us were involved in any shooting.”

“If that’s true, and you give us something we can use, we might be able to cut you a deal,” Blalock said. “You don’t want to go into the
general population with the other inmates.”

“Billy’s not a killer. A thief, yes, a con man, absolutely, but a killer? No way. He doesn’t have the stones.”

“Do you?” Ella asked, continuing to push.

“If you think I blew that PI away, you’re way off the mark. Okay, so I took stuff the county was going to end up chopping into scrap metal or recycling, but murder?” He shook his head. “No way. In
twenty years, I’ve never even fired my weapon on duty. I know what it’s like to have your days cut short.”

“I don’t follow you,” Ella said.

“I’m dying. I’ve got pancreatic cancer. I look perfectly normal, don’t I?” He shrugged. “They found a mass, and what lies ahead for me ain’t pretty.”

“Then why on earth did you risk the time you had left?” Ella said.

“Don’t
you
want to die on your own
terms? I was hoping to take the dirt nap while lying on a beach in Costa Rica. I wanted to know how the one percent lives for a month or two. You read me?”

“Yeah. But now you’ll die in jail, or prison,” Ella said.

“Hey, all I needed was a few more months and I’d be outta here. It was a calculated risk,” he said.

“You should have taken longer to calculate,” Blalock said. “Where were you last
Tuesday between noon and four?”

“At the hospital, getting more tests. I spent the whole day there. You’ll have plenty of corroboration,” Kirk said.

As the county officers led him over to a squad car, Ella and Blalock talked to the county crime team now working the scene. A big exhaust fan had been set up and was venting the gas from the interior of the house.

Justine, who’d been with the officers
covering the back, joined them inside once it was safe to enter without a mask.

“Deputies have already found items stolen from county in two closets, including computers with altered serial numbers, four handguns, and two vests with ceramic body armor inserts,” Justine reported. “But there’s nothing here that connects him to Harry’s murder.”

“Then there’s a third player out there, one we haven’t
identified yet—maybe the shooter.” Ella examined the vests found in a box in the study. “Kirk didn’t bother wearing either of these. I think once he realized that he wasn’t getting away, his plan shifted to suicide by cop. That would have solved his biggest problem.”

“Pancreatic cancer is particularly nasty, Ella. I had a cousin who passed away from that. Believe me, it’s a real hard way to go,”
Blalock said, his voice somber. “I think that once Kirk found out what he was up against, he laid it all on the line, figuring he’d either get rich or eat a bullet. I don’t think he factored in the possibility that he’d end up in jail.”

“All things considered, does it really matter?” Justine said. “If you’re going to die and there’s no hope, what difference does it make where you are at the time?
If it was me, all I’d really want is enough morphine to be in la-la land when the reaper showed up.”

“I’d fight every step of the way,” Ella said.

Blalock shrugged. “There are battles you can’t win. Face it, we’re here, then we’re gone. No one checks out alive.”

SEVENTEEN

Once the house was searched, Justine was given permission to access Kirk’s laptop computer. Typing with gloved hands, she got down to work quickly.

“His files aren’t encrypted,” she told Ella, “and there’s one in particular you’re going to find interesting. It has the list of items he’s taken from county, apparently for years, and it includes a lot more than what we saw on Harry’s
list. Kirk even snagged an old trencher used for heavy-duty digging, a radial arm saw, and a drill press taken from a burglary raid. The rightful owners were never found, so they stayed locked up in storage.”

“Why on earth would he
keep
a list like that?” Blalock asked. “That’s as good as a signed confession.”

“Thieves rarely believe they’ll get caught,” Ella said. “Or in this case, maybe Kirk
wanted people to know what he’d done
after
he died—a last in-your-face type of thing.”

“Maybe,” Blalock said, “but none of this ties him directly to Harry Ute. Is it possible for us to get a look at Ute’s actual case file? Even in the private sector, he must have had some written record of what he’d done up to the time he died.”

“Teeny said he gave Harry plenty of space. We accessed the backups
of his laptop files but there were no specifics other than what I’ve already told you about,” Ella said. “It’s possible Teeny’s got more information he hasn’t shared with me in addition to his client’s name, but legally I can’t force his hand. All I can do is go talk to him again.”

“You’ll have better luck without me there,” Blalock said. “I’ll follow the deputies to the station and give them
a statement. While I’m there, I’ll check to see if their people lifted any prints off that money clip—other than O’Donnell’s, that is.”

About fifteen minutes later, Ella and Justine were on their way back to the Rez. It was already nearly nine thirty, but their workday wasn’t over yet. As they crossed the border into tribal land, Justine’s phone rang and she spoke to Benny briefly.

After she
hung up, Ella looked at her partner. “I didn’t hear his side, but from what you said, it sounded like Benny was upset.”

“No, that’s not it. He knows we work long hours. He’s a police officer, too. It’s just that…”

Ella didn’t interrupt. Long pauses were common among Navajos. She’d learned to wait.

“He has a double standard. He can’t always call me ahead of time when he’s working a case, and
I don’t sweat it, because I figure it goes with the badge. Yet when the reverse happens, like me not calling, he acts as if I’ve let him down, that I should have found a way to let him know. It’s been hours since I called and canceled dinner. He was worried, not hearing from me.”

“If you want to keep Benny around, find a way to work it out. Ignoring the problem means it’ll stay beneath the surface
and blow up when you least expect it.”

“Is that why you’re so careful around Dan? You’re afraid your relationship will blow up in your face?” Justine said.

“You bet,” Ella said. “He’s fun, Justine, and sexy, too, but there are a lot of things I still don’t know about him. He’s not the type to talk about his feelings over tea.”

“What cop is? Try single malt scotch,” Justine said.

Ella laughed.
“Okay, partner, drive. I’ve got some things to think through, and I’m hoping to get home before midnight.”

Forty minutes later, they were inside Teeny’s main room. Though surrounded by computers, the leather couch and chairs in the center were soft and comfortable. As she settled into the cushions, Ella suddenly realized how tired she was. Looking at the watch, she saw it was close to ten.

“You ladies want a cup of coffee? You look beat,” Teeny said. “It’s a strong Italian blend. It should give you some energy, or at least prop those eyes open a few more hours.”

They both took a cup of the steaming liquid, then accepted his offer of fresh cream.

After a few minutes, Teeny spoke again. “I’m glad you two dropped by. I finally have permission to tell you who my client is, but please
keep this as private as possible.” Seeing them both nod, he continued. “It’s Sheriff Taylor. He hired my firm because he wasn’t sure who he could trust inside the department.”

“I had a feeling about that,” Ella said.

“Taylor’s determined to avoid a scandal. This happened on his watch, and if it doesn’t get resolved quickly, it could cost him his job. He’s doing his best to keep it out of the
press—that is, until he has the perp in handcuffs.”

Ella nodded, lost in thought. “H had lots of friends in county, people who knew and trusted him.”

“That’s why I assigned him the case,” Teeny said, then continued. “I’ve got some other news, too. I did a comprehensive background check on the residents in the vicinity of where H’s body was found. Truman John, it turns out, has an interesting
past.”

“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Justine said, “and the background check that was run for his teaching job showed he was clean.”

“You didn’t go back far enough. To find the interesting stuff, you would have had to check his family, too. Herman John, Truman’s grandfather, lived just outside of Greasewood, Arizona. His neighbors thought
he
was a skinwalker, too. Then one day
Herman just disappeared. Word has it that his neighbors got together, killed the old man, and buried him out in the desert.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Ella said, remembering the story Clifford had told her. “By any chance, did that all start with a land dispute?”

Teeny nodded. “That’s what I heard.”

“How did you get the information? Is it reliable?” Ella asked.

He nodded. “I made time to
go talk to some of our old ones, like Ely Benally, who lives over by Little Shiprock Wash.”

“So, if the rumor’s true, Truman may have learned about skinwalkers from his grandfather,” Ella said.

“Or maybe they’re both victims of gossip,” Justine said.

“Yeah, and your guesses are as good as mine,” he said. “The key to solving this is finding out what H was doing parked all the way out there southwest
of Rattlesnake. Once you do that, I think the answers will come to you.”

“This case keeps getting tougher with each passing hour. Every time it looks like something’s about to break, we hit another roadblock.” Ella rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “Did you ever find any additional notes on the case, something H might have handwritten and left behind on his desk?”