Never-ending-snake Read online

  “I’m on my way as we speak,” Ella answered. “Our ETA is ten minutes, give or take. But while I’ve got you on the phone, has the Bureau in D.C. turned up anything new?”

  “Nothing on the mugging or the threats with an obvious connection to what went down here. I also spoke to ATF as well as local law enforcement to see if any pawn shops and gun dealers in the Four Corners have been under investigation, or even under watch. One name came up—Dan Butler—someone I know has sold more than his share of assault rifles this past year.”

  “Friend of yours?” Ella asked.

  “Not a friend, no, but I know him. Word has it that he’s the go-to arms merchant for area militia and doomsday groups. Dan’s acquired a rep for being able to get whatever weapon a client wants—just so long as they’re legal. He’s got a clear record and wants to keep it that way. Dan also has the skills to work on virtually any firearm ever made. That’s what has made him a favorite of local gun enthusiasts, and not just the nut jobs.”

  “If the gunmen at the airstrip were local, then he may have done business with them,” Ella said, concurring. “We need to talk to Butler. Helping us bring down those who attacked a local hero will earn him a lot of goodwill. That should give us a bit of leverage.”

  “Agreed. I’ll see you when you get here. After we talk to Tolino, we may want to head over to Dan’s shop in Farmington.”

  As Ella closed up the cell phone, she updated Justine. “With luck, Kevin will finally be able to shed some light on what happened.”

  After they arrived at the hospital, Ella followed the nurse’s directions and went to a private room at the end of a long hallway. A plainclothes officer Ella recognized as Tyler Sells was sitting to one side of Kevin’s door. Ella greeted him with a nod and went inside. Justine remained at the doorway, talking to the young officer. Glad for her partner’s insight into her methods, Ella went up to Kevin’s bed, ready for a one-to-one with him.

  “So much for coming home to some peace and quiet, huh?” he said with a wry grin.

  Ella pulled up a chair. “I hope you feel up to answering some tough questions.”

  “I can try, but I don’t know how much I can tell you. That whole thing at the airstrip came out of nowhere.” He paused. “I understand Adam’s in real bad shape.”

  “He took some nasty hits, Kev.”

  “Yeah, defending me. He’s the one who pushed me down, and pulled me behind cover. Saved my life. I’ll tell you one thing, I’m going to make sure that his family lacks for absolutely nothing while he’s laid up. And if he needs any rehab later . . .”

  “Are you two friends?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Adam’s difficult to get to know beyond a certain point—very private. But I understood him, man to man. He had a lot of drive, Ella, and big plans for his future.”

  “Funny you should say that,” she answered. “Do you know he was carrying seventy-five thousand dollars in cash in that briefcase of his?”

  Kevin stared at her, then blinked. “I don’t think my brain’s working right. Repeat what you just said.”

  Ella did and gave him the highlights.

  “Monopoly money, right? I got shot three times, and here you are messing with my mind?”

  “No, this was the real deal. The play money had been replaced with Uncle Sam’s finest, all Ben Franklins. The bills were in bundled stacks thick enough to stop a bullet, as a matter of fact.”

  “Adam’s barely scraping by right now. The cash can’t be his. Do you know where it came from?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me,” Ella answered.

  “I always carry some cash on business trips, and Adam does, too, but we’re talking a few hundred. I can’t explain a sum like that. The whole revelation sounds like something out of a movie.”

  “I’m open to any ideas you might have.”

  Kevin paused for a minute or two, taking a sip out of a glass using a straw, careful not to tangle the IV attached to his other arm. “Here’s a thought. Maybe Adam decided to do some freelance work—buying for a client back in D.C. Wholesalers who deal with tribal artisans often carry large sums onto the Rez. You need a big chunk to buy several Two Grey Hills rugs, or jewelry by the carload from Navajo silversmiths. Craftsmen doing wholesale business deep on the Rez don’t accept checks or credit cards.”

  “That’s an interesting possibility,” Ella said. “Can you think of anyone who might have hired him to work in that capacity?”

  “No, but Adam wasn’t exactly chatty. I don’t have the foggiest notion what he does on his own time.”

  “Is Adam an honest man, at least as far as you know?”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s why I went to bat on his behalf with Tribal Industries. In his job description they stipulated that he could only lobby for the tribe. That forced Adam to turn down offers from the city of Farmington and the state tourism board. I did my best to get that changed so he could add to his client list, but no dice,” Kevin said. “Thing is, Adam could have easily handled several accounts. He can pour on the charm and multitask like a seasoned politician.”

  “I’ve been considering the possibility that Adam was acting as a courier. Informants are usually paid for information and you’re building a case against one of the tribe’s most important contractors—the casino management firm.” Ella paused, then in a hard voice, added, “Are you sure you don’t know where that money came from, Kevin?”

  “I don’t,” he answered firmly. “He wasn’t carrying the money for me—or anyone else I know about. Besides, the tribe would never okay a sum like that to pay off informants, Ella. We just don’t have that kind of money lying around. And why would it be coming from D.C.?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just exploring possibilities.”

  “And on a personal note, I don’t have that kind of cash either. I could probably raise it by tapping into retirement accounts and savings, but not quickly.”

  “I understand your case relies on well-placed sources. I need their names.”

  “How did you—” He shook his head. “Never mind. But, Ella, you know better than to ask me something like that. They’ve trusted me to keep their identities secret until we go to court and, without them, I don’t have a strong enough case to nail these rip-off artists to the wall.”

  “I’ll protect their identities, Kevin, you have my word. But I’m going to have to push you on this. You and Adam appear to have been the intended targets, so I can’t afford to overlook the casino’s possible connection. By holding out on me, all you’re doing is helping the gunmen get away with what they did to you and Adam.”

  He exhaled loudly, then nodded. “The names are saved on my laptop in an encrypted text file, and the computer’s stashed away in my carry-on luggage.”

  “Then it’s in the department’s evidence room,” she said. “Thanks, Kevin.”

  “In those files you’ll also find scanned copies of receipts for phony purchases and inflated billing invoices from CEM, Casino Enterprises Management.” He paused and she could tell he was feeling weary. “And, Ella, one more thing. Do everything in your power not to scare or expose them. Without their testimony, my case may not be strong enough to prove criminal intent, only greed.”

  “I’ll be extremely careful, don’t worry,” Ella said. “Now tell me, how do I access your files?”

  He asked for a piece of paper, then gave her his password and the names of the folders they were in.

  Ella took the information and stood. “I better get going, but I’ll be text messaging our daughter next. She’s very worried about you.”

  “She and I have grown very close,” he said, his voice softening.

  Ella heard the love in his voice and smiled. “She adores you, Kev.”

  “Take the job in D.C., Ella. You and I have had to work hard for everything we’ve ever gotten. Make Dawn’s life a little easier by giving her the kind of opportunities we never had.”

  “This isn’t about what’s easy and what isn’t. It’s
about what’s right—for her, and for me. But I don’t want to think about all that now. I’ve got my hands full.”

  “I know,” he said. “And just between the two of us, I’ve been picking up some vibes concerning my own job in Washington. Maybe it’s political pressure, or the economy, but I’ve been hearing that tribal work in D.C. is going to be taking some budgetary hits. I may end up without a job, or at least be kept closer to home. That would be a plus, if you and Dawn stay on the Rez. But don’t let that affect your decision. My issue is still very much up in the air.”

  “I appreciate your honesty. By political pressure, you mean the casino lobby?”

  “Exactly. I get them, they get back at me. But, hey, I’m putting my money on me—us really.”

  “Smart bet,” Ella replied, then took a step back.

  “One more thing. Before you go, Ella, I’d like you to give me a straight answer. How’s Adam doing?”

  “He’s still in critical.” She was about to make a further comment when a nurse came into the room.

  “Investigator Clah, it’s time for patient meds, and Mr. Tolino will need to rest after that. You’ll have to leave now.”

  “I’m going.” Ella walked to the door and as she looked back, saw Kevin’s eyes close. She’d tired him out. Angry with herself, she went to meet Justine.

  “I’d like to check on Adam’s status,” Ella said.

  “I figured that, so I located his doctor. He’s on this floor right now.” She pointed ahead. “That’s him, Doctor Ward, the curly-haired one in the Hawaiian shirt with three young interns in tow.”

  Ella hurried toward the young-looking doctor, and, after identifying herself, took him aside. “I’m investigating the airport shooting incident, and need to speak to the gunshot victim, Adam Lonewolf, as soon as I can. Can you give me an idea of when you think that might be possible?” she asked, hoping that he’d be able to narrow things down for her.

  “I couldn’t say. Traumatic gunshot wounds like this are usually fatal. It helped getting him into surgery so quickly, and he’s doing better than expected, but whether he’ll ever regain consciousness—it’s just too early to tell.”

  “He’s a key witness. The second he wakes up and can communicate, I need to be contacted,” she said, giving him her card with her cell number on the back.

  He glanced at it then back at her. “Your request has already been noted on his file, and the staff has been briefed.”

  “Where’s Mr. Lonewolf right now?” she asked.

  “Intensive care—around the corner and second door to the left. Just follow the green line on the wall.”

  Ella continued down the hall, but when she reached the ICU she didn’t see anyone guarding the door. Stepping inside the room immediately, she looked around. Three patients were in separate, glass-partitioned sections. One was Adam, judging from the extensive head bandages. Everything seemed in order here, so she went back out into the hall.

  Her temper rose quickly as she looked in both directions for the missing guard. He should have been here at his post. When she finally found him, she’d ream him out, then have him pulled from the assignment.

  As Ella walked over to the nurses’ station, she spotted Justine, who was at the other end of the hall, and motioned for her to come over.

  Before Justine reached her, Ella saw an orderly who’d been standing near the water fountain enter the ICU. As the door was closing, she spotted the man heading toward Adam’s bed.

  Acting on instinct, Ella followed him inside. The orderly glanced out the window, then at the staff, who were busy with their other patients. Sensing something was off, Ella moved in closer. Despite the white coat, he wasn’t acting like hospital personnel. As he stepped toward Adam’s bed, his coat shifted slightly and Ella saw he was wearing a shoulder holster.

  FIVE

  Ella leaped forward and slammed him against the wall. “Who are you?” she demanded, identifying herself.

  “Officer Michael Betone. I’m on special duty, Investigator Clah. I’ve got my badge and ID in my pocket,” he said quickly.

  From the corner of her eye Ella could see the three staff members staring at her in alarm.

  “I know him, Ella,” Justine said quickly, hurrying inside. “Sorry about that, Mike,” she added as Ella released him.

  “Why were you away from your post?” Ella demanded angrily.

  “I was watching the entrance from down by the water-cooler,” he said. “Didn’t you see me? I’ve been moving around a bit so I don’t alarm anyone.” Although it was something that didn’t come naturally to any Navajo, he forced himself to look directly at her. “No one will get near him, Investigator Clah, not on my watch. We owe that soldier our protection after all he’s done.”

  Ella nodded, somewhat mollified by his response. Officer Betone’s words had reminded her once again of the sensitive nature of their case. If the tribe’s hero turned out to have feet of clay, whoever ripped his mask off would also answer to The People.

  As another familiar voice called out to her, Ella turned her head, and saw Dwayne Blalock approaching. “What’s going on?” he asked quickly, looking from Justine to the officer.

  “Nothing, my mistake,” Ella said. “I apologize, Officer Betone. Carry on.”

  Ella walked back out of the room and into the hall before speaking again, not wanting to share their private discussion with those in intensive care.

  “How much checking have you’ve done on the pilot, Pete Sanchez?” Blalock asked her immediately.

  “None. We’ve had other priorities. How about you? Have you looked into his background?”

  “I checked with my contact in INS and Homeland Security. There’s been a lot of illegal gun traffic headed down into Mexico lately and those drug cartels south of the border pay big bucks. They’re at war with each other right now, and with the authorities, too.”

  “Are you thinking that Sanchez was involved in that, and he was the target?” Ella asked, surprised.

  “In your report you said that the gunmen concentrated on the businessmen first, then you, when you defended yourself. Yet the fact is that you guys were between the gunmen and the pilot, and he ducked into the plane to avoid getting shot a second time, right?”

  “Right.”

  “We need to question him as soon as possible,” Blalock said.

  “Sanchez wasn’t critical, so he won’t be at this hospital. This is a tribal facility.”

  “I know. He was taken to the regional medical center in Farmington. What do you say we head over there next and pay him a visit?”

  “Investigator Clah?” a nurse asked, looking back and forth between Ella and Justine as she walked up from the nurses’ station.

  “That’s me,” Ella answered.

  “You have a call from Chief Atcitty. Use the phone on the counter over there,” she pointed. “Push the hold button first.”

  Ella’s cell phone, according to hospital rules, had been turned off. If the chief had taken the time to track her down, something important must have gone down. Ella walked over to the nurse’s station and quickly picked up the phone.

  “We’ve got at least a dozen reporters here, Shorty,” Big Ed said. “I’m going to give them an official statement, but I want you to steer clear and stick to the investigation. When you return to the station, just be warned that the press is lying in wait.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” she answered.

  After hanging up, Ella joined the others and told them about Big Ed’s call, suggesting they keep their eyes and ears open concerning reporters. “Now we need to split up and get back to business,” she advised as the three walked to the closest exit.

  “I’ll continue digging into the pilot’s background then,” Blalock said. “If I hit paydirt, you’ll be the second to know.”

  They walked down the steps and entered the parking lot. A yellow sports car came down the lane, then stopped right in front of them, blocking their way. Ella recognized the vehicle
and the driver, instantly. It was Abigail Yellowhair, classy as usual, this time dressed in a conservative gray business suit.

  The widow of a former high-profile politician, she had become an extremely powerful force on the Rez, but Ella didn’t trust her. Abigail had played a role in too many questionable incidents around the Rez. Ella still vividly recalled the threats Abigail had made last year when her adopted daughter, Barbara, got arrested. The woman was still in prison, and Abigail wasn’t the type to forgive and forget.

  “Excuse me, officers—and Agent Blalock. I just heard the news about yesterday’s shootings. How is Adam Lonewolf doing? Is he going to survive?”

  Abigail looked exhausted, and judging from the carry-on bag on the seat beside her—ID label still attached—she’d come directly from the airport, probably the one in Farmington, or maybe even Albuquerque.

  Justine looked at Ella instead of answering, and Ella also held her tongue, leaving Blalock to take the initiative. “I’m sure the families of the victims appreciate your concern, Mrs. Yellowhair,” he said, glancing over at Ella, who nodded. “Mr. Lonewolf’s in critical condition—touch-and-go, unfortunately. The other victims are out of danger, but no visitors except for immediately family are allowed at this time.”

  “Thank you, Dwayne,” Abigail responded. “I’m sure you and the tribe’s finest are already making progress in tracking down the animals who conducted this brazen attack.”

  “Thanks for your support, Mrs. Yellowhair,” Justine responded.

  “Stay safe, Justine,” Abigail said. “And you, too, Ella,” she added. “I’ll leave you to your work, then,” she added, then drove away.

  Blalock shook his head. “Is it just me, or do I detect a small level of insincerity in her voice when the ‘she wolf’ refers to you, Ella?”

  “You think?” Ella replied, glancing over at Justine, who just rolled her eyes.

  “Well, now that we know Mrs. Yellowhair will be closely monitoring our progress, I guess we’d better get to it, huh?” Blalock said.