Mourning Dove (32 page)

Ella took him at his word, and they left the room, closing the door behind them. As they waited, she glanced at Justine, who’d just finished the doughnut.

“These are great. Look homemade,” Justine said.

Ella nodded. “They are.
Teeny bakes them himself. He’s a great cook.”

“You should have married him. In fact, I may ask him if you don’t,” Justine said. “I wonder if he likes to shop. . . .”

It took a full fifteen minutes before Teeny opened the door again, which, overall, wasn’t very much time at all.

“Okay, some of this you probably already know, but here’s what I’ve got,” Teeny said, gesturing for them to join him.
“Your white boy worked as a mechanic overseas, keeping the heavy equipment running and going on some dangerous missions to recover broken-down vehicles. He and Blacksheep shared quarters for a while at their base north of Baghdad.”

Justine and Ella exchanged glances. “I don’t remember reading that in Joe’s report. He’s the one who spoke to Richardson.”

“I don’t either. Maybe it was in his notes
and we missed it,” Justine answered. “But I was under the impression that Richardson barely knew Jimmy.”

“Either way, we should follow it up some more. Ben might have some insight into what was going on inside Jimmy’s head. I want to have a real sit-down talk with this guy. You don’t happen to have an address, do you?” Ella asked, looking at Teeny.

He smiled slowly. “Have some faith, little
girl.”

Ella was tall for a Navajo, but next to Teeny she was practically a hobbit. “I owe you dinner,” she said, taking the slip of paper he handed her.

“Someday, I’d like to get your recipe for these doughnuts,” Justine said, licking her fingers. “They’re really top of the line.”

“All I could give you would be an estimate,” Teeny answered with a proud smile. “All my recipes are spur of the
moment. Gut instinct, if you’ll pardon the comparison. I like it that way,” he answered, then growing serious once more, added, “Ella, can I have a word with you in private?”

Ella looked at him in surprise.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Justine said, then walked out the door, giving them some privacy.

Ella followed him back into his office. “What’s up? I’d trust Justine with my life, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, but this is personal. I heard about what happened at the Totah. Gossip from those who saw the action from inside, report that the Reverend has some well honed-fighting skills. That got me curious, so I did a little checking.”

“What’d you find out?” Ella asked quickly.

“It’s not what I found out—it’s that I couldn’t, and didn’t. Usually, given enough time, I can dig up information
on just about anyone. But when I looked into the Reverend’s past I ran into a firewall that just screamed Fed. That he’d worked for a government agency quickly became obvious, but he’s being protected, and in a big way. My background search resulted in an all-out attack on my own system. It would have nailed me for sure if I hadn’t been protected by the best hacker-proof stuff available. Of course
I intend to make breaking through all those barriers my new mission in life—unless the Feds come knocking at my door.”

“If I said you didn’t have to do that, would it stop you?”

Teeny grinned—a truly frightening gesture that only passed as a smile to the ones who knew him. “What do you think?”

“Okay—if you get anything I should know about . . .” she said, letting it hang.

“You’ve got it. Ella,
are you serious about this guy? Serious, serious?”

Ella smiled. “I wouldn’t say that. At the moment, we both have something in common, and it’s in our benefit to be seen together. It
seems that everyone who knows the Reverend isn’t married wants to fix him up. That’s a nuisance I can relate to personally, and I think it might make my life easier as well, if people make the assumption that we’re
dating. So we’re taking advantage of the gossip, that’s all.”

“You doing this so Kevin’ll back off? I hear that your mom’s getting married soon. Without her at home, Kevin might just make a move for joint custody. Everyone knows he’s crazy about Dawn and, with no adult at home and the long hours you put in at work . . . Of course, if he plays his cards right, he’ll get to fix two problems at
once. If he’s got Dawn, you’ll be coming around almost constantly. That’ll make it much easier for him to provide you with an obvious solution—you and Dawn can both move in with him permanently. Problem solved.”

Teeny’s scenario took her by complete surprise. “You think that’s what he’s really angling for?”

“What do
you
think?”

“Listen, friend to friend?” he said, then seeing her nod, continued.
“Move slowly with the Reverend. Nothing draws you in faster than a puzzle or an unanswered question. If you like the guy, that’s one thing, but curiosity may not be healthy in this case. That guy has a seriously heavy past. You may be better off never knowing what he did before he took up the ministry.”

Ella nodded somberly. Teeny was right. But now that she knew this much, she’d never be able
to let it rest. “Makes perfect sense. Too bad I’m so lousy taking advice.”

It was dark by the time they drove down the street in the old Farmington neighborhood where Ben Richardson’s modest three-bedroom home was located. The streets were quiet and the house lights, for the most part, were off.

“Richardson works the day shift, so it’s possible he bowed out of the poker game early. His car could
be in the garage,” Justine said. “Want to go up and knock?”

“Yeah, but wait a sec,” Ella said, checking out the street. A few cars were parked at the curb, but in every case there was already a full driveway. “That car—the four-door sedan parked across the street and two houses down from Richardson’s. There’s a big guy inside, slumped down. He’s got the side mirror angled so he can see across
the street and behind him—like a stakeout.”

Justine watched through the rearview mirror as they continued down the street. “I see him, behind the steering wheel. How do you want to handle it?”

“Drive around the corner, then I’ll double back on foot. It could just be a guy pulled over using his cell phone. Let’s try to figure out what’s going on first.”

“We could be stirring up a hornet’s nest,
partner. Without backup . . .”

“We can handle it if we tread carefully and keep in contact with each other. I want to avoid calling in for backup now since the situation could be perfectly harmless, and it’ll tell way too many people what we’re doing,” she said. As soon as they’d driven around the corner, Justine stopped the car and Ella stepped out.

Moving through the darkest nighttime shadows
was second nature to Ella. She’d been doing this as far back as she could remember. Childhood games of hide-and-seek with her brother Clifford had taught her how to be a good tracker and rely on her senses to guide her. Right now, her intuition was telling her that she wasn’t facing a crisis situation. Yet, whoever was watching Richardson’s house was doing that for a reason, and she intended to
find out what was going on.

Ella moved toward the car, positioning herself so she’d be coming up directly behind the vehicle. He wouldn’t be able to see out of the rearview mirror without shifting and sitting up and, if he did, she’d see it happening and be ready.

As she came within twenty feet of the car, the door opened and a man stepped out. The fact that the dome light didn’t come
on told
her he was a pro. She froze, watching his hands for a weapon, ready to duck to the right, screening herself with his car.

He turned and looked right at her, as if he could see her easily despite the surrounding darkness and silently motioned her to approach. Ella recognized the CID man immediately. Neil Carson was staking out Richardson’s house. “I’ll save you some time,” he said. “He’s still
not home. I came directly here after your partner called.”

“Why are you here?” she whispered, quickly getting into his car.

“I wanted to question Richardson first.”

“This is
my
case. I think it’s time we—” Ella felt her phone vibrate. “Wait. I need to notify my partner.”

After Ella assured Justine that she was all right, Justine gave her some puzzling news.

“I’ve just heard from Dispatch,”
Justine said. “The duty officer got an anonymous call from someone who sounded like a kid and he claimed that there was a vehicle in an irrigation ditch several miles from the crime scene.”

“Has anyone verified that yet?”

“Yeah. Dispatch sent a unit right away.”

“My guess is that the tip came from the Many Devils, and it’s Jimmy’s rental car,” Ella said.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Ella
closed the phone and turned to Carson. “I’ve got another lead I need to check out.” She decided not to share the information with him until she’d personally verified that they’d really found Jimmy’s car.

“Go ahead, Investigator Clah. I’m going to stay put. If he shows, you can have a shot at him after I’m through.”

Ella debated whether or not to tell Carson about the poker game then decided
against it. There’d be time for all that later. “You and I have to talk. Soon,” she added with emphasis.

“Noted,” he said with a nod.

Justine was pulling up as Ella stepped out of the car. They were underway again in seconds. “You’ve got a location?” Ella asked.

Justine nodded. “I’ve also called Neskahi and Tache and asked them to meet us there.”

“Good.”

“Have you ever wondered what it would
be like to work a job that had regular hours?” Justine mused as they sped down the highway.

“We’d be bored stiff,” Ella answered with a tiny smile. “I don’t think sameness suits us, partner.”

A half hour later, they were walking along the ditch bank northwest of Shiprock a quarter mile from the river. The crime scene unit was there, and lights had been set up.

As soon as photos had been taken
of the submerged vehicle, Ella waved to the tow-truck driver. He started the winch, and the sedan, connected via a cable to its tow hook, rolled up the bank onto the service road atop the levee. Ella watched as hundreds of gallons of foul-smelling water flowed from the vehicle through the broken front-door windows. Smaller amounts trickled through the half dozen or more bullet holes on the driver’s
side, particularly the door, leaving little doubt that it was Jimmy Blacksheep’s rental. The condition of the vehicle confirmed what had happened to the car and Jimmy.

Ella watched, hoping that they’d have some answers soon—connections and physical evidence that would pull the fragmented picture together and bring the resolution they all needed. As the water drained, something large and frighteningly
familiar descended from where it had been trapped atop the interior roof of the sedan, coming to rest on the backseat.

N
ow we know why they dumped the car,” Ella said, ignoring the stench and studying the rotting corpse. It was still wallowing faceup in the dirty water that covered the seat cushion.

Water and dead flesh were adversaries. The body was bloated and discolored—the stuff of nightmares—a caricature of a human drawn by death. There were also crawdads and scavenger
fish in the ditches, and some had paid the rental vehicle a dinner call.

Ella glanced at Justine, who’d turned away after seeing what was left of the victim’s face. “Call Carolyn,” Ella said. “The M.E. needs to be here.”

Neskahi got close enough to open the passenger-side door, which was slightly higher due to the position of the tow hook and therefore easier to open. Most of the water still
inside came flowing out onto the dirt road, filling a long tire rut. This was one way to make sure that anything washing out of the vehicle remained at the scene, rather than flowing back down the embankment and then being carried downstream.

“Wish there was a way to drain the ditch,” Neskahi said, standing back to keep his feet as dry as possible.

“Best we can do is check the gates downstream
and see if anything got washed out of the vehicle and caught against one of the
screens,” Ella answered. “At least you managed to keep whatever settled to the floorboards by dumping the last foot of water onto the road.”

“Looks like the guy in the car was shot, several times,” Tache said. “He was probably dead when they dumped the car. Any idea who he is?”

“The dead soldier was supposedly traveling
alone, so I have no idea who this person was.” Ella stepped in closer with a flashlight to check out the distorted face but it didn’t help. “Maybe the soldier took this guy out. We know he fought back.”

“I think I recognize the vic,” Justine said, her flashlight on the body.

Ella didn’t ask for a name as the man who’d operated the tow truck came over to unhook his cable from the wrench. Even
modernists hated calling a murder victim by name at a crime scene. “Good. We need to run what we’ve got. Ask Blalock to get some background info for us on this guy. He can speed up the process.”

“The victim traded in stolen weapons,” Justine told her. “Nothing fancy or heavy duty, just hunting rifles and pistols. He had an operation where you could order what you wanted and he’d get it for you—that
is, until he got busted.”