Never-ending-snake (22 page)

“Sounds like, but there’s more than the financial bottom line at stake.
I really need to figure out what’s best for Dawn, and me, in that order.”

The drive didn’t take long. Once they arrived at the Double Barrel, Dan unlocked the door and let them inside. Dan’s friends had obviously gone home but the county sheriff’s deputy was still on duty. He stood to one side of the solitary barred window, looking outside, while Dan walked back to his console and scanned through
the images, fast forwarding when possible.

“Any luck?” Ella asked.

Dan looked up from the display—an LCD monitor connected to a small computer. “I’m getting close to the right time. I was able to screen my work orders and finally narrow down the day.”

Ella brought out O’Riley’s photo. “Do you recognize this man?”

“No, can’t say I know him—which doesn’t mean he hasn’t been here before.” Dan
continued to run the images fast forward, focusing on the time display, then suddenly hit
the pause button. He looked it over a moment, then put the feed on manual, running one frame at a time. “This is the guy. His name’s Carl something,” he said. “Now that I see him, I remember he paid me in cash for six twenty-round magazines for an ArmaLite AR-180B. This weapon uses standard AR-15 magazines,
but I was out of the twenty-rounders and had to place a special order. He wanted them FedEx next day, so I asked for a credit card because I needed advance payment. Instead, he reached for his pocket, took out a roll of bills, and peeled off the two hundred and ten bucks just like that.”

“Am I right in assuming he’s not a regular?” Blalock asked him.

“He’s not from around here. I don’t remember
doing business with him before. I know almost all the assault weapon guys—they buy a lot of ammunition and extra magazines. This guy Carl spoke with a different kind of accent, too. More like up north, like maybe Wisconsin. I lived there once, so I’m familiar with it.”

“If it was a special order, shouldn’t there be an invoice?” Ella asked.

“There is. I place my orders via the Internet, so I
can call up the file.” He moved the computer mouse, and in a few clicks located the supplier. Checking the date, a form appeared on the screen. “His name is Carl Johnson, and I have a phone number, no address. Let me print you out a copy.”

Five minutes later, after making a call to Justine with the suspect’s information, they got a reply. Carl Johnson matched up with dozens of men statewide,
but none local. The phone number was a phony, belonging to a law firm that advertised heavily on local television. Blalock then called it in to the Bureau and requested that agents run down the name Carl Johnson and see if anyone in the system fit the description.

A half hour later, Ella and Blalock were riding back to the reservation. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the
shooters are ex-military
misfits turned small-time hoods. Guys like these never stay anywhere for long. They’re undoubtedly feeling the heat now that the news of Adam’s death has become public. That’s going to make them nearly impossible to locate unless we get very lucky,” Blalock said.

“And so far . . .”

“Yeah, I know. Our luck stinks,” Blalock finished for her. “Home?”

She was about to suggest that he drop her off
at the station so she could get some paperwork done when her phone rang. It was Justine. “What’s up, partner?”

“We have a new problem by the name of Norm Hattery. He’s that reporter who was fired a couple of years ago after blowing a lead story for one of the TV stations in Albuquerque. He’s now working for the Farmington cable station news and is looking into the shooting. He cornered me when
I left the lab and told me that he knew Kevin would be going into protective custody after his release from the hospital tomorrow. He wanted to interview me on camera.”

“He couldn’t have known when Kevin was going to be released. Kevin doesn’t know that yet, I don’t think. Norm was fishing.”

“Yeah, I figured that, too, so I didn’t respond. That’s when he told me he was going to stake out the
hospital until he found Kevin’s room. Then, he’d wait us out as long as necessary to get the jump on the transfer.”

“Reading between the lines, what that really means is that he has no idea where Kevin lives. That’s the benefit of having a post office box for your mail and not being listed in the phone book,” Ella answered.

“No, he
does
know Kevin’s address. He read it off to me to prove he
wasn’t bluffing, and more importantly, so that I’d see that his sources are solid. He wanted to cut a deal with us. He passes information along to us as he gets it, and we give him an exclusive when it’s all said and done.”

“No deal,” Ella snapped.

“Wait—you haven’t heard his parting shot. He told me that he knew Adam had been carrying something with him that’s going to create a storm of controversy
the second the news is made public. When I asked him what he meant, he just smiled. He told me that he’s going to get all the facts one way or another, and we could all come out ahead if we work together.”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing. I didn’t answer him. I went back into the lab. But he’s still hanging around the lobby. If you come in, be on the lookout for him. He’s hard to miss and easy
on the eyes, like most on-camera reporters.”

“I think I’ll avoid the station for now. You and I will handle this new problem tomorrow when we can think more clearly,” Ella said. “Does Kevin still have security around him?”

“Absolutely. In fact, after I told Big Ed about Hattery, he decided that it’s not a good idea for Kevin to go to his own home to convalesce. He’d be too easy a target. Big
Ed’s trying to find a safe house for him.”

“Okay, partner. One last thing. Have you heard anything from Teeny?”

“Not yet. That means he hasn’t finished restoring the data from Adam’s BlackBerry files.”

“He won’t sleep until he does,” Ella said. She was well aware of how her friend worked. “Pick me up at the house at seven tomorrow. We’ll get an early start.”

“Done.”

Ella hung up, then glanced
at Blalock. “Looks like I’m heading home. From the way things are shaping up, tomorrow’s going to be another fun-filled day.”

It was close to midnight when Ella stepped through her front door. With the lights out in the kitchen, she’d expected her family to be fast asleep, but to her surprise, Rose was sitting in the living room alone, knitting. Her mother was far from an avid knitter and, in fact, had been working on the same sweater for the past four years. Rose only knitted when she
was worried, and from the furious clicking of her needles, Ella could tell something was wrong.

Herman was nowhere to be seen. That meant he’d gone to bed, not wanting to be around for reasons Ella knew she was about to discover.

Ella put her pistol and ammunition up on the high shelf, then sat down silently and waited.

Rose said nothing for about five minutes. Finally, she set down the needles
and looked at her daughter. “Your child’s father spoke to her this afternoon and told her that he was going to be released from the hospital tomorrow. You daughter became all excited about that, and as soon as she hung up, came to find me. She said that her dad needed her so she’d be staying with him for a while. I told her that was out of the question, and suggested she talk to you about after-school
visits.”

Ella sat back in the chair. She should have expected something like this. “Visits won’t be possible because, for security reasons, Kevin won’t be going home when he’s discharged. He’ll need to stay at a safe house until we’re certain that he’s no longer a target.”

“Even if he goes to the moon, your daughter will want to be with him. As far as she’s concerned, the sun rises and sets
on her father. Unless we lock her up, or keep her with us all the time, we won’t be able to stop her from going to look for him. That’s especially true now that these rumors have surfaced. . . .”

“What rumors?” Ella asked immediately.

“Her father’s the one under a cloud of suspicion now. People don’t want to believe that a war hero could have done anything to merit such an attack from other
Americans in his own country. They’re looking for someone to blame for his death and many have decided that the attack must have been the fault of your child’s father—the lawyer. A lot of people dislike and distrust lawyers, you know.”

“If you follow that logic, it makes even more sense to assume
I
was the target,” Ella said, surprised. “As a police detective, I’ve put a busload of people behind
bars.”

Rose shook her head. “Word has it that you’re not important enough to be assassinated, but your child’s father is.”

Annoyed at the way she’d been dismissed by the tribe, Ella tried to push back her irritation. Her reaction was human, but it was also petty.

“Mom, I’m not even sure
where
my daughter’s father will end up going to convalesce,” she said, and explained, “If my kid tries to
go out and find her father, she could lead the killers right to him, placing them both in danger.”

“I know, but your daughter will want to be with him, and if you say no, she might sneak out anyway and try and find him on her own,” Rose said in a heavy voice. “That’s
why I think he should stay here with us. I can cook for him, and my husband can help him out of bed.”

Ella stared at Rose, accepting
the logic of her mother’s suggestion, yet searching fast for a different answer that would effectively solve the problem.

“One of us is generally home, and my husband knows how to use that rifle of his. He’d have protection here, and your daughter would be at peace,” Rose added. “No one would ever think that you’d allow him to come here, so it may be the best place for him, all things considered.”

“Mom, what you’re suggesting . . .” Ella ran a hand through her hair.

“I’m aware of the problems it poses, but I also know your daughter. Would you like her to go out searching for him, maybe ditching school and riding around in cars with her friends’ older brothers, or hitchhiking? No matter what, she’s going to find a way to see him,” Rose said.

The possibility jolted her awake. She could
see Dawn doing just that. It wasn’t just Rose’s crazy idea, it was completely in character with her daughter’s already strong sense of independence. When Dawn thought she was in the right, nothing stopped her, and stepping up as a parent would only serve to damage their relationship.

“We could put up with him for a short time, daughter. We’d just have to make sure he stayed away from the windows
and remained indoors.”

“I’ll have to think about this,” Ella said at last. “But before I crawl off to bed there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Can you give me a better idea of how the Prickly Weed Project got started and how The People are reacting to it?” When it came to getting a fix on public opinion, there was no better source than Rose.

“The man who thought up that entire project
is well respected and his word carries clout. He came from nothing,
pulled himself up by the bootstraps, and now owns a chain of gas stations and convenience stores. He also serves on the tribal council,” Rose said.

Ella knew from the description that Rose was referring to Alfred Begaye. The man was practically a legend on the Rez. His efforts with hydrologists and the local community had enabled
the tribe to double crop yields on the Navajo Irrigation Project acreage.

“When he first suggested the Prickly Weed Project, people rallied around the proposal,” Rose said, “so he began to get some investors, like the late senator’s wife—our new Plant Watcher. The family who occupies the land now—a widower, his daughter, and her husband—don’t want to give up a single acre of land. They’re fighting
every inch of the way, though they aren’t really farming or grazing. They could stay where their houses are now, if they’d be willing to compromise. Normally, the tribe can do whatever it wants, but the residents have allies in their fight—a group that opposes the entire concept. They’re said to be against all unconventional agricultural or industrial operations—basically, anything that’s not
in line with the traditional way of doing things.”

“So it’s the Traditionalists who are against the Prickly Weed Project?”

“No, not all Traditionalists—not necessarily, anyway. The group supporting the family calls themselves the
Ha’asídís
, the Watchmen, and they look after all things Navajo. They’ve made their presence felt, but the ones who are for the project are better organized, so things
continued to move forward, working under the assumption the tribe would get use of the necessary acreage, one way or the other. Then the project ran into money problems.”

“Do you know the details about that?” Ella asked. At the mention of money, her ears perked up instantly, having already heard of the big investments made by Abigail
Yellowhair, Robert Buck, Billy Garnenez, the tribal president,
and even Kevin. There were still no leads on the cash Adam had been carrying, but it had to have come from somewhere. . . .

Rose pointed down to the
Diné Times
, the tribal newspaper. “You can find what’s been made public there.”