The team busted through the door and swarmed the warehouse, screaming, “Vegas Police, put down all weapons and lie facedown.”
Some men tried running, but were quickly subdued. One raised his arms in surrender. Others prepared to fight. Suddenly, one of the Javelina members pointed his gun directly at Melina. Hawke’s heart stopped.
Melina did not show any fear. “Okay, put the gun down. You don’t want to die here, do you?”
Sweat beaded Hawke’s forehead. What was he to do? Melina stood her ground against this man without batting an eye. All Hawke could think about was what would happen if she were to die today. How would he live without her?
The biker aimed his sawed-off shotgun at her. “Guess we’re both gonna die today, bitch.”
She squeezed the trigger. After his body hit the table, Melina stepped forward and felt for a pulse.
Hawke stared at her. She could handle herself well. He had to keep reminding himself just how much this woman could do. Her heart guided her, and she walked in harmony every day, so the Great Spirit walked with her.
While the tactical team took down the other men, handcuffing them and reading them their Miranda rights, Hawke stepped over to her.
“You are something else, my brave woman, and I love you very much. I will never question your judgment again.”
Melina smiled as he turned and headed toward Ian Guidara, taken down by several other officers. Ian struggled and spat vile curses, spewing promises of retribution as Doug read him his rights.
As Hawke got closer, anger built, but he said, “I now have you. I will make sure you pay for Abby’s death.”
“Go to hell.” Ian struggled against the men restraining him.
“She trusted and loved you. Do you not know the meaning of love? Let me tell you, it is not always offered. Love is a special feeling, deep inside your soul. Very few people are lucky enough to have it in their life. Abby had this special love for you. Why I wonder? Her heart was made of gold. She wanted to become a mother and an author. The sad part of it all was, she died at the very hands she trusted the most. I hope you can live with what you have done. Where you are going, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it.”
Ian laughed. “You think I cared about her? Women are a dime a dozen, and I’ve got plenty of dimes.”
Evil spirits dwelled in this man’s soul. He had to get some air before he killed Ian with his bare hands. His uncaring face made him sick. He turned and walked away.
Ian’s words stopped him in his tracks. “Hey, pig. People need to mind their own business. Then maybe they would not end up dead.”
Hawke stopped and slowly turned on his heel. Then he broke into a dead run. An ancient battle cry filled the air. Hawke leaped on top of this horrible man.
Melina screamed as she ran to break up the fight. Hawke pummeled Ian with his fists. He held him down, as he promised, “I will make you pay for what you have done.”
Melina, with assistance of two other police officers, pulled Hawke off.
“Okay, okay, let me go!” Hawke exited the warehouse, pausing to slam his fist into the building.
Melina was on his heels. “Hawke, calm down.”
“Can you believe that scum bag? He doesn’t care that he murdered someone. Abby meant nothing to him.”
He sat on the ground. His heart flooded with hate. He did not like the feeling of hate because is only caused more turmoil in a person’s life. “Melina, I can see Abby as a young girl. I would drive by her house and see her outside, playing with the tipi her father had made for her. She looked so innocent. Why do things like this happen?”
“You must remember Abby would not want you to hold hate in your heart. Do your job and make him pay for his many crimes. That is what she wants. Now, are you going to let her down?”
Hawke calmed. “No, of course not. I will get justice for her. She will walk in the spirit world happy, once justice is done.”
Melina smiled as a tear streaked down her face. “Now, that is the man I know and love.”
Hawke embraced her. “Thank you, sweetheart. You put me on the right path when I seem to stray off.”
Melina took his hand, “Let’s go. We have a lot of paperwork to do. Ian Guidara and Pete Crowe will go back to the rez, but I am sure Lieutenant Vasicek has charges to file against him, too, that he will have to face first.”
***
Many months had passed since Abby’s remains lay on the cold ground. The month of March, or Crow Moon. Ian Guidara would not be brought back to the rez for at least a month, so that would be in April, or Grass Moon.
The legal system moved slowly. Once the trial started in May, or Planting Moon, he would have all the evidence organized for the prosecutor’s office. He didn’t want anything to go wrong. Justice must be served to avenge Abby Winters. No doubt, the trial would drag on, probably until the end of June, or Rose Moon, with sentencing phase taking place in July, or Thunder Moon or Heat Moon. Perhaps, then, Ms. Winters could start to heal from the horrific murder of her daughter.
No doubt, Ian Guidara’s lawyers would file his appeals, dragging things out for a couple more months, or longer. Hawke would make sure this monster would never be released. He’d made a promise to Abby, and he intended to honor it.
Then it would be over, anyway for Ian Guidara.
Hawke would still agonize over the case for the next six months. The long process of getting the family some closure would take a toll, but their wedding would help heal his heart.
As they drove to the police station, the lights on the strip brightened the inside of their vehicle, causing instant eye pain. Their thoughts seemed to merge as one, as the cell phone rang.
Melina she answered her phone. “Hello, Agent Wolfe.”
Hawke listened, waiting to hear what Melina would say.
“Agent Seitner, the case here is not closed completely, but we have our man. As soon as I have everything in order, I’ll email you my report.”
She grew quiet for a few seconds and then continued. “Sir, as I said, I will get the report to you as soon as I can. Then I will hand in my notice stating I will end my employment with the FBI. I will start working for my local tribal police as a detective as soon as my marriage to Detective Hawke takes place.”
Another pause, this one longer, and then she smiled. “Okay, sir. It has been a pleasure working with you, too.”
Melina disconnected.
“Well, how did he take it?”
“Okay, I guess.”
Hawke chuckled. “I never really cared for him.”
Melina smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I know but you never had anything to worry about. I love you, Hawke, I always have. No other man ever stood a chance.”
Hawke felt proud, listening to the words flowing off her lips. Finally, justice would be served, and he would marry the woman he had always loved.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Six weeks later
Hawke sat outside on the porch swing as Father Sun beamed its warmth upon Mother Earth.
The week had been a long one. So many hours sitting in the courthouse. The evidence against Ian Guidara was staggering. He had no doubt the jury would find him guilty. The thought soothed the mind for a short while, but then reality of the situation seeped in. There was so much in life he had no control over, like the actions of others.
The month of May, Planting Moon, and June, Rose Moon had lagged on forever. Finally, only a week was left in the Rose Moon month.
How much longer it would take the jury to decide Ian’s fate? They had been deliberating for three days now.
Melina stepped out onto the porch. “Here, my strong one.” She handed him his cup of coffee as she patted Three Paws on the head.
She always brought sunshine with her even in the darkest of times. “Good morning, my love. I have been up for a while. I watched the sunrise across Mother Earth. Then the raven made its presence known. I believe it is a portent of some sort. I belie
ve something amazing is going to happen today. Abby’s murderer will be convicted. There will be Lakota Justice.” Hawke paused and stared at the sky. “This morning brought me closer to my spiritual guide. I ask for their assistance. I know they heard me, for I have seen the color purple.”
Melina gently took his hand. “Grandfather told me of seeing the purple color, too. It is a sign you have communication with your spiritual guide.”
The sharp ringing of his phone made his stomach grow tight as he picked it up, anticipating the verdict. “Hello, Hawke speaking.”
He disconnected quickly. “Jury is back. They have made a decision. We have to get to the courthouse within the next thirty minutes.”
Melina nodded. “I will get dressed.” She winked at him. “They will not let him go free.”
Hawke watched her disappear behind the sliding glass door. He stood and offered a prayer to the Creator. “Please let Ian Guidara pay for this hideous crime. Abby needs peace ,and his conviction would let her pass into the spirit world where she would be in harmony. Thank you, Great Spirit, for assisting me with this.”
Hawke stared up to the heavens, spreading his arms out, and sprinkled tobacco upon the ground as a hawk flew over, giving him confirmation, that justice would be served.
Later, Hawke sat beside Melina as Ms. Winters entered the courtroom full of family and friends, pouring their love for Abby’s family.
Suddenly, the judge entered. Ian Guidara sat in his nice business suit, trying to look as innocent as possible. Pete Crowe had been sentenced to twenty-five years for his part in this horrible crime.
The judge sat down in his black leather swivel chair. As the jury filed into their seats, the foreman remained standing. The judge had warned the jury to look at all the evidence, then they could all agree upon a decision.
When everyone was settled, the judge spoke. “Ladies and gentleman, before the foreman reads the verdict I must inform all parties to remain quiet. Outbursts will not be tolerated.”
As the judge turned back to the foreman, Hawke took Melina by the hand. DeShay Greywater and Officer Ryan Creek entered the courtroom and sat across the aisle. They nodded in silent greeting.
Hawke turned his attention to Amy Winters. This mother had been through a lot. Could she handle the outcome if it was not in her favor?
“Foreman, has the jury come to a decision?”
The foreman, a petite woman, stood straight-backed. “Yes, Your Honor, we, the jury, find Ian Guidara guilty of first degree murder of Abby Winters.”
Relief enveloped the entire room. Hawke jumped to his feet and went directly to Abby’s mother. He knelt down beside her and gently wiped her tears. “Abby is now free. Her heart is leaping with joy.”
Amy Winters kissed his forehead, “Thank you, Detective Hawke, for getting justice for Abby. She walks in the spirit world, holding her father’s hand, happy once again.”
“Order, order in this court. Ian Guidara, you shall remain in custody until July twentieth, when we will meet again for the sentencing phase.”
The officer standing behind him took Ian’s arm and led him to the side door where he would be taken to his new home, a cell.
As they filed out of the courtroom, the journalist for The Painted Horse News snapped their photos. She would run the story on the front page.
DeShay walked over to Hawke. “You and Melina have done a wonderful job. Abby walks proud, knowing you kept your word.”
Hawke replied, “DeShay, you helped in this case, yourself. You have the owl spirit guiding you.”
DeShay smiled with pride. “I am honored to have such a sacred guide. The powwow starts tomorrow. Will you be there?”
Before Hawke could respond, Melina spoke up, “Of course, DeShay. Grandfather will be there telling the stories that can only be told by the elders.”
DeShay’s demeanor filtered through her eyes. “Melina, your grandfather, Joe Whitehorse, is a great storyteller and medicine man. He has taught our people a lot about the ways of the elders’ path. He will be honored at the powwow.”
Melina smiled. “He is very wise, and I am proud to be his granddaughter.”
Hawke took her hand, “As I am proud to become your husband. Joe Whitehorse will teach me the way of the elders. My heart is full of love and respect.”
As they walked out into the warmth of the day, Hawke took in the spirits of his ancestors as he peered off into the distance at the Black Hills. The array of sun, along with the birds singing, gave Hawke a sense of pride to be Lakota.
They mystery of why Abby was murdered was finally solved and now she roamed in the spirit world. Her death had been senseless, and she’d died knowing her killer. She’d even loved and trusted him. Time would always be her mother’s enemy, but Hawke and Melina felt they had accomplished the job Abby wanted the most—justice. Lakota justice, for her mother.
All along, her mother hurt the most. Left to carry on without her husband, and now without her only child.
A distance away, Amy Winters got into her vehicle. He murmured. “May you go in peace and harmony,” and she lifted her head toward him, nodding.
A cloud lifted off his soul. Amy Winters finally at peace with herself. Knowing this gave him peace, too. Abby’s soul would be with the ancestors in the spirit world, but she would always walk the path with her mother. Hawke had solved the puzzle of what happened to Abby Winters. Abby had guided him to her killer, to get the Lakota justice she so deserved.
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Chapter One
Oh God. She was dying.
Run over by a train, maybe. Or a hangover, but either way, dying. And not quick enough. She opened one eye. Heaven…or Hell looked an awful lot like her bedroom. Stark-white curtains, blood-red bedspread. Yep. Her room. And her mother, pillow poised and ready…. Ouch. What the hell?
Rebecca Heller sat up, rubbing a fist over her sandpaper-lidded eyes before she flipped the other one open just as her mother drew back for a second strike. Becca ducked, wondering where the bartender she clearly remembered hanging on as he poured her into the passenger side of the Porsche she’d “borrowed” from Daddy had gone. And why was she still wearing a cocktail dress? If history remained true to its usual form, she should have been naked and wrapped around Pablo—Paulo? Paul, maybe?
She shielded her head from a third blow and peeked out from beneath her arms at her mother. “What is your problem?”
Becca had seen fury before. The unbridled anger. The words spat from between lips tightened by rage and Botox. Somehow, though, this qualified as more than a missed-her-first-cup-of-coffee air strike.
“Rebecca Jean-Marie Heller.” Oh, dear. Full-name rage. Never good at the Heller household. “You missed the staff meeting.”
A tired old gripe, and if the best her mother could come up with, Becca had no intention of staying awake for an argument they debated every single Monday. With exaggerated care, she laid her head back against the pillow and received another wallop. Side note: memory foam, when used as a weapon, did not conform to the shape of her head. Rather, it felt like a chunk of concrete slamming against her skull. Or maybe that was the hangover.
She held up a hand. “Would you stop it?!”
“No. I will not stop it. You drove your father’s Porsche through the garage door.” Something stronger than anger—a previously hidden or ignored homicidal tendency maybe—dripped from the round tones in her mother’s voice, squaring them into chunks of bitten wrath.
“Oh, the car.” Her father had a Porsche, a Bentley, a Corvette, and an Audi. Well, now he had a Bentley, a Corvette, and an Audi. Becca didn’t point out the math or the fact her father had enough money to replace the car ten times. Not while her mother had her arms cocked and fisted hands still armed the pillow. “Accident?”
Landra Heller breathed in, her chest puffing until her buttons strained against her silicone breasts. “Rebecca!”
<
br /> Becca could have lived without the shriek.
“Not just any car. No. You couldn’t wreck your own. You went after a hundred-thousand-dollar car. Don’t even get me started on the damage to the garage.”
Becca stifled a yawn. Not the worst thing she’d ever done. Hell, it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing she did today. Besides, she found it mighty hard to take her mother’s lecture with more than an eye roll. At least not while Landra stood in a four-million-dollar mansion, dressed from top to bottom in couture Chanel and custom-made Louboutins, the cost of which would finance a semester at an Ivy League school.
Becca would have found her fake economic concerns and practiced fury—practiced because they went through this kind of thing a lot—entertaining if her skull hadn't been threatening to crack open. “Just take it out of my trust fund, and let me go back to sleep.”
“Oh, young lady.”
Young lady? At twenty-six? Not quite young anymore, and maybe too old to be living in her childhood bedroom. In her defense, only fools left such a cushy situation. And Becca was a lot of things, but fool hadn’t made the list.
“You’re going to pay for it. You’re going to work it off. And I have just the assignment.”
Uh-oh.
When she chose to drag herself out of bed before early evening hours, Becca worked for the entertainment magazine her father owned. Those short columns of celebrity gossip provided her some pocket change, allowed her to hobnob—translation: party—with the fabulously rich and the sinfully famous, gave her insight into their deep darks, their dirty little secrets. But keeping those tawdry little bits of Hollywood scandal to herself paid a lot better than any check From Your Lips magazine printed for her. Again, in her defense, her lifestyle stemmed from nothing more than her use of the job her parents had insisted she take after college. Well, the job and the fact her parents had more money than most small countries—and a few large ones. On occasion, as punishment for whatever misdeed Becca had committed, her mother pulled her from entertainment and shoved her into a less glamorous department.
Lakota Justice Page 17
