Shooting Chant

by Aimée

  “No, I’m not allowed to leave my post except in an emergency situation. You’ll have to wait.” The guard stepped back into the guardhouse and picked up his portable radio transmitter.

  “Just open the gate,” Ella demanded. “You can watch us all the way to the door.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” the guard said. “But don’t worry. It’ll just be five minutes or so before someone comes out.”

  “Don’t waste my time. Open the gate. We promise not to get lost along the sidewalk,” Ella snapped, walking over to the entrance.

  “If you really insist,” the guard relented. “Here we go.” He punched in a code number on a handheld keypad, like a garage door opener. The gate opened to a width of six feet, then stopped.

  Ella went in and Justine followed. The gate shut behind them a few seconds later, and the guard stepped back into his small structure, picking up his handheld radio again.

  “Nice going, boss,” Justine said as they walked down the sidewalk toward the same door Ella had been through before.

  “Sometimes being assertive is all it takes,” Ella said.

  “Somebody must have a dog,” Justine remarked, pointing to some tracks. “That’s an interesting addition to their security.”

  As Ella looked down, she spotted a set of boot-prints left in the dirt. “Now these look familiar. Those ridges on the heel are distinctive.”

  Ella’s assistant bent down and studied the tracks. “It seems to be the same size and pattern as the boot-prints found at the sniper’s location and near the Brownhat body, but I can’t say for sure. I wish I had my camera, or could make a plaster cast.”

  “Uh oh.” As Ella looked up, she saw a long black dog with big white teeth emerge from around the corner of the building and head in their direction. “Don’t run, but get ready for a Doberman.”

  Justine reached down into her pocket, then felt around her belt. “I must have left my Mace in the unit.”

  “I’ve got my baton, at least. Something told me I’d be needing it.” Ella stepped around so that she was between Justine and the dog, which was approaching quickly, but not at a run. It wasn’t growling, but she didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  “Hey, guard. Call your dog!” Justine yelled toward the gate. The man was out of view, but Ella knew it was intentional. He’d let them walk right into this.

  “Here it comes.” Ella stood still, holding the stick at both ends and out so it would be the first thing the animal would encounter.

  The long, sleek animal, standing much taller than Ella expected a Doberman to be, came up within ten feet, stopped, and bared his teeth in a low snarl. His stubby, wagging tail gave him away, though.

  “Good boy, aren’t you a pretty boy?” Justine called in the sweetest voice she could muster. “How about a cookie?”

  “You’ve got cookies?” Ella glanced out of the corner of her eye.

  “Actually they’re peanut butter and crackers from the station vending machine, but dogs don’t care. Please watch him while I unwrap these.”

  “Good boy, that’s a nice puppy,” Ella lowered the baton, and held out her hand a few inches, palm up. The big male beast took a step closer and sniffed, his stubby tail wagging a bit faster.

  “Here boy, have a cookie,” Justine tossed a cracker underhanded so it landed in front of the dog. He grabbed it immediately and gobbled it down, then sat.

  “Good boy, sit. That’s it.” Justine called. “Now come!” The vicious-looking dog trotted up and sat down right in front of Justine, licking his chops. She held out another cracker, and he scooped it right out of the palm of her hand.

  “Okay, we can go now,” Ella announced. “Bring your new friend with us.”

  Ella walked to the door, with Justine following and the Doberman at heel beside her. Ella knocked, and when the door began to open, Justine sent the dog to fetch a cracker she threw. “I don’t want to get him in trouble with his boss,” Justine whispered.

  As Dr. Landreth greeted them, the Navajo security guard, Jimmie Herder, appeared at the far end of the compound and whistled. The dog ran immediately toward him, cracker in mouth.

  * * *

  “It’s too bad Morgan wasn’t there, and Landreth wasn’t more help,” Justine complained twenty minutes later at the Totah Cafe. “Was Landreth that boring when you talked to him before? If I heard another word about mutual cooperation and shared profits, I’d have cut my wrists with those slick brochures he kept handing me.” She took a sip of coffee, and ate another french fry from the big plate she and Ella were sharing.

  “But did you notice that the photos I’d told you about were gone? In their place was a flowchart for production, and a map of the U.S. showing the location of LabKote’s many customers. They must sell to hospitals and labs all over the country.” Ella picked up a french fry, dipped it in her ice cream, then popped it into her mouth.

  “That’s gross, Ella. How can you do that with strawberry ice cream?” Justine moved a handful of french fries to one side, and salted them.

  “So you prefer chocolate french fries, huh?”

  Justine made a face. “So, what do we do next?” she asked, taking a sip of cola.

  “I’m going to talk to Clifford. Did you see that security guard at LabKote, Jimmie Herder? The Navajo who called the dog?” Ella finished off her share of the fries, and started eying Justine’s. “He was wearing boots, I think. I wonder what size and pattern they are?”

  “He’s also the one who discovered Kyle Hansen’s body, right? I think he’s related to Billy.”

  “I’m sure he’s also one of the Fierce Ones. If memory serves, he was at Jesse Woody’s house that night, trying to stay out of sight. What I’d like you to do is check and see if he really is related to Billy. Then call me as soon as you know.”

  “I’ll get on it right now,” Justine said.

  “I’m going to go talk to Clifford. I’m betting that Jimmie Herder is their man on the inside and that the Fierce Ones know more about LabKote than we do right now.”

  Ella drove to the west side substation where Clifford was being held. As she entered the small gravel parking lot, she noticed a pickup with a rental sticker on it.

  “I thought it might be you, Kevin,” Ella said as she walked into the small lobby of the facility and saw the attorney standing by the booking desk.

  “Hi, Ella. I hope you’re not here to interview your brother. I’ve told Clifford not to talk to any police officers on case related issues unless I’m present, and I have to go now to speak with your boss.” He gave her a long, hard look. “Of course if you’re here as his sister, that’s a different story but, if you are, you’ll have to wait for visiting hours.”

  “He’s going to stick it to the sergeant, then?” Ella asked. “Not that Manuelito doesn’t deserve it.”

  “He’s tired of putting up with that nonsense, and I don’t blame him. To make sure the charges of harassment and assault get a fair hearing, I don’t want him to talk to anyone else who was there, you included. I’m also going to have to subpoena you to get a statement, unless you’re willing to give one on your own.”

  “I’ll tell the truth about what I saw and about what the parties involved told me, if that’s what you mean. I’m interested in real justice here, not protecting a cop who appears to have stepped over the line. But Big Ed Atcitty may have something to say about when and where. I’ll explain the situation to him, and then get back to you,” Ella said.

  “By the way, what did you want to talk to him about, Ella?” Kevin asked.

  “I’ll let you know when I ask him,” Ella said, heading out the door. “Spontaneous answers are always the most informative.” Just then her cell phone rang. Ella waved good-bye to Kevin, and stepped outside the building.

  Ella flipped open her cell phone and heard Justine’s voice come through loud and clear.

  “Jimmie Herder is in the same clan as Billy. I also called Blalock, and asked him to pressure the
Marine Corps directly into releasing Morgan’s service record. We don’t have the time to go the conventional route.”

  “Good work.”

  “Did Clifford verify Jimmie’s involvement?”

  “Kevin insists on being present when I question Clifford, so I’ll have to wait a few hours, maybe more, before I get any more information.”

  “Kevin won’t let you talk to your brother? Strange, huh?” Justine said.

  “Lawyers excel at being irritating,” she answered. “What I want you to do now is get me a copy of that letter Kyle Hansen supposedly wrote his wife. I want to ask her about the letter and see if she ever received it or one just like it.”

  “You don’t think Hansen actually wrote it, right?”

  “We got that piece of evidence through Morgan and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would volunteer any information unless it serves him. If you think back, he and everyone connected to LabKote wanted to establish Hansen’s death as a suicide, and they answered all our questions in a way that supported that idea. I’m now wondering if they also came up with that bit of evidence to try and convince us. That’s another thread in this web of events I want to either cut or pull in for a closer look. Of course, it may be that all they intended to do was protect their company, not allow a murderer to escape justice,” Ella said.

  “I got a report from Neskahi. He spoke to Billy about Elisa Brownhat, but Billy was at work the day in question and quite a few people can vouch for him. The sergeant has questioned most of Elisa’s friends, too, but so far he has no indication of who might have been with her that day.”

  “Tell him to stay on it.”

  “Will do,” Justine said.

  Ella disconnected the call, and got into her vehicle. On the way to the main station, she called Wilson Joe to tell him about the early sample test results.

  He was surprised and relieved at the same time. “At least this means we can rule out something in the water and soil. That’s a big plus. I wonder what the organic results will be. Something killed the baby birds and the insects we found in the area.”

  Ella offered to have Justine fax him a copy of the data they’d received, then disconnected. By then, she was at the main police station.

  Justine met her by the vending machines. “I had to give up my crackers to keep from being munched, so I need a new supply.” Ella’s cousin laughed. “Want a candy bar?”

  “Sure, I’m starving. Did you get me a copy of Hansen’s letter?” Ella took the chocolate nougat, and immediately popped it out of the wrapper.

  “It’s on your desk.”

  Ten minutes later, Ella put down the phone and called Justine into her office. “Guess what? There’s no way Kyle Hansen wrote that letter. In it, Kyle addressed his wife as Kathy, and as she just informed me, Kyle always called her Kat. She hated to be called Kathy, and he knew it.”

  “So Morgan, or whoever wrote the bogus note, guessed wrong and goofed. That’s interesting,” Justine said.

  Just then, Ella’s phone rang. After a very brief conversation, she hung up, walked to her office door, and shut it.

  “What’s up, Ella? Who was the caller?” Justine lowered her voice even though they were alone, recognizing that her cousin wanted to speak confidentially.

  “It was George Branch, the radio gadfly. He didn’t want me to say his name out loud. He told me that his source had just called and told him that Judge Raymond Chase is going to be the next kidnap victim.” Ella looked the address up in the tribal phone book while she spoke.

  “Can we trust the tip?” Justine asked.

  “The information Branch got from his source was right on target before, so I’m not taking chances. I’m going to have the judge’s house staked out and see if we can stop this one. If it turns out to be a hoax, at least we will have made a mistake on the side of caution.”

  “I guess we really don’t have a choice,” Justine said.

  “I’ll get Blalock on the phone and update Big Ed while you find Sergeant Neskahi and Philip Cloud and ask them to meet me here. If this is on the level, we might have a chance to get the kidnapper this time.”

  “Anything else, boss?” Justine said as she headed for the door.

  “Yeah. Make sure you wear a vest. There’s always the possibility somebody could be setting us up.”

  TWENTY

  That evening Ella sat alone in her vehicle, which was parked directly across from the judge’s home, and hidden in the long shadows of night. She was restless, wishing something would happen.

  “This could turn out to be a long, boring night,” Justine’s voice came over the handheld provided by the FBI for this particular operation.

  Their group was small, but Ella couldn’t have asked for better backup. Agent Blalock was on the case, Sergeant Neskahi was watching the rear of the home, and even Big Ed Atcitty was playing a role.

  “Just keep an eye on everyone coming or going, especially any vehicles not on the list or someone on foot.” Ella set the handheld down for a moment and shifted in her car seat, trying to get comfortable in the extra long vest as she kept looking from side to side. Her intuition told her danger was near, she just hadn’t been able to find it yet, and the tension was getting to her.

  Earlier, Big Ed had notified Judge Chase, the most important official in the Navajo court system, about the danger, but Chase had already scheduled a retirement party that evening for another judge, and had insisted on going through with his plans.

  The police and FBI, at the judge’s insistence, had been instructed to remain inconspicuous and, because of the large number of guests, the request had been easy to fulfill. Big Ed, an invited guest, was inside, monitoring the situation from there.

  “Having so many people could either work to our advantage or help the bad guys, I don’t know which,” Ella said, as she kept her eyes on the new arrivals.

  “It’s a distinguished crowd,” Justine called back on the radio. “I either recognize or know all these people. It’s like a Who’s Who of VIPs on the Rez.”

  “Judge Chase is known for being a tough judge. Many Navajos who’ve gone through his courtroom are convinced that it’s because he’s half Navajo and always had to prove himself to people. He had to work hard, and expects everyone to pull their own weight, too,” Justine said.

  “I can see how someone like him would have made enemies,” Ella said.

  “He’s sure a lot different than the other half-Navajo we’ve been dealing with lately,” Justine answered.

  “You know what? Something’s not right here. Judge Chase’s photo wasn’t there at the LabKote office,” Ella said, thinking out loud. “Near as I can figure he has no connection to LabKote. I just can’t see how he fits into anything. Yet I’m getting the feeling something is about to go down.”

  There was a brief silence, then Blalock came on. “There’s movement in the bushes behind you, Clah. I can’t tell what’s back there.”

  Ella adjusted her rearview mirror, ducking down slightly to make herself a harder target as she reached for her weapon. She could feel the badger fetish getting warmer against the skin of her neck, a warning she’d never failed to heed. “I’m going to take a look.”

  She’d just placed her hand on the door handle, when she saw the bushes stir. A glowing object was suddenly hurled toward her car, shattering the rear windshield.

  Ella threw the door open and dove out, hitting the gravel road and rolling away as the interior of her car burst into flames. She scrambled to her feet, vaguely aware of the screams and shouts coming from the house.

  Chase appeared at the door to his home, but Big Ed pushed him back inside, looking around, gun in hand. Justine was running after a shadow through the underbrush, with Blalock trailing her, several yards behind.

  Ella wavered slightly as she tried to stand. Philip Cloud, dressed in civilian clothes, came to her side. “You okay?” he asked, holding her arm and shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered, sh
aken by how close she’d come to being toasted. “Did you get a look at the perp?”

  He shook his head. “When I heard FB-Eyes warn you, I came out the back door to get into position. But, before I could get around the side of the house, whoever it was threw that firebomb.”

  As they were walking away, her vehicle’s gasoline tank suddenly exploded, shaking the ground beneath their feet and shattering windows in the house. The powerful rush of air rocked them, and flying pieces of debris whistled by.

  Two of the guests grabbed garden hoses and turned the spray on her flaming vehicle. As they worked, Ella’s gaze went to the others watching from the lawn and front porch. Chase’s home was too isolated and too well guarded for anyone to have sneaked up that easily. The perp may have been one of the guests.

  As she studied the familiar faces, she began to rethink her theory. The people here, as far as she knew, had no reason whatsoever to want her dead.

  Justine came back several minutes later to join her. “He’s gotten away, at least for the moment.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Ella asked her assistant, who was still catching her breath.

  “I never saw more than a figure in the dark. I followed him, but he hopped onto a trail bike, then jumped an arroyo and kept going. I couldn’t stay in pursuit, but Blalock approached from a different angle so he was already on the other side of the arroyo. He got a better look, I think. Neskahi caught up to Blalock in his car, and they took off after the suspect. I know Big Ed’s already called for roadblocks, but if the biker travels cross country, and that’s what I’m guessing he’ll do, we won’t catch him right away.”

  “Don’t underestimate Blalock, or the sergeant. Both are persistent.”

  “It’s not that. I saw the way the perp handled that bike. That was no kid raising hell just for fun. It will really help if Blalock is able to tell us whether the bomber is Navajo or not,” Justine added.