by Aimée Thurlo
“I was on the job. I should know better than to get so distracted.”
“First, you don’t know exactly when the person sabotaged that brake line except that it was after we arrived. We may have been searching for the books at the time, or maybe it was done right after we arrived and you were busy building a fire,” she protested.
“More importantly,” she added softly, “I wouldn’t trade a second of what happened between us.” She held his gaze. “It drew us closer, and if you allow it, it’ll make us even stronger.”
He smiled. “You look like an angel, but you’ve got a core of steel, Kim.”
“Most women do,” she answered.
He studied the area around him, taking everything in slowly and thoroughly. “Escape and evasion. I’m trained for this. Let’s get moving, in case whoever did this stuck around to watch. There’s a tool bag in the back. Let’s empty it out and put the books inside. I’ll carry it while you take the binoculars in the glove compartment. They’re infrared.”
“Okay.”
“It’s a half-hour hike to the main road. Once we’re there I’ll be able to get a cell phone signal. I’ll call Daniel and let my brothers know what happened. Preston will be able to get the tribal police moving on this. There’s no second set of tracks on the road, so the guy must have approached on foot. His vehicle is probably parked in the vicinity.”
Rather than stick to the trail, they moved directly downhill, sticking to cover whenever possible to avoid being spotted. Rick scarcely made a sound even through the rough terrain, but Kim knew she was probably alerting wild animals for miles.
“Do you think the person’s still out there? They haven’t done anything directly, like shoot at us,” she noted. “Not yet anyway,” she added, looking over her shoulder.
“My gut tells me our enemy is around here somewhere. There’s no way for him to have predicted how effective tampering with the brakes would be. Once he sees we’ve walked away unhurt, he’ll probably try something else.”
* * *
DANIEL PICKED THEM UP at the highway and before long they were inside Daniel’s office in the computer room, all holding freshly brewed hot coffee. Preston had just arrived and Paul was already behind the computer.
“Let me look up Richard Sorge for you. Then we can go from there,” Paul said, typing in the name.
He then looked up at them. “He ran a Soviet spy ring in Japan before and during World War II. They used OTPs—one time pads—that required both sender and recipient to have the identical page to decipher the message. Although it was more secure than what the code talkers used, it was also a lot more time-consuming to decode,” he said. “Do you still have the photos of the code you found in the notebook Hosteen Silver left for you?”
“Yes, I do.” Rick handed Paul his cell phone and Paul transferred the images to the central screen.
“They’re sequences of numbers separated by commas,” Daniel said. “But it isn’t a simple grade-school code, where the number one equals a, two equals b and so forth. We’ve already checked some of those patterns.”
“A common substitute for those OTPs is one that requires both sender and receiver to have identical editions of the same book—a popular novel, reference book, even a dictionary. If we can find the book our father used to create the code, we can figure out the message,” Paul concluded.
Rick studied the well-worn paperback in his hands. Although they’d looked for a book about Sorge, it hadn’t been in either box. “I think he mentioned Sorge to tell us he was using a variation of the old-style OTP code,” Rick said. “Let’s check the books, starting with his favorite, and see what we get.”
“Go from the premise that the first number corresponds to the page, the second is the line number, the third is the word and the fourth is the letter in the word,” Paul said.
Rick checked the old paperback and followed the sequence. “First letter is an s.” A few minutes later Rick looked up and smiled. “First word is she. Second is fed. Third word is it.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” Kim said, looking from brother to brother. “She fed it is not random. And the only woman who’s a suspect in all this is Angelina Curley.”
Rick nodded and continued matching numbers with letters, writing them down. “The next word is to. Last word...” He paused. “There’s water damage on this page, but I think the last word is me.”
“She fed it to me.” Kim looked around the room. “What did Angelina feed your father?”
“This was in a notebook with information about the Plant People, so I think Hosteen Silver was trying to tell us he was poisoned,” Rick said.
“He hid that notebook in a place only you would find,” Kim said. “I think it’s safe to assume he was concerned his enemy, probably Angelina, would sweep the ranch house to make sure no evidence of what she’d done was left behind.”
“What I don’t get is why he didn’t call you, Preston, or the tribal police, and identify Angelina,” Daniel interjected. “Or just name his killer outright.”
“Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent sure, and didn’t want to make what was essentially a death-bed statement, naming the wrong killer,” Kim suggested.
“He may also have known help wouldn’t arrive in time, or that nothing could be done, so he used his remaining energy to do what he felt was honorable—die as far away from his home as possible,” Paul said.
“Or maybe he thought he might be able to reach Angelina in time and she’d have the plants necessary for an antidote,” Daniel said. “But, as Kim suggested, that doesn’t necessarily make her guilty. She might have simply shared his love for the Plant People.”
“But Angelina doesn’t live anywhere near Copper Canyon,” Kim pointed out.
“This all happened before she married,” Paul responded. “Let’s see where she lived before then. Hang on.” Paul typed something into his computer and a minute later looked up. “According to MVD records, Angelina lived just three miles from Copper Canyon. It’s possible that since his truck wouldn’t start, our foster father set out on foot to her house but never made it.”
“Great theory, but without a body, we still have zero,” Preston conceded. “We can’t prove how he died or even that he is dead.”
“There’s something that still doesn’t make sense to me,” Kim said. “Why would Angelina try to kill Rick after all this time? Even if she did kill Hosteen Silver, she’d already gotten away with murder. No body, no witnesses, no real evidence except the coded message—and that doesn’t identify her, not really.”
There was a long silence as everyone considered the possibilities.
“She may have been afraid that once Rick was back, he’d somehow be able to tie the poisoning to her,” Preston said. “Rick was the only one of us who could think like Hosteen Silver. That’s scarcely a secret.”
“Makes sense, but finding the body is totally up to us now,” Daniel said. “We need to hike away from the ranch house to the location of Angelina’s former home. We should take the most likely direct routes, and search along those trails. If he didn’t make it to her place, his body has to be around there somewhere.”
Paul used his computer to locate an aerial view of the area, and showed the others what was on the monitor.
“The shortest route passes through a section with no homes or signs of habitation. Just nature and wild animals,” Preston observed, not needing to explain the gruesome possibilities. “His body may be long gone by now.”
“We still have to do this, and we can’t depend on help from anyone else,” Paul said. “No Navajo would go searching for a body under these circumstances, at least no Traditionalist.”
“Let’s get a few hours of sleep, then start first thing in the morning,” Rick said, stifling a yawn. “Kim, we’d all understand if you want to sit this one out
.”
“Give me a good strong cup of coffee and I’ll be ready when you guys are,” she answered.
Rick’s phone rang. “It’s two in the morning. This can’t be good.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rick identified himself to the caller and immediately recognized the rough voice at the other end.
“It’s Ray,” he said, no longer using “Mike,” the name Kim had given him. “Detective Bowman let word out that he was looking for Nestor Sandoval and I’ve found him. He’s in Hartley, lying low, but I know where he is.”
“Give me the address,” Rick said quickly.
“The numbers aren’t there anymore, but it’s the abandoned building behind the gas station on Pine. The station is closed for the night but there’s a light in the alley. I saw Sandoval go in through the back. He hasn’t left, so he must still be inside. He’s also alone, from what I can tell.”
“How do you know Sandoval?” Rick asked.
“He’s the guy I bought a combat knife from—a KA-BAR. I needed a weapon to defend myself if it came to that,” Ray answered.
“Can you keep an eye on the place until we get there?” Rick asked.
“I’ll stay here by the pay phone and follow him if he leaves.”
“Observe, but don’t engage. Is that clear?” Rick said crisply.
“Copy,” Ray answered, all business now, as if the soldier in him had awoken. “Avoid approaching using the street north of the station. He’s placed boards with nails and broken glass all over the ground to discourage visitors.”
“You know a better way in?”
“Affirmative,” Ray replied. “Approach from the east and circle south around the gas station. That’ll screen your approach and place you on the east side of the house. There’s a vacant lot full of weeds there, and no road access, so he won’t expect anyone to come from that direction. You’ll have darkness on your side, as well.”
“Good job, soldier,” Rick said, then ending the call, filled everyone in.
“I can call for police backup,” Preston said, “but going through channels will come at a cost. You all know I prefer to go by the book, but this may be our last chance to get Sandoval. I don’t think we can afford to wait for SWAT and risk losing the element of surprise.”
“Then let’s move,” Rick said.
“He won’t come easily,” Daniel said. “He’s facing three strikes now.”
“At least there’s less risk to the public. That area is commercial and industrial and at this hour nobody should be around. We’ll do what we have to,” Preston said.
“I’ve seen combat, I can help,” Kim said.
“No. This is an entirely different situation, and there are different rules to follow,” Preston said.
“Why don’t you come and watch our backs in case someone tries to sneak up behind us?” Rick asked.
“Consider it done,” she answered.
* * *
PAUL WAS ASSIGNED to cover the northern approach, a likely escape route for Sandoval considering he knew where he’d placed the obstructions. Rick and Preston would approach from the east, as advised, while Daniel moved in from the southwest corner to prevent any exit south. There were no west-facing windows or doors.
They all carried radios with earplugs, remaining in constant contact as they advanced. There was a full moon, so they wouldn’t be groping around in the dark, at least.
Rick reached the east wall of the single-story building first, staying low to avoid being seen from any of the building’s windows. Preston was to his right, farther north along the same wall. Each was approaching a window. The plan was for one of them to enter through whichever opening offered the easiest access, while the other provided cover.
Rick noticed a heating unit on the ground close to the southernmost window and silently pointed it out to Preston. He then contacted Kim, who was back at the corner of the garage, watching both north and south with infrared binoculars provided by Daniel.
“You’re all still clear,” she said.
“I’m going in,” he whispered into the radio before climbing onto the unit and through the window.
A minute later he was crouched low beside the open doorway of the room he’d entered, listening and watching the hall as Preston climbed in. The room was unlit, but the moon was bright, the windows large and the walls light-colored. There was no way he’d miss seeing a man-size figure. As his brother lowered himself onto the floor, his shoe landed on a chunk of glass, making it crunch loudly.
Rick turned and waved him toward the corner just as footsteps raced down the hall. Aiming a pistol into the room from out in the hall, Sandoval fired blindly, not presenting a target. Two bullets hit the wall beside the window.
Rick shifted his aim, but the shooter’s pistol, which had been barely three feet from him, disappeared before he could acquire a target.
“Go,” Preston ordered over the radio, signaling for Paul and Daniel to close in. There was the sound of footsteps as Sandoval ran down the hall.
“Police! Put down your weapon and give up before you get hurt!” Preston called out. “The building’s surrounded.”
“I’m not going back to prison,” Sandoval yelled from somewhere inside.
Rick took a quick look out to his left, seeing only a blind corner, and stepped into the hall, hugging the far wall. Weapon aimed, he looked over at Preston.
“Got your back,” Preston whispered.
Rick inched down the wall to the corner, ducked low and took a quick look. Sandoval was crouched behind a stack of wood pallets, his pistol aimed right at him. Rick ducked back just in time. Two bullets came his way, one taking a chunk out of the corner.
Rick leaped across the hall and through an open doorway, firing toward the pallets as he moved. Once inside the room, he glanced around. It was empty and smelled of mold and damp wood, probably the results of a leaky roof.
From his position near the door, Rick looked back at Preston and nodded, ready to provide cover.
Preston crept to the corner where Rick had been just seconds earlier and looked up at the shot-out chunk of masonry.
“Move in carefully, guys. I’m going to draw his fire,” Preston whispered over the radio. “I got a look at his weapon. It’s a revolver. Two more rounds and he has to reload.”
Preston stuck out his pistol and then pulled it back.
Sandoval fired once, hitting the wall.
Rick put his pistol back in its holster and looked across the way at Sandoval. He’d turned to look out a north window just as Preston fired two more shots, striking one of the pallets.
Sandoval fired back, then Rick heard a click. Sandoval was out of ammo.
Rick rushed into the room, leaped across the pallets and tackled Sandoval.
Sandoval went down, Rick on top. In a matter of seconds Preston was there, along with Daniel and Paul, both carrying bright flashlights to illuminate the scene. By then Sandoval was on his back and Rick had pinned him to the floor.
Preston cuffed him and read him his rights. “Come on. I’m taking you in.”
“You know who we are?” Daniel asked Sandoval.
“Yeah, and you think I had something to do with the explosion at the restaurant,” he said, looking at Rick.
“Let me guess. You’re completely innocent,” Rick said.
Sandoval stood as Preston held on to his arm. “No one over the age of five is completely innocent.”
“Did you know what was going down or not?” Rick prompted.
“Hell, no. I had nothing to do with your old man’s disappearance. I do have information to trade, if you’re willing to cut me a deal.”
“Let’s go to the station,” Preston snapped, leading him out the north side toward Main Street. “We’ll talk there.”<
br />
* * *
RICK WATCHED PRESTON get into his cruiser, parked at the curb one block down from the gas station, and drive off. Paul and Daniel left next.
Rick met Kim at the SUV, which had been next to Paul and Daniel’s vehicle. “Have you seen Ray?” he asked.
“Not since we arrived.”
“I’d like to try to find him.”
“He probably didn’t go far. We’ll have better luck on foot,” she said.
They set out together, walking down the alley on the north side of Main Street. They’d gone halfway down the block when Ray stepped out of the shadows. “Looking for me?”
The change in him was subtle, but nonetheless there. He stood straight, his gaze steady.
“Sure am, Ray. We wanted to tell you personally how much we appreciate your help tonight.”
“No prob, and thanks to you guys, too. You reminded me what it was like to have something important to do again,” he said. “I got in touch with an organization that helps local vets. Now I have a place to sleep and a job. As it turned out, one of the volunteers over at Warriors in Transition is an old friend. He runs a dog-training operation at the edge of town. He and I were both handlers and loved working with the dogs,” Ray said. “He’s invited me to teach basic obedience classes for problem dogs.”
“Congratulations,” Rick said, shaking his hand.
“Me, too, Ray,” Kim said softly.
As Ray walked off, Rick smiled. “The man’s taking control of his life again. He’ll be okay now.”
“I think so, too,” she said. “You made a real difference when you treated him like an equal and asked for his help.”
“Everyone needs a hand at one point or another. I’m glad I was there. The road back is tough, but the first step is the hardest.”
Rick walked with her to the SUV. “Let’s go find out what Sandoval’s holding back.”
“Do you think Preston’s going to offer him a deal?”
“Eventually, but first he’ll want to make sure the information is worth it.”
* * *
