“What the hell…?” Del Rio blurted out as they beheld the scene. Chee could only shake her head in response, as confused as he was. Del Rio spotted Shirley and Tso in an urgent-looking conversation with one of the uniformed cops. If there was a center to the activity, it was there and Del Rio plowed right on into it.
“Would someone care to explain what the hell is going on here,” Del Rio fired off, looking directly as Shirley as he spoke.
“Councilwoman Walker is missing,” Shirley said bitterly.
“How the hell did that happen?” Del Rio erupted. “Who was supposed to be keeping an eye on her?”
The cop who’d been talking with Tso and Shirley before Del Rio had barged in flinched, giving himself away. Del Rio turned on him. Chee was glad she was not on the receiving end of the furious glare Del Rio had pinned on her colleague.
“Well?” Del Rio growled softly. The heat of his anger radiated out and Chee swore she could feel it as a real thing. The muscles in Del Rio’s jaws flexed over and over. Had it been her boss in Del Rio’s place, a string of invectives would have followed that initial one-word question, along with a string of insulting insinuations regarding the cop’s ancestry, but Del Rio kept his anger in check, banked it so it would not erupt until he was ready to unleash it for maximum effect, and waited for the explanation.
“I’d just checked on her, sir,” the cop explained past a very dry throat. “Not ten minutes ago. She was in there, in her office, Reading some papers at her desk. I swear, everything was fine. There’s no second exit, and the windows were locked. There’s no way she walked out of that office without going past me.”
“Then where is she, mister?”
The unfortunate cop tried to answer. His mouth opened and closed twice without making a sound before he hung his head, unable to meet Del Rio’s angry gaze, and just shook his head. Del Rio spared only a few more seconds to give a disgusted look at the man before turning to Shirley and Tso.
“And what are you two doing about this?” he demanded.
“We’ve got people searching the immediate area,” Tso answered. “Roadblocks are going up. He won’t get out, I promise. We’ll get the job done.”
“Like you’ve done so far for Walker?” Del Rio shot back.
The remark had cut both Navajo men deeply, but before either man could speak a word in their defense they heard someone shouting. All eyes turned toward the direction the shouting was coming from — the top of Tségháhoodzání — where a man in uniform stood in the center of the hole in the rock, alternating between waving his arms and tapping his hand to an ear.
Shirley pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt and turned up the volume.
“This is Shirley. Go!” he barked.
“We found her, sir,” the man said after bringing out his own walkie-talkie. “She’s up here. You should come up.”
Del Rio swore softly as the realization struck them all at the same time. The searchers up there had found Walker’s dead body.
“Bring him up with us,” Del Rio ordered with a disgusted look at Walker’s disgraced bodyguard before heading for the trail that led up to the top of the Window Rock. The trek up the trail was long and somber — no one spoke a word all the way up. Del Rio’s first thought when he saw the body was that at least she had not suffered.
Tommie Walker had been impaled from behind by a metal spear with a ragged, pointed metal tip that had torn through her chest. She’d lived just long enough so that she died with a surprised look frozen on her face. The force of impact had pushed her forward and the tip of the spear dug into the ground, stuck firmly into the soil at a forty-five degree angle, leaving her body hanging off the ground, arms dangling and very little weight on her legs.
While they waited for the coroner to arrive Del Rio made a quick examination of the body while the others stood back and watched. Some blood had dripped down the shaft of the spear, but not much. He doubted her heart had beaten more than a dozen times after impact. There were no defensive wounds on her hands or arms, and no skin under her nails, which meant the spear had been thrown from a distance and she probably never saw her killer.
Del Rio noted no carvings on her face or anywhere visible. An autopsy would reveal if any were under her clothing. He doubted it.
So why the change in M.O.? he wondered as he continued his examination. Had he been interrupted? Was he trying to throw the investigators off track? Or was the fact that this was his first female victim the reason?
Del Rio paused as he spotted something tangled in Walker’s brown hair. He quickly snapped a picture with his phone to record where he’d found the object, then gently plucked out a tuft of coyote hair, hair that had been chemically treated.
Well at least he’s keeping that part of his routine, Del Rio thought glumly as he placed the hair into a fresh sample baggie. The coroner arrived and Del Rio waved the doctor on up.
“Doc, I need a time of death.”
“I can only guess at this point…” the man protested.
“Not if you take a liver temp.”
“You mean right here and now?”
“Yeah, Doc,” Del Rio said. “Right here. Right now.”
With an obvious air of displeasure, the doctor withdrew the stainless steel thermometer and firmly inserted it into the dead woman’s liver after cutting a slit though her blouse. He checked the reading and turned to look up at Del Rio.
“Three hours ago.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Del Rio said gently. “Take good care of her from here.”
He walked over to where her bodyguard was being held, pocketed the hair sample and pinned the man with an angry look.
“According to you,” Del Rio began, “not thirty minutes ago you saw that woman over there alive and well inside her office. Is that your story?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Del Rio responded, suddenly grabbing a double-handful of the man’s uniform. “Then how do you explain the fact that she was killed three hours ago, and has probably been up here ever since?”
“I…I…I…” the man stammered, Del Rio’s giving him a couple of hard shakes not exactly helping his communication skills. “She was alive, I swear it. She was alive…”
Del Rio held the man for a few seconds, his eyes boring in as if they sought to rip the truth out of the now-sobbing officer. He spun the man around, pressing him harshly against the cold, hard rock and used the officer’s own cuffs to restrain him.
“You are under arrest,” Del Rio said as he snapped the steel links on. “I’m sure you know the rest, and I’m done talking with you.”
He whipped the man back around, yanking the gun and holster off the belt loop and stripped off his badge, rank insignia, and NNPD chevron in short order, leaving ragged holes in the uniform.
“You don’t deserve these,” Del Rio snarled, shoving the man toward a pair of Tso’s agents. “Take it to a cell. It doesn’t talk to anyone, it doesn’t get a phone call, nothing, and take its belt and laces. It doesn’t get to take the easy way out either.
“Wait a second,” Del Rio snapped, spotting a crime scene tech and waving her over. “Get a blood sample from that,” pointing at the officer, “then get one from the body over there and bring them to me. And don’t swab his arm before you draw the sample either. He can take his chances with infection for all I care.”
As the woman jumped to follow his orders, Del Rio found himself all alone in the middle of a fifteen-foot radius, no one daring to come any closer and risk drawing the attention of one very angry FBI Agent -- with one lone exception.
“Goddamnit, Chee,” Del Rio said softly after enduring her quiet stare, her arms folded in front of her as she stood just a couple of feet away. “We were so close to grabbing our guy without losing anyone else.”
“I know, Jack,” Chee replied, keeping her voice low, “but she was already dead before we left MacDonald’s place. There was nothing we could have done to save her.”
“I know we couldn’t,�
�� he growled, shooting a look at the disgraced officer before looking back at Walker’s body.
“You know there’s this cop I know, he’s a pretty smart guy,” Chee said after a moment. “He had a pretty good piece of advice for a situation like this.”
“Yeah?” Del Rio replied, still watching as Walker was gently lowered to the ground. “What might that be?”
“Get mad later, after we catch the bastard.”
Del Rio’s face was still turned away so she did not see what his first reaction was. After a few seconds, he turned his head back toward her just enough to see his profile.
“Said that, did he?” Del Rio said with a look of chagrin on his face. “Sounds like a pretty smart cop.”
“He is.”
“Well who am I to argue with such sage advice?” He didn’t smile, but there was a bit of a grateful twinkle in his eye. “Okay, let’s go catch the bastard.
“You want to hear something strange?” Del Rio asked as they walked toward Tso and Shirley.
“What about this case isn’t strange?”
“Good point,” Del Rio allowed. “Here’s the thing. That cop honestly believes he saw Tommie Walker alive and well down below a good two hours after she was pinned up here and stone cold dead. You hook him up to a lie detector and have him tell his story and he’ll pass, I guarantee it.”
“How is that possible?”
“I have no idea, but there it is.”
Chee was still trying to figure out how a dead woman could be seen alive and well hours after her death as they stepped up to Tso and Shirley.
“You really think he is in on this?” Shirley asked, not wanting to believe one of his own could be a part of the killings.
“I don’t know, Chief,” Del Rio answered. “Look at it this way, if he is our killer, he is caught and no one else will die at his hands. If he is an accomplice, the killer will know we have him and be worried; maybe even enough to make a big mistake. And if by some explanation that completely eludes me at this time, he is an innocent victim in all of this, then he’s better off under watchful eyes so he doesn’t hurt himself.”
The two Navajo cops slowly nodded in agreement.
“Where’s Yazzie?” Del Rio asked, suddenly aware of how tired he was and how late it had gotten. The sun was just barely above the western horizon.
“At home,” Tso answered, “with four of my men armed with enough ammo to refight the Korean War.”
“Ok, I’ll want to talk with him first thing in the morning when he comes back here. How about Jim and Shelly, are they still here?”
“As far as I know,” Tso answered.
“Well call down there and make sure they stay put until I’ve spoken with them,” Del Rio said, turning away to head back down the trail. “C’mon Chee, there’s no more answers up here for us to find.”
Before she could take more than two steps, Del Rio stopped and turned back around.
“The two of you bought a couple of stuffed coyotes from MacDonald, right?” he asked. Both men nodded yes, clearly puzzled by the non sequitur.
“Any special reason why?” Del Rio asked.
“Not really,” Shirley answered. “A few months back, it was suggested that we buy them from MacDonald, to help promote a native artist and maybe a little goodwill and some peace and quiet from him at the same time. It was a harmless little buy-off.”
“Judging from the reception we got today, I take it that it did not go as hoped?”
“No,” Tso signed. “He was still a big pain in the ass.”
“Yeah,” Del Rio replied with a chuckle. “So whose idea was it in the first place?”
“I think it was the Speaker’s,” Shirley said. “Why?”
“No reason,” Del Rio said. “MacDonald mentioned the sale and I was just wondering. You still have them? I don’t remember seeing them in your offices earlier.”
“No,” Tso replied, “I tossed mine somewhere in the garage at home.”
“Same here,” Shirley volunteered.
“Seems like a good place,” Del Rio quipped, turning back down the path with a wave goodbye as he spoke to Chee. “Did you notice their reaction to the stuffed coyote question?”
“Yes.”
“Complete surprise,” he continued. “They have no clue of the connection.”
“And since we are pretty sure Yazzie is not the killer…” she began.
“Then one of the two men we are about to go have a chat with is our bastard killer.”
SEVENTEEN
Emerson Jim was not a happy man, and it seemed he hadn’t been for quite some time now. The former Army man had been a widower for the past ten years. While those closest to him would not describe him as bitter, the loss had left him harder and colder toward the outside world.
He’d kept his military-cut hairstyle for a few years after leaving the Army before letting it grow out. Even though his jet black hair lengthened and transitioned into the snow white it was today, he could still fit into his old dress uniform on those rare occasions when he pulled it out of the closest. He looked so much like the statue of a Navajo Marine on display out in the park — a tribute to the Code Talkers that had served with distinction — that many thought he had been the model for the sculptor.
He had directed his political career much like a military campaign; quickly ascending to the seat he’d set his eye on from the beginning — Speaker of the Navajo Council. And he held on to that seat with all of the determination of a squad of soldiers dug in to hold a position in the field under heavy fire.
The man’s presence alone commanded respect, a fact not lost on Del Rio as he walked into Jim’s spacious office, carrying a legal-sized folder. The office was filled with memorabilia collected over a lifetime in the Army and as a politician. Photos of Jim with celebrities, fellow Marines and constituents lined the walls. One item in particular caught Del Rio’s attention.
A stuffed coyote mounted on a flat stone next to the large fireplace. He made quick eye contact with Chee and she nodded slightly that she had seen it as well.
Del Rio took a seat across from Jim, flipping open the folder to skim the top page. Jim’s whereabouts for many of the recent events could not be verified, the old man lived alone and rarely entertained or went visiting. The agents assigned to the Speaker were reporting they had eyes on him when Walker had been killed. Given the unreliability of a similar claim by Walker’s assigned watcher, Del Rio was forced to discount their claim.
“Mr. Speaker,” Del Rio began, flipping through the file as he spoke, “thank you for your patience and you cooperation.”
“Do you know yet who is doing this?” Jim shot back brusquely.
“We’ve developed information that has led to possible suspects,” Del Rio replied carefully, “but we have nothing specific at this point and time. We’re hoping you might have some additional information to help narrow the field somewhat.”
Jim held his hands out in a “go-ahead” gesture.
“How well did you know the four victims, outside of the Council functions?”
“Martin and I have known each other for years,” Jim replied. “The other three, I didn’t have much contact with outside council chambers.”
“Any issues in chamber that might have gotten a little overheated?” Del Rio probed. “Perhaps a disputed vote that might have gotten ugly, or even a blocked bill that was expected to pass?”
“Nothing,” Jim said after a moment. “I probably agreed with Martin on more issues than not, and the others haven’t been on the council long enough.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Del Rio caught Jim’s Chief of Staff nodding his head; whether it was in agreement with what was being said, or how it was being said, he didn’t have time to work out.
“Were there any issues with other council members then?”
“None that I know of.”
“Okay then. How about any issues between the victims, anything outside of being on the council that connected t
hem? Any business deals on the side? Members of the same club or organizations?”
“I’m sorry Agent Del Rio, I simply don’t know anything about them that would be of any help to you. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after your visit with Mr. MacDonald?”
“Before,” Del Rio replied, “when you were one of many suspects. After our visit with him, you became one of a very few.”
The Chief of Staff started to come out of his chair in protest, but stopped at Jim’s raised hand and stern look. Chee, who’d been quietly inspecting the stuffed coyote, had been surprised by Del Rio’s bluntness as well. She was learning that he liked to dig in a barb as deep as possible, and then carefully observe the reaction that followed. The read he got from that seemed to point him in the right direction without fail. Why he would come straight out and tell the man he himself considered the top suspect that he was under suspicion was beyond her.
While Jim’s assistant steamed, the other two men remained engaged in their silent battle of wills. Not many stood their ground against the Speaker, but Chee was not surprised at all that Jim was the first to break the silence.
“I assume that you are aware I am a decorated, honorably discharged member of the United States Army,” Jim said, his hard as steel tone being the only outward indication of how angry he was inside. “Given your brother’s position in the Navy, not to mention your career history, I would hope you would be less inclined to accuse someone like me of being capable of something like this.”
“Someone with multiple commendations for action in the field while serving as a member of a Special Forces unit?” Del Rio shot back calmly, wondering just who it was back in D.C. that was playing so fast and loose with the details of his career not intended for publication. “A someone who is capable of planning and executing action plans resulting in the death of one or more targets with military precision?”
“I see you’ve read my file,” Jim said after an uncomfortable moment. “Agent Del Rio, the only response I can give you is that I did not kill those people.”
Jack Del Rio: Complete Trilogy: Reservations, Betrayals, Endgames Page 13
