The Bakken Blade

by Jeff Siebold

  “OK,” said Angel. They heard a door close.

  “You wanna party?” asked the man.

  “Sure, why not,” said Angel. “But…can I have some…”

  “Sure, of course,” said the man. “Here you go.”

  Zeke looked at Kimmy. “Time to turn down the volume?” he asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” said Kimmy.

  Chapter 27

  Angel Wilson stepped out of the white house and looked both ways. There was no one in sight. Zeke and Kimmy had parked their car around a corner and were watching the front of the house from behind a solid, low fence three doors down.

  “There she is,” said Kimmy, quietly, turning the volume up on the mic.

  Angel straightened her blouse, buttoned her coat and took a step away from them toward Main Street. She said, “I hope you turned the mic off while I was inside.”

  Zeke smiled.

  “I’m heading toward the tracks, like we planned,” said the girl.

  The mic picked up her monologue and transmitted it to Zeke’s and Kimmy’s earpieces.

  Angel cut through the back yard and ended up on First Street, a half block from the Salty Dog. Zeke and Kimmy left their car parked and followed her in the dark.

  At the Salty Dog, Angel stopped and looked around. Then she unbuttoned her jacket, patted her hair and stepped into the bar. Zeke heard the bar sounds clearly and dialed the volume down a bit.

  “Here’s where she trolls the bar for the killer,” said Zeke. There was sudden chaotic noise from inside the bar coming through their speaker.

  After ten minutes and a few flirty conversations, Angel stepped back outside, still alone.

  She said out loud, “So here’s where I hang around outside and wait for someone to come out or to show up. OK?” They watched her light a cigarette.

  A few moments later she said, “Bobby, hey, what are you doing here?”

  Zeke heard a mumbled response and then Angel said, “Well, it’s pretty late to be out, isn’t it? Are you heading home?”

  Then suddenly they heard a clear voice. A man’s voice. “I’ll walk you home, Angel.”

  She said, “No, I’d better not.”

  The man said, “Suit yourself. But hey, I have something you’ll like.” There was a zipping sound. “Try one of these. It’s stupid fresh.”

  “That means good, right?” asked Kimmy in a low voice.

  Zeke nodded, thinking. Then he broke into a hurried jog.

  * * *

  Bobby, it turned out, was formidable. From a distance in the dark he looked like a linebacker. He was big with large features, black eyes and straight black hair pulled into a single ponytail.

  Angel was hiding something when Zeke arrived, having a little trouble because she had to use both hands to open her coat pocket, and she fumbled a bit with the hypodermic needle.

  “What was that?” asked Zeke. He was focused on the girl but was watching Bobby on his periphery.

  “Just something to get me over,” she said.

  Bobby nodded and said, “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Angel’s escort tonight,” said Zeke, smiling. “Want to be sure she gets home safely.”

  Bobby looked at him and squinted. He said, “What?”

  “Can’t have her running into an Indian killer like Jenny Lakota did,” Zeke continued. “Did you know Jenny Lakota, Bobby?”

  “How do you know my name?” asked the man. He was squinting again.

  “Jenny told me all about you,” said Zeke.

  The man looked confused for a moment. Then he said, “No, she didn’t.”

  “He went to the same school I did,” said Angel, starting to slur her words. “New Town High School. He’s a couple years younger…” She seemed to lose the rest of the sentence.

  Zeke looked at Bobby. “What was in that syringe, Bobby?”

  “What?” asked the man.

  “What did you give her? It wasn’t meth…”

  Angel suddenly slumped down, sitting on the sidewalk, and Bobby turned abruptly and walked away.

  * * *

  Kimmy appeared a moment later, as Zeke was trying to revive Angel. She’d passed out and wasn’t responding to his efforts.

  “Is it Xylazine?” asked Kimmy, looking around the immediate neighborhood.

  “Most likely. Same as Jenny. She’s fortunate we were here. And Bobby looks as if he could easily pick her up and carry her to the tracks.”

  “He probably did, with Jenny. Probably wanted to with Angel,” said Kimmy.

  “Let’s get her to a hospital,” said Zeke, dialing his phone. “We’ll find Bobby later.”

  * * *

  “You dropped the girl at the hospital?” asked Lieutenant Mankato in his slow, deliberate voice.

  “On our way here, yes,” said Zeke. “We asked the officer on duty in the E.R., to keep a close eye on her.” He and Kimmy were sitting across from Mankato in matching wooden chairs. Kimmy’s feet just missed the floor, and she swung them as they talked.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Best we can guess,” said Zeke, “someone named Bobby substituted something, probably Xylazine, for the meth she thought she was taking. She injected it subcutaneously, which may mean she’s a more advanced addict than we thought.”

  “Or maybe it was just for convenience,” said Kimmy.

  “How do you mean?” asked the Lieutenant.

  “Well, if this Bobby handed her a loaded syringe, and it sounded like he did, she’d have to inject it,” Kimmy explained.

  “Someone substituted something for the meth?” asked Mankato.

  “We think he did. And we think he was going to kill her,” said Zeke.

  “Did you see the killer, then?” asked Mankato.

  “I did,” said Zeke. “If he’s the killer. Eighteen to twenty years old, about six foot three, weighs maybe two fifteen. He looked like a linebacker to me, but that could be genetics. And he was definitely Native American. Brown eyes, black hair in a long, single ponytail.”

  “Sounds like a number of local guys,” said Mankato, thinking. “Can you look through some mug shots, try to identify him?”

  “Sure,” said Zeke. “But this wasn’t a stranger to Angel. She was nervous enough tonight that she wouldn’t have taken anything from a stranger. Judging by the way they talked, she definitely knew the guy.”

  “Then why would he want to kill her?” asked Mankato.

  Zeke nodded. “I wondered that, too. But I’ve seen this guy before. Somewhere. Same hair and eyes, same facial structure. It wasn’t exact, and I saw him in the dark tonight, but there’s something there.”

  Kimmy said, “Hey, I thought you had an eidetic memory.”

  Zeke nodded.

  Mankato said, “One of those photographic memories, like on TV?”

  Zeke said, “Not exactly. But I do tend to remember most everything. At least the important things.”

  Mankato looked at Zeke for a long minute and then said, “I’ve got an officer heading for the hospital to keep an eye on Angel. But we’ve got to find this guy, this Bobby.”

  * * *

  Angel Wilson was passed out in the hospital bed. A doctor was standing nearby, checking her chart. Tribal Officer Bruce Doekiller was sitting in a chair in the room.

  “How long do you think she’ll be out?” Zeke asked the doctor.

  “Can’t say. If she took Xylazine it could be hours, or all night, depending on the dosage. She’s a small girl, so it would hit her pretty hard.” The doctor’s name was Bill Ryan, and he had a grandfatherly manner about him.

  “We think this could very well be related to the two earlier killings, of Jenny Lakota and Casey Black,” said Zeke.

  Zeke noticed Doekiller listening intently while pretending to be absorbed in his hunting magazine.

  “Can you connect them?” asked the doctor.

  “Maybe. All three of the girls were turning tricks for money, and all were using drugs. They were
most likely selling meth, too. They could all be considered disrespectful of their heritage, of the values the tribe upholds.”

  “Hmm,” said the doctor. “Seems pretty extreme, killing off people who don’t agree with your ideas.”

  “Making a statement, perhaps,” said Zeke.

  Angel snored quietly.

  Kimmy asked, “Where did the killer get the drugs? It’s a controlled substance, right?”

  “It is not,” said Dr. Ryan. “It’s an analgesic, and it’s used in veterinary medicine as a sedative…and a muscle relaxant.”

  “So it’s widely available?” asked Kimmy.

  “Sure. You just need a vet prescription. That’s not that hard to get around here,” said Ryan.

  “Is there a vet on the reservation?” asked Zeke.

  “Sure, there are a couple,” said the doctor.

  * * *

  Zeke snapped his fingers. “I know where I’ve seen Bobby before,” he said.

  He and Kimmy were sipping bad coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Angel was still sleeping quietly with Doekiller keeping watch in her room.

  “Really? Where?” she asked.

  “When I interviewed Henry Wolsnoki, the Tribal Officer’s Chief of Staff. We were in his office, and he had some family pictures on his credenza. A number of them, actually.”

  “And one was of Bobby?” asked Kimmy. She stood and walked three steps to a large, gray garbage can and tossed her paper coffee cup, still full, into the trash. “Life’s too short,” she said.

  Zeke was thinking. “Actually, several were of Bobby, but at different ages. Not current pictures. That’s why I felt that I recognized him when we saw him. From the photographs.”

  “So there’s a connection?” asked Kimmy.

  “Seems to be,” said Zeke. “A possible killer connected to the Tribal Leader’s Administrator. We’ll want to check into that.”

  “Next stop?” asked Kimmy.

  “I think the local police. We’ll pick up Tillman Cord and visit Lieutenant Mankato when he gets in tomorrow morning.” He thought for a moment. “Meantime, let’s get some sleep.”

  * * *

  “What’s the motivation?” asked Cord.

  “For the murders?” asked Zeke. “It could be something about the drugs, selling drugs to Indian girls,” said Zeke. “Or the sex.”

  “But?”

  “But I have a hunch it’s about the tribe.”

  Cord said, “That’s still pretty dramatic, flaying the girl. Had to be a statement there, right?”

  “Seems like it,” said Zeke. “It might be something about disrespect.”

  “Disrespecting the tribe? These girls were, well, not the most well behaved citizens…”

  “And then there’s the money,” said Zeke.

  Kimmy smiled. They were sitting together in the Better B Café, a sprawling family restaurant that apparently specialized in breakfasts and lunches. The place was busy with ranchers, oil workers, mechanics, and truck drivers, plus a handful of retirees were crowded around one large corner table. It seemed like everyone was drinking coffee this morning.

  “Money?” asked Cord. “We haven’t come across any money in this investigation.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s there. And it’s a big factor,” said Zeke.

  Cord scratched his head. “Do tell.”

  * * *

  “Well, it’s easy to see the source,” said Zeke. “It’s the oil. Fracking. When such a disproportional amount of money is spread across a small number of people…”

  “There’s, what, about three-quarters of a million people here in the state?”

  “And the State Government has a billion dollar surplus. Just sitting there, not being used. That’s a lot of motivation for someone with unscrupulous tendencies.”

  “You think it’s that big?” asked Cord. “That it reaches that far? The State Government?”

  “Money and murder and big oil,” said Zeke. “Probably so.”

  “How would they access the money, though?” thought Cord out loud. “How would the killings benefit the murderer, financially, I mean?”

  “It could be a cover-up,” said Kimmy. “Killing people who could give him away…”

  “Possible,” said Zeke. “But there’s one way to find out.”

  “Well, then, let’s go,” said Cord.

  * * *

  Cord took the lead and knocked on the wooden door of the small home.

  “FBI, open up,” he called.

  The house had seen better days. The exterior paint had been worn off the sides of the house from wind and weather, and the wooden deck of the porch was blistered with old, green paint interspersed with exposed wood. A few hundred yards away was a horse barn and a small corral. There were no other structures in sight.

  Cord knocked again. “FBI, Bobby, open up.”

  They’d gotten Bobby’s home address and job status from the Tribal Police. With the connection between the boy and Henry Wolsnoki, locals who knew the family history were able to direct Zeke and Cord to the small farmhouse, Henry’s homestead when he was growing up.

  “Too bad we couldn’t get a warrant,” said Cord.

  “Not likely,” said Zeke. “I believe Mr. Henry Wolsnoki is pretty well connected around here. Makes it tough to get cooperation from law enforcement.”

  “Or the courts,” said Cord. “We’d be hard pressed to get a judge to sign off on the paper. The guys got too much juice.”

  “Could have used a Federal judge,” said Zeke. “You being the FBI and all.”

  Just then, the door opened. A small, thin woman wearing a gingham dress and moccasins stood framed by the door. Her hair was gray and black, and was arranged in two long, braided pigtails, one on either side of her head. She looked to be about sixty.

  “Hello, ma’am,” said Cord. “We’re here to talk with Bobby. Bobby Wolsnoki.”

  The woman looked at Cord for a moment, and then she sighed and turned around. Leaving the door open, she called into the small house, “Bobby? Bobby, the police are here to talk to you.”

  The men waited a minute on the porch. They heard a door slam, and Zeke said, “He’s going out the back!”

  “Kimmy’s back there. Can she handle?…” Cord started.

  Zeke nodded and said, “I’ll go. You watch the front.” The small woman had silently disappeared into the darkness of the house.

  It took just a few seconds for Zeke to circle the perimeter of the small farmhouse and gain a view of the back yard. As he cleared the back corner of the house he saw Bobby pointing a shotgun at Kimmy, who was standing between him and the vehicles in the drive.

  Zeke thought, Bad idea, Bobby.

  Kimmy, dressed in a tie-dyed cotton skirt and a yellow sweater, looked a bit like a flower child. She was two feet in front of Bobby and about half his size. And she was smiling.

  “Get outta my way,” said Bobby. “Or I’ll shoot ya.” He waved the shotgun in a wide arc.

  Kimmy looked at him. “Are you high, Bobby?” she asked. “Are you doing meth right now?”

  Bobby seemed disoriented. “What? No…”

  Zeke stepped in behind the boy, quietly, and nodded to Kimmy, who started talking again, distracting him.

  “Bobby, you don’t want to do this. It’ll shame your dad, and you’ll go to jail…”

  “Shut up!” Bobby said. “Shut up about my dad!”

  Zeke moved closer to Bobby’s left and leaned forward and said, in his ear, “Put it down, Bobby.”

  Surprised at Zeke’s sudden proximity, Bobby swung the gun barrel to the left, toward the voice. Zeke slipped the barrel under his left arm as it came around, tightened down on it and pulled Bobby closer. Bobby held tight to the gun. One sharp blow to his larynx with the yoke of Zeke’s right hand caused Bobby to let go of the gun and sit down in the grass, hard. He held his neck with both hands and gasped desperately for breath.

  Cord said, “Damn. I’ve never seen a five foot naught girl face down a sh
otgun before…”

  “She’s deadly,” said Zeke. “She has one speed and that’s full throttle. Good thing I was there to go easy on the boy.”

  Cord looked at Kimmy, then at Bobby, still gasping and holding his throat.

  “Well, let’s get him down to the police station,” he said.

  Chapter 28

  “He won’t be in here for long,” said Lieutenant Mankato. “His dad pretty much has a direct link to the Governor.”

  “Will that matter in an attempted murder?” asked Zeke.

  Cord said, “With the FBI involved?”

  Mankato sat for a moment, and then said, “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “We think he’s the serial killer. I like him for killing Casey Black and for skinning Jenny Lakota. I have to talk with him,” said Zeke. “As soon as possible.”

  “He’s in my jail,” started Lieutenant Mankato. “I think…”

  Cord jumped in. “This is Federal, Lieutenant. We’re just using your jail to house him. The Marshals will pay you rent for it. You know the routine.”

  The lieutenant nodded. “I guess I do.”

  “We’d like to talk with him before his dad gets involved and he lawyers up,” said Cord, pushing. “Can we get some time with him this morning? Right away?”

  “You just brought him in this morning,“ said Mankato. “We’re still processing him.”

  “It’ll benefit everyone if you let us interrogate the boy,” said Cord. “Zeke here was in counter-intelligence for the military. He knows about this sort of thing.”

  Zeke said, “You’ve been reading my file…”

  Mankato looked surprised.

  “And he’s working with the FBI on this,” Cord continued.

  Kimmy nodded. “Zeke’s very good.”

  Lieutenant Mankato sighed and said, “OK, I’ll set it up.”

  * * *

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bobby.

  “It’s a simple question,” said Zeke. “Where did you get the Xylazine?” He thought, And you’re lying from the get-go.