“So the Feds think Dr. Lee and this unknown person plan to attack Tsétaak’á, maybe with a bomb? Or are you guys thinking of a takeover, like that raid several years ago on the coal power plant?”
“We don’t know,” Ford answered.
“Either way, that would be nearly impossible to accomplish with anything other than a Special Forces team. From what I know, and have seen on recent visits, security at the facility is excellent. Their guards have received the best training available,” Ella said. “What else does the Bureau have besides these e-mails?”
He gestured for her to follow him back to his office. Sitting in front of his computer, a model and make Ella wasn’t familiar with, he soon accessed the file he wanted.
Ford brought up digital images of a middle-aged Navajo woman with grayish-white hair taking photos of the plant with a telescopic lens. From the various backgrounds, it was obvious Dr. Lee had been observing the facility from different locations.
“These were taken by hidden security cameras at the plant. Since then, I’ve also learned that she’s downloaded design schematics that only an engineer would find useful. Thing is, Jane’s no engineer.”
“And the FBI thinks she’s working with one or more other individuals?”
“It’s my job to determine who, how many, and what they plan to do—without tipping our hand. The biggest concern is that she may have been recruited by foreign agents eager to use anti-nuke Navajo activists like Jane as assets. If there’s a terrorist cell working here, other Navajos, some highly placed, may be involved, too. That’s why the Bureau’s keeping a real tight lid on this. I doubt that even Police Chief Atcitty knows.”
“If he does, he’s kept it to himself. Is this why you got involved with the college and agreed to give the lecture series?” Ella asked.
He nodded. “It was a way to get closer to the chief suspect. But I still have nothing. So far, we’ve spoken on several occasions, but always on a professional or friendly basis.”
“Have you talked to her about the Tsétaak’á Generating Station at all?”
“I brought up the subject in passing. It’s a hot topic right now since the installation of the pebble-bed reactor vessel is imminent. But she refused to discuss it. She actually told me she had no opinion on the subject.” He paused and rubbed his neck.
Jane Lee’s lack of response surprised her. Ford always made whomever he was speaking to feel as if nothing elsewhere on the Rez could possibly matter as much to him. It was that special charisma that had made him such a popular pastor.
“You got nothing?” Ella asked incredulously.
“Jane told me that she wasn’t in the least bit interested in that place. Her tone was so dismissive I almost believed her.” He smiled slowly. “But I don’t give up that easily.”
Ella laughed. Now that was the Ford she’d come to know. “So what did you do?”
“You’ve noticed I’ve recently acquired a lot of very handy hardware. One little gadget looks and functions just like a generic ballpoint pen from the bank she patronizes, but it’s also a tracking device. I slipped it into her purse. I figured she’d be easier for me to follow that way, and I wanted to keep track of her comings and goings. I also made it my business to gain access to her laptop, though that was trickier. To do that, I had to wait until she got online, then I hacked into her system.”
He paused, and after a beat, continued. “But I suppose it’s also possible she ‘back hacked’ me. Or maybe she found the tracking device in her purse, and figured out who planted it. The signal went dead five days ago, and if she’d just thrown it out, I would have been able to track it. The device was very durable.”
Abednego put his paw on Ford’s lap, removed it, and repeated the process several times. Ford petted him and smiled. “He wants to go lay on the porch. He’s used to doing that for an hour or so every evening. He was on his own for a long time before animal control found him, and the big guy obviously likes the outdoors.”
Ford opened the front door, allowing the dog to go lay on his square of old carpet. “If it gets too cold for us with the door open, I’ll bring Abednego back inside. After everything that’s happened, I want to keep an eye on him.”
“I’m fine. In fact, I think you keep your house too warm,” she answered, leaning back in her chair and stretching out her legs.
“I grew up east of Gallup, and it was really cold in wintertime. In order to keep from running out of propane when our money got low, Mom kept the house temperature as low as we could stand it,” he said. “When I finally left and got a place of my own, I swore I’d never wear my coat indoors again.”
Ella listened without interrupting, hoping he’d continue. When he didn’t, she wasn’t surprised. Ford seldom spoke about his past.
Ella heard Abednego sigh contentedly from his bed on the porch, his gaze on Ford. As she watched master and dog looking out for each other, she wasn’t sure who took the most comfort in the constant eye contact between them—Ford or Abednego.
“How big a threat do you think Dr. Lee poses?” Ella asked, bringing their focus back to the investigation at hand. “What do your instincts tell you?”
Ford had an almost uncanny sixth sense about people. He attributed it to his religion and his deep connection to the God he served. She was more inclined to believe it was a result of his training as a pastor and his firsthand knowledge about the weaknesses of human nature.
“Do you think that Dr. Lee could be behind the attempted break-in here at your house?” Ella added.
“Without the tracking device, I can’t verify that for you one way or the other.”
“If she managed to connect the device to your visit, that could explain her coming here,” Ella said slowly. “She’d want to know how much you’ve uncovered about her—especially if she’s involved in criminal activities.”
“If you’re right, then Dr. Lee will probably try again,” he said. “And next time, she’ll have another way to deal with my dog.”
She was about to reply when they heard two dull pops outside. Abednego scrambled to his feet and ran out into the yard, barking furiously.
Reacting instinctively, Ella flipped off the lamp switch and raced to the door, gun in hand. Crouched low, using the wall as cover, she looked out. She saw a flash from beyond the fence and the whine of a ricochet off the sidewalk.
Dropping to the floor, she rolled to her right, bringing her pistol up, the faint glow of her sights lining up on a dark, moving shape in the yard.
“Abednego! Get out of the way,” she yelled.
Gravel flew and an engine roared as a car raced away, its lights out. She didn’t have a good target, and in the quarter moon, the only thing Ella could determine was that the vehicle was light—maybe white or yellow.
Ford reached the doorway and crouched down beside her as she was putting away her pistol. “Did someone just take a shot at you?”
“No, at Abednego. But the shot missed. You hear it ricochet?” She stood and pointed toward the highway a quarter mile away. The shooter had turned east and was racing away at high speed, lights now on. “There he goes.”
Ford hurried out to check Abednego, who was sitting by the fence. He grabbed the dog’s collar and ran his hands along the animal’s head and sides, checking for wounds, and finding none. “Did you get a look at the shooter?”
“No, just a muzzle flash, but those pops were too loud for a pellet gun. I’m thinking it was a .22 this time.”
“Yeah, I agree. If you’ve still got your flashlight, let’s take a look around.”
Ella checked the inside wall of the entryway first, wondering if the rounds had impacted there. The shooter had been aiming at a low-lying backlit shape on the porch, a difficult shot.
Ford moved past Ella and took Abednego inside. When he emerged again, he was alone. “I put him in the back bedroom for now. I wouldn’t want him to make a mess out of any evidence that might be here.” Ford had also brought out a huge lantern, which pu
t out a great deal of light.
“Here’s the thing,” Ella said, thinking out loud. “The shooter wasn’t after the lights this time. Nothing came through the window in our direction or the open doorway, and that last shot passed right by Abednego.”
Crouching down, Ella ran her hand over the wall directly behind Abednego’s doggie bed. “Here we are.” She reached for her pen knife and pried out the round from the wood siding, being careful not to deface the bullet.
“Thank the Lord I hadn’t replaced the bulb yet,” Ford said in a heavy, weary voice. “I’m obviously still a target, and anyone—man or beast—who’s around me gets to share in that danger.” He paused and looked directly at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“This is exactly where I should be, Ford. Trust me, I know my job,” she said, her heart going out to him. Ford wanted to protect others. It was part of his nature and the essence of his work. “Tracking criminals down is what I do best, and we now have solid evidence. We’ll put this person—or people—away.” She looked down at the small, nearly intact .22 round in her hand. Due to the softness of the wood siding, the bullet still had rifling marks that could be compared.
“A twenty-two short?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s quieter than the longs, or long rifle cartridges. Even so, chances are the shooter also made, or purchased, a sound suppressor. Being basically illegal, those aren’t very common. I’ll use that to start the tracking process.”
Ford expelled his breath in a hiss. “Bombs, bullets, silencers . . . this isn’t what I’m about. I made a commitment to bring good into the lives of those around me,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment . . . or maybe despair. “I wish I hadn’t taken on this Bureau work.”
“What’s happening is not your fault. You’re trying to save lives.” Seeing his pained expression, she continued. “My job is to restore the balance between good and evil so that all can walk in beauty. That’s what I’m all about. And Ford? I’m very good at what I do.”
“I know,” he answered, nodding slowly. “I believe you were born to be a detective, just as I was born to be a preacher.”
“We both give the work our all. That’s why we make a difference,” Ella said, then she picked up the phone and dialed.
FIVE
Since Ford lived off the reservation, he was outside Ella’s jurisdiction, but she could still call in favors. Ella reported the shooting and made arrangements for the county sheriff’s department to increase patrols in Ford’s neighborhood.
Once finished, she went back outside and met Ford, who was busy replacing the porch lights. “County’s going to send over a deputy to take a report,” she said. “They’ll also be increasing patrols in this area, and keeping a special watch on your place for the next few days.”
“Good. But I’m worried about Abednego. He has no business being in my church office, but maybe an exception could be made . . . ,” Ford said as they went back inside. Leading the way into the kitchen, Ford handed her a storage bag for the evidence, then poured himself and Ella some coffee.
“Your door and frame are steel, which stands up to being kicked in. Abednego was exposed because the intruder managed to pick the lock. You might want to switch to one of those high-tech locking mechanisms that requires a number code, or fingerprint. Other than that, I think Abednego’s safe and should continue to come and go through the doggie door leading to the backyard. That ten-foot-tall cinder block wall should protect him from all but direct gunfire, and your neighbor on that side would spot anyone who even got close. Didn’t you tell me once that she’s retired and usually home?” Ella took a sip of the hot brew.
Ford nodded. “Mrs. Tanner’s always watching, which probably explains why the guy tried to come in through the front. But I sure hate having to hunker down for anyone out to do me or my animal harm,” Ford added through clenched teeth.
“Once we catch the guy, Abednego will be able to enjoy his evenings on the front porch again,” Ella said.
They both looked over as the flash of headlights showed through the front window. “Here’s the deputy, I bet,” Ella said. “He didn’t take long.”
They were halfway down the walk when the uniformed officer stepped out of his unit. The deputy, an ex-military-looking Navajo in his mid-forties with tightly cropped hair, nodded to them both. “Investigator Clah? Looks like we’re having another of those never-ending days. I was at the college campus earlier, helping question the students and making sure my girlfriend was okay. She works for one of the professors. I hope your officer makes it, by the way. The whole department is pulling for him.”
“I’ll pass that along. Thanks for the support, Deputy Whitefeather.” Although she’d recognized him and remembered seeing Whitefeather at the college today, she’d forgotten his name until she was close enough to see his name tag. They’d been on the same arrest team during joint agency outstanding-warrant sweeps last fall.
“Dispatch said shots were fired at your residence?” Whitefeather asked.
“No, the shots were fired here at Reverend Tome’s residence. I’ve recovered a small caliber bullet for your crime lab to process.”
Ella handed the deputy the bullet, now in a plastic freezer bag. On the bag’s label space, she’d written the date, time, and location, then signed her name. She repeated the process with half the meat sample, having kept the other portion for Justine’s lab.
“Reverend, meet Officer Henderson Whitefeather,” she said, turning around.
Ford stepped forward, acknowledging the man, but didn’t hold out his hand, not knowing if the other Navajo disliked shaking hands or not. The gesture was still not common practice among the Diné, the Navajo people. “Good evening, Officer.”
Ella sniffed, noting a floral scent in the air.
“That would be me, smelling like lilacs or whatever,” Whitefeather said, shaking his head. “Had to use a lot of air freshener in my unit a while ago. A drunk cowboy puked all over the upholstery.”
“I can relate to that,” Ella responded, leading the way back toward the house. She’d arrested many drunks during her career.
Once inside the yard, Whitefeather raised the small clipboard he had in his left hand. “Shall we get down to it, folks? Reverend, can you give me a rundown on what happened tonight?”
“Okay, I’ll start. Jump in whenever you want, Investigator Clah,” Ford said as they reached the porch.
Ten minutes later they watched from the sidewalk as the deputy’s car headed back toward the main highway.
“You think the deputy was right, that this was just a meth addict trying to set up a burglary? There have been some residential burglaries in the area recently,” Ford asked.
“Anything is possible but, in my mind, it’s just too coincidental, especially after what happened this afternoon. It also doesn’t fit the MO of a meth addict. They tend to be the smash-and-grab types. Instincts tells me these incidents are connected.”
“So what’s next, Ella?”
“There’ll be patrol cars around, so if you hear or see anything out of the ordinary, call 911 immediately. One more thing: Stay at home until I’ve got a better handle on things. A day or two at least, okay?”
“What will you be doing?”
“I’m going to start by seeing how much Dr. Lee could have learned about your background by searching the Internet. To see you through her eyes, I’m going to have to follow the logical investigative footsteps that would be available to her.”
“That makes sense.” He walked her to the door, Abednego beside him. “Do you honestly think he’ll be all right in the house while I’m gone during the day?” he asked, glancing at Ella, then back down at the dog.
“If it’ll make you feel better, we can arrange to loan him a Kevlar vest like some of our police dogs wear. We’ll get one for you, too.”
Ford shook his head. “Not for me. This is all the protection I need,” he said, holding out the small silver cross he wore on a chain around hi
s neck. “But I will take a vest for Abednego.”
She thought about arguing that he’d need more than the cross to protect him from a bullet, but one look at his face told her his mind was made up.
“All right then. I’ll be back later.”
Ella stopped by the station and spent the next few hours in her office at the computer. It was close to one-thirty in the morning by the time she looked up, and she was beyond tired, but she still didn’t want to go home. Normally, whenever she got off work this late, her first stop would be Dawn’s room. She’d check on her daughter, then turn in for the night. But with Dawn gone, there was no need for her mom skills—what had become the dearest part of her soul.
Ella called the hospital next. Ralph hadn’t regained consciousness since his surgery, but although his condition was still listed as critical, he was stable. Grateful he was still alive, she tried to do some more work, but her attention kept wandering. She finally decided she wasn’t doing the case any good, picked up her keys, waved good-bye to the dispatcher, and headed home.
Two, their old mutt, greeted her at the door, and she scratched him behind the ears. The dog sighed contentedly, then went back to the kitchen and lay down on his bed. Not knowing which side of the house to sleep on since the new addition, he’d compromised by picking the most commonly shared room.
Ella stopped by her daughter’s room and stared at the made-up bed and stuffed toys around the pillow. She missed Dawn so much, it was almost a physical pain. But Ella was determined to encourage her to build her own dreams and follow them wherever they might lead.
She wanted the very best for her daughter, but beneath the love, or maybe because of it, Ella struggled with fear. It continually tempted her to keep Dawn close, where she could be watched over. But her daughter deserved more from her.
Ella lay down on Dawn’s bed and picked up the teddy bear that had been her daughter’s favorite toy well into her fifth year. It usually sat on the night stand, seldom used except in emergencies. With a sigh, Ella hugged the stuffed toy close, then leaned back against the pillow.
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