Earthway

by Thurlo, Aimée

  “I—” She swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure whether she should thank or shoot him. “What kind of a job did you say it was?” As the words left her mouth, she cringed. She’d worked hard to make a place for herself here at home. Why had she even asked such a question? The answer echoed in her mind—providing for her child, a better salary, better schools. . . .

  “The company was formed by three retired FBI agents and handles everything from industrial espionage to government security projects. Your work would be varied and interesting, and you’d be making a difference, Ella. The biggest difference, of course, is that you’d be earning a top-notch salary for a change.”

  She started to argue that her present salary was more than adequate, but then stopped. Kevin knew better. New Mexico’s salaries were among the lowest in the nation. But there were other considerations. “We have beautiful landscapes, abundant sunshine, clear blue skies, and a home that’s paid for,” she argued. “Not to mention tribal health care.”

  “You’d have even better health care here, and with the salary you’d be making, you could afford to live very comfortably,” he said, and quoted her a figure.

  Ella heard the number and although her thoughts were racing, she remained silent, too stunned to comment.

  “And Dawn loves it here in D.C., too,” Kevin continued. “She wouldn’t miss the reservation all that much.”

  “She’d miss her grandparents.”

  “They could fly over. It would be a new experience for them, too. Or you could go home to visit. Weekend flights aren’t all that expensive with the corporate discount.”

  Exhausted, Ella could barely process everything he’d thrown at her, but a sudden, disturbing thought renewed her energy. “You didn’t tell Dawn any of this, did you?”

  There was a pause before he answered. “I haven’t spoken to her about this, but she may have put it together on her own. When I spoke to the former agent who planned to offer you the job, I thought Dawn was in her room. But as it turned out, she was in the living room right next to my office.”

  “You’re not that careless, Kevin. You’re a good lawyer, used to playing people. So save the excuses. Is that what her phone call was about?”

  “No. She’d already spoken to Rose, but she’d wanted you to know all about her day, too. She really loved that school.”

  Before Ella could argue further, Kevin continued. “This job offer could open all kinds of doors for you, Ella. And it would give Dawn the kind of opportunities neither one of us ever had. Don’t decide now. Give yourself a few days and think about it.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” she said and slammed the phone down hard.

  She’d wanted to think about things a little more before going to sleep, but after a hot shower, exhaustion took its toll. She took a few moments to hear Dawn’s excited voice on the answering machine—twice—but then knew she had to call it a day. The second her head hit the pillow, the warm comfort of her bed led her into a welcoming void.

  FOURTEEN

  The alarm on Ella’s wristwatch went off at two-thirty a.m. She got out of bed and dressed quickly, grateful now for having taken her shower last night. Though still groggy, she moved noiselessly through the house and stopped by the kitchen to make herself some strong coffee. She downed the first cup quickly after cooling it with cream, then poured the rest into a thermos, black.

  Ella met Blalock at his office twenty minutes later. As she pulled up, he was standing beside his vehicle, waiting. It was three twenty-five, and the sky was bright with stars and a full moon.

  “If my calculations are right, we’ll be there at around five,” Ella said. “What a way to start a Monday.”

  “With luck, he’ll still be passed out, or nearly so,” Blalock said.

  “Don’t count on anything being easy. Think the worst and it won’t take you by surprise,” she muttered.

  “What’s eating you?” he said. “Something I should know about?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing to do with the case.”

  “If you need to talk, I’ll listen,” he said. “I know from our conversation yesterday that you still have a life outside the job.”

  Ella considered it. She did need a sounding board, and some information. . . . “Have you heard anything about a new investigative firm in D.C. headed by former FBI agents?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at her in surprise. “PPS—Personnel Profile Security. In fact, I’ve been offered a job with them once I retire. One of the men running it is John Blakely, my former SAC in Denver,” he said, meaning the Special Agent in Charge. “The work would put me behind a desk, overseeing operations, but the pay . . .”

  “Is fantastic.” Ella finished for him.

  “Yeah, and I’d be getting my Bureau retirement check on top of that, too. The firm’s got so much business they’re thinking of expanding and setting up regional offices in Denver and L.A.” He paused. “But how did you find out about them?”

  “I heard that I’m going to be offered a job.”

  He stared at her. “I didn’t realize your reputation had grown so much. Or did you know one of the agents from your days in the Bureau?”

  “I know Blakely, but I have a feeling this was Kevin Tolino’s doing,” she said.

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “I have a feeling it wouldn’t have been a hard sell at all. Ethnic diversification makes them look good in D.C., and would be a plus if they set up shop in other major cities. Plus, it adds credibility to what they’re pitching—that there’s no case they can’t crack.”

  “So you think I’d be the token Indian?”

  “No, Blakely hires on talent and skills, not skin color,” he said flatly. “So, you gonna take it?”

  “The salary they’re offering would tempt just about anyone with a pulse. And my kid seems to like D.C. and the advantages big-city living brings,” she said. “But I have to be sure it’s the right step, and I’m not there yet.”

  “You could really go places in a job like that, Clah,” he said.

  “Is that about me—or you?” she asked, accurately reading the undertone in his voice.

  He expelled his breath in a hiss. “It applies to both of us. For me, the real question is do I want to keep working after I retire? If I took this job, I could build up a really impressive nest egg. Then, after a few years, I’d be free to do a lot of things I would have never been able to do on my pension alone.”

  “Face it, Dwayne. You’re not the kind to retire anyway,” Ella said.

  “Not completely, no,” he admitted after a brief pause. “The biggest draw for me is the type of work I was offered. I’m getting too old to be out in the field, chasing suspects down dark alleys or into bars, you know? Sitting behind a desk, earning that kind of salary, might just the ticket for an old war horse like me.”

  “If you want to continue to do investigative work, this is the perfect solution for you. But for me . . .”

  “You actually like it here,” he said flatly.

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve got a good life, and my daughter is well taken care of. She’s learning about our ways firsthand, which is important to me—and will be important to her, too, someday. I’m afraid that outside our borders she’ll lose more than she gains.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Dawn and tell her that? See what she says, then make up your mind. An offer like this one from PPS might only come once in a lifetime.”

  “True, and I will be talking to her. But, ultimately, it’s got to be my decision. The thing is, I don’t want to make a mistake I’ll end up regretting.”

  “Then talk to Blakely or whoever makes the offer, and get all the details you can. Visit D.C. if it sounds promising, but do nothing until you’re really sure. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

  Ella had to concentrate on her driving as they left the main road, a narrow, gravel path that only gained the distinction when compared to the two ruts they were on now. It was darker than black in the narrow ca
nyon, and the pine trees at times brushed the sides of the car with a soft whisper.

  “I’ve worked on the Rez for nearly fifteen years, Ella, and I still can’t wrap my head around some things. Living out here, for one. I’ve backpacked into some pretty isolated places on fishing trips, but living full time in the middle of nowhere? Not on your life.”

  As they turned a switchback in the trail, they got their first glimpse of the house—a low, corrugated-metal roofed structure with wood siding and a big stovepipe. The windows were small, and the door very solid looking. There was no vehicle visible, but that didn’t mean Mike wasn’t home. A wooden shed, big enough to contain a pickup, stood fifty feet beyond the house, and recent vehicle tracks led up to it.

  Ella turned off the headlights, and used the parking lights to guide her a little farther before coming to a stop near the side of the house. They exited the SUV quietly, not closing the doors.

  Ella pointed to the back of the house, then to herself, and Blalock nodded.

  They moved forward with turned-off flashlights in hand and guns drawn. Blalock reached the front door as Ella moved into place near the back. He knocked hard, identifying himself, but nothing happened.

  Ella tried the handle next and the door opened easily. She stepped inside, switching on the flashlight and aiming it low, and to her side. A quick sweep around the one-bedroom house revealed several boxes of rifle ammo and a bag of ammonium nitrate, but the suspect wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Blalock came in through the front door, having found it unlocked, too, and glanced around. “Looks like Henry Mike’s getting ready for a serious firefight. The question now is, where is he?”

  “He’s got to be around someplace,” Ella said. “I doubt he’d leave this stuff just sitting here.”

  “Let’s try the outhouse.”

  They slipped out the back door and went about twenty yards into the woods, along a narrow path, when they heard loud snoring. Ella glanced at Blalock and pointed ahead. A man was lying face down on the trail, next to an empty bottle of whiskey.

  “This is how they freeze to death during the winter,” Blalock whispered, shaking his head.

  As they moved in, Ella saw that the suspect had a semiautomatic rifle next to him. Henry was also as large as she’d been led to believe. She motioned for Blalock to cover her, put her flashlight away, and crept toward the prone suspect, intending to grab the weapon.

  The second she got close enough to do that, Henry reached out and tugged hard at her ankle.

  Ella lost her balance and fell on her back, struggling to hold on to Henry’s rifle with one hand and her own pistol in the other.

  “FBI! Don’t move!” Blalock ordered.

  In a lightning-fast move, Henry rolled to his feet and dove down the slope into the trees.

  “I’ve got him,” Ella called to Blalock, tossing the rifle over. It would only slow her down.

  “I’ll cover the house in case he doubles back,” Blalock called out.

  Ella scrambled down after Henry. She moved as quickly as she dared through the pines, trying to avoid tripping over logs or rocks that were sticking up on the path.

  Failing to find him as quickly as she’d expected, she considered the possibility of an ambush. Ella took several quiet steps, then stopped and listened for movement. At first, she was sure she’d heard the sound of footsteps, but then it grew quiet.

  It was still dark, so Ella brought out her flashlight, checking the forest floor cautiously, but found no footprints. Henry might have feet the size of an elephant, but he knew the terrain and how to avoid leaving a trail.

  After a few minutes, she finally stopped looking. It was dangerous to continue peering at the ground this intensely, knowing he was capable of a sudden rush when her back was turned. Her handgun was her only comfort now, though she wished it were a .45 instead of a 9 mm. Henry Mike was a moose, and a little extra stopping power would have been reassuring.

  It wasn’t long before she was forced to admit she’d lost him. Henry knew the area. If he didn’t want her to find him, it would be nearly impossible for her to do so now.

  Ella headed back and met up with Blalock, who was standing behind cover at a spot where he could watch both the house and the SUV.

  “No luck, I see,” he said, expelling his breath in a hiss. “Maybe I should have gone after him, too, but guarding his stash here at the house seemed like a better idea at the time.”

  “Even if both of us had given chase, we wouldn’t have been able to corner him. He knows the area better than either one of us, and is incredibly fast.” Ella looked at the shed. “Is his truck in there?”

  “No, I already checked. According to the DMV he has an old Chevy pickup, but maybe he stashed it somewhere down the mountain. It’s a long walk from here to the trading post otherwise,” Blalock said.

  “True enough,” Ella said. “Too bad we didn’t have a Taser handy.”

  “Yeah. I chose not to fire when he bolted because we needed answers, not a body. I just never expected we’d come out empty-handed,” Blalock said.

  “At least we’ve neutered him for a while.” She pointed to the rifle in Blalock’s hand, a Remington autoloader. “What caliber, Dwayne?”

  “It’s a .308, and fully loaded. Let’s see what else our boy stashed in there,” Blalock added, gesturing to the house.

  “Rifles are common out here,” Ella said, falling into step beside him, “but I’ve never seen anyone outside an arms dealer with so much ammo on hand. Then there’s the ammonium nitrate.”

  “Maybe he was involved in that burglary over at Valley Construction,” Blalock said.

  “Could be. If we also find some of the dynamite and detonators inside, we’ll know for sure. As for the ammo, it looked like military issue to me, at least at first glance,” Ella said. “Some of these guys have been known to smuggle back whatever they can.”

  “Yeah, but the bullets you recovered outside the gas station were civilian, not military issue,” Blalock said as they entered the cabin.

  “This guy’s definitely not playing with a full deck—and his profile says loner. Look at this,” she said, opening the closet door and showing Blalock a row of rifles, some of them military and dating back to World War II.

  “That British SMLE and the Springfield are still top-notch sniper rifles,” Blalock said, helping her search. “There’s plenty of ammo here for those weapons, but I don’t see any detonators. Look, a can of black powder. We should check this against what was used in the pipe bomb.”

  Ella took out her cell phone, verified that she could still get a signal, then called in the rest of her team, requesting an arrest-and-hold on Henry Mike. She then went back to studying the rifles, beginning with the two weapons they found in .308 caliber. The one in the closet was a hunting rifle with a scope. “Neither of these weapons have been fired recently.”

  “Here’s a cleaning kit and it looks well used. He seems to take good care of his firearms. So what have we really got here, Ella? Someone who collects weapons because they make him feel secure, or something else altogether?” Blalock asked in a faraway, thoughtful voice. “These weapons are better suited for forties-era guerilla warfare, not present-day terrorism. Not an automatic weapon or handgun in sight.”

  “Maybe it’s his way of maintaining an arsenal without really breaking any laws,” she answered. “Or he could be selling them to collectors, or to hunters for cash.”

  “He doesn’t have a criminal record except for the spousal abuse, but he’s armed himself like one of the old-fashioned survivalists. What are we missing?” Blalock asked.

  “Let’s keep looking,” Ella said. “It’s getting light to the east and maybe we’ll find something else.”

  Ninety minutes later Justine showed up with Neskahi and Anna Bekis. “Did you see anyone on your way here?” Ella asked the moment she saw them.

  Justine shook her head. “No, and we were looking just as you asked us.”

  “This is qui
te a stash,” Anna commented, looking around.

  “Process everything here and let me know what, if anything, is on the stolen-weapons hotlist. Also, see if you can turn up any detonators or dynamite,” Ella said, then looked at Anna. “We need to find Henry Mike’s wife. She’s going to know more about him than anyone else. I’d like you to focus on that as soon as you get back to the station.”

  “I’ll find her,” Anna said. “Count on it.”

  Something about Anna’s tone of voice and the determination in her eyes told Ella that the job was as good as done.

  As her team got back to work, Ella glanced at Blalock. “The sun’s up so let’s expand our search around the cabin. He must have had a vehicle someplace. Maybe now we can find some tracks.”

  They hiked around carefully and eventually found a forest trail and tire tracks among a grove of ponderosa pines. Continuing down the narrow path, they came across an old abandoned pickup with its hood up. Though the keys weren’t in it, it was unlocked, and the DMV papers in the glove compartment revealed that the truck was registered to Henry Mike.

  A quick look under the hood revealed that a battery cable had worn out and corroded completely through. “He fiddled with the battery cables for a while and still couldn’t get it to start up again, so he hoofed it from here,” Blalock said. “But where to? The highway must be twenty miles away on these winding roads.”

  “Yeah, but the Sanostee Chapter House is only about five miles northeast of here,” Ella replied, pointing down the mountainside. “He could have run down the mountain and helped himself to someone else’s ride. Let’s check out that possibility first. If not, then Mike’s still in the area, and we’ll need to go after him. We have some excellent trackers and it wouldn’t take long for them to trailer in their horses.”

  As they hurried back up the forest trail, Ella used her cell phone to caution her team in case Henry doubled back to hijack one of their vehicles.

  After Ella listened to Justine’s preliminary report, she hung up and glanced over at Blalock. “They found some diesel fuel at the cabin. There was a small barrel with about twenty-five gallons just beyond the shed. Henry’s pickup had a gas engine, so you know what I’m thinking?”