And there was still so much I didn’t know. It set me on edge—I was the person who liked to have three truckloads of information and research on a case before I even took it. This was out of my comfort zone. “Okay, what’s going on with this place? It’s nicer than some of the places in Vegas. Color me impressed.”
“How many holding rooms in Vegas have you been to?” he asked.
I gave him a deadpan look.
Timothy chuckled. “I know. These casinos are stylish and brand spanking new. This is the main one, but all three are nice. They went all out and that’s half the reason people drive clear out here to gamble. They have some of the highest payouts of any Casino in the U.S.”
“And all the money goes back to the tribe?” That couldn’t be all bad. More money for education, social services, roads, and other ways to improve the tribe’s quality of life. At least, that was it in theory. Did they really put the money where it should be?
Timothy’s shoulders tightened. “Its a scam, that’s what it is, and the reason why I’m even in this room. None of the money reaches the town, and people suffer because of it.”
“Wait, hold up. You’re telling me that once the State recognized their tribal status, they got free land and money just for being Indian? When?”
“It wasn’t until the 60s, when Chief Hara Tate proved this was their original land and fought to get it back. He was a hero. And when he died, his son, Chaska, continued his work. This land was stolen from them in the first place, not to mention that most of their civilization was almost wiped out several times. We owe them more than land and money, but that’s another story for another day.” He sighed. “Once they had the land and official status, they set up their laws. So it was all going well until Chaska and his best friend, Takota Watters, had a falling out—over a girl, nonetheless.”
“How romantic,” I said dryly.
“The fight was on. It was family against family, each trying to take control of the council, who can do just about anything they want without consulting the tribe. And the chief has final say on the council.”
“Who’s in control now?”
Timothy sat on the chair next to mine. “Chaska Tate. He owns the town and has had the council for years, but this is an election year. His former best friend is running this next term, though. He’s the reason the casinos are making money. In a few weeks, they hold the elections, so things are supercharged.”
I scratched my fingernail against the table. “How does the best friend make all the money?”
“See, Chaska is loved by the people. He keeps everyone happy and things have been peaceful, for the most part, under his eye. But Takota Watters is one smart businessman. He went off to an Ivy League college and came back and started the Golden Nugget casino—which, at the time, was a dive bar with a few slots. Everyone employed at the casino, which is basically everyone in town, reports to him.”
So Chaska owned the government and Watters owned the trade. “So what’s the problem? If they work together—Chaska takes care of social and legislative matters and the Watters guy makes them all money—everybody wins.” Even as I said it, I knew what power did—it made people hungry for more.
“You’d think, but they hate each other. And with Takota Watters controlling the casinos and Chaska controlling the council, they’re at war. If Watters takes the council, Chaska won’t stand for it and the whole tribe will be split, broken, and maybe never recover.”
I rubbed my temples. “I think I’m following you, but how would he get rid of Chaska? They have tribal rights.”
“Yeah, every approved member gets a share of the profits. And most of them work for the casino in some way, so they’re getting paid a wage on top of their royalty. Wait till you see the houses they live in. All around here in the foothills, you’ll find million-dollar homes, pools, and parks, and all the Watters are on one side of the river and all Chaska Tate’s people are on the other.”
“I gotta find me a nice Indian boy to marry.” I touched my ring finger.
“Good luck. You ready for the end game?”
“Of course. This is getting interesting.”
“For the past few months, Watters has been calling into question the blood rights of the members. The council is making members prove their bloodline.”
Then it hit me—the play, the final blow that would destroy one family and leave the other that much richer. “They’re kicking members out—fewer people at the table means bigger pieces of pie. And they’ve been using any means necessary.” I eyed him. From his history of peacekeeping and social justice, I could see how this story appealed to him—but everyone had secrets, and Timothy hadn’t told me any yet. There had to be more to this story. “Now, how the heck did you get tangled up in this?”
He stared at the black window. “Penchant for trouble, I guess.”
“I’m not buying that. Give me more.” I leaned forward, trying to see his eyes. They were sad, almost haunted. My heart turned for him. “There’s a dead girl in your trunk. How did it get to that?”
“She was one of my leads.” His voice broke. “And now she’s dead.”
Heavy footsteps came from the hallway. We both looked up. They were coming.
A MAN BURST THROUGH the door. He was a red-faced man in a cream-colored cowboy hat and thick bottle-cap glasses. His hair was black with white streaks, thick and shiny, and his face was worn and weathered, as if he had been through his share of storms.
Tahatan followed him in, but his mannerisms had changed. He was not the highest authority in the room anymore. His expression was meek and wary.
The tall man pointed at me and said to Tahatan, “I don’t care who she is. Get her out of here and throw him in a cell.”
“He deserves a defense. You of all people should know that.”
The big man in a cowboy hat—I gathered this was the chief—came unglued. “You dare say that to me? After I’ve been the one defending you to everyone? I say who is guilty, I say who deserves what. You got that? Now do as I say or so help me, your name will be the next one called.”
Tahatan swallowed hard and shot a look at me that I couldn’t read. It was time to speak up.
“I am going to assume that you’re the man in charge—Chief Chaska Tate.”
He spun toward me and opened his mouth to respond, but I cut in before he could.
“Look here, Chief. I get that you say jump and the world says ‘how high’. But I have some information for you. This man, Timothy James, is innocent. You’ll easily be able to deduce it from the evidence—it didn’t take me more than five minutes of looking at the scene and I’m sure your men are twice as sharp as I am, right? He didn’t kill that girl, and we both know it.” I stood up and squared my shoulders. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I didn’t look away. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. “You a lawyer?”
“Yes, sir.” I braced myself for the barrage of abuse most people heaped on lawyers. But he surprised me.
“Then you should know that the easy way is not always the best way. I don’t get to think just about Timothy’s innocence or guilt. I have an entire society to consider.”
Timothy froze, and his eyes revealed the panic he felt. My mind cleared, and the same feeling I had fighting the gang of men in Rio washed over me. It was as if this darkness in me liked to be in a fighting position. I should be scared, terrified because I was outnumbered and confronting men who had more authority and power than I’d ever have.
But sometimes what is flies in the face of what should be.
Taking a step toward Chaska, I lowered my voice to a growl. “Now, I know I have no authority here, but if you do not give that beautiful, dead young lady some justice, your quiet little operation here might not be so quiet anymore. The last thing you want is outsiders snooping around, checking up on you, interviewing people, writing articles, gathering an audience. Timothy and I are not just two people. We have access to tho
usands of listening ears. So I suggest you let me do what I do best and give my client a fair shake.”
The room fell silent. Chaska puffed out his chest and seemed to calm a touch. “Well, maybe I did come on a little strong. There’s no need to be fighting when all anyone is interested in is the truth.”
I leaned back, flickering a smile. “I’m glad we see it the same way.”
Chaska took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Now, miss, what is your name?”
“Steele. Sarah Steele.”
AFTER THREE HOURS OF back and forth with Tahatan and Chaska Tate, we were no closer to any sort of agreement. By their law, they could hold Timothy for up to three years on a charge, so things were not looking good. They put him in a holding cell, and I had Tahatan promise he’d call me if anything new happened or if they needed to speak to Timothy again. I wanted to believe that he’d keep his word.
I had Joshua call Dan to let him know that he was right and we couldn’t get our office involved due to tribal law, but that I would keep him updated on the case. I speed walked out of that place, my mind buzzing. There was so much to do. I had at least six mental lists running through my head. Joshua had the car waiting for me in the circular drive. I pulled my notebook from my purse and started scribbling my notes feverishly.
Joshua pulled onto the highway. “Watch it. Your pen might start smoking any moment.”
Biting my lip, I finished. “There. We have so many leads and so much research to do, I’m afraid I’m going to have to hire this out to foreign markets. Do you know any good research teams in India?”
“Very funny. Now where do you want to go?”
“I don’t think we can do anything more here tonight,” I said.
He pulled into a gas station in front of the Silver Mine. We got out and I stretched, walking along the curb. Little white flowers poked out of the sandy dirt—specks of beauty in the drab ground. I picked one and twirled it between my fingers, thinking. The wind blew my hair across my shoulders and I shivered. It was getting chilly.
I needed coffee. The beverage they had in the gas station pot resembled engine oil that had been scraped off the pavement outside, so I opted for some canned caffeine. I also grabbed Joshua’s favorite candy bar, and a bag of pistachios for me.
Joshua was just putting the gas pump back in its cradle when I walked up. “I want to get Mandy up-to-speed on our little plan and see what she thinks. Is there any way you can write my resignation for me, and on the drive back I’ll tell you the story?” I handed him his snack and drink.
He snorted and then laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I want to be on the phone all night—I know some Indian rights lawyers and tribe advocates and I need to get their perspectives. Writing a resignation for Dan Wandering Eyes is the last thing I can do tonight. I wouldn’t know how to tie my shoes if it weren’t for you. You’re my sun, my moon, my starlit sky—“
He held up his hand. “Okay, okay. I’m on it. Should I add in your trademark snark and a few memes just for the fun of it?”
I unshelled a couple of pistachios and popped them in my mouth. “Of course. And don’t forget to misspell several words. That’s another of my trademarks.”
Josh ate his candy bar in two bites. “Sure. That’s what I am here for, boss—to do your bidding.” He laughed. The sound was deep and comforting.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
After filling up at the gas station, I took in the sights. It was an odd thing to see three huge hotels and casinos sitting out here in the middle of the desert. They lit up the sky, and neon lights of every color accosted the natural surroundings. All of them were beautiful, and I noticed for the first time a new golf course being put in up on a small bluff. They were going all out.
“Not quite right, is it?” Josh said as he began the process of squeezing his large body into my car.
“No, it’s not. It’s like a movie set or something. Like it’ll all blow away in a few weeks’ time.”
After we were on the road, I started going over this mess I found myself in.
“So what’s the plan, boss?”
I punched him in the arm and he pretended to be hurt. “Enough with the boss crap. I am your boss, but you say it all stupid, like you’re mocking me.”
“’Cause I am.”
“I thought so. I talked to Mr. James, and he has agreed to my terms. Dan will cover the rather hefty price quote I put on the case. I told him that we would act like personal assistants, but cover all fronts.”
“So what are we going to call this band of misfits?”
“Hey, speak for yourself. We’re the people you call when you’re in need of the best. Between the three of us, we can do just about anything. You’re one of the best researchers I’ve ever seen, and Mandy can hack into anything.”
“And you’re a shark when it comes to finding the truth and getting people to do what you want.”
“I’m glad you can see my skills clearly, young one.”
Staring out the window, I let my mind wander. Sometimes the best way to think is not to settle on one idea and to see where the paths lead. The landscape went hazy—trees and grasses and shrubs blurred together until it was so dark that I could only see the stars glistening above the tree line.
By the end of the road, I’d decided on my own path in all this. And like most things in my life, it was going to be messy.
MY SUITCASE SAT ON my bed, mocking me. The last thing I wanted to do was unpack, but I had lugged it onto my bed so I couldn’t procrastinate and now I started sorting clothes into piles. That mundane task set my mind free to think about the case.
”Now, girlie, how’re you going to solve this murder? And try to do it without killing someone this time, aye?”
I knew that talking to myself was not the sanest thing in the world, but I lived alone and I needed someone to talk to—even if it was me. Though, sometimes I wasn’t the best conversationalist.
Facts. That was what I was craving—like an adrenaline junkie craved their next fix, except nerdier. Dialing my friend, Simone Nelson at the Bureau of Indian Affairs, I got her on the first ring. She had been my workout partner in law school.
“Sarah! It’s been a long time. Bet you’ve gone soft,” she said. “Need me to fly over and remind you what a real workout is?”
“Oh, please,” I said. “The only thing you taught me was where the five-pound weights were. I didn't know gyms even had them.”
We bantered back and forth a bit until I told her about the case. She gave a long sigh after I ended, which gave me a bad feeling.
“You’re not gonna like what I have to say.”
I braced myself. “Hit me.”
“The Justice Department is in charge of prosecuting most of the more serious crimes on the reservations, but they only file charges in about half of all murder charges, and take only one-third of all rape cases.”
“What?” I gasped. “That’s preposterous.”
“I know. So even if the ITP filed this murder charge, there’s only a fifty-percent chance that the Justice Department would take it to court.”
My throat tightened. Here was another place where Lady Justice was not only blindfolded, but she was bound and gagged too. That meant that the murdered girl wasn’t going to be the only one with no justice—Timothy wouldn’t get any either.
“What can I do for my client? They still think he killed her, and he’s been jailed.”
She paused and then said, “That’s not right. Only a federally certified agent has that right. Was there an FBI man there?”
“No!” My voice rose in glee. “There wasn’t. We have them—they illegally detained a non-Indian. Heck, I could even charge them with kidnapping.”
“But be careful,” she said. “Everything’s a lot more complicated on the rez.”
“You know me. Careful is my middle name.”
She scoffed.
“Thank you s
o much!” I threw some shirts in the washer while I spoke. “Anything I can do for you, let me know.”
“Fly over and visit me and I’ll whip your butt in spinning class. That’ll be thanks enough.”
I smiled and hung up, mulling over what she’d said. Then I spent the next hour unpacking and tossing clothes into the washing machine. The same thoughts kept buzzing through my head, so I turned up the radio and danced around the room pretending I was on The Voice. Things around me weren’t perfect, but I suddenly felt good about my life, as if the storm was where I belonged. That was the magic of music.
Spinning around, I flipped my hair back and belted out the chorus to the One Republic song that was playing. I screeched in surprise when I saw Solomon leaning against the doorjamb to my bedroom.
“Now that’s hot,” he said with a lopsided grin.
My hand was over my heart and I gasped, and then laughed. “Goodness, boy, you scared me. What are you doing here? I mean, how did you get in? And what a jerk! Couldn’t you call or text or something? Or knock? God, the least you could do was knock.” I was rambling, and he didn’t move. He just looked at me as if I was the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. I couldn’t stop. “How long have you been standing there? I can’t believe you …” I was embarrassed and flushed all at the same time. Solomon grabbed my hand, pulling me into his arms.
He kissed me, and my head cleared of all my questions. There were times when I wanted to fight him, to pull away because of my own fear, but in his arms all I could do was give my heart to him over and over again.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too.” I kissed him again, and he held me close. Our bodies fit together like two long-lost puzzle pieces. I loved the way he smelled, the warmth of his body, how he was the perfect mix of hard and soft, strong and gentle.
Pressing my hands on his chest, I leaned away from him. “When did … How did you get in?” My mind was not helping me out. Thanks a lot, Benedict Arnold.
“You left your door… unlocked?” He gave a cheesy grin. “And if it was locked, well, I’m the FBI, and I’ve been trained in the art of lock picking.” He looked like a little boy when he was teasing me. I melted.
The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers Page 30
