by Vr McCoy
Then Ortega spoke, “We have the Zuni Nation, Navajo Nation, three different Apache Nations and the Pueblos with five different clans speaking different languages, and scattered tribesmen all over New Mexico!”
“Then we have our work cut us for us,” Steven retorted. “A.D. Pollin, can you arrange the Department of Interior/ Bureau of Indian Affairs to send us a liaison to assist?” Steven inquired.
“Yes; I'll have them send a team,” he responded. He had been watching me the whole time after I addressed the conference room. It was creepy and uncomfortable. He made me feel paranoid, like I used to a long time ago.
Then Steven spoke to us again, in closing the meeting. “OK then. Let's get on it, people. You know your assignments and what we have to do. Agent Ortega will break down all the main Indian Villages within our perimeter of abductions. We need to also keep in mind that it could be an impersonator, so let's not forget our original profiling.” Then Steven turned and addressed the Assistant Director again, “Do you have anything for us, A.D. Pollin?”
Pollin paused, then responded, “No, not at this time.”
Assistant Director Pollin's attention was still focused on me. He had questions, but didn't want to pose them at the time. There was a bigger picture to be concerned with. He had to address the media, Jessica's family and his superiors. Then he spoke up, before everyone departed the conference room area. “Wait. I do have something to say to all of you, and I don't want any of this to leak out. We are going to treat Jessica Juarez like the rest of the young women –as a continuing missing person's case – until a body is found. I know of your talents, Mr. Sands, but until I have a body in front of me that we can ID, this case will continue as a missing person / abductee,” he stated.
Our investigation wouldn't change one way or the other with the added information. I think the A.D.'s speech was really just a jab at me and my contribution. We still had to find this killer, except this time it was without rescue. We didn't have any of the previous women's bodies either, so we pushed on. We expanded our focus to the surrounding Native American villages and reservations.
The manhunt was in full operation under the auspices of Homeland Security coordination. The team of liaisons from the Bureau of Indian Affairs was very cooperative. They helped smooth the way while conducting interviews. There were a lot of customs that we weren't familiar with that the liaison team bridged for us. The Reservations and villages still weren't pleased with us entering their land and asking questions, but the Bureau of Indian Affairs assisted greatly in diffusing what could have been a very volatile situation. The lead BIA liaison and investigator was Nina Blackwater, a very intelligent and beautiful woman. She was of Cherokee heritage, like me.
I didn't particularly like the way the case was turning out. I didn't appreciate the profiling of the Native Americans, but the FBI had to turn over every stone at this point in the investigation. It was impossible to investigate such a large number of Native Americans, so we limited our investigations to the bigger villages and reservations in hopes of cooperation from the higher officials and tribal leaders.
Home of the Brave
The investigation had been restructured, and grown. This wasn't unusual for a case of the magnitude which was evolving. Gracie was no longer with Dianna and me. Nina Blackwater, the lead agent from the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and two other New Mexico FBI Agents joined us. Gracie was working with Steven and his team. My team had the assignment of investigating the Navajo Nation. It felt like a witch hunt and most of us were in objection, but it had to be done. It reminded me of when the Spaniards came with missionaries and all the atrocities they bestowed on the original inhabitants.
The Apache territory was the largest and most spread out in New Mexico, so Steve and the other agents had that assignment. Ortega and his team were assigned the Pueblos, since he was extensively knowledgeable about them, as he had expressed at the briefings.
We were still getting pounded by the media for the `witch hunt' as they also put it. This led to a lot of animosity and added fuel to the fire of the already heated tensions from the Native American tribes. They didn't want us coming on what little was left of their lands. They had their own police and politics, and enforced their own laws!
We headed out to the Navajo Nation early that morning, in a Tahoe SUV. The Navajo Nation Council Building was located in Shiprock, San Juan County, New Mexico. It was about a three hour drive, with strangers who had just met. Everyone was already well briefed and there were no questions or conversations about what needed to be done.
“I've heard a lot and read some good things about you guys,” Nina stated during the drive to Shiprock. The other two FBI agents showed no signs of interest in what she was saying. Normally, Dianna and I would get a real kick out of hearing such praise, but this case has taken a lot of wind out of our sails.
“Thank you,” I said in a low, monotone voice. It seems like I was always responding to that question. Dianna left it to me; rarely would she answer herself. She didn't find compliments necessary, nor did she want to be patted on the back for capturing deviants. I understood this quite clearly, but I also knew from experiencing these horrific crimes that some of these subjects looked at what they were doing as a necessity or obligation to society; the missionaries. This is what Dianna was feeling deep down also.
I thanked Nina out of courtesy. She could feel the tension in the air. Then she said something from out of nowhere, perhaps attempting to ease it.
“So, Sands; is that any relation to Max Sands?” she inquired with a smile.
Neither Dianna nor the other FBI agents got the pun but I did, and laughed. You didn't really have to be of Native American heritage to get it; just an old movie buff or vintage reader. Max Sands was the lead character in the Harold Robbins novel `Carpetbaggers' which was released as two movie films; the `Carpetbaggers' and `Nevada Smith'. Nina was referring to the later movie with Steve McQueen. Then I responded, “You know, not until recently have I wondered about it myself.” Then we both laughed. The others remained oblivious to what we were talking about.
The reservation was huge and not at all what I expected it to be. The Navajo Nation extended from northwest New Mexico into northeast Arizona with most of it in the latter state. The land was untouched and beautiful. They had modern buildings and urban sections as well as rural locations like any other city, but instead of skyscrapers filling the cityscape, they had the incredible beauty of nature. They had the illustrious canyon cliffs and mountain ranges for their skyline!
We made our way to the Navajo Nation Council Chamber building, and introduced ourselves. They had been informed of our arrival in advance. Nina led the way as our liaison. She was versed in the Athabaskan language, in particular the Southern Athabaskan dialect spoken by the Native Americans of New Mexico, but she was of Cherokee heritage like I was. Not only was Nina beautiful, she was extremely intelligent. She made navigating the turbulent waters a little easier for all of us. The reservation police were at the meeting also. They would be included in the investigations conducted on the reservation.
We were escorted around like cattle being corralled before branding. They took us to all the places they wanted us to go and see. It was staged for our benefit. We interviewed some of the local miscreants, but didn't receive any of the answers we were looking for. Some were on our list of felons and persons of interest, but most weren't. We decided the best course of action was for us to head out on our own against the advice of the Council and Reservation Police.
There was much opposition met, even with Nina as a spokesperson. We weren't getting anywhere and spent most of the day running in circles until Dianna, who was the lead agent in our group, decided to go about our questioning in a different manner. She chose to look in the places where most notable criminals would be associated in one way or another; the casinos. The reservations weren't unlike any other place in regards to this; if you wanted to find the really bad guys, you followed the money, and around
here the money makers were the casinos.
We split up and did recon at the bars and on the floors of the casino. The good thing about casinos was that there were a wide variety of activities, which meant they brought in a dichotomy of people. With a diverse crowd we had a good chance of getting some actual information. This would make our job a lot easier.
It was Friday night and like most casinos, it was packed. I could feel the excitement in the air, with people having fun in every corner. Everything was sparkling and illuminated. The employees made customers feel like a king or queen as soon as they stepped through the door, offering free refreshments and appetizers for the players. The only thing that wasn't invited to the party was the outer environment; night, day, the sky, the sun and the moon weren't allowed into the casino. It was a black hole in time and space. Once you entered, there was no way to determine how long you had stayed. They accomplished this by providing everything you needed right there.
There were night clubs, bars, gambling and restaurants all under one roof. The crowd was as diverse as we had thought it would be, with visitors, locals and people from all walks of life. We mixed and mingled for several hours. We engaged in a little gambling and nursed a small drink each. We were working a case, but needed to blend in as well.
After hours of enraptured conversation, Dianna and Nina were invited to a party in one of the hotel suites of the casino. It was a private party hosted by Will Hawthorne, one of the casino's owners and a major business investor. It seemed like a good place to start following the money. He wasn't a person of interest, but we were off the grid and putting our fishing poles out for whatever we could snag. I attempted to crash the party, but was met with resistance at the guarded door. Apparently you had to be invited or an attractive woman to gain access, so the other two male agents and I continued working the casino floor. Dianna kept us outsiders in the loop.
They reported seeing drugs and prostitutes in the suite. There was no immediate reaction to these illegal activities, but we would make a report to the Gaming Commission at an appropriate time. We were there for a different reason and had more important things to investigate.
Nina cozied up to one of the local thugs at the party; Jay Horse. The Navajo thug who apparently worked for Hawthorne, who wasn't in attendance. Horse was a braggart who was drunk and eager to show he was a person of importance. Nina continued to engage Jay in conversation and entertained him and his narcissistic ego. Jay didn't fit our profile, and it was far-fetched to believe that the killer would be out mingling, as most serial killers displayed anti-social personality disorders, but we were searching for information.
We followed Jay as he left the party at around 0100 hours. Nina stated that her questions had begun to spook him, so he shunned her and warned her to stay out of Res (Reservation) Business before he departed. He led us to a secluded area about 10 miles from the casino. He was too drunk to be driving, and had no idea he was being followed.
There weren't any other residences or buildings around. This was a rural section of Farmington, like most of the county. Jay turned down a long dirt road off the main highway. It was pitch black, with no overhead streetlights to illuminate the darkness. We waited several minutes with our lights out before continuing behind him, and arrived at a huge barn near the end of the road. We stopped several yards away, where we couldn't be seen by anyone inside the barn. We didn't know where Jay's vehicle was parked, but there were lights on inside the structure. Getting out of our vehicle, we approached the barn stealthily and cautiously. Then the melee of gun fire ensued. Jay had led us into an ambush.
There were no lights; just the black of the night when the shooting began. This was one of those times I wished I had carried a gun. I had been to the firearms training because it was mandatory, but refused to arm myself. I didn't have a problem seeing. I had excellent night vision from spending so much time in the dark, isolating myself during dreamscape and on clinical sofas and lounge chairs. I stayed close to Dianna; not out of fear, but more to make sure she would be safe. I acted as her eyes. She was a marksman who had instructor qualifications with a handgun. She had excellent vision also, but ask any sniper about the necessity of a spotter.
Nina stayed near Dianna and me. She was a good shot also, but nothing compared to Dianna. I believe Nina was attempting to protect me since I was unarmed. She didn't know how good Dianna was, but she soon found out. We called for backup and held it down until the cavalry arrived. This was definitely a message sent by Jay Horse. He had warned us to stay away from the business of the Res.
By morning we had the situation well in hand, with the other two members of our team shot and hospitalized, one ATF agent inured and two assailants dead. Jay wasn't amongst the remaining assailants who were apprehended. The barn had been a drug lab for meth and the cultivation of marijuana. The local newspapers blasted us for the effort. We were now harassing innocent Native Americans trying to make a living; forget about the illegal drugs and weapons confiscated. It was another notch on the belt for the FBI, but a blemish on the mission to capture the serial killer. Although it was a good bust and apprehension, the A.D. had some choice words for us at the morning briefing. We felt his wrath for our efforts.
“What the hell were you thinking? We're not here to start another damn war with the Indians! I don't want a Waco cluster fuck on my watch, you get it? I asked the Department of Interior / Bureau of Indian Affairs for liaisons, not some `yippie ki-yay Die Hards running around shooting up the reservations. Now focus, and go catch this damn serial killer!” Then Steve took the lead, playing the good cop to the Assistant Director's bad cop.
“I know you're out there working hard, people, but let's not lose sight of the task. We are still racing the clock. Keep up the good work and remember to watch each other's back. Paul was shot by an elderly Native American yesterday who thought he was a trespasser, so stay vigilant.” At our startled glances, he added, “He's in the hospital, and in stable condition.”
We spent the better part of the morning and afternoon completing paperwork; filling out forms and writing reports on the shooting incident. It had been a long night and we had been up the whole time. We finished up late in the afternoon and our team was told to take the rest of the day off to regroup, so we went back to the Hilton to catch some much needed sleep.
I woke up a bit restless. Dianna felt the same way, so I decided to take her and Nina out for a beer in town. We needed to unwind. I felt like the luckiest man at the bar, as I was being escorted by two extremely attractive women. Not only were there a slew of men watching and wondering who I was, but several women were curious as well. We danced and had a good time. For a nerd, dancing was the one things that I did exceptionally well. I had actually taken dancing lessons when I was younger, as a way to relieve stress and to impress the women during my days of promiscuity.
A night out was exactly what the doctor ordered. We even got into a fight; well, Dianna and Nina had to kick some guys' asses. It really wasn't a fair fight. Either way, those guys had it coming. They were drunk and disrespectful. The ladies needed that stress relief. They were still feeling the adrenalin from yesterday's gun fight. We had a bit too much to drink, so we caught a cab back to the hotel. Nina was staying at the Hilton also. It was one big Federal Convention there. I'm not a drinker or a fighter, so I was literally punch drunk after the fight. When Dianna and Nina helped me to my suite, I passed out on the bed.
I woke during the dark of predawn after an unplanned foray into erotic dreamscaping with my lady. I was fully aroused, and Dianna jumped on top of me and we went at it like rabbits. We were horny as hell due to the foreplay of the previous dreamscape. Afterwards I had a lot of explaining to do. I had a dreamscape sex threesome with Dianna and Nina. This had turned us both on, but not without consequences. Dianna understood, because she knew how drunk we were. She was secure in our relationship, but how would we explain this to Nina? I had violated a co-worker and a partner.
Although it was a dre
am, it had all the reality of consciousness. We had seen and now knew every part of her body and her erotic fantasies. She knew ours as well. If we didn't hear from her again it would be merited. I could get thrown off the case and maybe suspended, or lose my job. I began freaking out, and then we heard a knock on the door. Panic just raced through my body. I just knew it was A.D. Pollin, who hated me anyway. Dianna went to the door quietly and looked through the peep hole.
“It's Nina,” Dianna whispered, and then the stress really began to mount. “What do you want me to do?”
Nina knocked at the door again. “Christian, it's Nina. We need to talk.” Dianna looked at me, as to inquire what to do.
“Christian,” she called again, knocking to the door. Then Dianna turned from me and opened the door slightly.
“Yes, Nina,” she answered lightly.
“Can we all talk,” she inquired.
“I don't think Chris…,” then before Dianna could complete her negative, I said, “Let her in, Dianna.”
I had put on my lounge pants and a T-shirt before she entered. Dianna was sexy as hell in just one of my long T shirts, but when Nina entered she put on a hotel robe. Nina surprised us both. She was curious and excited about what had happened, rather than upset. She had a plethora of questions.
“My Grammy told me of people like you, Shamans and Medicine men with abilities to invade dreams, but I never thought I'd experience this. She used to place this talisman over my bed to prevent the invasion of my dreams; a dream catcher to keep bad dreams away,” Nina said. She was like a kid in a candy store, excited, elated and filled with questions.
