Tracking Bear (4 page)

It took a few seconds for Vera
to get the courage to move, but when she did, she stomped away quickly without looking back, her fists tightly clenched.

One of the women who had been with her hung back. “Vera really didn’t mean to be rough or anything. She’s going through tough times like most of us, and sometimes she gets so frustrated she just lashes out.”

“Then advise her to work off her frustrations at a job or by running
cross-country. Assaulting someone will land her in the tribal courts. Guaranteed, if I ever hear about it,” Ella said.

Once they were alone again, Ella gave Rose a hard look. “You should have pressed charges, or at least let me haul her in for a few hours. I’ve dealt with young people like that before. The kindest thing you could have done for her was show her that actions have consequences.”

Rose shook her head. “She’s a New Traditionalist,” Rose said, referring to the growing tribal faction who professed to believe in the old ways but strongly advocated using whatever modern means were available to improve the quality of life on the Rez. “She’s fighting for this tribe like I am—she just doesn’t know how to do that effectively yet.”

Rose paused, then continued slowly. “I have a feeling
that she’ll be one of my strongest adversaries someday. She’s as passionate about moving the tribe forward as I am about forcing people to weigh everything before making any lasting decisions. These newly proposed tribal ventures—trial casinos and the nuclear power plant—may exact a great price from all of us in the long run.”

Wilson came running up as they started walking again. “I saw what
happened from my office window. Are you two okay?” He glanced toward the group of young women, now some distance away.

“Sure,” Ella said quickly. “That student, Vera Jim, is a hot-head, but she posed no serious threat.”

He relaxed visibly. “I know who she is. Her husband works for one of the oil well service companies. He’s an engineer and a financial supporter of the NEED Project. I’ve heard
rumors that they, and others like them, overextended themselves trying to get NEED off the ground. Many have taken out second mortgages and borrowed all the money they can.”

“I think I’ll look into that some more,” Ella said slowly. She wanted to know everything she could about her mother’s enemies.

“You could talk to Samuel Nakai. He was a close friend of the Jims—that is until this issue came
up. Samuel wouldn’t join in with them and invest in NEED. He was in favor of upgrading the technology at the coal-generated plants. Their differences ended up destroying their friendship.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Ella said.

As Wilson headed back to his office, Ella fell into step beside Rose, who was walking in the direction of the parking lot. “You need to be careful, Mom. I think this issue
is going to be more volatile than any of us suspected.”

“I agree with you, daughter,” Rose said.

Ella helped her mother into the family’s pickup. She’d wanted to buy Rose a new car last year, something with power brakes and steering, but Rose had not allowed it, insisting that it was a waste of money. As long as her truck continued to start every morning, she’d use it.

Saying good-bye, Ella
went to her tribal unit, which was in a special slot reserved for law enforcement vehicles. She’d speak to Samuel Nakai soon, but, right now, she needed to focus on Officer Franklin’s murder investigation.

Ella checked in with Justine on the cell phone, then drove back to the station, lost in thought. Leads were few at the moment, so she’d start by trying to find any known enemies the officer
might have had.

When she walked back inside the station ten minutes later, she noticed the mood in the building was subdued. By now, everyone had learned about Jason’s Franklin’s death. Pressure to get answers would come not only from the Tribal Council and Navajo community, but from the rank-and-file officers who’d served with Franklin.

Justine met her in the hall outside her office. “I’ve
been waiting for you. We got Dr. Roanhorse-Lavery’s report, and it was as we thought. The officer was shot at point-blank range. She’s sending me a bullet she recovered, and I’ll be checking it later for caliber and all the rest.” She paused, then continued. “I was able to match Kee Franklin’s prints to some I lifted from one of the boxes in the garage. The professor’s prints are in a government database,
as are Captain John Grayhorse’s, Martha’s husband. There’s one partial I haven’t been able to match up. One last thing. The black hairs we found came from a wig. They’re synthetic.”

“I can’t imagine anyone around here, except chemo patients, buying a black hair wig. I mean, come on. Try to find a Navajo who
doesn’t
have black hair. Why spend money on something so ordinary?” She shrugged. “But
let’s follow it up. Check and find out which stores in Farmington carry wigs, then see if you can learn the names of their customers.”

“Okay.”

“Have you managed to turn up anything useful on the officer’s personal relationships, politics, or circle of friends?” Ella asked.

“All I know so far is that he’d taken a very strong position against NEED and other energy industry projects. I spoke to
one of the uniforms who knew him for many years when he was assigned to the Keams Canyon area—Mike Kodaseet. Mike told me Jason was completely against anything that would reopen the doors to uranium mining.”

“Any idea why?”

“Kodaseet said Franklin had relatives who’d died of Red Lung.”

“How close were Kodaseet and Franklin?”

“They’d worked adjacent patrol areas, backed each other up, and switched
schedules from time to time, but they weren’t off-duty friends.”

“Did Jason have a girlfriend or someone else he was especially close to?”

“Kodaseet said Jason was dating an assistant professor at the local college by the name of Belinda Johns.”

“She’s a Navajo?”

“Yeah. She teaches introductory physics. Apparently, she’s a very bright lady.”

“Let’s go talk to her.”

“I figured you’d say that,
so I called administration on campus. Professor Johns is ill this morning, so we’ll have to catch her at home. I’ve got her address.”

Justine and Ella walked outside. Before they could head for her tribal unit, Justine stopped her. “I think we better take your vehicle, Ella. It’s in better shape than mine, and it’s a rough drive. I’ve got a bald tire that needs replacing, but you know how it
is right now with the budget.”

“No problem. Where does the professor live?”

“About five miles from campus, but not in a developed area. She has electricity from a generator, but not much else by way of modern conveniences. She told Mike once that she wants to live out there until she finishes her book on Navajo views of the universe. Apparently the primitive setting inspires her work.”

“She
sounds like a New Traditionalist.”

Justine nodded. “That’s what I was told.”

“I wonder if she’s in favor of NEED and, if so, how that impacted on her relationship with Jason, if he was really a staunch opponent.” She paused, then added, “It ought to be an interesting interview.”

It took nearly a half hour to reach Belinda Johns’s house. The road was nothing more than a long set of furrows cut into the ground by vehicles that had traveled over the hard alkaline soil.

Soon they parked beside a Ford Bronco, which was in front of a modest but well-maintained frame-and-stucco house with a pitched
roof. Justine pointed to the smoke coming from the chimney. “Someone’s home.”

Ella walked with Justine to the front door. There was no need to wait in the car here until invited, the way things were normally done at the home of a traditionalist.

Before they reached the front door it was opened, and a slender, attractive Navajo woman appeared wearing jeans, a light blue pullover sweater, and
a small strand of turquoise and heishi beads. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she’d been crying.

Ella introduced herself and showed the woman her badge. Justine followed suit.

“You’re here to ask about Jason, aren’t you?”

“Yes, may we come in?” Ella asked. Belinda Johns remained standing in the doorway, blocking their way.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” she stepped aside, and then spoke quickly. “I
should caution you that a lot of Jason’s things are still here. If the thought of the
chindi
will trouble either of you…” She shook her head, then exhaled softly. “Never mind. Of course it won’t bother you. If it did, you would have chosen another line of work.”

Ella glanced around the living room. One whole wall was filled with bookshelves, and most of the titles appeared to be academic works.
Not a fiction best-seller among them, it appeared.

In the center of the outside wall stood a large, heavy-looking wood-and-coal stove. It was burning now, filling the room with a pleasant warmth. A large teakettle, minus a lid, was steaming gently, adding humidity to the dry air.

Belinda gestured to a thick-cushioned sofa, then sat across the room from them in a matching love seat, spreading
a wool throw over her lap. “Make yourselves comfortable, Officers. Would you like some herbal tea?” she asked, sipping a cup she’d lifted from the top of the stove as she passed by.

“No, thanks.” Ella noted the photo of Belinda and Officer Franklin on an end table. “Will you tell us a little about your relationship to him?”

She nodded. “Jason and I weren’t at all alike, but we had an understanding—we
knew when to try and change each other’s opinions and when to back off. I never liked the fact that he was a tribal policeman, for example, but that was one of those things I couldn’t change.” She swallowed hard. “Now I wish I had tried to get him to quit.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you can talk many police officers into quitting their jobs,” Ella said softly. “All of us know the risks,
but we still value the profession.”

“It’s the adrenaline rush, isn’t it?” Belinda said with a sad sigh. “The excitement of living on the edge?”

“Partly,” Ella answered, “at least for some. But it’s also knowing that you’re doing something that needs to be done—that you can make a difference.”

Belinda dabbed her eyes with a tissue and folded her legs beneath her, curling up in the thickly cushioned
love seat. “I just spoke to Jason’s father. He was devastated.”

“Is that how you found out what happened?” Justine asked.

“No, I knew before that. Jason was supposed to call me last night when he got off duty. When he didn’t, I knew something was wrong. Keeping his word was a matter of pride to him.” She took another sip of her tea. “Then early this morning I heard that a patrolman had died.”
Her voice broke. “They didn’t give his name, but I knew.”

“Did Jason ever talk to you about his work?” Ella asked.

“Sometimes. I know he was upset because of the funding problems the department has been having. He complained that he now had to buy his own rounds to practice at the police range. And he mentioned that his radio was unreliable. At least his police car started in the morning.”

Ella and Justine exchanged glances, and Ella remembered the bad tire on Justine’s vehicle.

“Did he talk about any of his investigations, or any specific crimes that had occurred in his patrol sector?” Ella focused back on the interview.

Belinda paused for a long time, her expression thoughtful. “I remember he said something about a few recent car thefts, and keeping his eye out. That’s about
it.”

“Did he ever mention having problems getting along with anyone, either in the department, his neighborhood, or anywhere else?”

“The only person I know he argued with was me. I’m for NEED, but Jason and his dad were dead set against it.” Belinda must have noticed her own wording, because tears began to form in her eyes.

“Do you know if Jason made any enemies because of his stand against
NEED?” Justine asked.

Belinda made a feeble attempt to wipe away her tears, cleared her voice, then answered. “There were a lot of people who resented his position—some were his fellow officers. There’s one cop who comes to mind right away. He supports NEED and didn’t care much for Jason. His name is Joseph Neskahi. He’s a sergeant, I think.”

Ella felt a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach.
She’d known Joseph for many years, and he’d served in her crime scene unit several times when called upon. He was a decent, hardworking cop, not capable of killing one of his own.

“Jason just didn’t have the kind of enemy that would do something like this,” Belinda said. “If he had, I would have known about it.” She paused for a long time. “But his father might have. He’s got a lot of secrets.”

“Explain,” Ella said, leaning forward in her seat.

“Professor Franklin never talked about his past—with me or with his son. It was really odd, you know? I mean, I can understand why he never just chatted with me. He didn’t like me much after he found out that I was pro-NEED. I think he felt that as a physicist, I should have sided with him because I could understand better than most the dangers
associated with a project like this. But he was just as close-mouthed with his own son. I know that bothered Jason.”

“Do you know if Jason ever talked about his work with his mother?” Ella still hadn’t heard anything about the woman from the military in Europe, where her husband was stationed, though Big Ed had made a second phone call to the base in Germany in an attempt to track her down and
notify her of Jason’s death.

“He didn’t write much, and only called on her birthday, according to him. She’s been away for two years, and I’ve never met or spoken to the woman myself. I have no idea when he might have written her last, only she can answer those kind of questions.”

A half hour later, after their interview was concluded, Ella and Justine headed out to their vehicle.

“That’s
some lead we just turned up,” Justine said as they drove away. “I’ll check it out.” Justine sat back, holding on to the seat as they hit a big bump in the trail and the Jeep bounced.

“Don’t forget the ballistics on the bullet that killed Jason. Also, get your tires replaced. Tell them I gave you a direct order,” Ella added. “Don’t take no for an answer.”

Sometime later they walked back inside
the station. Big Ed Atcitty intercepted them in the hall before they could reach Ella’s office. “I’ve just posted the time and place for Officer Franklin’s memorial service. It’ll take place this evening after the body has been laid to rest. He’ll be buried at a Farmington cemetery this afternoon. Dr. Roanhorse-Lavery has released the body. Tonight there’ll be a short ceremony at Dr. Franklin’s
home.”

“Thanks for the information, Chief. I’ll be there, but a lot of our officers might not attend. I hope Dr. Franklin will understand that although Navajo cops have to deal with the dead on occasion, a lot of them still hold to our traditions. A memorial service to some is like throwing a party for the
chindi
.”

“Even so, I expect we’ll have a decent turnout. Dr. Franklin isn’t a member of
any denomination, though I gather he considers himself a Christian, so he didn’t want the service held in any particular church. He wanted to have a memorial service so some of us would have the opportunity to say a few words.”

As a sergeant came out of the squad room to talk to the chief, Ella and Justine continued down the hall. It was still very quiet. Ella couldn’t help but notice how the
tragic death had touched everyone here. When one cop died, all the brotherhood mourned.

“I’m going to start doing a background search on Professor Franklin,” Ella said. “I’d like you to check with area law enforcement off the Rez. See if any trouble has been brewing that we don’t know about.”

“I’m on it.”

Ella went to her office. Before she did anything else she needed to track down Joseph
Neskahi and have him come in to talk to her. After asking Dispatch to relay a message to him, Ella began doing the background check on Kee Franklin.

An hour later, she heard someone knock on her door. Ella looked up and saw John Ray, the desk sergeant, with two Anglos. One was a tall blond woman wearing a visitor’s badge. The other was Delbert Shives, a chemist at the power plant who also served
as the police contact person there.

After the trouble at the power plant last year, the Tribal Council had asked plant officials to work up a plan to educate local law enforcement concerning the facility in order to help deal with any future problems more effectively. Shives had set up a visitation program and several officers from their department had already made the tour. Her SI team had been
among the first, accompanied by the two local FBI agents, whom Ella knew. Ella guessed that the woman with him was connected to the program somehow, but she looked more like a security guard than office staff or a technical worker.

“Investigator Clah, how are you? I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of the police officer the other day. The whole community grieves with you.” His words came across
as rehearsed.

Shives, a slender, slightly balding man in his midfifties, was an outgoing, talkative man, a personality trait she had come to believe was an act required by his job as police liaison. Somehow, his attempts at sincerity always seemed forced.

Ella nodded, and noticed John Ray slipping away, rolling his eyes. The blonde with Shives noticed and smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“I’d
like you to meet Margaret Bruno. Ms. Bruno is a highly qualified security consultant who has been hired by your Tribal Council to conduct tactical training sessions for combined operations involving power plant security officers and your department.”

“What sessions? I don’t recall hearing about this project, Ms. Bruno. I’m sorry.”

Margaret Bruno smiled and offered her hand. Ella took it, still
wary.

“The Tribal Council authorized these workshops about a month ago,” she said. “The purpose of the training is to raise efficiency levels during situations such as the power plant takeover the area experienced several months ago. Special ops training is needed here more than ever now, especially since you’re all so short-staffed at the moment.”

The tall blond woman, older than Ella by at
least ten years and outweighing her by around twenty pounds, pointed to a green folder halfway down the stack in Ella’s “In file” basket. “It’s all in that folder. You probably haven’t had time to get to it yet, something I understand perfectly well, believe me. It’s just one example of what happens in even the best departments when you’re understaffed and overworked.”

“What we need are more
cops, Ms. Bruno, and better equipment,” Ella said, “not training sessions.” She just couldn’t imagine why the council was spending money on things like this. She gave Bruno a quick assessment. The blonde was attractive in a hard way, and some Navajo men had a thing for blondes. Maybe she had a friend in the council. Or two.

“No offense, but I don’t know anything about your workshops,” Ella added,
“and I really don’t have the time now.”

“I’ve been hired to help your team develop practical strategies and skills that you could use whenever there are potential disturbances at factories, mines, and so on,” she said, pressing on. “I served on a SWAT team in a Texas police department, and I’ve had training at the FBI Academy.”

“So have I,” Ella said coldly. “I was an agent with the Bureau before
coming here.”

“Yes, I was given that information by the tribe. But it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Ella resisted the impulse to pitch her out the window. Bruno was tough and fit-looking, and it would have been a struggle, but at the moment, Ella would have enjoyed giving it a shot anyway.

“When an officer is killed in the line of duty—it’s hard for the entire department, and the staff has trouble
concentrating on anything else,” Bruno said. “Mr. Shives and I both agree that due to special circumstances, postponing our first session is appropriate, but I’d like to set up a firm date with you as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Ella answered. In the meantime, she’d make an effort to get future sessions canceled. Funds were short—they didn’t need to be squandered when the first priority was putting
more officers in the field and maintaining equipment. Hopefully the contract the tribe had with Bruno allowed for cancellations, and she’d only get paid for work already done.