Mourning Dove (26 page)

“It hurts . . . ow, here. Okay, I feel it now, beneath my blouse. The vest stopped a round, and it feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse,” she answered, her voice unsteady. “Wait till I catch their
sorry asses.”

Ella sighed loudly. Blunt-force trauma was sometimes enough all by itself to disable or kill but, overall, vests saved lives. It sure beat being dead, but Justine would be bruised for weeks even if no ribs had been broken.

It was deathly quiet now, except for the
tic tic
of the cooling engine. Suddenly it felt stifling inside the car, and Ella opened her door to let in some fresh
air. Ella’s gaze passed over the interior of the car, noting the fist-sized hole in Justine’s window. She turned to look, and saw another hole in the rear window behind her. One bullet had passed between them.

The drive-by had seemed to take an eternity but, in reality, it
had lasted less than five seconds. Of course five seconds was a long, long time, particularly when you didn’t know if that
last breath would be your last.

Justine was looking around, and pointed to a hole in the door panel just below the window trim. “Where did this one go?”

Ella estimated the position of the shooter, then looked around in the vehicle. She found an impact location just above where her feet had been during the attack, in the right side, forward of the passenger door. “Here it is. I don’t see light,
so it’s probably still around somewhere.”

“There’s the one that struck my vest, the one that passed between us, and the round down by your feet that came through my door. That makes three. I wonder where the others hit?”

“We’d better check before we get out and make sure we’re not going to dump anything important on the ground,” Ella said.

“I’ve already pulled the slug from my vest.” Justine
held the bullet up, then put it into her jacket pocket. “But what was this all about? Teen gangbangers hitting the wrong car?” Justine asked, checking the door panel and interior within her vision.

“I don’t think so. I only got a fast glimpse, but the driver was wearing a ski mask so I couldn’t make an ID and the shooter looked big and fit. He was firing those two handguns like some Hollywood
perp,” Ella answered.

“Good thing you saw it coming in time. If I hadn’t hit the brakes and veered off . . .” Justine pointed to the hole in her window. “That might have hit one of us in the throat. Or the one that hit my vest could have gone under my arm instead—and into my spine.”

“The sedan was new . . . maybe a Ford, but I can’t be sure. The color will help us narrow it down. And there were
two men, the driver and the shooter,” Ella said.

“Let’s see if we can change the tire,” Justine said.

“No,” Ella said quietly. “It’s evidence and county will want things intact. We can get out, though, and look around.”

Together, they searched the unit and found another bullet strike, which had clipped the windshield on Ella’s side and ricocheted off, but the remaining rounds were still unaccounted
for. “Let’s see the slug that’s going to be leaving the mother of all bruises in your side.”

Justine pulled the round back out of her pocket, and held it up again. “That looks like a nine-millimeter, but jacketed. Not a hunting round—maybe military? County might be able to narrow down the weapon a bit once the rifling marks are compared in the lab. It would also help if we could find some shell
casings.”

“I got the impression the pistols were semiautos, which means the casings were ejected. Chances are that at least a few went out the shooter’s window and onto the highway.”

Ella looked up as an eighteen wheeler rumbled by, the driver checking them out but not slowing. “If there are any shells in the road, we need to find a few before they get flattened. Set up a perimeter,” she called
to Justine, then jogged back up the road.

Five minutes later, she found two nine-millimeter shell casings. Picking them up by the rims, wearing latex gloves, she replaced them with quarters over business cards, so the crime team would know where they’d been recovered. With traffic still flowing and no way to stop it without help, it seemed the best move at the time.

Suspecting there were probably
more shell casings around, but anxious to check out the vehicle more closely now that she’d recovered at least two, Ella hurried back. They inspected the SUV inside and out, but were unable to find any more bullet strikes or slugs without beginning the process of taking parts off the vehicle.

“Someone followed us—maybe all the way to Albuquerque and back—or at least was watching for our vehicle
once we got close. There are only two even remotely reasonable routes into Shiprock from Albuquerque, so it wouldn’t have been difficult to do either. But the fact that they came from behind suggests they were with us most of the way,” Justine said, her eyes on the rocky
soil. “We’re still off the Rez, but in the general area where all our suspects live.”

“Someone wanted us dead,” Ella answered.
“Maybe we’re getting too close.”

“To what? We have nothing,” Justine said. “As far as the carjackers go, we don’t have any suspects except for the guy Officer Harvey picked up. The carjackers would have nothing to gain by taking us out at this point. And what we have against the local Guard is shaky at best.”

“We must be making too many waves then, by asking questions about missing supplies
and what went on overseas—things that might lead to much more than the identity of Jimmy Black-sheep’s killer or killers.”

“So they’ve upped the stakes,” Justine said thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

The county sheriff’s deputies showed up in two cruisers, and the county’s crime scene unit followed. Ella and Justine assisted, handing over what they’d already collected, and helping recover the slug
that had wedged in the car body and one more shell casing, which, unfortunately, had been flattened.

“What do you make of the rounds used?” Ella asked the tech examining the slugs and shell casings.

“They’re nine-millimeter, but the one fished from the side panel doesn’t match the one that struck Officer Goodluck. The rifling marks are wrong. The same with the ejection marks on the casings.
Three we found don’t match the fourth.” He paused as if lost in thought.

“Tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I think the bullet imbedded in the vest was fired from an Astra, but I haven’t seen one of those since my service in the first Gulf war. These weapons usually go to low-level Iraqi officers because there aren’t enough of the higher-end weapons to go around. The higher ranks, including Saddam
himself, usually carried Browning HiPowers—also nine-millimeter. Of course, Astra
has imported handguns into the U.S., so we can’t be sure until we examine the weapon itself.”

“Thanks.” Ella reached for her cell phone. Now she had a lead. By trying to kill her and Justine using a weapon obtained in Iraq, the perps might have sealed their fates.

Ella telephoned Blalock and gave him the highlights
of what had gone down. “Can you search the databases and see if any weapons issued to the Iraqi military have shown up anywhere in-state?”

“You’ve got it. How are you getting back, Ella?”

“Neskahi or Tache. I sent word out and whoever can get here first will come get us.”

“I’ll have something for you as soon as possible,” Blalock said, and hung up.

Ella called their own station and, learning
Sergeant Neskahi was coming to pick them up, called and updated him. “I need a ride, Joseph, but I’d like to take your wheels and have you stay and work with County. They’re about done, I think, and when they’re finished I’d like you to bring the car back to our own garage, along with a copy of everything they’ve learned.”

“I’m on it. I’m passing through Farmington now, and should be at your
location in a half hour or less,” he said.

While they waited, Ella joined Justine, who was helping search for more shells. “I wish I’d seen their license plate,” Justine said. “Even if it was stolen, we would have had something else.”

“I know, but at the time, you were a little busy saving our lives with your driving skills,” Ella said. “It took a lot of courage, staying in control after getting
thumped with that bullet. I’ve felt it before. It’s like getting hit with a hammer.”

Justine shrugged. “Experience and good training. By the time you think, it’s already half over. You know how instincts kick in.”

Ella nodded. “But you put something more into it than that, Justine. It’s going into my report to Big Ed.”

Justine smiled. “Think I’ll get a raise?”

“No. Maybe a new vest.”

They
both started laughing, the pressure finally easing off as it always did once the danger was past.

By the time Neskahi showed up in his squad car, Ella was getting impatient, though it had only been twenty minutes since they’d spoken. The sun had set, and darkness was slowly creeping over the land as Ella and Justine got under way. Justine insisted on driving, giving Ella time to think.

When
they reached the outskirts of Shiprock, Ella finally spoke again. “I need to go by Blalock’s office, Justine. Are you up to it, or do you want to make a quick stop at the station? You can stay there while I continue on.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be sore, but I’ve gone through worse.”

Ella’s cell phone rang, interrupting Justine. Ella answered it on the first ring.

It was Agent Blalock. “Something important’s
going down, Ella. How soon before you get back to Shiprock?”

“I’m already here, with Officer Goodluck. We’ll be at your office in five.”

Just as Ella finished filling Justine in, they spotted a squad car’s flashing emergency lights behind them. “Farmington PD,” Justine said.

“Then they’re way out of their jurisdiction,” Ella said, then added, “Pull over. I’ve got a feeling I know who it is,
but he’d better have a good reason. . . .”

They parked on the shoulder, and before they’d even come to a full stop, they saw the officer get out of his unit. Officer Samuel Blacksheep, illuminated by his own headlights, approached.

“I was on my way to a briefing when I heard what went down south of Bloomfield. Guess the shooter missed, huh? You two look okay. But I was wondering, do you think
the incident is connected to the carjackings?”

“I doubt it, but we don’t know anything for sure yet,” Ella
said. “Look we’ve got to run. We’ve got a meeting coming up. Is there something you wanted?”

“I’ve been assigned temporarily to the joint task force that’s investigating the carjackings, so we’re working together on those cases. I just wanted to let you know right away because, in a pinch,
I can cut through all kinds of red tape for you with my department.”

All of a sudden she realized that he’d also have access to whatever progress
they
made on the carjacking investigation—the very thing Calvin Sanders had wanted. Since the men were former partners, it made things complicated. She still had persistent doubts about the innocence of either man.

“If you need background information,
or anything else, just give me a call,” Blacksheep continued. “I’ve got access to all the files.”

“Okay, we’ll be in touch,” she answered, then leaned back in her seat and nodded to Justine. “Thanks.”

Justine drove off quickly, then, after they were a quarter of a mile away, she glanced at Ella. “Is he really trying to be helpful, or was this his way of getting in his jabs—letting us know that
he was going to have access to most of what we’d been uncovering?”

“I wish I knew.”

The remaining drive took only a few minutes. As they walked down the main hall of the building where Blalock’s office was located, they saw Teeny unlocking his own office door. As they waited for him to move out of their way—he practically blocked the narrow hall all by himself—he turned and gave Ella a worried
look.

“Hey, ladies. What happened? I was talking to Blalock a while ago, and he said you’d seen some action.” His voice was harsh. It was often that way whenever he was really worried about something. Although nothing had ever been said, she’d known since high school that Teeny cared for her.

“Drive-by on the open road,” she said. “Poked some holes in my department car.”

“With you two inside?”
Teeny said in a low baritone, his eyes glazing over with anger.

“Yeah. One of the weapons used is believed to be a nine-millimeter Astra.”

“Rare around here, I’d think. If I remember correctly, they look a lot like Walther PPKs, the one James Bond carried in the later books. A small auto.”

Justine nodded. “That’s the one.”

Ella continued. “One of the crime scene unit people said he’d seen
a lot of them in Iraq. Reliable, but not fancy enough for higher-ranking officers. I’m wondering if this particular pistol might have come from the Middle East via a G.I. If you hear of anyone trafficking in those, let me know.”

“I’ll ask around and see what I can get for you.”

Hearing her voice, Blalock popped his head out of his office. “Ella, get in here. We’re running late,” he said and
ducked back inside.

As Ella walked in, Justine a step behind, Blalock looked up from his desk, which held two Bureau-issue vests and raid jackets. “You and I are taking a chopper to Albuquerque, courtesy of the Bureau. Do you have a vest handy?”

“I’m wearing it,” Ella answered. “Are we going dancing?”

“Oh, yeah. From one party to another tonight, you lucky girl,” Blalock said, then glanced
at Justine. “I couldn’t get clearance for you, too. Big Ed said you were needed here . . . and he thought you might still be a little stiff . . . not to mention jumpy? I don’t know about you, but I’m always in a bad mood after getting shot.”

“You got that right. And I’ve got a ton of work waiting at the lab, so I’ll leave you two to your . . . business,” she said, then looked at Ella, managing
a smile. “Call me as soon as you get back.”

Ella said good-bye, then heard the sound of a helicopter close by, a relatively uncommon event away from the local hospital. Turning, she saw Blalock pull out his holstered SIG forty-five from the top drawer, along with two extra magazines. He hooked
the holster to his belt and slipped the extra ammo into a jacket pocket. “We’ll have additional weapons
available to us when we land. Our ride’s here, so let’s go. I’ll fill you in on the way.”