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Authors: Aimee Thurlo

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BOOK: White Thunder
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“Our new
FBI resident agent, Andrew Thomas, apparently interrupted a Sing last night. Now he’s missing. Thomas never returned to his office, called in, or e-mailed his supervisor. He’s been completely out of touch since around seven last night—over sixteen hours.”
The bad feeling she’d had suddenly got worse. Andy Thomas was in a world of trouble. If he didn’t turn up quickly, alive and well, dark times
lay ahead for the missing agent—and the reservation.
E
lla gathered her thoughts quickly, mentally checking off the information she’d need to formulate a plan of action. “Interrupting a Sing is a major offense. If that report is true, Agent Thomas’s disappearance is going to be a real bear to investigate. A lot of folks are going to think that the gods have punished him and that’s why he’s missing. They’ll fight any attempt we make to
find him.”
He nodded. “Our traditionalists will be especially hard to deal with, but that’s the way it stacks up.”
“I’ll get started on this right away, but I’m going to need more to go on, like who was the patient at the Sing and which
hataalii
performed the ceremony? Also, where did it take place?”
Big Ed shook his head. “We don’t know any of that yet, but the FBI area supervisor should have
some of that information by now. He’s looking through Thomas’s case files as we speak.”
“So there’s a chance our information is wrong and Agent Thomas didn’t really interrupt a Sing?”
“No, our information about that is right on target. Agent Thomas followed local law-enforcement protocols, at least. He called our dispatcher to report that he was pursuing an investigation on tribal land and was
on his way to question a suspect he believed was attending a Sing. Thomas didn’t give any more details
other than that and told Dispatch he’d call back and let us know when he was finished.”
Ella nodded thoughtfully. Senior agent Dwayne Blalock handled cases here on the Rez, out of his Shiprock office. From what she knew of local Bureau procedures, Andy Thomas, though he was currently sharing
Blalock’s office, usually handled cases off the reservation unless tribal officers called him for support. But that couldn’t have been the case, at least in this instance. “Didn’t Dispatch give him a heads-up about Sings?”
“Dispatch warned him to keep his distance and not to interfere, but Thomas said that he was going to wait until it was over, then question the suspect. Dispatch told him that
Sings could take up to a week, but Thomas said that, according to his information, this particular ceremony wouldn’t take long, so he intended to hang around until it concluded.”
“In his ignorance, he might have thought it was a fair compromise. But just to be seen in the vicinity, if he wasn’t invited, could be construed as interrupting—not to mention bringing misfortune to those present,” Ella
said, her insides tightening. Young agents like Andy Thomas came out of Quantico with equal portions of confidence, arrogance, and ignorance. Thomas had only been assigned to the area a short time and probably still didn’t know much about how things worked on the Rez. If veteran agent Dwayne Blalock hadn’t been on vacation, Thomas would have never gone to question anyone on the Navajo Nation alone.
Unfortunately, she had a strong feeling that Thomas had assumed that a Sing was akin to a church service or doctor’s appointment. He’d just wait outside until the suspect emerged and then confront him. But different rules applied here.
Big Ed stopped rocking in his chair and sat up straight. “Thomas called Dispatch mostly to make sure his butt was covered. But because he never called back and
no one’s heard from him since, I think we can safely assume he’s in some kind of trouble. Blalock’s out of touch so I contacted Agent Simmons, the FBI’s area supervisor, at seven this morning.”
Ella glanced at the phone’s blinking red light. Whoever was on hold was probably seething by now.
“I’ve got Agent Simmons on the line,” he said, glancing down at his telephone. “You probably know Thomas
and Blalock were sharing an office because of budget cutbacks, so Simmons is over there now, trying to find any open case files that’ll give us an idea of what Thomas was investigating.”
Big Ed paused, staring at the phone, then continued. “Off the record, Simmons is one major pain in the butt and there’s a history of bad blood between him and Blalock.”
Ella nodded. “I remember Blalock talking
about him a few times. Simmons likes to micromanage every case, and it drives Blalock nuts. But what’s Simmons’s next move? If the FBI plans to flood the Rez with agents, that’s going to backfire big-time—particularly under the circumstances.”
“Let’s hear Simmons out.” Big Ed pressed the button. “Agent Simmons, I’ve got Special Investigator Clah in my office now, so I’m putting you on speaker.
Why don’t you fill us in on how you want to proceed.”
“My priority right now is locating Agent Thomas, but the Bureau has run into major brick walls on the reservation before. Sending in teams of federal agents who are unfamiliar with the area isn’t going to help us find our man quickly. We need the help of the tribal police, and we need it now. Thomas could be almost anywhere, injured, stranded,
lost, or maybe dead. We can’t pick up the locator signal from his cell phone, and his unit didn’t have a GPS installed. That means we’ve got to find him the hard way. We’ve got to move fast on this while people’s memories are still fresh, and to prevent any cover-up from taking place, if that’s an accurate assessment of this situation. After thirty-six hours, you know as well as I do that it’ll
be nearly impossible to pick up his trail.”
“Does Agent Thomas live in Farmington?” Big Ed asked.
“On the western outskirts. He has an apartment.” Simmons gave them the address quickly.
“That’s in county jurisdiction. Sheriff Taylor will have to be notified,” Big Ed said.
“Already taken care of,” Simmons answered coldly. “What I need is for your department to search the reservation. My feeling
is that he’s still there.”
“We’ll get on it,” Big Ed said.
“Contact me directly if you get any leads at all. You’ve got my cell number and you can reach me on it day or night.” He paused, then added, “Officer Clah, I need you to come over to Agent Blalock’s office ASAP so I can fill you in on the particulars. I’ve got to leave town shortly, so the sooner the better.”
Before she could answer,
Simmons hung up.
Ella looked at Big Ed. “Should I call him back and remind him that I’m not with the Bureau anymore and I take my orders from you and the tribe?”
Big Ed grinned slowly. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“You know, I can’t even imagine you in the Bureau, Shorty. I have a feeling you’d be busting the chops of those good ole boys left and right,” he said, chuckling,
then took a deep breath and grew somber. “But right now we have to stay on target. Simmons may be reluctant to send in an army of special agents, but I think he will if we don’t get results fast enough for him.” Big Ed leaned back in his chair.
“It shouldn’t be that hard for us to track down Agent Thomas once we find out what he was working on and get his last known location. A Navajo suspect
can hide in plain sight on the Rez, but a redheaded Anglo like Thomas is really going to stick out.”
“Good. Work fast, Ella. We aren’t going to have any peace until this is settled. I had to report the incident to the council and I’ve been getting nonstop phone calls since then. Even the tribal president’s office left a message. Everyone wants Thomas found before half the federal agents in the
country start racing around the Four Corners in their gas-guzzling SUVs.”
“What about my other cases?” Ella asked. “One is critical right now. Unless I track down the witnesses to the Twin Lakes
hit-and-run ASAP, the woman will have all her tracks covered. We’ll never get enough for an arrest.”
“Her ex still in intensive care?”
Ella nodded. “Not that he didn’t deserve it. He beat her with a
baseball bat not long ago, I heard.”
“At least she’ll have her day in court. I’ll farm that one out to one of the officers at Window Rock.” Big Ed shook his head slowly. “And the rest I’ll hand out to our patrol officers—for the time being. Just put the folders on the duty officer’s desk. Until Thomas is located, the FBI case comes first. Make it a top priority for your Special Investigations
team.”
Ella had just stepped out of Big Ed’s office when she saw Justine down the hall by the candy machine. She’d never quite figured out how Justine managed to stay so thin. Her cuz was practically addicted to peanut butter and chocolate. Ella joined Justine and quickly brought her up to speed while she retrieved the active files from her office and turned them over to the duty officer.
Three
minutes later they were at the main entrance to the station. “Do you want me to go with you to meet Simmons?” Justine asked at the door.
“No. I’d rather you drive to Thomas’s apartment and check it out. The address is in a computer file Blalock mails to me periodically to keep me updated. It’s got his and Thomas’s addresses and phone numbers, blood types, next of kin, and so on,” Ella said. “When
you get to Thomas’s place, try to get around not having a court order by persuading the landlord to let you in. If that doesn’t work, I’ll see if Simmons can cut corners and get a warrant for us quickly,” Ella said as they walked out to the parking lot.
“Why search his apartment?” Justine said, almost as if she’d read Ella’s mind. “Are you thinking that Thomas’s disappearance might be personal
and that it has nothing to do with the Sing? But if that’s the case, why did he call Dispatch in the first place?”
“I admit it’s not likely, but we’ve got to check out all the possibilities. I also want to know
everything
about Agent Thomas—his routines, who his friends are, what he does when he’s not working,
also if he’s put away any local bad boys recently that might have sent someone to even
the score.”
“Got it. I’ll get on it right now.” Justine waved and turned, jogging toward her own unit, parked across the lot.
Ella drove north onto the mesa where the FBI’s bland, brown brick-and-glass office was located among several tribal agency buildings. Although it was turning out to be the worst possible time for the senior local agent to have gone on vacation, she understood why it had
been important for him to get away, turn off his cell phone, and find a quiet place to clear his head.
Agent Blalock—FB-Eyes as he was known locally because he had one brown eye and one blue—had been working long hours with Thomas. After a disagreement with Simmons over some of Agent Thomas’s reports, Simmons had come down hard on Blalock. Angry and frustrated with bureaucratic protocols, Blalock
had announced that he was taking time off. Simmons had actually encouraged him by urging the workaholic Blalock to use his leave before he lost it.
On the face of it, she sure wished things had gone down differently. It would have been an advantage to have an agent like Blalock, who was well acquainted with the reservation and Navajo customs, acting as liaison between the tribal police and the
Bureau. Not that Blalock would have jumped at the chance. The last thing he needed was one more job.
Since Blalock’s last partner, Lucas Payestewa, had been transferred back to northern Arizona, Blalock’s workload had been brutal. Paycheck, the nickname some of the Navajo officers had given the young Hopi agent, had turned out to be a real asset to local law enforcement, but his continual call
for more resources in the Four Corners states had annoyed his supervisors, and he’d been transferred in May.
All things considered, Lucas would have been a great ally to have in a case like this. Trying to find an FBI agent who’d interrupted a religious and healing ceremony would take skill and patience, and Paycheck would have understood that well from his own background. And now, without either
Blalock or Payestewa
around, she was afraid that the Bureau might try to rush things, not realizing until it was too late was that they’d have to adapt to the rules here to make progress. Thinking outside the box and working around cultural differences was what the Bureau did least well, in her opinion.
For the tribal police it was a no-win situation, no matter how she looked at it. Any efforts
they made to find the agent would be perceived as siding with the Anglos—and working against the Dineh’s cultural traditions. Anyone interrupting a Sing was supposed to be punished, and virtually every Navajo would back that notion.
But if Agent Thomas turned up dead, then the Rez could become an armed camp. The Bureau wouldn’t let one of their own go down at the hands of a Navajo, or Navajos,
without insisting someone pay the price. Law-enforcement people lived with a lot of anger, and that came to the forefront with a vengeance when an agent or a cop was killed.
Ella arrived at the Bureau’s office in less than ten minutes. The door was halfway open, so she stepped inside. A slightly balding Anglo man in a suit was sitting behind Blalock’s large metal desk going through a stack of
files. Except for the tall stacks of paperwork on both desks and an open file cabinet, the place looked completely normal to her, having been there often over the past two or three years.
The man looked up as she came in. A scowl was on his face. “About time. Tribal police, right? Ella Clah?”
Ella looked at the badge hooked to her belt, then back at him. “Either that or I’ve stolen her badge.”
His expression didn’t change. “Sit. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover quickly. I’ve got to leave soon to catch a plane to D.C.”
Papers were stacked high on Thomas’s desk chair, so there was no place to sit without moving a foot-high stack of folders. Ella stood instead, eyeing the man.
BOOK: White Thunder
6.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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