Archangel of Sedona (25 page)

“I don’t have much evidence to support this yet, but from the phone texts it appears that whoever told Stevie about Fleet knew about your personal quest. If they’re part of the Santo Diablo cult, they wanted to make sure that you failed,” Craig Scott said.

“Why do you think that?”

“The content of the texts, which is investigation confidential. Right now our best information is that a handful of people knew that Fleet was headed to Schnebly Tank. Three quarters of those folks were you, Grimes, and the priest. We have one good suspect, who happened to be in Sedona at the time. He claims to have an airtight alibi.”

“Don Hansen. Right?”

“Bingo!” Ledger agreed.

The ride from Flagstaff down to West Sedona was surreal. It took 40 minutes. Unlike the trip from Williams, I wasn’t handcuffed. I got to sit in the front seat of the four-wheeler. The deputy was a handsome white male, mid-thirties, and a seven-year veteran of CSO. He’d also been a Marine sergeant who did a tour in Afghanistan and one in Iraq. He treated me with respect, as you would expect from a kindred spirit.

“You doing all right, Mr. Giordano?” He asked about five minutes into the trip.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“This shit up at Schnebly Tank wasn’t your first rodeo, was it? We heard that you were a Paratrooper? Been in law enforcement too, right?”

“Right and right,” I said.

“I saw what you and Grimes did near White Horse Lake. Good work, Mr. Giordano.”

“Call me Tony, please.”

“OK, Tony. I’m Randy Stone.”

“Thanks for the ride to Sedona, Randy.”

“No problem. It’s my zone of patrol anyway. You’ll be staying right outside my jurisdiction. If you need anything, I can get over there quick. The Yavapai deputies are first rate. I know them. They’re briefed on this dirty business. They’ll take good care of you.”

“Did you know Fleet?” I asked.

“Yeah. He was a pal. I wish I had been with you and Grimes,” Randy said.

As I watched Randy’s jaw clenching, I had no doubt that he meant every word.

“I knew him for less than a day, but I liked Dave.”

“Tony, I saw a lot of shit at Fallujah, if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, bud.”

“The PTSD can be a mother fucker. It slips up on you when you least expect it.”

“Drink beer?” I asked him, as we started down Oak Creek Canyon.

“Been known to hoist a few.”

“When you’re off duty, come over to Eddie’s. We’ll swap tall tales.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, brother,” Randy said, paying me the ultimate compliment.

“Gotta be careful drinking with these meds, though,” I said.

“True,” Randy said. “You do a lot of drug cases as a fed?”

“A dozen or so. When I was an AUSA, I did organized crime, violent crime, and fraud. My wife is the drug prosecutor.”

“We’re losing the drug war, Tony.”

“We seem to be.”

“There’s a rumor that you saw aliens at the chapel in Sedona,” Randy said.

“Wrong. When I was a kid in college, a buddy of mine and I were drinking at the chapel. We saw lights. It could have been an aircraft of some kind. That’s all. I never saw any little green men.”

“Detective Scott says you’re a good man,” Randy continued, as he mulled something over in his mind.

“Glad he thinks so. My fate is in his hands.”

“He says the deputies in Florida think you’re a stand-up guy. You can be trusted.”

“Glad to know that, Randy. Where’s this going?”

“If I tell you something, do I have attorney/client?”

“Probably not. I don’t have an Arizona law license.”

“Can you keep a secret, anyway?”

“Depends. If you tell me that you killed someone or committed a crime, I’d be duty bound to report it. I represent a Sheriff after all.”

“Craig Scott said you’d take that position. It proves that you’re honest.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. At least, no one since Afghanistan.”

“Good.”

“I have seen an alien, though. But I don’t want anyone to know. I love this job. I don’t want anyone to question my sanity.”

“Randy, I’m the last guy who can criticize you. If you want to talk about it, your secret is safe with me.”

“It wasn’t a little green man.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Two years ago, I was coming down Schnebly Road above Marg’s Draw late at night. It was overcast, no moon or stars. It was real dark, except for the lights from Sedona. I stopped to take a leak. I turned out the lights on the vehicle and walked over to the edge of the road. When I finished, I turned around and standing next to my four by four was an alien being. It stood at least eight feet tall. It was very thin. It had long arms and legs. I’d never seen anything quite like it.”

“How’d you react?”

“I wasn’t scared. I didn’t even think to draw my weapon. I stared at it for at least a full minute, maybe longer.”

“What did you hear, smell, and feel?” I asked.

“I heard nothing. I smelled the juniper and pine, nothing else. I felt calm but a little apprehensive,” Randy said.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, other than the alien turned to the right and walked up the road into the dark. I watched as it faded from sight, like ten seconds later.”

“Borrow your cell phone?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, handing his Smartphone to me.

I pulled up the Internet, and brought up the McMannes’ article with a picture of the Christus.

“Did it look like this?” I asked, showing him the photo from the article.

“Holy shit. Dead fucking ringer,” Randy claimed, as he took the phone.

“Have you ever seen strange lights in the sky here?” I asked.

“In the last two years, I’ve seen unexplained craft in the sky at least five times.”

“Ever report it?” I asked.

“Did you?” He asked back.

“No.”

“Other than to Detective Scott, same,” Randy said.

“Detective Scott knows about your encounter?”

“Yeah. We hunt together. I told him when we were deer hunting near Payson. He’s the one who suggested that I tell you.”

“When you first told Scott, what did he say?”

“He said that the Sheriff would think I was crazy. He’d claim that I’d run into Bigfoot or something. I’d be the target of derision.”

“Was the Schnebly Road incident the only time you saw an alien?”

“Once is enough. Right?”

By this time, we’d reached Eddie’s house. A Yavapai County four-wheeler sat on the road. A Sedona Police patrol car blocked the driveway. The police officer waved at Randy, gave a thumbs-up sign, and pulled his car up to allow us to drive to the house.

I noticed a black Ford Edge in the driveway. It had California plates.

Randy helped me with the equipment. I was still wobbly from the meds. I walked up the door and rang the bell. When the door swung open, Eddie’s daughter, Yvette, greeted me. If anything, she was more beautiful than I remembered. She no longer had a nose ring.

“Yvette, good to see you.”

“Tony, come in. You too, officer,” Yvette said, gesturing with her right arm.

“Where’s Eddie?”

“I made Poppa go to bed. He’s been waiting to talk to you. He’s been worried about you. He was exhausted. I told him that I’d wake him once you got here.”

“I’m pretty tired too. Let him sleep awhile. Maybe I’ll crash for a bit.”

“Better call your wife first,” Yvette directed. “She’s worried.”

“OK. They kept my cell as evidence. Does Eddie have a house phone?”

“No. He thinks they’re a waste. You can use my cell. I’ll find it as soon as I get you settled. Officer, is there anything I can do for you?” Yvette asked, as she turned to Randy.

Randy stared at Yvette. He looked a little like a puppy that’d been called by his mistress. He was captivated by Yvette’s striking beauty. She must get that a lot from men.

I had to check. He wore no ring on his left hand.

“Hello, deputy,” Yvette repeated, but she had a knowing smile on her pretty face.

“Oh, sorry, Ma’am. No, I’m fine. I’ll be going. But here’s my card. If you need anything, call. I’ll be back after I’m off duty. Tony and I have a beer to drink and a discussion to continue,” Randy said, but his primary motive for the visit had changed.

Randy and I shook hands and he took his leave. I went back to my room, grabbed a shower, changed clothes, and walked back into Eddie’s great room. Yvette was on the phone. When she saw me, she walked over to me and handed me her cell.

“It’s Gretchen,” Yvette said.

I took the phone and put it to my ear.

“Hey, Gretch.”

“Yvette says that you have two little black eyes and the bandages make you look like a raccoon. Somebody beat the snot out of you.”

“The other guy fared worse.”

“Apparently, since he’s dead. Yvette says you’re not so distinguished looking at the moment.”

“Damn. That means that I won’t be able to put the moves on her until I recover my good looks,” I said, as I smiled at Yvette, who shook her head and sighed.

“Tell her she can have you. You never listen. I told you not to brawl.”

“I did follow your other advice.”

“What advice was that?”

“Quintuple tap.”

“I believe I said double-tap,” Gretchen corrected.

“Sorry, babe, I misunderstood. Don’t fret. I’ll buy you new bullets.”

“Tony, I was so worried about you,” Gretchen began, weeping at the other end of the conversation. “I wanted to leave today, but I’m scheduled to start a trial on Monday. Since you’re in no immediate danger, Judge Livingston wouldn’t continue it over the fucking defense counsel’s objection. I’ll be out there later in the week after I kick the defendant’s ass.”

“It’s OK. I’d like a couple of days to convalesce anyway. I’ll look a lot better by the end of the week.”

“Listen, Tony. The Tampa news is all over this. I’ve been getting calls. I’m not allowed to discuss the case. Look out. When
they find out where you are, they’ll swarm over you and your pal, Eddie.”

“Hold on, Gretch,” I said, turning to Yvette. “What’s the local news on this?”

“It’s big in Phoenix. CSO and the feds haven’t released your names. But it’s a matter of time. Some neighbor will put two and two together when they figure out the police cars. After that, the media will be camped outside. Enjoy the calm before the storm.”

I comforted Gretchen and we spoke for another few minutes. Then, I begged off, claiming that I needed to get a little sleep.

After I ended the call, I got a beer. I walked back to the bedroom. I lay down on the bed on top of the covers and took a big sip. I closed my eyes and fell into the deepest sleep in 20 years. I woke up 12 hours later on a bright Sunday morning.

Chapter Fourteen

September 2, 2013, 5:30 p.m.

1651 Rodeo Drive

West Sedona, Arizona

Sunday, September 1, turned out to be a day of rest. Eddie and I sat around his house licking our wounds. I took my meds, sipped on tea, and surfed the net for news of our deadly encounter. By Sunday afternoon, our adventure hit the major networks and blogs.

I tried to put the events of Schnebly Tank and their aftermath into some sort of lucid context. I typed up my best recollections. I added them to the draft of the story of the search for the Christus. After I saved the file, I attached a copy to an e-mail that I sent to Gretchen. As a precaution, I sent a copy to each of my sons.

Then I said ten rosaries and took a nap. I slept most of the day.

Monday morning became another thing entirely. Leaks from the state and federal agencies allowed the media outlets to pinpoint our position. Satellite trucks from Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles lined the suburban streets around Eddie’s home. Reporters clamored for interviews. Cameramen trampled all over Eddie’s xeriscaping. Crewmen focused their eavesdropping equipment on LTC Grimes’ private domain.

It was bedlam. The Yavapai Sheriff assigned more units to control the crowd of interlopers.

Eddie and I spent Monday morning watching the news and making as many insulting, ribald, disparaging, and offensive comments as we could concerning the parentage and sexual prowess—or lack thereof—of the reporters who had been filing stories about us with their respective stations. While we watched Eddie’s big screen TV in his great room, I surfed the news sites on my laptop.

All of the stories were long on gore and short on any facts regarding the cause of the violence. The reports agreed that the deaths were related to a large drug operation. The reporters couldn’t decide whether the people hiding inside Eddie’s house were potential defendants, accessories, victims, domestic terrorists, or undercover informants.

Gretchen had begun her trial in Tampa. She was unavailable for comment or moral support. Yvette filled in as the den mother, when she wasn’t talking on her phone to an unknown caller. I assumed that the caller was Randy Stone, who’d spent the entire day with us on Sunday. He was smitten. So was Yvette.

By mid-afternoon, Fox News had a breaking story. Unidentified, but reliable, sources revealed that a major person of interest in the Coconino National Forest homicides was none other than Don Hansen. Hansen had dropped out of sight.