Authors: Aimée & David Thurlo
Ella and Justine studied the pump. A connecting bolt had been removed and stolen, and the handle was on the ground. After looking around a moment, Ella found a big nail they could use to reattach the handle. Using a rock, they bent the nail so
it wouldn’t fall out, then trying the handle, were able to pump water.
“That should hold temporarily. But it won’t last for long.” Ella looked at Justine, who nodded.
“I’ll write down the pump brand and make a quick sketch of the handle, showing which part is missing. I’ll give it to my aunt, and she can get a replacement bolt or something that will be more permanent than that nail.” Justine
pulled out a small notebook from her shirt pocket and began to sketch the pump handle.
A few minutes later, Justine took the sketch to her aunt in the hogan while Ella walked back to the unit.
Justine came out several moments later, anger on her face and hurt in her eyes. “I just can’t do anything right as far as she’s concerned,” Justine muttered, opening her car door. “You just have the magic
touch, Ella.”
“What do you mean?”
“First Abigail Yellowhair, and now my own family. I really should have brought Agent Payestewa with me instead of you. At least I wouldn’t have been compared to him and could have avoided the humiliation of being second-rate.”
“Justine, a lot of things are going wrong for you right now and I understand that you’re testy. But stop taking it out on me. I’m far
from everyone’s favorite child and you know it. I’ve spent a lifetime being compared to Clifford. He was the charismatic one everyone respected. I got married and left the reservation because I couldn’t get out of Clifford’s shadow any other way. Even to this day, he always manages to get people’s respect, whether they agree with him or not. I have to explain myself and hope people will understand.”
Justine nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.
“And as far as Abigail Yellowhair goes, she chose me as a role model only because I’m in a leadership position and it makes me look more important.”
“It’s easy for you to dismiss this, but I’m constantly compared to you by just about everyone. It gets old, you know?”
“Justine, you’ve been through an awful lot in a very short time. Why don’t you
take a week off? Relax and give yourself time to work things out in your head before you come back on duty.”
“You’re kidding, right? If I take time off now, everyone in the department will start thinking that I can’t take the pressure.” She shot Ella an icy look. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
Ella was about to answer that it was obvious Justine couldn’t take the pressure, but then decided against
it. Something was wrong with her cousin, and it wasn’t just from overwork. Justine had never complained before or been the jealous type.
“Justine, calm down. I don’t know what’s going on with you. The issues you’ve brought up and that have you so upset are things that would have never gotten to you before. What’s going on in your life that’s making you so edgy and defensive?”
Seeing Justine
about to protest, Ella held up one hand. “You and I go back to our childhood, but lately all I get from you is distrust and an attitude. It’s really hard to be patient with you when all you’re giving back is venom.”
“You just haven’t been paying attention, and that’s the worst part. I’ve been in a pressure cooker for months, and you haven’t even noticed. Ever since we lost Harry, I’ve had twice
as much work and no help. I guess since the budget cuts, everyone just figures ‘Justine will take care of it.’ You sit around pushing a pencil and waiting for the next case, but I’m in that lab running tests for every cop that comes in. No one seems to care how many hours I put in—except when the work isn’t done.”
Justine had a point, but Ella knew it was far more than that. “You’ve handled worse,
Justine. I think you’re still holding back on the real issue. There’s something at the core of all this.”
Justine started to answer when they heard their call sign come over the radio.
Ella picked up the mike. Dispatch wanted them to stop at Window Rock and pick up a prisoner who needed to be transferred to Shiprock to stand trial.
“The situation is escalating fast,” the dispatcher informed
them. “The PD is gearing up for a confrontation with an angry crowd. The suspect’s been charged with killing a man, and the prisoner’s family is there as well as the victim’s relatives. You’ll have to work up a plan with the officers there to avoid running a gauntlet out of the station.”
“Ten-four.”
Justine switched on the sirens. “It sounds like the sooner we get there, the better off we’ll
be.”
Ella knew that her cousin didn’t want to talk about personal matters anymore. And, for the moment, she was going to let it pass. “We’ve got to focus on business right now, but let’s try to talk later.”
Justine nodded, her eyes focused on the road.
Ella pursed her lips. With Justine in this frame of mind, she was an unpredictable partner. She’d have to keep an eye on the situation and her,
as well.
“Stay alert and on task,” Ella warned. “We go in, retrieve the prisoner, and come out.”
“Of course. I’m a cop. I know what I have to do.”
Ella stared out the window. The words sounded good, but the presence and control that would have been needed to make them believable were absent. The truth was that the trust that had existed between them was missing now, and without it, the very
heart of their partnership had been compromised.
SEVEN
The station in Window Rock had called in off-duty officers and those from surrounding patrol areas to deal with the crisis. Six cops stood in pairs outside in a loose line, monitoring the gathering while more police officers remained inside the building in riot gear.
“You’d better take the prisoner out through the back,” a lieutenant from tribal headquarters told her. Ella could tell by
his uneasiness and the way his eyes darted toward the door every few seconds that he normally served from behind a desk. A crisis like this, however, required every available officer. “There’s a TV camera crew in the front, and there’s no telling how that’ll affect the intelligence of people protesting.”
Ella nodded. About thirty people were outside, though she didn’t know how many more relatives
of the accused and the victim were on their way to the station. Things could have been a lot worse, but with less than a third that number of officers present, it would be hard to control the crowd without someone getting hurt.
“Tempers are running high on this one. Half think the guy’s been set up by the victim’s family. His brother has been here since dawn, taking his case to every person trying
to enter the building. The other half think he’s guilty and want him tried right here—or worse, they want us to turn the prisoner over to them so they can deal with him themselves,” the lieutenant added.
“We’ll take him off your hands, but we’ll need some backup getting him to the unit,” Justine said, eyeing the crowd. “Some of the signs calling out for justice are attached to what look like
axe handles or clubs.”
“I have an idea,” Ella said. “Let’s dress the prisoner in a cop’s uniform and take him out the side door. The crowd won’t be expecting that, and we should be able to get him to the car before he’s recognized.”
“The cuffs will give him away,” Justine pointed out.
“I’ll cuff him to me,” Ella said, “and you can go a few steps ahead to take care of unlocking and opening the
doors. Then, as a diversion, we can send some officers out the front with a cop dressed in the prisoner’s overalls.”
It took a few minutes to get everything ready and notify the officers outside of their plan. Once set, Ella, Justine, and the prisoner left using the side door, a few seconds ahead of the four officers who exited the main entrance guarding the fake prisoner.
Ella held their prisoner,
Thomas Zah, by the arm, making sure he stayed in step with her. She didn’t want anyone to see the handcuffs that kept her left hand attached to his right.
They were barely out of the building when he suddenly started yelling out his brother’s name.
“Shut him up, Ella!” Justine said.
“Just get to the car so we can throw him in the backseat!” Ella answered, grabbing Zah’s free hand and bending
his elbow around behind his back. Zah ducked down and yelped, trying to pull Ella away from the parking lot.
A man ran around the corner of the building, spotted them, and yelled to the others. “He’s over here!” Immediately there were shouts and the sounds of running footsteps.
“Keep going,” Ella told Justine, who’d started to come back to help her.
As Ella forced Zah forward in a crouch, a
rock whizzed by her head.
Justine was at her unit now, holding the back door open. “Hurry, Ella!” Justine jumped back as a chunk of asphalt bounced off the side of the door.
Ella felt a blow to the small of her back that knocked her forward a step, but the bullet-resistant vest beneath her shirt prevented any injury except a future bruise. Coming in the opposite direction, from the front parking
area, were several people carrying signs calling for justice. The last thing she wanted was to get caught between two rival groups. Pushing the reluctant prisoner hard, Ella shoved him into the back of the vehicle, and landed on top of him.
When Justine didn’t shut the door behind her, Ella turned her head and was surprised to see her partner swinging her nightstick at a man trying to shove a
sign in her face.
“Damn!” Ella reached for her key and slipped out of the cuffs within five seconds, attaching it again to the front shoulder harness. Pushing off the prisoner and jamming him facedown onto the floorboards, she dove back out of the car.
“Forget about him. We’ve got to leave,” Ella ordered Justine, blocking a blow with her nightstick, then kicking the man before her in the groin.
When, instead of obeying, Justine turned to face the others coming up, Ella grabbed her by the belt and swung her around to the open back door. “Keep him down!” Ella pushed Justine inside and slammed the door shut.
Whirling around, she spotted three angry men and a young woman rushing up from the passenger side. Pulling out her Mace, Ella sprayed a stream of the chemical at the face of the closest
person, a large man with an axe handle.
“Yow!” The man fell back, grabbing at his face and dropping the club.
As Ella aimed the spray at the others, they scattered. In an instant she jumped into the driver’s side, closing the door.
“Here,” Justine shouted, handing the keys over the seat back.
Ella concentrated on getting the unit started and trying to ignore the thump of rocks against the
side of the vehicle. The engine roared to life just as she saw several officers approaching from two directions, armed with Mace and nightsticks.
“We’re out of here,” she said. “Hold on!” Ella flipped on the siren and emergency lights, and swung the vehicle out away from the curb. People scattered and she gunned the accelerator, speeding past the row of parked vehicles toward the main road. Behind
her in the rearview mirror she could see the officers, Mace canisters out, wading into the troublemakers. The crowd gave ground quickly rather than encounter the unpleasant chemical.
Once on the highway, Ella switched off the emergency equipment. “Are you okay, Justine?” she asked, concentrating on putting distance between them and the station.
There was a pause, and Ella looked back to see
Justine rubbing a bruise on her cheek. “I guess so. The guy hit me with the sign, and I lost my temper for a moment. Sorry.”
“The main thing is we got out of there without any more damage done.” Thomas Zah, a short, overweight man in his early thirties, was cursing now and kicking the back of the seat. “How’s our prisoner? Can you settle him down a bit?” Ella waited a moment, and after she heard
Zah grunt, the kicking stopped, but his cursing picked up in volume.
“I handcuffed his wrist to his ankle on the opposite side. I’ll switch back to both hands once he decides to calm down a little. How about it, potty mouth?” Justine said sarcastically.
When Zah’s expletives finally ended several minutes later, Justine cuffed the prisoner’s hands together again. Ella kept the vehicle at a fast
pace as she drove back to the station. The incident had rattled her considerably. She’d expected some kind of trouble, but not like this. Justine’s reaction, to stay and fight, had taken her by complete surprise. She’d been prepared for the possibility that they’d have to defend themselves, but she’d never expected her partner to stop and attack. Not wanting to discuss it in front of Zah, she kept
silent.
Mercifully, Justine did the same. At the moment, the silence between them was easier to cope with than attempting to communicate.
“You seem to be in a hurry to get back,” Zah commented dryly. “Hot date?”
Ella didn’t turn around, but she heard a thump, and Zah exhaled with a grunt. Could Justine have slugged him in the stomach?
“Oops, sorry about that,” Justine muttered. “Guess my baton
slipped when we went over that bump.”
Zah didn’t say another word, and for the moment, Ella decided to be thankful for the quiet.
* * *
“He’s booked and in a cell,” Justine said, coming into Ella’s office a few hours later.
“I need you to clear up something for me,” Ella said slowly. “When we got caught outside your unit, was it your strategy to make a stand right there and fight it out?”
“Just long enough to show them they had to back off.”
Ella studied her cousin’s eyes, and realized that Justine had enjoyed that confrontation. “Maybe you need to go to the gym and work out some of that hostility, Justine. You’re wound too tight these days.”
“I’ll choose my own workout schedule,” Justine snapped. “I’m in shape and I make sure I stay that way. When’s the last time you went jogging?”
she countered.
“I wasn’t talking about physical fitness,” Ella said, her voice as taut as Justine’s now. “You need to work on your anger and hostility. If you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, then fine. But deal with it, Justine. Since the shooting incident, you’ve been off the wall with almost everyone you meet, and you’ve had a bad attitude for days. In order to save your career,
I may have to recommend you go on administrative leave for a while.”