Tracking Bear (17 page)

“It’s Justine, cuz. I’m sorry to wake
you up at this hour, but there’s something I thought you should know right away. I just arrived at Wilson’s home. Since the doctors insisted he spend the night at the hospital for observation, I offered to bring him a change of clothing this morning. But it looks like someone broke in sometime after he left for school yesterday. They’ve really trashed the place.”

“Call Ralph Tache. I’ll be there
in fifteen. Don’t bother calling Wilson yet. He probably needs his sleep. Later, we’ll find out when he was home last and try to narrow the time the perp broke in.”

Unwilling to leave without giving her daughter a quick kiss, Ella stepped by her child’s room and peered in. Dawn’s long black hair fanned out on her pillow, and she was sleeping, curled up on her side hugging a stuffed rabbit. She
looked peaceful and content. Envying the dreams of a child, Ella gave Dawn a soft kiss, then grabbed her coat from the living room closet and rushed out the door.

She was nearly three-quarters of the way to Wilson’s home when her cell phone, now with a fresh battery inserted, rang again. Ella identified herself.

“This is Albert Washburn, Officer Clah. You came by my mother’s trailer once. Do
you remember me?”

“Of course I do. What’s going on?”

“I have something that might help you catch the guy who capped Officer Franklin.”

“I’m listening.” The teenager had her complete attention now.

“A friend of mine told me that on his way to and from work, he drives past the garage where Officer Franklin was killed. He’s a janitor at the medical center in Farmington. He was on his way home
a few days before the officer was killed, around ten-thirty at night, when he saw someone with a flashlight going around the corner of the building. He didn’t know if it was Officer Franklin or not, though.”

“Did your friend mention seeing a vehicle?”

“I asked him that. He said no. It could have been around back, I guess.”

“Thanks, Albert.”

“If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.” He
hung up before she could get the name of the witness.

Jason Franklin had helped Albert, and it was possible Albert simply wanted to help her find the killer as a way of repaying his debt. Or he might have been trying to divert her attention from his own possible involvement. Informants had been known to set up an officer when they started getting heat from their criminal associates. She just
didn’t know enough about Albert’s character to decide one way or another.

Looking back at her cell phone, she saw that the caller ID listed “caller unknown.” Albert hadn’t phoned from home, obviously, so trying to return the call would be a waste of time. She made a note to call the Washburn home later. Stopping by to see Albert might get him in trouble with his contacts, if he was legit.

Moments
later, Ella parked in front of Wilson’s new three-bedroom home in a rapidly expanding neighborhood. The small residential area had a waiting list of professors and staff, and Wilson had said that he’d been really lucky to get one of the homes.

Justine, who had been holding back on a permanent commitment with Wilson, had mentioned her concern that he was sounding more “domestic” all the time.
The fact that he’d settled into a home large enough for a family had made her even more uneasy.

Ella walked up the small path leading to the door. Lights were on in several rooms, and over the front porch. Before she got to the steps Justine opened the door. “Wait till you see this place.”

As Ella stepped through the doorway she was amazed at how thorough the burglar had been. The closets had
been emptied and every drawer had been pulled out, their contents dumped in a pile in the middle of the floor. The bookshelves in the den were bare. About three hundred books were scattered randomly around the tiled floor as if someone had picked each one up and searched through the pages.

“The back rooms are in much the same shape. Even the laundry basket was dumped out, and the kitchen cupboards
are open. Whoever did this took their time.”

Ella put on a pair of plastic gloves and followed Justine into the kitchen, noting that items from the refrigerator freezer were sitting on the counter, forming pools of water as they melted. “This wasn’t a burglary. Someone came in looking for something specifically.”

“I haven’t started to process the scene yet, but lifting prints here might actually
do some good as opposed to the large number we’ve found in the college storeroom and have yet to sort out.”

“We have to check for prints just in case, but my guess is that the intruder wore gloves. This was a professional search,” Ella commented thoughtfully. “It was almost certainly the same person that hit the storeroom, or someone working with him. And the use of a silencer in the storeroom
means we’re dealing with a pro who’s willing to kill anyone who threatens him or gets in his way.”

“But what could they be searching for?” Justine asked.

“We’ll have to ask Wilson later and see if he has any ideas. Meanwhile, we can check for the obvious, like missing guns or electronic gear.”

Officer Ralph Tache arrived several minutes later looking a bit bleary-eyed, but awake. “I need coffee…and
a raise. Okay, raised doughnuts, if the tribe is really as broke as they say. But they have to be the apple cinnamon kind. I’d forgive a lot for those.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ella said, chuckling. “Doughnuts we can spring for, but as for money—well, I wouldn’t count on it unless the tribe starts printing twenties and fifties. Or they start giving finder’s fees for money found in paper bags
in the back of file cabinets.”

Time passed quickly as they worked, though processing of the interior was painstaking work. Sometime later, Justine emerged from the den and met Ella, who was dusting for prints around the back door.

“Wilson’s hunting rifle, ammo, and his computer are gone. I know where they’re supposed to be.”

“Have you found anything that links the break-in at the storeroom
to what happened here?”

“There would be work-related files in his home computer and papers in his stolen briefcase. That could suggest the thief was looking for records or documents. We can check with Wilson on that angle. As far as physical evidence, the front lock was twisted off in much the same way the storeroom door was, except that Wilson had a dead bolt so it needed to be kicked in as
well. I’ve also found some black hairs, but they’re my length, so my guess is that they’re mine. I’ll let you know more later.”

“Okay. While you process the evidence, I’m going to go speak to Wilson. Everyone starts early in the hospital, so they’ve probably woken him up by now. If you find out anything we can use, call me right away.”

“There’s one thing…” Justine said slowly. “I’ve been talking
to people about the dead councilman, I didn’t get the impression that anyone thought he was dirty, though with the discovery of that hidden cash, maybe he was just good at keeping a secret. On the other hand, there’s a lot of gossip about Emily, his wife.”

“What kind of gossip?”

“I’m told she has a way with men—the ability to wrap them around her little finger is the cliché I’m thinking of,
I guess. She’s good-looking, charming, and can apparently make men act real stupid around her. Nobody has ever suggested she’s been unfaithful, but she certainly gets a lot of attention.”

“I could see circumstances where she could be a real guy charmer, all right.”

“I met her once,” Justine said. “It was at a barbecue the councilman sponsored before the last election. You know Wilson can’t pass
up free food.”

Ella laughed. On the Rez, few ever people did. That was why it was such an effective way to reach the voters.

“Maybe someone wanted to make sure Mrs. Redhouse was a widow again,” Justine speculated. “Someone waiting to step in and comfort the grieving woman. Men have killed for love before, and there could be a disturbed guy out there who may have mistaken a wink and a smile from
Emily for a lot more than a casual gesture. But I realize that doesn’t have anything to do with NEED, the break-ins, or the unexplained cash he had around.”

“Jealously and obsession are very good motives for murder. Let’s keep digging. While you’re working up the evidence, I’ll pay my brother a visit. Clifford may know if there was another suitor or two before or after Emily married the councilman.”

“Could this person with the three-eighty who killed Officer Franklin have decided to kill Redhouse for an unrelated reason since he’d already committed one murder?” Justine asked.

“Sounds unlikely, especially when we consider that break-ins or robberies are associated with all the recent shootings. And then there’s the unexplained cash.” Ella took a deep breath. “But there has got to be a common
link somewhere between all the crimes. The use of the same weapon makes that clear. Let’s see if we can find out what it is.”

“Better get back to work, then. Oh geez, I almost forgot. The reason I came here in the first place was to get Wilson some clean clothes. If you’re going to the hospital, will you take some to him?”

“Sure.”

Ella headed back into Wilson’s bedroom with Justine and waited
while she picked out a sweater, jeans, and clean underwear from the piles of clothes that had been dumped on the floor. As Ella reached for an athletic bag to carry them in, she saw a photo of Wilson, Clifford, and her taken back when they’d been in high school more than a decade ago. The boys were wearing letterman jackets, and she was wearing a red-and-silver Lady Chieftains sweatshirt.

Memories
poured into her mind unbidden. It had been so long ago…Back then she’d wanted nothing more than to just leave the reservation and never come back. Now her life, and the things that gave her the most comfort, were all here. It had taken a long time for her to find home again.

Ella placed the photo on the dresser. Wilson held on to his memories just as she did. To know yourself in the present,
you had to know who you’d been in the past.

Five minutes later, after telling Justine that they might be taking Bruno’s training workshop later in the morning if there were no new complications, Ella was on her way to the hospital. She intended to press Wilson for answers. He had to know something that could bring all these crimes into focus.

Ella arrived a short while later, parked, and went
inside. She stopped at the front desk, intending to get Wilson’s room number, when she saw him walking in her direction from the main hall. “Where the heck’s Justine? I’ve been ready to leave since sunup.”

Ella quickly filled him on everything that had happened and saw the shock register on his face.

“You should have called and had somebody wake me up, Ella.” Ella started to argue, but he held
up a hand. “Let’s just get out of here. You owe me a ride home.”

“Fine. We’ll talk on the way.” Ella allowed the silence to stretch out as they walked to her Jeep, giving Wilson a chance to collect his thoughts. Finally, once they were well under way, she asked, “What do you have in your possession that would compel someone to search the storeroom where you work, steal your briefcase from your
office, then ransack your home looking for it?”

Wilson said nothing, his eyebrows knitting together as he considered it. “I have no idea. That’s the truth. And I can tell you this—if I had something of value, I certainly wouldn’t put it in the storeroom. Too many people have access to it.”

“This person seems to be searching for something that’s work-related—papers or documents or files on your
computer. But wait. Maybe I’m off base on that. There’s the loss of your hunting rifle to consider.”

“My rifle?” He groaned. “Don’t you get it? That rifle is an almost irresistible temptation! Had I broken into a home and had seen that gun, I would have taken it, no matter what I’d originally gone in there to steal. It’s a Savage Model 99 lever action in .243 caliber. It’s smooth and sweet, right
on the money at two hundred yards over open sights, and fits great on my pickup gun rack. That’s one rifle I’m really gonna miss,” he said with a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll get the serial number from you later. But let’s get back to what I was asking. What do you have that someone might want bad enough to risk killing somebody over? Something that is written down—like a document or something, I’d guess.
We’re dealing with a professional thief, or somebody into something even badder than that because it probably includes killing Officer Franklin and the councilman. And while you’re thinking, add this to the equation. What books, documents, or whatever do you own that might have somehow ended up being stored in the garage where the patrolman was killed?”

“Nothing that I put there, that’s for sure,”
he answered quickly. “I know Professor Franklin, but have never met his ex-wife, who, if I’m correct, owns the garage. I’ve never had any dealings with anybody connected with that family other than the professor.”

“But Professor Franklin stored some of his boxes of stuff there…” she said thoughtfully. “Did he also store anything in your storeroom, or give you anything to keep for him?”

“He doesn’t
use the storeroom. You’ve seen that place. It’s barely large enough for the staff. And as far as him giving me anything—I think he handed me the notes to his lecture once, but I filed them away somewhere. It wasn’t a big deal, you know? He’s not exactly an integral part of my curriculum except as a role model for my students. What makes you ask? And what’s the tiein to the garage where the
professor’s son was killed?”

“Nothing I can think of, except it seems like the same person has been responsible for all this. I’m just trying to find connections and a motive.”

The rest of the trip Wilson quizzed her on the condition of his home, and she did her best to describe what he’d soon be viewing.

When they arrived Ella walked with him to the door. Then, as they stepped inside, she
heard Wilson expel his breath loudly.

“Why the hell would anyone do this to me? This is nuts.” He stopped and looked at her. “That’s your answer. You’re dealing with a crazy,” he said.

Ella waited until Wilson had checked for missing items, but it had been as Justine had reported. Cautioning him not to overdo it, Ella recommended that he stay elsewhere for a few days. Wilson refused the suggestion,
but at least agreed to pay one of his student aides to come over and help him restore order to his home.