Turquoise Girl (26 page)

Wearing gloves, Ella and Blalock studied the dog-eared pages and underlined passages in the concordance, and the various editions of the Bible stacked on the table, paying particular attention to the handwritten comments scribbled in the margins. “If there’s an underlying theme to his favorite passages, it’s hate,” Blalock said.

“From what I see on the
side margins, his handwriting is very close, or a match, to what we’ve found on the notes left at the crime scenes,” she said. “But we’ll need a handwriting expert to verify that.”

An inexpensive laptop computer was plugged into a telephone jack and Ella switched it on and began to search the files. Although he’d used an on-screen name, Caleb was an active member of several radical religious
groups.

“I believe he’s looking for redemption by eradicating the women he slept with and the kids he fathered out of wedlock,” Ella said after a moment. “Slaughtering my mom’s sheep was his way of warning me innocents would die.”

“We’re going to have to come up with a way to force him out into the open,” Blalock said. “But for right now, let the techs handle the scene. We’ll start again in
the morning after we get some sleep.”

“You’re right. It’s time to recharge.”

Ella slept soundly, too tired to even dream, and woke up when the alarm clock on the nightstand rang at seven-thirty. Twenty minutes later, Ella met with Justine in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Ella said, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. “Anything new come in yet?”

“Word’s out about
Caleb and his apartment. The Fierce Ones have people driving all over the county trying to track him down.”

“So they can turn him over to us?” Ella smiled wryly. “Why do I doubt that?”

“One last thing. The Internet interview Teeny arranged for us is set for this morning. I understand the prisoner shared a jail cell with Caleb for five years.”

“Let’s go,” Ella said, eager to get started.

When
they arrived at the station a short time later, Blalock was already there waiting. “The interview is ready to happen,” he said. “The prisoner is currently serving time in the California State Prison at Lancaster, and is ready to talk. He cut a deal in exchange for the testimony he’s going to give us—a transfer to another less crowded lockup closer to his family. We’ve got a Bureau agent on-site
to help smooth the process. Ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

Ella entered the small room that Blalock and Teeny had made over into temporary offices.

“Almost ready,” Teeny said, glancing over at them. “Just waiting for them to come online.”

“Who’s the prisoner we’re questioning?” Ella asked him.

“His name’s John Devlin. He was Caleb’s cellmate.”

“He’s in for…?”

“Auto theft, aggravated assault,
bank robbery,” Teeny answered. “The list goes on. He’s a three-time loser.”

A moment later a man in a suit and tie appeared on the monitor in front of Teeny. Behind him, a green-eyed, blond Anglo man in a bright prison jumpsuit sat on a chair by a simple wooden table. “I’m Agent Riley. We’re ready here whenever you are,” the man in the suit and tie said.

Ella sat in front of the computer as
the camera shifted to the prisoner. His forearms were covered with colorful tattoos, and he was looking across the room, not at the camera. “Mr. Devlin, I understand you have something you want to tell us about Mr. Frank.”

Devlin turned to the camera. If he was smiling, it came across as a sneer. “Who?” His voice was higher than she expected, then she noticed an ugly scar on his windpipe.

“Caleb
Lujan,” she said, correcting herself. “I think that’s the name he used when you knew him.”

“Yeah. His nickname was Righteous Dude. The man was a Jesus freak, crazy as they come. RD kept to himself, real clean and straight—unless you happened to start talking religion. Preachers drove him nuts.”

“Could you give me an example?”

“RD said that preachers these days were too soft on sinners. He
claimed that they’d become nothing more than the devil’s helpers. There was one man he kept ragging on from back on the reservation, a Navajo preacher by the name of Raymond.”

“Last name?” Ella asked, not really needing one, but wanting verification.

“Don’t remember,” he answered with a shrug. “It was the same preacher who got RD thrown out of the church there. RD said that Raymond was a hypocrite
who’d led his congregation away from God’s real message. The thing with RD was that he felt he was on a mission for God. He really believed he’d seen the light. He told me he had to make his peace with God and that the atonement of sins required a blood sacrifice. Righteous wasn’t the kind to kill himself, so I sorta figured he had someone else in mind.”

“But to what end? I mean, after they were
dead, then what?” Ella asked.

“RD claimed that once he’d atoned, he’d be able to start a new life.”

The interview continued a while longer with Ella probing for anything Devlin remembered that would help them locate Caleb Frank/Lujan. But the inmate couldn’t remember anything specific to Shiprock.

After the interview ended, Justine glanced over at Ella. “Boots is out of his reach, so that’s
going to put a major speed bump on his road to sinlessness,” Justine said.

“Yeah, but as long as he keeps looking, he’ll stay within
our
reach, and that’s how we’re going to catch him,” Ella said, an idea forming in her mind.

Directly afterward, they walked down the hall to Big Ed’s office. Justine, Joe Neskahi, and Ralph Tache were there along with Blalock, who now looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.

“An initial examination by our handwriting people tells us that the samples we found in Caleb Lujan’s apartment are consistent with
the handwriting on the notes at the crime scenes,” Blalock said. “I also verified Brewster’s whereabouts for the time of the second murder and it checks out. He was at a strip joint in Farmington. The bartender remembers seeing him because he tried to pick up one of the girls—actually, he offered her a job working for him.”

“What a surprise,” Ella said acerbically.

“We’ve got another problem,”
Neskahi said. “Looks like the Fierce Ones are turning up the heat on Caleb. A cousin of mine who’s with the Many Devils street gang let me know that the Fierce Ones want the eyes and ears of the gangs—but they’re not asking nicely, if you get my meaning?”

“They want to regain their standing as protectors of the tribe,” Ella said. “Anyone have a friend in the Fierce Ones?” she added.

Tache shrugged.
“I know someone. He doesn’t advertise the fact, but I’m pretty sure he’s with them,” he said.

The absence of a name suggested to Ella that Ralph was speaking of a family member. She wondered for a second if Ralph could be the source of the leak, then rejected the thought immediately. He’d been on her team from the beginning, and had never done anything to betray her trust. She avoided looking
at Big Ed, but couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking right now.

“Try to send word to the Fierce Ones through him. If we happen to come across Caleb’s dead body, or find out he had an accident and drowned in his bathtub, or even that lightning struck him, we’re going to be focusing all our energy on them.” Ella said.

She glanced over now, and Big Ed was nodding.

Once the meeting ended,
Ella went to her office to check for messages. There was one from Carolyn with a request for a call back. Ella tried calling, but got no answer. Experience told her that it would be easier to go over in person than to get Carolyn to answer a ringing phone if she was busy with an autopsy.

Ella arrived at the hospital a short time later, and found Carolyn working on the late Martha Etcitty. Ella
glanced in long enough to see more than she’d wanted, then took a seat by Carolyn’s desk. Carolyn had seen her, so Ella knew she’d come out as soon as she could.

Less than ten minutes later, Carolyn stepped out. “I’m starving. Did you pick up anything for breakfast today?”

Ella cursed herself. “Sorry. I should have gotten something on the way. I haven’t eaten either. It’s been
that
kind of morning,”
she said.

“I wasn’t hinting. In fact, I was hoping you hadn’t eaten. I made some breakfast burritos with homemade chile sauce. Want to try one?”

Ella nodded, never one to turn down Carolyn’s cooking. “I’d love one, if you’ve got extra.”

“I brought plenty since I figured you’d be dropping by.”

Carolyn placed the superthick breakfast burritos on two paper plates, then set them on the desk. Coffee
was on the table behind them next to the fax machine.

Ella took a bite, suddenly aware that she was famished. “You never cease to amaze me. You work magic in the kitchen.” The egg and sausage mixture was laced with melted cheese and smothered in a salsa that was just right—tangy and hot, but not enough to take a layer of skin off.

“Every once in a while I like them made the Mexican way, with
a touch of green chile and salsa.”

Ella nodded. “Me, too.” She took another bite, swallowed, then looked at Carolyn. “So what have you got for me?”

“You’ve got two murders with slightly different MOs. Valerie was beaten, then suffered massive cuts that killed her. She was already dead when her head was placed under the water. Martha, on the other hand, was drowned.”

Ella considered the information,
trying to come to grips with it. “It just doesn’t make sense. Serial killers, by and large, don’t change their MOs very much at all.”

“What about the victims’ kids? I understand they were also killed?”

“Shot, execution style, no beatings. No scriptural or other evidence of that nature found at the scene either,” Ella replied, pouring Carolyn and herself a cup of coffee.

“You’re pretty sure
that you’re after the same suspect for all these crimes?” Carolyn asked.

“The passages of Scripture left at the crime scenes were written longhand, and they all match Caleb Lujan’s handwriting. But there are inconsistencies I can’t account for. For example, there was no evidence of burglary at the murder scenes in L.A. and Kayenta or at Martha’s, but Valerie’s place was ran sacked. Yet the note
links Valerie’s killer to the other murders.” She was about to say more when Carolyn’s phone rang.

Carolyn picked it up, then handed the receiver to Ella. “Big Ed. He knew you’d be here and that your phone would have to be turned off.”

“Chief?” Ella asked.

“The Fierce Ones have found Caleb’s hideout. Officer Talk was in the area and will be the first one on the scene. Blalock and your team
are in transit and will meet you at the site.” Big Ed gave her the location.

“On my way,” Ella said, already on her feet and handing the phone back to Carolyn. “Don’t have time to explain. We’ll talk later.”

Ella hit the highway a few minutes later, sirens wailing, and reached for her radio to contact Officer Talk. After three tries without a response, she tried to get word through Dispatch.
With no luck still, she contacted Justine.

“Can’t get through to Marianna Talk. You have any info on the scene?” Ella clipped.

“Last I heard, the Many Devils spotted Caleb inside a killed hogan they use to rank in new members and called the Fierce Ones. They went over to verify it and then we got called in.”

“How long has it been?” Ella asked, wondering if Caleb had already taken off by now.

“Less than a half hour, total.”

Ella drove up the dirt road and spotted two pickups beside a hogan about a hundred yards beyond a large arroyo. She continued into the arroyo, then noticed Officer Talk’s unit to her right, hidden from above. She parked beside the empty vehicle, and climbed out, rifle in hand.

Blalock came down the road just then and pulled over opposite the dirt track to her
left. Justine, Tache, and Neskahi were right behind the Bureau car in a department SUV, which stopped in the center, angling to one side and blocking the trail.

As they were climbing out of their vehicles, Marianna Talk appeared from around a bend in the arroyo, pistol in hand, and hurried over to meet them. “Did you see anyone coming this way?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.

“No. Give
me a sit-rep, Officer Talk,” Ella said, asking for a situation report as the others armed themselves while keeping watch.

“Two Fierce Ones drove right up to the hogan to check it out. I’ve verified that one of the pickups belongs to Danny Joe. Robert Pete was with him, but he looks dead. His body is lying beside the hogan.”

“Where’s Danny?” Ella asked.

“I don’t know. He yelled to me when I
came up out of the arroyo, then the suspect started shooting. I had to duck back into the arroyo. When I looked up again, he was gone. So I disabled the pickups and headed back in this direction.”

Just then they heard several shots fired in rapid succession coming from their left beyond Blalock’s vehicle. “Ralph, Joe. Take the left flank above the arroyo. Marianne, Dwayne, the right high ground.
Justine and I’ll go up the arroyo in the center. Watch your open flanks, and don’t walk into an ambush.”

Everyone moved out, keeping low and covering one another. Ella took the lead moving up the arroyo, with Justine several steps behind and to her left. They’d gone about fifty feet when Ella saw movement behind a mound of windblown tumbleweeds.

Pointing silently, Ella circled to her right,
knowing Blalock and Officer Talk were covering her from that direction. “Tribal police, don’t move,” she said, sighting in on the man, who had a lever-action rifle pointing farther down the wash.

“It’s me, Danny Joe. I got shot.”

Ella saw fresh blood on the sand, then noticed a dark stain on his shirt. “Was it you shooting just now?”

“Yeah, at that crazy man. He ambushed us from inside the
hogan, then ran off in this direction. He doubled back to finish me off but I saw him coming, so I cut loose.”

Danny had been shot through the shoulder, and though the wound was bleeding badly, he’d probably make it, providing the bleeding could be stopped.

Justine came up, cell phone at her ear. “I’m calling for the EMTs, but I’ll make sure they hold back until we give the all clear.”

Ella
nodded, her eyes still looking ahead. “Where’s Caleb now?” she asked Danny.

“He was right in front of me, less than fifty yards, but backed away when I fired. He may have seen or heard your vehicles coming.”

“Think you hit him?” Ella asked.

“I doubt it. He was moving, and I was shaking too bad.”

“What kind of weapon is he carrying?” Ella asked.

“He took Robert’s assault rife and two ten-round
magazines. And he has some kind of auto loader, a Glock, maybe. That’s what he used to shoot me and Robert.”

Ella picked up her handheld and contacted the others, who’d continued to advance, updating them about Caleb’s weapons. Neskahi called her back immediately.

“We found a spot where it appears Caleb climbed out of the arroyo and headed east. Blalock and Officer Talk are trying to pick up
the trail. Want us to help them out?”

“No, my guess is he’s going to circle around behind all of us and, if he can’t get to our vehicles, he’ll make for the highway. We need to keep Caleb from carjacking anyone. Take Ralph and hightail it back to the main road. I’m going after him,” Ella said.

Ella glanced down at Danny. “You’ll have help, but I have to leave.”

“Get him. He killed Robert.”

Justine came up. “Want me here with him or with you?”

“Here, but stay behind cover and maintain contact.”

Ella climbed out of the arroyo, then moved forward in an intercept course with Caleb. There was hilly ground to her right, a good place to sit and watch for movement as long as she was careful not to show herself against the skyline. As quietly as possible, she moved from juniper to juniper,
selecting the biggest of the low-standing trees and using them more for cover than protection.

As she approached the rocky slope of the first rounded hill, she hesitated. The ground between her current cover, a stand of sagebrush, and a cluster of trees at the top, was wide open.

To her left, she saw two people moving slowly through the trees perhaps two hundred yards away, coming in her general
direction. One was wearing a tan uniform—Marianna. To her right, halfway down another hill, Ella saw something blue just beyond the dark green of a juniper. It moved, disappearing from sight.

She picked up her radio. “Dwayne, the perp is on the second hill south of your current location, moving southeast. I’m southwest of you, beside the first hill,” Ella whispered into the radio.

“Ten-four,
Ella. We’ll take the high ground and the eastern slopes. You parallel the hills and continue south. We’ll try to drive him in your direction.”

“Copy that.”

Ella continued south, knowing that Caleb wouldn’t be able to move uphill now without being seen. She advanced another hundred yards and stopped beside a wide juniper, listening, and looking for a patch of blue in the undergrowth. She used
the scope on her rifle to check out a likely hiding place, and a face appeared just for a second, right in the cross-hair, startling her. The juniper branch to one side of her head suddenly shattered into splinters and a bullet whizzed by her face, stinging her cheek.

Four more shots from behind her rang out—covering fire from Blalock and Marianna. Ella, taking full advantage of it and hoping
Caleb was being pinned down, raced ahead, zigzagging, rifle ready.

Their quarry had given away his position, and she hoped to cut him off by getting behind him. As she moved farther up a gentle slope, she saw the top of a small house just beyond, and a whiff of smoke coming from a stovepipe near one end of the corrugated metal roof.

Her stomach fell as she realized that Caleb would now have
the opportunity to take a hostage. With no time to hesitate, not if she was going to prevent it, she circled around to the south, intending on approaching the building from that direction.

As she climbed up a small slope, Ella heard a strangled cry of pain, then a woman’s panicked voice calling for help. She hurried to the top and as she arrived on a level surface, saw a faded white wood-frame
house fifty feet away. On the ground just in front of the open door was a woman, her arm bent in an unnatural angle, her face bloodied.

An engine roared and a pickup suddenly raced into view from around the far corner of the house. It was Caleb, and he looked right at her. Ella raised her rifle and he swerved away, using the house to screen himself from her line of fire.

Hoping to get a shot
at a tire, Ella ran to the house, but the road curved around the hill behind some trees and, now, nothing but dust remained. Furious, all she could do was use her radio. Caleb Frank had slipped right through their fingers.

Hours later, Ella was working alongside her crime scene team processing the hogan where Caleb had hid. The trash alone, based on the empty food containers in a pile outside,
revealed that the man had spent several days there.

“There’s DNA, footprints, everything we need—except Caleb,” Justine muttered, gesturing toward a sleeping bag and small foam mattress pad.

Marianna Talk drove up, then approached Ella. “We’ve got officers stopping every vehicle within thirty miles of this place, but we’ve got nothing so far.” She stared at the ground before her feet and shook
her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take him out when he fired at you,” she said, noting the bandage on Ella’s cheek where the bullet had grazed her. “I
should
have been able to hit him.”