AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Somewhat. Rachel... Find out who did this. Fast. The media shitstorm we're going to weather will lead to riots... more... I don't know." A long, weary sigh.
She felt as if she was hearing a crack in his facade.
Greywolf was the only other native in her department. The two of them had a kinship because of it, but she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. Another one of their own had been killed. Brutally tortured to death.
Rachel grimaced, trying to distance her thoughts from the body of Chey Whitehorse.
"Sir," she said quietly. "We'll find this guy."
"See that you do, Rachel."
"The land talks. Like you said."
"Always does," he affirmed. "Just got to listen."
"Thanks for the insight, Thomas." She forced politeness into her voice, a veneer thinly veiling her urge to end the call, to dissect this new lead without prying ears.
"I... I trust you to do your job. I hope you don't feel as if I'm back-seat driving here... I just..."
This was exactly how she felt, but didn't say anything. The conversation had veered away form Larry Nelson, and for this alone she was extremely grateful.
"Call me if you need anything," he said. "And if Councilman Whitehorse reaches out to you, direct him to me."
"Will do, sir."
"You take care now." He hung up, the silence returning like a blanket, smothering the static hum of the bar's anachronistic air conditioner.
Ethan leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "What was that about?"
"Greywolf's being pressured by the councilman," she said, the muscles in her jaw clenching ever so slightly. She didn't mention Nelson.
She returned her attention to the screen. Now that it had been given some time to buffer, she replayed the clip, watching the ATV's slow crawl through an empty intersection.
"Look at the way it's riding," Ethan pointed out. "Heavy in the back."
"Like it's weighed down. Got a small trailer attached, see that? Size of a cooler... bigger?"
"Looks like. Not the best image but... Could you even fit..." Ethan's question trailed off, but Rachel knew what he meant.
"Depends on the size of the trailer." Her eyes never left the screen. "And the determination of the person hiding a body."
"God," Ethan exhaled, the sound heavy with the gravity of their task.
"Let's get the timestamp from this footage," she said, her fingers flying over the keys, coaxing cooperation from the spotty wifi. "Need to see if any other cams picked it up."
Rachel's eyes narrowed, the pixels of the license plate on the screen morphing into numbers and letters. She memorized it.
"Got it," she murmured, more to herself than to Ethan. Her fingers were precise as they tapped into the database, chasing the ghostly image of the ATV through digital alleyways.
Rachel steeled herself against hope or horror, but her pulse betrayed her, thrumming in her ears like a drumbeat.
"Reservation plates," Ethan leaned in, squinting at the address field. "Looks like they belong to a man named
Wyatt Reddeer. He's from the Teton Sioux Reservation but moved here a few years ago."
Rachel nodded.
"We need to pay a visit to Mr. Reddeer," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
