“That’s what Ben thinks.He wants her to know.”
“She’ll know.What about bail?”
“Hearing’s tomorrow morning.I’ve got Ben’s alibi documented—Ruth Blackhorse and the neighbor, Frank Begay, both willing to testify.I’ve also got the handwriting analysis on the bank account application.It’s preliminary, but it’s enough to raise questions.And I have something else.”
Paul waited.
“I pulled the evidence chain records for Ben’s missing Glock 19.The weapon was logged into the tribal police evidence room fourteen months ago after being decommissioned.Standard procedure—old service weapons get stored until they’re scheduled for destruction.The evidence room’s access log shows normal traffic until six weeks ago, when the station’s security system was upgraded.During the upgrade, there was a seventy-two-hour window where the electronic access logs were offline.Card readers disconnected, backup system not yet installed.”
“And the gun disappeared during that window.”
“I can’t prove it disappeared during that window specifically.What I can prove is that the weapon was logged as present in the last physical inventory before the upgrade, and absent in the first inventory after.Someone with knowledge of police procedures and knowledge of the upgrade schedule walked into that evidence room during the three days the cameras were dark and took the gun.”
“That’s not something a random outsider would know.”
“No.It’s something someone inside the department would know.Or someone with a source inside the department.”Begaye paused.“I’m going to argue at the bail hearing that the prosecution’s physical evidence is compromised—the weapon was stolen from a police facility during a known security gap, the DNA could have been collected from any number of sources Ben’s had contact with, and the financial trail originates from the same corporate network that employed the victim.It won’t get the charges dropped, but it should be enough to get him out.”
“And then?”
“And then we build the real case.The one that explains why Nathan Whitmore was killed and who benefits from Ben taking the fall.”Her voice carried the confidence of an attorney standing on solid ground.“I’ve seen enough dirty prosecutions to recognize one, Agent Daniels.This one has fingerprints all over it.I just need time to lift them.”
After she hung up, Paul relayed the conversation to James, who listened with his eyes on the road and his jaw working the way it did when he was processing information that made him angry.
“They used the interrogation to probe what we know,” James said.
“Which means they’re worried.They wouldn’t spend ninety minutes fishing for intelligence if they thought the conspiracy was secure.”Paul looked out the window.A red-tailed hawk circled over a mesa to the east, riding a thermal with no apparent effort.“They know we have Anna’s research.They know we have the financial documentation.What they don’t know is whether we’ve found anything new—and specifically, they don’t know about Whitmore’s laptop.”
“Which makes the laptop the most dangerous thing we’re carrying.”
"for them and for us."
James glanced at the rearview mirror—a quick, automatic check that told Paul the same instincts were running in both of them.The road behind was empty.It usually was, out here.But “usually” had stopped being comforting about three weeks ago.
“We need to get that laptop to someone who can crack it without alerting anyone,” Paul said.“Not the FBI, obviously.Not tribal PD—too many access points.Someone independent.”
“I know someone at the university.Computer science department.He does forensic data recovery as a side business—works with attorneys, insurance companies, occasionally law enforcement.He’s discreet and he owes me a favor.”
“How big a favor?”
“I wrote him a tenure recommendation.”
Paul almost smiled.Almost.“Call him.Today.And James—until we know what’s on that drive, we assume Devco is looking for it.The laptop stays with us, not in a car, not in an office.With us.”
James nodded.They drove the rest of the way in silence.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kari almost missed Mendoza entirely.
She was in the workroom at the field office, reviewing Soto’s preliminary background report on Gregory Ashford, when Attcity knocked on the doorframe and said there was someone she should talk to.A curator at the University of New Mexico had called the FBI tip line that morning, identifying himself as a friend of all three victims and offering to help in any way he could.
“People call tip lines for two reasons,” Kari said.“They know something, or they want to know what we know.”
“Sometimes both,” Attcity said.“His name is Carlos Mendoza.Art history professor, published extensively on contemporary Indigenous art.He’s written catalog essays for shows at the Heard, the Wheelwright, the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture.He knew Redhouse, Tafoya, and Honanie personally.”
“And he’s just now calling?”
“He says he’s been traveling.International conference in Mexico City.Just got back and heard the news about Honanie.”
