Mac eased open the door, slipping his .40 caliber out and holding the weapon at his right side. Dana pulled out her weapon as well, taking cover in the backseat.
Therman nodded toward them and then ducked around to the back of his house, his rifle at the ready. “What’s he doing?” Dana asked.
“I have no idea,” Nate said.
“Brandishing a rifle around the police isn’t the smartest thing to do.” Mac wasn’t sure what to make of the older man’s odd behavior.
“Hold on, Mac.” Nate held up a hand. “Wait here while I see what’s going on.” Nate jogged to the corner of the house and then disappeared around the back. Less than a minute later, Mac heard a shot. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“I wish I could,” Dana said.
He crouched down behind the open door of the pickup, leaving room for Dana to squeeze out from behind the front seat. Mac leaned over, releasing the shotgun from the mount. He holstered his handgun and racked a round into the chamber of the twelve-gauge. After waiting for what seemed an eternity, he yelled Nate’s name. No response. Mac looked down at the open sights of the shotgun, running his thumb on the safety.
“Nate!” Mac yelled, then listened again. He heard nothing other than the wind rustling the nearby trees.
“He’s not answering.” Dana peered over the bed of Nate’s truck.
“We have no authority here,” Mac said, “but I have to do something.”
“I agree. He could be bleeding to death out there. Or worse.”
Mac looked over at the radio dial; the digital screen was blank. Even though the shotgun release was hard-wired, the radio was not and could not be turned on without the ignition key. He glanced over at the ignition. The keys were gone; Nate must have taken them with him. “We need to move in, Dana. You go to one side of the house, and I’ll take the other.” Mac thought about the last time he’d been in a situation like this. Dana had taken a bullet, and Mac ended up using deadly force. “On second thought, maybe you should stay here. We may be walking into an ambush.”
“No way, Mac.” The look in her eyes told him she was remembering the same incident.
“All right.” He took a deep breath. “We move in. Go to the right, but be careful.”
“You, too, partner.” Dana headed toward the right side of the house, while Mac went left—in the direction Nate had taken. Since Therman hadn’t come back, Mac figured the guy had either run or was waiting for them.
Please, God, not Nate. Mac whispered up a short prayer as he crept along the side of the house. He raised the shotgun barrel eye level and looked around the corner.
Therman Post was walking toward the house, rifle still in hand. He apparently hadn’t seen Mac and was less than forty feet away— well in range of Mac’s shotgun. Mac pressed the safety button again, assuring himself that it was ready to fire. “State Police,” he yelled out. “I’m armed. Don’t make me shoot you; drop the rifle!”
Therman stopped in his tracks and looked over to his right, showing no indication that he intended to drop the rifle. It looked like he was seeking an escape route. There was no route of escape that Mac didn’t have covered with his buckshot, but Dana would be directly in the guy’s sight. Mac held his breath. “Down on the ground. Drop the rifle.”
Therman dropped to one knee. “D-don’t shoot.”
“Drop the gun!” Mac yelled one last time, closing one eye to secure his target and moving his index finger inside the trigger guard.
“Mac, no!”Nate rounded the corner on the other side with Dana close behind. “Don’t shoot, Mac. Everything is OK.” He was carrying what looked like a dead animal.
Mac slowly lowered the gun and put the weapon’s safety on. “I heard a shot,” Mac yelled to Nate.
“That was Therman. He was just shooting at a badger.” Nate held up the animal with the dark fur and pointy nose. “They dig holes that’ll break a horse’s leg. Therman saw him just as we pulled up and, well, first things first.”
“A badger.” Mac blew out a long breath. “Man, I thought you were a goner.”
“I’m sorry, Mac. It’s just that when I saw what he was doing, I walked out with him to pick it up. It has a good hide, and I’m going to tan it for him. I’m so sorry.”
Mac ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.
“I feel like an idiot.” Mac pointed the shotgun barrel at the ground and glanced at Therman, who was struggling to get back up. “I thought you were in trouble. I bet the old guy’s going to be ticked off, having a guy point a gun at him on his own place.”
“You didn’t know, Mac,” Dana came alongside him.
“Give me a second with him. Here, hold this.” Nate handed the badger to Mac, who reluctantly grabbed the tail. The badger looked bigger than it had at first. Mac held it away from himself as blood drained from its mouth and the open wound, spattering his shoes. He lowered the animal closer to the ground.
Dana grimaced. “That poor thing. It was only doing what badgers do. There should be some way to deal with them other than shooting them.”
“The badger is the least of our worries.” Mac eyed the two men. Nate was no doubt explaining what had transpired and why Mac had acted as he had. Therman threw back his head and laughed, and then the two of them headed back toward the house. He was probably in his late fifties, his face tanned and weathered. He had the build of a man who spent his days working the land. He held out a hand several strides before reaching Mac, holding the rifle with his left hand over his shoulder.
“That’s the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me since I was a young private in Vietnam,” Therman said.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you’d shot Nate.” Mac smiled as the two shook hands.
“No need to apologize; Nate already explained the matter. You had your partner’s back, and I can appreciate that.” He looked over to Dana. “And this must be Detective Bennett.”
Dana nodded. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Come on inside and have a cup of coffee. Just brewed a fresh pot.” Therman walked around toward the front of the house.
“You go on ahead, Therman. We’ll be right with you.” Turning to Mac, Nate said, “I’ll take that critter from you. Unless you’re growing attached to it.”
Mac handed over the dead animal without hesitation. “I can’t believe I’m standing in the middle of the desert, wearing a suit, and holding a shotgun and a dead badger. You never know where this job will take you.”
“Pretty glamorous, huh? Welcome to my world.” Nate strode to the truck and threw the carcass into the pickup bed. He set the shotgun back in the mount while Mac and Dana grabbed their briefcases and followed Nate inside.
Therman had four cups of hot coffee and a plate of cookies sitting on a rustic wooden table.
“I love Emma’s oatmeal cookies.” Nate made a beeline for the table. “You’re in for a treat.” He took one and passed the plate to Dana.
“Yum. They smell wonderful and they’re still a little warm.”
“Emma just baked them. She had to go into town.” Therman chuckled. “Which is just as well. Glad she wasn’t here for all the excitement.”
Mac wondered if Nate wasn’t being a little too friendly with one of their suspects, but he took a cookie anyway. The adrenaline rush had left him starving. “Wow, these are good.”
Therman handed them each a napkin and sat down between Mac and Nate. Dana sat opposite him and took out a pad and paper, indicating that Mac should conduct the interview.
“So, what can I do for you?” the older man asked. “I assume you detectives didn’t come up for the badger hunting.”
“You know why we’re here, Therman,”Nate replied. “Detectives McAllister and Bennett are heading up Sara Watson’s murder investigation in Portland. Your letters to the victim’s uncle have caused a stir.”
“Am I a suspect then?” Therman leveled his gaze on Mac as he took a drink of coffee.
“Yes, you are, Mr. Post.” Mac met his dark gaze. The guy was a straight shooter. Good.
Therman’s brown face lit in a wry smile, as if he enjoyed the attention. He helped himself to a cookie. “As long as we understand one another. Why don’t you ask your questions?”
“I’m going to be direct with you,” Mac said. “We understand you wrote several letters to Senator Wilde regarding your position on the casino placement.”
“That I freely admit.” Therman nodded. “I also admit that I dislike your senator more than that badger I shot this morning.”
“Are you saying you want to harm Senator Wilde?” Mac set down his coffee.
“No.” He chuckled and leaned back in the chair. “My days of harming men are over—they were a long time ago. I just don’t like the man. Politicians like him traded lands, which is what your people like to call the treaties of old. Politicians like him want to bend the rules and restrict what we can do on our tribal lands. As you know, the Confederated Tribes is governed by our elected council and operates according to the will of our people. Our tribal business interests your elected officials only when it conflicts with their personal plans. Senator Wilde knows a casino so close to Portland would take money from your state coffers by competing with your lottery and video poker slots. If I’m not mistaken, a portion of your paycheck is probably paid out of gambling revenue, is it not?”
“You’re correct, but I don’t know how much,” Mac said, deflecting the dig. “Now, tell me about the intent of your letters.”
Therman leaned forward again, arms resting on the table. “My intent was to get the senator’s attention. And I wrote those letters before the senator’s niece disappeared—none after I read about his niece in the paper. I have a mission, based on my people’s interest, but I’m no animal.”
Mac glanced at Dana, remembering that the FBI agents had said Therman slammed the door in their faces when they asked him about the other letters. He didn’t want to make Therman angry, but he did need some answers.
Turning to Therman, he said, “You say you didn’t write any letters to the senator after you read about Sara Watson?”
“That’s right.”
“And you know that Sara is now dead and that we recovered her body just off the reservation by the White River?”
“Yes, Detective, I know about that also. Like I said, I read the papers. I’m sorry for the senator’s loss, but with all due respect, what does her death have to do with me? Just because I wrote some political letters to an elected official, I’m now public enemy number one?”
“That’s not the only reason.” Mac hesitated.
“Because I’m an Indian, then?” Therman’s dark eyes bore into Mac’s.
“No. The letters sent to Senator Wilde after his niece was missing were postmarked from Warm Springs. The same as the letters you admitted to writing. There’s also the matter of finding her body so close to tribal land.”
“And that she was buried with what might be one of our artifacts,” Therman added.
Artifacts? He raised an eyebrow and noted Dana’s concern. Had Nate told him about those? Mac knew he was planning to talk to the elders, but Post was a potential suspect.
Nate cleared his throat. “I showed him the photos and asked if he recognized the rock and the beaded bag.”
“And did you?” Mac directed his question to Therman.
He shrugged. “They look familiarize have a number of pieces like them at the Warm Springs museum. Items like that are easy to duplicate, though. A number of women continue to do beadwork and weaving in the old ways.” He gestured toward the bookshelves and cabinets. “My wife, for one.” There were several baskets and beaded bags placed in prominent places throughout the room.
“So you would have had access to similar stones and beaded bags.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I assure you, I didn’t have anything to do with writing that second set of letters. You may or may not choose to believe me, but I had nothing to do with that woman’s death.”
“Do you have any idea who might have sent the second set of letters?” Nate asked.
While Mac preferred to have only one investigator asking questions at a time, he deferred to Nate.
“I do not. You’re well aware of my political involvement. I know the inner workings of the state legislature better than anyone in the tribe. I not only wrote to the senator, but I encouraged others to do so.” He sighed. “I didn’t know Senator Wilde was related to Sara Watson until the story connecting both of them came out in the news. If I didn’t know about the connection, I doubt anyone around here did. Did you know, Nathan?”
“No. But obviously someone did,” Nate replied.
“Mr. Post, can you think of anyone other than yourself who is as passionate about the casino issue as you are?” Mac asked.
Therman pursed his lips and after a moment said, “You know, my people are not the only ones who would profit from the placement of the casino in the gorge. We’ve been working with developers for the six-hundred-acre parcel that the gaming center, conference area, and hotel is proposed to sit on. We’ve also been in contact with gaming experts from St. Louis, Reno, and Las Vegas, recruiting some of the best talent to help run the gambling aspect of the venture. There are a lot of folks who stand to make some serious money if this project were to go through.”
“He’s right there, Mac.” Nate seemed relieved. “The property owner alone stands to lose millions of dollars if the casino isn’t built.”
“I see your point,” Mac said. “Could you supply us with a copy of those names?”
“I could, but it will take awhile to put it together. We’re talking close to a hundred names of people who have been involved in the consulting alone. I’ll have to make a few calls. When do you want it?”
“Yesterday.” Nate finished off his coffee and grabbed another cookie. “I’ll come back by this afternoon if you can put it together by then.”
“I’ll do my best. How about I bring it to you? I’ll have to go into town anyway.”
“We really appreciate this,” Mac told him. The suggestion broadened their investigation, and Mac wondered if the feds had done any interviews along that line.
“Am I still a suspect?” Therman asked.
“You’re more of a person of interest. Our job at the moment is to eliminate as many people as possible. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get a taped statement of your whereabouts for the past few weeks and fully document your letters to Senator Wilde.”
“I have no problem with that.” Therman brought out a daily planner that accounted for nearly every hour of every day from before Sara went missing to the present. He apparently had an alibi for the time Sara disappeared, but the journal could have been doctored. It was almost too organized. Most people couldn’t tell you what they did more than a day or two back. He had also kept copies of the letters he wrote to Senator Wilde, all handwritten and signed with his unique logo.
The second grouping of letters that had been sent to Senator Wilde had been computer generated. “Do you have a computer, Mr. Post?”
“No, but I have access to one. I use the one at the library to do my research.”
Mac nodded. After taking Therman’s detailed statement, he asked for a swab of Therman’s gum line to secure a DNA sample, and Post readily agreed.
Mac secured the cotton swab inside a paper envelope, preparing the evidence for an eventual trip to the crime lab. Right now there was no evidence with which to compare the control samples.
“I think we’re done here.” Mac turned to Dana. “Unless you have something.”
“No. I think you and Nate have covered everything.”
“SO, WHAT’S YOUR READ?” Nate asked Mac on their way back to town.
“Too soon to tell. I try not to form an opinion this early in the game. He seems all right, but I’ve been fooled before.”
“I’d be pretty disappointed if Therman was in on Sara’s death. To be honest, I just don’t see him pulling a stunt like this. Therman is proud and has definite opinions, but he’s not desperate.”
“How far out was the badger Therman shot this morning?”
“About a hundred yards, why?”
“Just curious. That’s pretty good shooting, I’d say.”
“Implying what?”
“Nothing.” Mac tucked the information away. “Just an observation.”
“I liked him.” Dana leaned forward. “He’s a no-nonsense guy who tells it like it is. Besides, Mr. Post wrote his letters by hand. Why would he change to the computer? I still think we’re looking at two different people.”
“Could be,” Mac said, “but he might have decided to switch tactics to throw us off the track.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing, Mac,” Dana said. “It’s too early to make any kind of judgment call.”
“I did come away with something, though,” Mac said. “Therman might not be our killer, but I have a feeling he wasn’t telling us all he knows.”
“You think he’s protecting someone?” Nate asked.
“Could be. All I know is that I’m not ready to let him off the hook.”
Nate nodded. “You asked me earlier about Sara’s ties to the tribe.”
“Right. What did you find out?”
“Margaret Case grew up in these parts years ago,” Nate said.
“Her daughter, Denise Galbraith, lives in Portland. I have an address for you. No family left on the reservation. The daughter has a couple of grown kids. She was pretty upset about Sara and says she’s willing to talk to you.”
“That’s great,” Dana said. “It’ll be interesting to see if she knows anything about the beaded bag and the carved rock.”
“I’m sure she does. One of the things she asked me was if I thought Sara’s family would be willing to give her the artifacts her grandmother had given to Sara. She didn’t want to bother the family so soon, but since I’d called . . .”
“Artifacts? Does she think they’re valuable?”
“Sentimental value, she said.”
“Thanks, Nate,” Mac said. “We’ll contact her as soon as we get back to town.”