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After Quinn left and they’d cleaned up the kitchen, Dela climbed into Heath’s truck and they headed over Interstate 84 and deeper into the reservation. Heath said Ruth lived in the Cayuse area. The Cayuse name was given to the people of this area and the horses they rode. It wasn’t the name they called themselves. Wáylatpu is the true name for the Cayuse people. At one time there had been a village in the area where Heath said Ruth lived. Later the village became a town with a post office and store. The town no longer existed but the area remained known by the name Cayuse.
They pulled up to a small house with two barking dogs and three children running after a chicken.
“Are those her children?” Dela asked, thinking the woman was too old to have such young children.
“Her grandchildren.” Heath opened his door but didn’t step out. “This family has lost many to addictions. Her son killed his wife and himself two years ago while high. Ruth is all the children have.”
Dela’s chest squeezed. Her heart ached thinking of what these three must have gone through. “Were they there when it happened?”
“No. They were here. Ruth discovered the bodies when she drove over to see why the parents hadn’t come to pick up the kids.” Heath watched the scurrying boy and two girls. “We have to keep drugs off the reservation. All lives are sacred but especially the children.”
Dela nodded and they both stepped out of the vehicle as Ruth appeared around the side of the house.
The woman raised a hand to shield her eyes as she stared at them.
“Do you think she’ll tell us anything?” Dela whispered as they walked across the scraggly winter-killed lawn.
Heath didn’t answer, he said, “Ruth, we’d like to visit with you if you have a few minutes.”
“Is this official?” she asked.
He motioned to his civilian clothes. “No. We just have some questions.”
“Barry, quit chasing that chicken or she won’t lay an egg for your breakfast,” the woman raised her voice enough to carry to the children and nodded to the house. “We’ll go inside.”
Dela followed the woman, and Heath followed behind, into a house half the size of hers. She wondered where the children slept. Sadness overtook her not seeing any toys or even a television. No wonder the children were chasing the poor chicken.
Ruth led them into a small kitchen with a round table and four chairs. “Have a seat. I have some coffee on.”
They sat and Dela’s gaze traveled around the tidy kitchen. The stove was old. It looked like one that her mom had replaced when Dela lived at home. The sink was enamel with chips and scratches. The refrigerator was newer, but still at least twenty years old. The linoleum on the floor was worn. The dull grain of wood peeked through in several places.
Ruth set the cups in front of them and took a seat. “Are you still trying to find Levi?”
“No, we found him. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to not talk to us,” Heath said, picking up the mug to take a sip.
“You must have asked him about Lora. He’s been very sensitive about her death. He feels he should have known she was so far gone. But he’d been away at school and hadn’t known how she could fool people. I thought sure she’d gotten clean, then I saw her at my Sonny’s and she was on a high. That was before...” Ruth’s face scrunched up and tears welled in her eyes. “I should have had them all locked up when I seen them. Maybe they’d all be alive now.”
Dela put a hand over the woman’s resting on the table. “If a person doesn’t want help, it’s damn hard to get them to listen to you.” She knew this from one of her friends in the army. Dela had tried repeatedly to help her friend who’d become an alcoholic, but she liked the booze better than anything else. She’d ended up getting kicked out of the army and Dela had lost touch.
“That’s what Levi says, but he still tried to get Lora to stop. Even though she’d just laugh at him and tell him he should join her and see how much better the world was while on drugs.” Ruth shut her eyes, shook her head, and then stared at Dela. “Is this what you came to talk about? Lora’s drug habit?”
Dela nodded. “Did you or Levi know where she got the drugs that she overdosed on?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “That man they say you killed. Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of you. You did a good thing killing him.”
“I didn’t kill him. But I think Lora’s death may have something to do with it.”
“Who do you think killed him?” Ruth glanced from Dela to Heath.
“We don’t know, but the victim had been threatened before he was killed. And there are many who knew what he was doing and who paid him to make meth.” Heath took over.
Dela was glad. She didn’t want to be the one who suggested this woman’s mother or her nephew may have been involved with the murder.
Ruth looked down at her hands. “There have been times when I’d pray that the police would raid him or he’d blow himself up. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to do what they do. They prey on the weak. It’s not right.”
A shiver slithered up Dela’s spine. Had this woman thrust the knife into Paul? She sounded like she could have for the sake of others.
“We let the community down by not stopping him legally,” Heath said.
Dela’s gaze shot to Heath’s face. Guilt had replaced the compassion and determination that had been there before. Was that guilt over not knowing about the meth lab when the rest of the community had known or was it because he’d... No, Heath wouldn’t have stabbed the man and left her hanging as the suspect for the death.
Ruth raised her face and studied Heath. “No, we let the tribals down by not telling you what we all knew. But...” She glanced at Dela and back at Heath. “Five years ago, after Tyler Brown died from an overdose, his father talked to Detective Jones about Paul Winter and the man he worked for.”
Heath’s eyes snapped with anger. “Detective Jones knew about what Winter was doing for that long and didn’t shut him down?”
The woman nodded. “Derick Brown, Tyler’s father, broke his arm and leg in a car accident shortly afterward and hasn’t said another word.” Suspicion bubbled in the woman’s dark brown eyes, surrounded by worry lines. “I am all these children have. I can’t go around pointing fingers.”
“The people of Nixyáawii shouldn’t be afraid to go to the police,” Heath said firmly. “You tell everyone to come to me with information about drug pushers and manufacturers. I’ll work to clean this community up.” He stood. “Come on. We have someone else to see.”
Dela stood, said her goodbyes, and followed Heath out to this pickup. “Who are we going to see?”
“The Chief of Police. He has to know that Detective Jones didn’t follow up on what he was told about a meth lab in our community, and we need to see if Derick Brown’s accident was an accident or if someone caused it on purpose.” Heath cranked over the engine and backed out of the driveway.
“You need to cool down a bit before you go barging in on your boss and a man who may have been forced to keep his mouth shut.” Dela hadn’t seen this side of Heath before. He was pissed and he was determined.
The vehicle slowed down. He drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. This was the kind of shit that I dealt with at Pine Ridge. It churns my guts to know people who are supposed to protect on reservations are some of the same ones who let predators like Sander deal to the community. As if we hadn’t been screwed enough by others over the centuries, we screw our brothers and sisters to make money.”
“If you want to make a change, you can’t just attack straight on. Going to the Chief is a good way to start. Let him hear what we learned about Detective Dick.” Dela took a minute to think. “It might be a good idea to talk to Derick Brown first. Get his side of things so you have more ammunition against Dick when you go to the Chief of Police.”
“Call Jacob and find out where Derick lives.” Heath pulled over to the side of the road, while Dela made the call.
♠ ♣ ♥ ♦
Dela directed Heath to the Brown residence. Jacob had wanted to know why they needed the address. Heath had nodded his head, and she told him about Detective Jones’s disregard of a meth lab and drug dealer on the rez. He was fuming by the time she ended the call.
The Brown home was a small acreage toward Athena. Dela could see where the man would be worried about being laid up due to the accident or whatever harm came to him.
Heath parked next to a battered pickup and newer flatbed. Two dogs, one large and one small, stood on the porch barking.
“I bet that little one is the biter,” Dela said. The larger dog’s tail was wagging while the small dog had its ears back and teeth showing.
Before they had to find out, a man limped out of the shed to the right of the house. “Boomer, Blaster, quiet,” he said in a gruff tone.
The big dog sat down and the little dog snarled.
“Blaster, knock it off.” The man pointed at the small dog. Blaster tucked its thin tail and walked over to crouch by the front door.
“What do you want?” the man asked. He was dressed in a denim shirt and jeans. His dusty, leather boots were worn on the outside of his pant legs.
“Mr. Brown?” Heath asked, holding out a hand.
The man nodded but didn’t shake.
“I’m Heath Seaver, I work for the tribal police.” He pointed to Dela. “This is Dela Alvaro, she’s head of security for the casino.”
Derick Brown studied them and asked, “What do you want with me?”
“I’m investigating the death of Paul Winter. During my inquiries, I learned that Detective Jones didn’t follow up on your information about the man, and now he, Jones, is trying to pin Winter’s murder on Dela.” Heath motioned to the house. “Can we go inside and talk?”
The man glanced at the house then turned on one heel and walked toward the shed. “My wife still hasn’t recovered from the loss of our son. Best to talk about this outside.”
Inside the shed, he handed a folding chair to Dela and Heath before sitting on one himself. “It was five years ago come July we lost Tyler. I was so mad when we learned what had happened to our boy. It was all I could do to drive to the tribal police station. I stomped in and poked my finger in Detective Jones’s chest and told him to get out there and arrest Paul. That the drug he cooked up killed my son. He said they’d investigate, but they never did. Then I shot my mouth off at a gathering about how I was going to go to the Chief of Police since the detective wasn’t doing anything. On my way home, I was run off the road by a tribal police vehicle. I didn’t see who was driving but I’m pretty sure it was Jones. Who else would have wanted me to not tell the Chief he’d done nothing about a meth lab?”
Heath pulled out his notepad. “I plan on telling the chief what I’ve learned. But it would help if you could come in and give a statement.”
When Derick looked apprehensive, Heath said, “Don’t worry I’ll make sure Detective Jones is nowhere near the station while you give your statement.”
“What about afterward? He’ll know I was there.”
Dela had always despised the detective for the way he treated people, but knowing he had let a meth lab continue on the rez had her blood boiling. She hoped the man got more than a firing. He deserved to never work as a policeman again.
“I’ll make certain he doesn’t retaliate. Even if it means a tribal officer watches your farm.”
Dela glanced at Heath, could he make such a grand gesture when he was a patrol officer?
“We’ll keep you and your family safe. I promise.” Heath held out his hand.
They shook and Derick said he’d come to the station at nine in the morning.
“I’ll be there and make sure that Detective Jones isn’t.” Heath stood.
Dela followed him back to the vehicle and climbed in. When they were headed down the road, she asked, “Can you make sure they have a guard?”
He glanced at her. “When the chief learns of this and gives Jones the boot, he won’t be out for Derick’s hide, he’ll be after mine.”
