Redemption is Here (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 9) Page 2

  As much as Callen was sympathetic to his people, it was his job to see both sides of the story. In fact, being in love and ‘married’ to an outsider gave him plenty of perspective for his job. His biggest obstacle wouldn’t be the land being ‘poached’, but the attitude that was sure to follow.

  Pissed off Indians were a dangerous lot. Once backed into a corner, they were likely to do something irrational, and he needed to nip that in the bud.

  Yeah, it was going to be a long one.

  Before entering the building, Callen took a moment to look around, taking in his surroundings. Black Mountain was a dense reservation. The land was filled with trees, lush backdrop, and plenty of wildlife. The indigenous Natives here loved to hunt, build cabins, and try to have a normal life. From the looks of the space, they took pride in their greenery. The small two hundred square mile thatch of land was their pride.

  Now, it was in danger.

  While lush and lovely, this was home and prison all at the same time.

  It gave them both pride and anger.

  Being from the Rez, he totally got that.

  Now they believed that the white man was moving the land borders without them knowing it. It was the ultimate insult. First you trap them, then you make the cage smaller and smaller.

  It was adding insult to injury.

  This was going to be a big battle, especially since the tribe wasn’t exactly sure who was doing it.

  No, that wasn’t true.

  They had a suspect.

  It just seemed… unlikely.

  After doing this job for nearly two years, he’d seen many accusations haphazardly tossed around. Yet, this was one for the record books.

  A part of him still couldn’t believe it.

  This particular Native land butted a cemetery. Inside the wrought iron gates were the graves of deceased Christians. The Natives were accusing the church of trying to steal what wasn’t theirs.

  Honestly, he found it funny.

  Ahhhh, once more religion had reared its ugly head. While so many crimes were based on faith and beliefs, his job was often pretty cut and dried.

  Oh, not this time.

  The heathens and Christians were about to butt heads.

  Now, Callen had to calm the Natives, reassure the Christians, and soothe so many tempers. There were times he wished there were two of him. With each case of encroachment, it was getting harder and harder to find a middle ground. Maybe it was because being Native, he was having a hard time extracting himself from the situation.

  After all, he grew up on a Rez. His perspective was already tainted. Where he was from, poverty was rampant, food was scarce, and honestly, he didn't even see a doctor until he was a preteen. Looking at the empty stares of the Natives, he knew how blessed he was to escape. Yeah, that may have given him a tiny bit of bias.

  Hey, he was only human.

  Then again, all that changed. Callen had a decent job, a home that a Native could only dream about, and a family who loved him. His long tedious days in old shoes, broken down vehicles, and abject poverty were a million miles away.

  This was why he loved his job.

  It made him humble.

  How could he come to work every day, see where he came from, and forget?

  There was no way in hell he could become jaded. This daily experience made him want to work harder for the Natives, and the generations which were coming up behind him.

  At the entrance to the meeting house, he was met by a simple looking man wearing jeans and a jacket. Dakota Molala was the epitome of Native. In his late forties, he stood there with his arms crossed, trying to look imposing.

  Yeah, it wasn’t working.

  In all honesty, Callen was more terrified of Elizabeth when they stirred her up.

  “Brother Whitefox! Thank you for coming to our reservation,” he said, holding out his hand in welcome. As customary, the man’s hand was adorned with turquoise and bracelets fashioned by his people from silver. His braids were long and indicative of his people.

  In that moment, Callen missed his hair.

  He couldn’t help it. Pushing it down, he tried to focus on the issue at hand.

  “Chief Molala, thank you for your invitation to your land. I look forward to assisting you with your problem.”

  The man sincerely hoped so. His people didn't trust the FBI as far as they could throw them. There was so much bad blood brewing. “We heard that you’re the best mediator, and we’re glad that you could come. I’ve arranged for you to stay on the reservation while you’re here. We have a few empty cabins. I hope they’re to your liking. I’ll give you the address and keys later.”

  Callen was appreciative. Although, he’d rather be at home, sleeping in his own bed beside Elizabeth and Ethan. Oh well, this was work and duty called.

  Going inside the meeting house, Callen took in his surroundings. It reminded him of the traditional decorations on the Rez at home. The colors called to Callen, giving him a sense of belonging.

  “I appreciate your kindness, Chief. I hope that I can help you with your situation.”

  The man hoped so too. “I’ll be honest with you, Director Whitefox. We’ve never had this problem before,” he said, taking a seat, as he offered one to his visitor. The minute he sat, Chief Molala signaled to the woman in the corner. She rushed over with tea and something to eat for their guest.

  Callen wasn’t hungry, but to not accept it would be an insult. Nodding, he spoke to the woman in his Native language, hoping they were similar.

  When she replied, he relaxed. This was the first step in gaining their trust. His ethnicity would only go so far. Now, they would watch to see if he practiced what he preached, so to speak.

  The chief was impressed. “So, you are one of us. Too many of today’s Natives don’t take the time to learn things from our ancestors. Your family must be very proud of you.”

  Callen hoped they were. “I’m very much a Native to the core, Chief. In fact, my whole family is very entrenched in our culture.”

  “Please, call me Dakota. I’m not really this formal,” he stated, sipping his tea. I just need to know that the person who will be representing us has our best interests at heart. When I heard they were sending a Native, I was wary. How can one who knows the atrocities of the white man still work for him? I’ll be honest, I was definitely worried.”

  Score one for the FBI. Two minutes in and they were on a first name basis. “Please call me Callen. As to the ‘working for the white man’,” he began, “I’ve found that it’s best to judge each one by their actions and not the color of their skin. Like many Natives, you get the good and the bad.”

  The man smiled warmly. “That is very wise.”

  Whew. Okay, so far, so good. Callen began to relax.

  “My people will be happy to know that we will be understood.”

  Callen knew this was all part of the very intricate dance. “We may not be of the same tribe, but we share the same goals, Dakota. In fact, my boss is also Native. I can assure you that he cares about your issues.”

  The man ate a cookie. “Yes, I’ve seen him on the news after his abduction. It was a shame what they did to his hair. It’s a very big part of us,” he said, touching the braid.

  Callen agreed there. Every day he missed it, longing to get it back. No matter how hard he tried, Callen felt lost without it.

  “I see that you cut yours.”

  Ah, the man did his research. It wasn’t like it was hard. The day the media saw him and Elizabeth with shorn hair, it was like a maelstrom of publicity. Everyone and their brother assumed it was because of what the killer did to Ethan.

  Well, they were absolutely correct. They had sacrificed their hair for his heart.

  “Yes, I did. It was to stand with my brother. Your blood matters most in life.”

  The man seemed to appreciate that. After all, they were all one.

  “Now, what seems to be the issue, Dakota? You mentioned that there were land encroachments
from your eastern neighbor, but that’s all I know.”

  When his body language changed, Callen couldn’t help but notice it. The smile was gone, the arms were crossed, and his demeanor was tense.

  “Someone has been burying their dead on this Rez.”

  That had Callen’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?” There was no way that he had heard that correctly. There had to be some sort of mistake.

  “Let me start at the beginning. To our east is a cemetery, which is owned by a local town church. We’ve never had a problem with them before. Yet as of late, we’ve discovered their dead are spilling past the wrought iron fence to find their final resting place on our land.”

  Callen found that odd.

  Who buried people in the woods? Already, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing. It didn't seem right to him.

  At all.

  “Please continue,” he offered to the chief, trying to get to the bottom of this.

  “We had a few of the tribe out scouting the area. We’re looking to expand the camping grounds for local tourism. That’s how we make our money in the off season. The little shops and stores on the Rez don’t supply our people with enough income.”

  He understood so far.

  “So, we went to the furthest part of the Rez to work our way in. We wanted to be respectful of the cemetery and not have a campground right beside it. It would become a place where our guests would undoubtedly wander. You know how old cemeteries garner attention. They draw in the ghost hunters and riff raff.”

  “I’m with you so far, sir.”

  “Once arriving at the gate, the scouting group found that some ground appeared to have been messed with. Immediately, they came back to report the situation. Had it been a small patch of dirt, it may have gone unnoticed.”

  Callen didn’t like where this was heading.

  Disturbed land was one thing, but the chief already knew that there were graves. That could only mean one thing…

  “So, I headed out there to investigate.”

  Callen was finding it hard not to jump to conclusions. Being in the FBI, you dealt with a lot of crazy shit. This was beginning to sound very familiar.

  “We need you to stop this before it escalates. The bodies must be removed from our land and returned to their side of the fence.”

  Yep, it was very familiar indeed.

  “Chief, you know for sure that there are bodies?” Callen crossed his fingers, praying that the man was just assuming. After all, he could have found some disturbed dirt. Maybe this was a case of overactive imagination.

  “Yes. We dug them up.”

  Or not.

  “WHAT?” Callen wasn’t quite sure he heard the man correctly.

  “I said…”

  He stopped him. “I know what you said. I’m having a big problem with the last part. You dug up bodies?”

  “We were going to drive them back to the church and leave them there. Then, we got word that you were coming and opted to let you see what we found.”

  Callen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You actually disturbed a grave?” That was a big no-no for most Natives. They didn't like to bother the dead after they were buried. To them, the deceased needed time to cross over.

  “Yes, we dug all of them up.”

  Yeah, this whole conversation was getting worse by the minute. “How many is all?”

  “In total, we found four bodies. As you can see, it’s beginning to be a big problem. If they’re burying their dead here, eventually it’s going to spread. I’m assuming it’s people who couldn’t afford a proper burial, and that’s why the unmarked graves.”

  Callen was getting that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Why do you say that, Chief?”

  He shrugged. “They’re not in caskets and their bodies are wrapped in these makeshift shrouds. It’s kind of creepy.”

  Oh boy.

  Okay, this was all wrong. No one buried bodies without a casket. There were laws and regulations in the United States. Callen may not be aware of all of them, but he knew that even Natives had to use a vessel to house the remains. No one wanted contaminated drinking water.

  The idea made him want to gag as he stared down at his tea.

  “I need to see them. Where are they?”

  The man stood. “I’ll drive you out there. I sent a few of our people out to wait with them while you and I had our meeting. We were certain that you would handle it once you heard of our issues.”

  Oh, he’d be handling it alright.

  If it was what he suspected, it didn't look like he was heading home anytime soon. In fact, he was going to be getting some back up on this one.

  Four bodies screamed full FBI investigation.

  Getting into the chief’s beat up truck, he buckled in. Sending a text to his brother, he told him he thought they had an issue. Now, he’d need to make sure before he said anything more. There was no point working Ethan up if it was nothing.

  Yeah, he wasn’t that naïve.

  Where there was smoke, there was fire. Four corpses pretty much equaled a five alarm blaze.

  As they drove on in silence, the chief finally pulled over. “We need to walk from here, Callen. I hope you don’t mind getting your boots dirty.”

  He didn't. All he wanted was to get clarification before he contacted base. Right now, his pulse was pounding in his neck.

  Fortunately for them, the walk was a short hike into the wooded area. Despite the situation, it reminded Callen of home. The dense forest always called to him.

  Ironically, it still was. Only this time, it called to the FBI agent in him instead.

  Once they arrived, Callen weighed the situation. Standing there were three Native men, all holding shovels.

  “They’re still in the holes,” Chief Molala said, pointing into the shallow graves.

  Callen carefully moved toward to the gaping holes. Stopping at the first one, he was immediately hit with a familiar scent. It reminded him of Christmas.

  He found that odd.

  The hole wasn’t deep and inside was the first body. It was wrapped in a white cloth and tied with strips of torn material. All he could think of was some scary old move.

  “Are you serious?” he said, moving toward the other holes. In each one, he found similar remains. “Is this how you found them?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the men.

  “Yes, it is. Now, what should we do?”

  Callen almost wanted to start laughing. If they thought they had a big problem before, it was about to get a million times worse. His suspicions were right.

  This was definitely FBI worthy.

  Callen hated to break it to the man, but the chief didn't have someone interloping on his land. He had someone sneaking onto the reservation to do something far worse.

  In fact, it was sinister.

  “Chief, I have to call this one in. These bodies aren’t that old. You don’t have someone stealing ground for graves.”

  “We don’t?” he replied.

  “No, you have someone hiding bodies. You have a killer using the reservation as a dumping ground.”

  He looked surprised.

  “That can’t be good,” he stated.

  Callen laughed. “Yeah, trust me. It never is.”

  ~ Chapter One ~

  FBI Office Quantico

  Monday Morning

  Ethan Blackhawk had no choice but to fly back east to handle some things that had popped up regarding work. Leaving his wife behind tore him apart. The distance caused an ache to form in his chest, but he had no choice. Callen was out in the field, he was dealing with Gabe, and someone had to manage the office.

  It terrified him to leave her alone.

  Lately, he’d been sticking close to home.

  When his boss summoned him, there was no doubt in his mind why. Doctor Callista Gaines had just submitted a report on his therapy. Now, Gabe would want to make sure that there was no bullshit being tossed around.

  This was go
ing to be a test.

  If his director was crackers, he couldn’t be running the second largest FBI hub in the world. Ethan saw it coming a mile away, and this was one exam he didn't plan on failing.

  There was too much at stake.

  When he arrived, he deposited his things at the hotel and headed right over to Quantico. Once at his boss’s office, the meetings began.

  At first, it was the basic stuff that Gabe always talked about. It would range from the office management to cost expenditures. It was like he forgot that Ethan was one of the best profilers the FBI had on staff. He was trying not to be insulted. If he couldn’t see through this charade, he shouldn’t keep his job.

  “Just ask, Gabe,” Ethan finally said, as he was done waiting for the question to be brought up.

  “Are you insane?”

  Blackhawk laughed. Gabriel Rothschild was one of the power players in the government. He and Elizabeth went way back. As a part of his circle, he wasn’t surprised that was how he phrased it. For a while, he wondered the same thing.

  “No, I’m not crazy. I’m sure Doctor Gaines assured you of that, or you would have yanked my clearance and had me escorted out of the office.”

  “Are you kidding me? Your wife would have gone shit nuts and taken hostages. I’m smarter than that,” he teased. It did him good to see Ethan Blackhawk was back.

  He could picture that in his head. It was hard not to laugh at the visual. “Hell yeah, she would have,” Ethan agreed.

  Gabe got serious. “I know what the report told me, but I also know you’re incredibly smart. You can bullshit your way around an evaluation. I want the truth from friend to friend.”

  He suspected as much. “You could have done this over the phone,” he offered. “I won’t lie to you, Gabe. We go way back and that means something.”

  “Yeah, but then I couldn’t see your eyes. I know you, son. While we’re face to face, you can’t hide anything. Besides, this isn't all about you. We have some other issues to deal with too. You’re just my first priority right now, Director.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Gabe. Do your worst.”

  “Are you able to handle the job?” he asked, leaning forward. Before him sat the gold standard in profiling, and to lose him would be devastating. Ethan Blackhawk was the one who trained the up and coming profilers. Yet, none had even come close to meeting his skill level.