She got into the car and jammed her key into the ignition. As she turned it, the engine roared to life.
She wondered if Ecklie's head would make that same noise when he heard about this.
At least she would have Vega along with her. He could report that she'd only had Helena Cameron's best interests in mind.
She even thought about calling Ecklie, briefly. But he would tell her not to go, and then they would waste time arguing.
Time that Helena Cameron might not be able to spare.
19
Keith Hyatt led Ray once again to the comfortable living room where Ray had spent so many hours in the company of friends. Out of habit, Ray took his usual position, at the right end of a couch that was broken in just right, with all the wrinkles and soft spots of an old friend. Ray's elbow slotted into the armrest as if it had been custom-made, instead of just worn down in that precise place. Keith occupied the leather chair he always used.
"We so seldom see you twice in one day anymore," Keith said. "I guess you're not here again by happy accident."
"I'm afraid not."
"Is it about Robert Domingo?"
"It is," Ray said, dropping his chin slightly. He had talked to Nick again on his way there, but Nick had been racing someplace, unable to spend much time elaborating on the situation.
Keith straightened in his chair. He took naturally to the role of professor, as he always had, and Ray felt a little like a student dropping by the teacher's house after hours for advice. He had been on both sides of that situation, many times. "What do you need, Ray?"
"Context," Ray said. "You told me about the blood-quantum issues, and I believe you were right, that plays a part in this somehow. But there's more going on than just that. One of our guys is on the Grey Rock reservation now, and he says it's like a war zone. There was a shooting today, multiple victims, including Meoqui Torres."
"Oh, no," Keith said. His face blanched, and he gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles went white. "I hadn't heard about that."
"Two guys in a pickup truck pulled up outside his house and opened fire. Nobody expects that to be the last of it."
"No, I wouldn't, either," Keith said. "I suppose I'll have to tell Ysabel, although it will upset her terribly. Is Meoqui…?"
"He's wounded, but he's alive," Ray told him.
"That's something, at least. I assume he's getting medical attention?"
"He was taken to a clinic."
"Good, good. So what can I do to help?"
"Here's what I need. Alive or dead, Domingo's got his people, right? Torres must have his supporters as well. Where are the lines drawn?"
"In what way?"
"Who would be on whose side? Would the police support Domingo's side, for instance?"
"Oh, yes, for the most part. I mean, cops are working-class people, right? But there's that eternal conflict, because the whole point of police is obedience to authority, right? Maintaining the status quo. For working-class folks, and often union members, they tend to be on the conservative side. I'm not, um, not trying to be offensive – I keep forgetting you're a cop now."
"I'm a scientist," Ray said. "I just work for the same side as the cops. But don't worry, I get your meaning, and I'm not offended."
"Anyway, Chairman Domingo made sure the tribal police were in his pocket. He couldn't pay them a lot of money, but they made a decent living, especially by the prevalent standards on the rez. When he could, he got them new equipment. He made sure the blood-quantum rules were a bit more relaxed when it came to them and for anyone else he wanted to curry favor with. It's astonishing how flexible supposedly inviolable standards can be under the right circumstances. And in the event of any disagreements or controversies surrounding tribal law enforcement, he tried to side with the police. There'll be individual cops with different loyalties and, of course, some who are genuinely fair-minded and impartial. But as a group? Yes, they would be with him. Or with whoever his designated successor is, if he has one."
"That's something else I wanted to ask about," Ray said. "If you know of any obvious successors."
Keith considered for a moment, head back on the chair, eyes toward the vaulted, beamed ceiling. "No one in particular," he said. "I would look at the people running the enrollment eligibility office, because they're obviously people he put a lot of trust in. That's one of the most powerful offices in the tribe. And look at whoever he's put in charge of the new casino and spa, because the people who'll be handling the big money would be high up on his list. I mean, if you're looking for who would benefit financially from his death."
"That's part of it," Ray said. "Although, honestly, that's more a job for the detectives. For my part, I just want to understand what I'm getting into."
"You're going out there? To the rez?"
"I have to. My colleague Nick is out there on his own, and I think it's too dangerous for that."
"From the sound of things, you could well be right."
"What else do I need to know, Keith? What's going to happen next?"
"Money and power have flowed through Domingo's hands for a long time. He really cemented his hold on that office through the judicious application of those two forces. Now that he's gone, there's going to be a power struggle. I don't mean armed combat, although I certainly wouldn't rule that out. There's a lot at stake. It will be heated, if mostly political. Nobody will completely trust anyone. But for the most part, the sides will still be about where they are now. The power players are the ones who were close to Domingo, and they'll remain, by and large, in those same roles. The activists, the people pushing for social change, the ones you would equate to labor leaders, perhaps, will still be on Torres's side."
"Okay, that's pretty much what I suspected, but I needed to have it confirmed. Thanks, Keith."
"One more thing?"
"Yes?"
"Since Domingo died, he won't be around to represent himself anymore. That means a lot of people will be saying they know what he would have wanted, whether they really do or not. And if Meoqui dies, he'll be a martyr to the opposition. Martyrs and dead men talking through the living are dangerous to be around."
"Point taken," Ray said.
"Since you're here, can you come in and say hello to Ysabel? If that's all you needed? She knows you're here, and she'd be crushed if you didn't drop in."
"I'd be glad to. I really need to get up to the reservation, but I wouldn't think of not looking in on her."
"Great." Keith pushed out of his chair, straining with the effort, and Ray followed him across the house to Ysabel's room. His wife's illness was weighing heavily on the man, Ray observed. Since his visit to the house earlier that morning, Keith looked as if he had aged five years.
"Twice in one day?" Ysabel said when he walked through the door. "I thought I heard your voice. Is everything okay?"
"I had a few questions for Keith.' Ray leaned over and kissed her cheek.
"About that awful business with Robert?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"Are you going to catch whoever did it?"
"We'll catch him, Ysabel. I promise you that."
"Well… I'm glad you came back, whatever the excuse. I have something for you."
"For me?"
"Yes!" She reached for something on the bedside table. Ray couldn't see what it was until she brought it around to hand him.
"That's the basket you were working on earlier."
"It is. I was almost finished, but it hadn't told me yet who it was for. Then it spoke up and said it wanted to go home with you."