Mourning Dove by Aimée & David Thurlo

someone from Shiprock who’d recognized her unit as a tribal police vehicle despite its lack of department markings.
    Yet faced with the reality that the carjackers were still out there, a murderer or two among them, Ella speeded up. The vehicle, an SUV, increased its velocity too and kept up—never narrowing the distance between them or allowing it to stretch out beyondvisual range.
    Ella glanced down at the envelope beside her containing what might have been a dead man’s last written words. It was possible someone wanted to get their hands on those pages before she figured them out. Jimmy Blacksheep’s house had been carefully searched, after all, and the only things known to be missing were stories he’d written before he shipped out.
    As she came down a longhill just outside Shiprock, Ella turned at the last minute into a housing area that had grown around a middle school. The vehicle behind her turned as well, following. Ella slowed, as if looking for a house number among the inexpensive tribal development, and called for backup.
    Going north, she headed down the street, noting that no children or people were outside in the streets and consequentlyin danger. When she reached the next intersection, she sped to the left quickly. As she reached the school parking lot, she noted with relief that classes were still in session at this hour and nobody was hanging around outside.
    Ella pulled up beside an empty bus, blocked from the street, and waited, her window down, listening. The vehicle that had been following her slowed slightly, then droveon. Eyes still alert for children, she backed up, pulled out into the street, and saw the vehicle that had been following her now moving up the street slowly.
    Switching on the sirens and emergency lights, she accelerated and narrowed the distance between them. If he tried to make it to the highway and turned south, she might have a race on her hands, but if he went north, he’d meet officers comingfrom theShiprock station. As it was, the driver pulled over to the curb beside one of the area homes and got out of the car.
    Seeing Samuel Blacksheep, Ella slammed her hand hard against the steering wheel in anger. Taking a moment to cancel backup, she climbed out of the car.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, going to meet him.
    Samuel’s eyes flashed with anger, and his fistswere balled up. “Proving you’re
not
doing your job. You’ve got to find my brother’s killer before the trail goes cold. In murder cases each hour counts—every good cop knows that. Yet here you are on duty driving off to visit your brother and mother. Is that how the tribal PD works these days? Punch in, then go visit your relatives?”
    Nothing was as guaranteed to make her lose her temper as havingsomeone outside the department criticize their operation—particularly so unjustly. “Listen to me very carefully, Officer Blacksheep,” she said, biting off the words. “I don’t have to explain how I investigate my cases to anyone outside my department. What you’ve done so far is interfere with my job and behave unprofessionally by working
outside
your jurisdiction on a case you’d be forbidden towork on. This little stunt of yours has cost me time and manpower I can’t afford to waste. But what really pisses me off is that you’re following
me
in hopes of getting some leads
you
can follow up on your own. You’re obviously clueless, because if you knew where to begin you wouldn’t have to follow me, hoping I’d show you the way.”
    His face turned red, then redder, but Samuel managed to keephis temper—barely. “I’m working toward the same thing you are—solving my brother’s murder.”
    “You’re too close to this case, and you’re going to end up muddying up the trail for me and my team. Back off
now
. If you bother any of my officers or get in my way, I
will
arrest you for obstruction of justice. I have no tolerance for this kind of garbage. You get me?”
    “He