Cold Case Secrets
Author
Kimberly Van Meter
Reads
15.7K
Chapters
32
No suspects, no leads, no evidence...Two relentless detectives. Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin is bending the rules while investigating an Indigenous girl's cold case. Her methods infuriate her new partner, Levi Wyatt, but he can't ignore his attraction to her. Their romance heats up as their search leads beyond the Macawi reservation. As they uncover the cold case's mysteries, they realize someone doesn't want the murder solved. And the secrets that are revealed could cost them their lives.
Chapter 1
Sixteen years ago, the bruised body of Echo Flying Owl Jones, a young Macawi girl, was found partially submerged on a frigid creek bed near the Macawi Reservation in Montana.
There were no suspects, no leads, and her case was closed but, according to her aunt, never solved.
Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin aimed to change all that.
Funny thing about change, though.
Sometimes change is ushered in on a whisper, other times, a roar—and for Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin, the youngest of the Griffin sisters, a cacophony.
In the space of a year, an intruder killed her adoptive father in her childhood home, her sister Kenna narrowly escaped a psychopathic ex and her other sister, Luna, lost a best friend but found the love of her life.
And while all that was going on, Sayeh faced an Internal Affairs investigation within her department in the FBI Narcotics division and left the Bureau to take the new position on the Cold Case Task Force within the Justice Department of the BIA.
An ordinary person would probably need a long vacation, but Sayeh had never been ordinary and wasn’t about to start now.
“Change is good. Change is good. Change is good,” Sayeh repeated as she walked the hallway to the briefing room in the office for the Bureau of Indian Affairs located in Billings, Montana.
She’d never been known as a “people person,” and starting fresh with her particular personality was a daunting prospect.
She paused, took a deep breath, lifted her chin and walked into the briefing room to meet her new team.
The task force was created due to public pressure to address the growing outrage of Indigenous people, mostly women, being victimized without consequence. The Powers That Be decided cold cases were the best use of available funds and made for good headlines if resolved. Sayeh’s cynical nature saw right through the thin machinations of the PR machine at work, but if playing the game made progress happen, she’d suit up. Rusted wheels often turned with stops and starts and it took a while to get the grease.
Each member had a vested interest in seeing the task force succeed, but they were already briefed privately on what was expected of them going forward. Funding was tight, and resources were always at a premium, so failure to achieve discernible results was not an option. But Sayeh was coming to the table with a cold case worth cracking open.
At first glance, Sayeh saw their task force superior Isaac Berrigan, two Indigenous women and a broad-shouldered white man with a shock of dark hair and a set of brilliant blue eyes, which immediately took her aback.
Given the sensitive cultural nature of the cases involved, she’d assumed the task force would comprise all Indigenous people.
Don’t judge a book by its cover. She didn’t look as Native as her sisters with her dirty blond hair and blue eyes, while the other girls were olive complected with dark eyes. Sayeh’s nickname had been “Yellow Hair” for the longest time because her hair turned golden in the summer, but her blood still ran with the Macawi heritage.
Isaac got straight to business. “Introduce yourselves, you’re about to spend a lot of time together. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot of eyes on this task force right now given the current political climate. I can’t say I’m not glad that the issue is finally getting the attention it deserves, but it’s going to make our jobs that much harder. I don’t want to sugarcoat it for you. It’s going to be a hard road but hopefully, worth it.”
There was no time like the present to set expectations, so let’s get it going. Sayeh boldly took the lead, impatient to get started. “I’m Sayeh Proudfoot Griffin, Macawi Reservation but I was raised in Cottonwood, pleased to meet you,” she said, taking a seat.
A woman with long dark hair and dark eyes nodded, introducing herself, “Dakota Foster, Flathead Reservation,” and the other woman, a caramel brunette with amber eyes, followed with, “Shilah Parker, Turtle Mountain.”
And then all eyes swiveled in question to the other man seated. He compressed his lips—no getting around that elephant—introducing himself, “Levi Wyatt. No Native blood but I grew up on a ranch close to the Blackfeet Reservation and my respect for the people runs deep. Happy to be part of the team.”
Sayeh drew a deep breath, trying to shift against the immediate discomfort that having a white man on a BIA task force created for her. It was all well and good to have “respect” for the people, but he couldn’t possibly understand the issues the Indigenous people faced.
She questioned whether or not he would be a help or a hindrance, but seeing as she wasn’t in charge of the hiring, she’d have to defer to someone else’s judgment—which she hated.
Breathe in, breathe out, don’t say anything that’ll land your ass in HR’s office on the first day.
Her oldest sister’s voice rang in her head, warning her to play nice. Not that she knew how to do that, but she’d give it a shot.
Isaac, a gruff older man with a dark complexion and graying curly hair, was all business. He didn’t waste time with more pleasantries—something Sayeh appreciated—and got straight to the meat of the meeting.
“Great, now that we’re all acquainted, we can talk about my expectations. You were hired for a reason. Each of you has something you bring to the table. You’re all hard workers with top-notch investigative skills, but a few of you, you know who you are, have chafed in group settings.” Was he talking about her? Sayeh kept her expression inscrutable, and he continued, “But that’s in the past. We’re fighting for something important. Remember that.”
Sayeh’s gaze darted around the table, wondering if maybe there was someone else he might’ve been referring to.
“Right. So, moving forward, we’re looking for cold cases involving Indigenous people that have a chance of being solved. Like I said, I don’t have the time or the energy to sugarcoat the truth—we need wins. There’s a lot of pressure to see this task force get some newsworthy results, and lucky me, the responsibility to make sure the BIA looks good landed on my desk. We’ve got all eyes on us. Let’s not end up with egg on our face.”
Sayeh frowned. What was he saying? Isaac had all the weariness of a public servant who was too far from retirement and too in debt to quit, but the job had leached all interest from his soul. Off to a great start. “Be that as it may, it’s about damn time someone started caring about the fact that Indigenous women are being murdered at unprecedented numbers—”
He waved away the rest of Sayeh’s statement, cutting in, “Yeah, yeah, of course. You’re missing the point. I’m saying there are political strings being pulled, which means it’s not so much about the cause but what someone can use for a sound bite.”
Sayeh couldn’t help the tensing of her jaw as she held back a hot retort, but Isaac didn’t miss a thing.
He shrugged. “Look, it is what it is, but we’ll use it to do some good while we can. However, I’ll put it to you straight—the minute this cause loses political or public favor, funding will dry up quicker than a mudhole in the African desert. Understand?”
So much for putting aside her natural cynicism for a fresh start. She bit down on her tongue before saying something she regretted, but she had a mouthful of opinions on the usefulness of bureaucracy.
Isaac heaved a short sigh, continuing, “I don’t expect to do much hand-holding. You know what we’re looking for.” He gestured to the massive stack of files on the table. “There are plenty of case files in the state of Montana to go through to find your diamond in the rough. Bring me something good.”
This was her chance. “Actually, I’ve already done some digging and found a case worth chasing down.”
Isaac’s gaze warmed with subtle appreciation at her initiative. “All right then, take the floor. Let’s hear it.”
Sayeh pulled the file from her briefcase. “Echo Flying Owl Jones, sixteen, Macawi tribe. Sixteen years ago, she was last seen at an Urgent Care, hysterical and looking as if she’d been beaten, but when the nurse returned to the room, she was gone. Two weeks later her body was found in a half-frozen creek. No suspects, no leads.”
“And what makes you think it’s a good fit for our first case?” Isaac asked.
“Because that sixteen-year-old girl deserves justice,” Sayeh answered without hesitation. “This is exactly what we’re trying to draw attention to—young Indigenous women being murdered without consequence. Someone killed Echo and for sixteen years has gotten away with it. Her young life was cut short, and she deserves justice. Her family deserves closure.”
“As compelling as that is, how sure are you that it’s a case we can solve?” Levi asked.
Isaac awaited her answer. Sayeh hated being questioned on her investigative instinct. She stiffened, cutting a short look at her team member. “I’m an investigator. I don’t look at cases and weigh my interest based on their solvability factor.”
“You better start,” Isaac said. “We need to strike the balance between resources, solvability and the optics, or else this task force will become a defunct line item in the budget.”
Sayeh started to defend her case when Levi asked if he could see the file. She slid the file across the table, and he scooped it up, taking a minute to skim the notes, directing a murmur at her as he read. “Former FBI, right?”
Sayeh nodded. “Narcotics.”
Finished, he looked up, admitting, “Tough division,” but followed with, “Here’s the deal, your case tugs at the heartstrings. You’d have to have an empathy chip missing to not feel something for a case like this, but Echo’s case isn’t a cold case—it was solved. The original investigators concluded Echo had likely been partying and died of exposure. She had a history of running around, ditching school, et cetera. It’s tragic, sure, but more of a cautionary tale than an unsolved murder.”
Don’t call your team member a jackass on the first day. Sayeh reined in her quick temper. “If you read between the lines, you’ll see the investigators barely did any field work. They didn’t even collect any forensics to support their bad girl theory and every year her aunt Charlene has asked for Echo’s case to be reopened but no one is willing to touch it. There’s something rotten about this case and all you need to do is take a whiff to smell it.”
Isaac watched their exchange with a sharp eye. “Do you have something better to pitch?” he asked Levi.
“I do.” Levi pulled a case file and read, “Forty-eight-year-old Crow man, Tom Sam, lived here in Billings, found dead in his bar, skull crushed. He was known to have a roving eye and a drinking problem. No suspects were named in his murder, and it remains unsolved.”
“What makes this case better than Sayeh’s?” Shilah piped in, curious.
“Enough forensics were taken at the scene that we could retest using more sophisticated DNA testing that wasn’t available at the time of death. Seems a crime of passion, so it’s likely it wasn’t premeditated. Impulse kills are often sloppy and leave behind a trail. All we need is the right tools to lead us straight to the killer.”
“So, just being honest, if it’s between a cheating bar owner and a sixteen-year-old kid—my vote is for the kid,” Shilah said. “I agree with Sayeh. Sounds like the original investigators didn’t put much time or effort into the case.”
“I’m not saying it’s not a tragedy what happened to the girl. I’m saying it might not be the best start for a new task force needing a win,” Levi pointed out.
Isaac frowned. “You’ve got a point, but so does Sayeh. To be blunt, your case lacks emotional weight. It’s difficult to drum up much sympathy for a man with a reputation for messing around getting whacked in the head. Hell, some might even believe he had it coming—and before you say it, yes, every victim deserves justice, but we need public support and this case just doesn’t press those emotional buttons. You feel me?”
Levi disagreed, holding his ground. “The bigger picture is about solving crimes against the Indigenous people, including the men.”
Pulling the sexist card is typical. Sayeh pressed. “Look, what would it hurt to do some field work? Talk to the aunt. Get a feel for the case and then decide?”
“I think the file has sufficient information. Of course the aunt is going to push to reopen the case. It’s emotional for her but it shouldn’t be for us. That’s all I’m saying. With Tom Sam’s case, we could send off the forensics and have results within a few weeks if we put a rush on it. With any luck, we could have a case solved and a person in custody before spring. That’s good optics.”
Sayeh narrowed her gaze—that first feeling she got from this guy? Yeah, it just intensified. “There are more than five thousand cases of missing Indigenous women and murder is the third leading cause of death. It’s not all about the optics. It’s about justice. My vote is for Echo.”
Shilah and Dakota nodded in agreement.
Levi realized he was outnumbered and looked to Isaac to weigh in.
“You both make good points,” Isaac said gruffly, already displeased with having to play the referee. “Sayeh, you’re right, your case is meatier but could end up with a big fat zero for the team if all you catch is ghosts. Levi, your case has a better chance of getting an arrest but it’s not likely to make even a ripple of public interest. Let’s split the difference. Levi and Sayeh, I want you on the girl’s case while Dakota and Shilah can take the dead bar owner.”
“Oh, I can handle—”
Isaac cut her off, knowing where she was going. “I said what I said. Bring me results, not excuses.”
Sayeh snapped her mouth shut as Isaac left the debriefing room. Making friends already. She appreciated Isaac’s blunt style but didn’t much care for being pushed into a partnership she hadn’t asked for.
Rising, she grabbed the file and stuffed it in her briefcase, saying to Levi, “Listen, I’m good with chasing this down on my own if you want to help Dakota and Shilah with your case.”
“Not a fan of authority, I see.”
She cut him a short look, ignoring his statement. “I work better alone.”
“Well, that’s not an option. Isaac wants us both on this case.”
Sayeh ground her teeth against the urge to say something inappropriate. Luna’s voice popped into her head—Don’t go making enemies on your first day—and she smothered the sharp quip on her tongue. “Right, I was just giving you the chance to work on the case you preferred.”
“I don’t have an emotional attachment to either case. I’m ready when you are.”
“Are you two always going to be sniping at each other?” Dakota asked, shouldering her bag. “Because that kind of energy is disruptive. We’re all on the same team, with the same goal.”
This was how it always started and what she wanted to change about herself. Sayeh had a reputation in the Bureau as a lone wolf because no one wanted to work with her for long.
Was she supposed to apologize for being passionate about stuff that mattered? She didn’t know the play here, but before Sayeh could respond, Dakota added, “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re right about this case. Too many people think Indigenous women are disposable, and they don’t care what happens to them. The only way to make it stop is to go after the people responsible.”
Exactly. Sayeh shot Dakota an appreciative smile for the support, even though the woman had called her out first.
Levi frowned, realizing he was putting himself on the wrong side of the argument. “Let me clarify—the case has merit,” he said. “I’m just trying to keep the bigger picture in mind.”
“So am I,” Sayeh said. “I think we’re just looking at different pictures.”
“Have fun with that,” Shilah quipped as she and Dakota left the debriefing room.
Okay, so change is hard. Maybe she’s not cut out to play nice. Focus on what matters. “Echo’s aunt Charlene still lives on the Macawi Reservation. I’m heading out there now.”
“We can ride together.”
Oh, goody, an awkward car ride. My favorite. “Suit yourself but I pick the music.”
“As long as it’s not country.”
“Country it is,” Sayeh affirmed, even though she hated country music. Some habits were hard to break. Eh, work in progress.
First impressions? The woman was a firecracker with a quick temper lurking behind those blue eyes. The turbulent energy roiling off her in waves was enough to knock a man over. “Quick question—are you always this adversarial or is this your reaction to something about me?” Levi asked, climbing into Sayeh’s car. “If I’ve offended you in some way, I’m sorry.”
Sayeh chuckled with dark humor, pulling her dirty blond hair into a low pony before starting the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m always like this.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“Depends on the metrics you’re using to determine success. If you’re asking if I have friends, not many. If you’re asking how many cases I’ve closed, quite a few. Look, I know I’m not easy to get along with but I have a good nose for cases. There’s something about Echo’s case that has my nose tingling. I guess I’m asking you to trust me but even if you don’t, I’m still going to go after what I know needs chasing.”
“How are you still alive?” Levi asked. “You worked in the most dangerous division in the Bureau and somehow you weren’t killed by your reckless attitude? Your guardian angels must’ve been working overtime.”
“You’re not the first person to say that. My sister might’ve said it a time or two, actually.”
“You have a sister?”
“Two.”
“Are they like you?”
“Not really. I’m a limited edition.” She cast a curious glance his way. “You got any family?”
“An older brother, works the ranch where I grew up.”
“You said you grew up near the Blackfeet Reservation?”
“Yeah.”
“Ranching life wasn’t for you?”
Levi hesitated. Thinking about growing up on the ranch brought some of his best memories, but they were tangled with moments that stung to remember. “My path went in a different direction,” he finally answered.
“Each to their own. I’ve always walked to the beat of my own drum. I like it that way.”
“I’m starting to see that about you. You don’t find that can get a little lonely?” he asked.
“Too busy to be focused on anyone else,” she answered.
“So, not married?”
She cast a short look his way. “Are you hitting on me?”
“No, I just like to know what I’m getting into with a partner. Like Isaac said, we’re going to be working closely together. I need to factor in other considerations.”
“Not married, not looking to date. I’m focused on the job. How does that sum things up for you?”
Worked for him. He preferred a focused partner—and Sayeh needn’t worry about him fishing around her for a date. For one, she wasn’t his type; and two, like Sayeh, he liked to stay focused. Bigger picture.
Besides, whoever said time heals all wounds was full of shit.
It’d been over a handful of years since losing Nadie to a drunk driver, and he still couldn’t talk about it.
So much for healing that wound.
He studied Sayeh for a minute, testing a theory. “What would you have done if Isaac hadn’t approved checking into Echo’s case?”
Sayeh’s slow smile answered before her mouth did.
“I’d do exactly what I’m doing now—what I feel is right.”
“That’s what I thought.” There was something to be said for conviction, but her headstrong attitude could create problems.
Sayeh was like a wild hare, willing to chew off its foot when caught in a trap.
And that’s what worried him.
