Cisco's Woman
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Aimée Thurlo
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Prologue
Detective Cisco Watchman stood in front of Police Chief Joseph Begay’s desk, trying to shut out the tirade aimed at him. Chief Begay’s mood seemed to match the violence of the thunderstorm raging outside.
As the short, barrel-chested chief continued pacing, his voice drowning out the deluge, Cisco’s glance shifted to the rain-splattered window. It was a wet summer for the rez. The steep arroyos would soon be bursting with runoff, and the soaking of ready-to-mow alfalfa fields would start. A season of sorrow seemed destined to unfold, unless the recent barrage of thunderstorms slacked off soon.
A flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the office with its peculiar off-color brightness. The building shook as an explosion of thunder overwhelmed all other sounds. Cisco watched Chief Begay absently run his finger over the turquoise bead that hung from a leather strap attached to his gun belt. Cisco suspected the bead had been part of the Shooting Chant, and now was protection against lightning and any illnesses caused by its strikes. The old ways and the new shared common ground on the reservation, an uneasy truce having been forged between them long ago.
Behind Cisco, the chief’s door remained open, just as Begay had intended. Cisco couldn’t remember the squad room ever being so quiet. Even the occasional ring of a phone was quickly silenced, answered in hushed tones. The perk of the squad’s coffeepot was clearly audible halfway across the enclosure, despite the falling rain outside. Everybody was on edge, waiting for the expected outcome, the ousting of a rogue cop.
Cisco felt the power behind Begay’s glare as it probed and searched him for any sign of weakness. “You’re a disgrace,” the chief said, continuing his tirade. “Taking those bribes makes you no better than the scumbags we’re here to stop.”
The knowledge that so many had chosen to believe in his guilt—fellow officers who had worked with him and should have known better—still stunned him. “I am innocent,” Cisco said steadily.
“Yeah, right. Do us both a favor, okay? Save it for the lawyers. I have no time for your excuses.”
Cisco clamped his mouth shut. He’d expected the going to be tough, but until that very moment, he hadn’t fully realized how much the respect of his fellow officers meant to him. He could feel the cold anger of the men in the squad room. They would all come down hard on a dirty cop. It would be particularly bad for someone like him, who’d barely associated with any of them off the job. He’d never had any close friends in the department. He’d decided long ago that it was better that way, for him and for them. But having few allies meant there was no one to stand by him now, when he needed support. Knife-edged loss was cutting up his gut as he was forced to accept being branded a traitor to the department.
The chief raised his voice again, ensuring that everyone in the communal office heard clearly. “You’re beneath contempt. As of now, you’re on suspension, but I expect dismissal and formal charges within a week. Turn over your badge and your service weapon. Then get the hell out of my sight.”
Cisco reached for his badge and dropped it on the chief’s desk. He then snapped his holster open, slipped out the nine-millimeter pistol and placed it beside the badge. Without them, he suddenly felt naked. Somewhere along the way he’d stopped being anything but a cop. He lived and breathed the life.
As Cisco turned and walked out of the chief’s office, gazes quickly darted elsewhere, and the normal flurry of activity returned to the squad room. Cisco kept his shoulders squared and his back straight. As he passed by the desks on either side of the center aisle, silence spread around him in an ever-widening circle, like the spirals of a violent dust devil.
As he approached the door, Cisco’s brother-in-law, Phillip Aspass, left his chair and stepped toward him. Phillip hesitated as he neared and stopped short of Cisco, careful not to block his path. Two other officers, Benjamin Kelliwood and Curtis Blackhorse, came to stand behind Phillip, lending their support wordlessly.
“First you bring tragedy and sorrow to my family,” Aspass said, his voice low but tainted with bitterness. “Now you dishonor our department. It’s too bad this didn’t happen two years ago. Had my sister seen you for what you truly are, she would have thrown you out of her home. Then maybe she would still be alive today.”
Memories crowded Cisco’s mind, and pain from a wound that would never heal penetrated his heart. He took a step toward his brother-in-law, who held his ground, assuming a defensive stance.
“What happened to my wife was an accident,” Cisco growled. “You know that.” He stared at the man for a moment, then glanced coldly at the two behind him. Pushing back the anger that clouded his thinking, he broke eye contact.
This was pointless. Phillip would have to come to terms with the past himself. The others who backed him were eager for a fight. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. It was time to go, because he had a job to do.
Wordlessly Cisco turned and opened the door. The truth about the bribes would come out in a few weeks—he’d see to that much himself—and these officers would have to eat their words. Yet the hard reality was that little would change for him even then. He would remain alone, a dark shadow trapped behind impenetrable walls of ice.
