The Third Warrior by Carol Potenza

Author:Carol Potenza [Potenza, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781736326206
Publisher: Tiny Mammoth Press, LLC

Chapter Thirty-Three

The interrogation room door snapped shut. Nicky stood flat-footed in the stuffy corridor, jaw cocked in astonishment, George’s file clamped in her fingers. “Ruth Jäger? First Gianetta Green, now this?” She held out one hand toward the door. “What the heck?”

Franco’s eyes crinkled into a smile, but he said nothing.

“I mean, Gianetta—some of her charges are serious because of the eagle feather and the unknown provenance of that fetish,” Nicky continued. “But an out-of-season elk?”

“And assault on a police officer,” Franco reminded her. “This could be about you.”

“Before Gianetta’s hospital room, Ruth and I hadn’t seen each other for over five years. Why now?” She couldn’t make the connection.

They walked slowly down the hallway, and Nicky glanced through the window into the third interrogation room. Willy Hopinkay sat inside, head on his arms.

“Maybe this kid knows,” she said.

The officer guarding the door opened it for her and Franco. She threaded around him and inside the room. The young man lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed.

“How are you doing?” Nicky slid out a chair and sat.

Willy wiped his cheeks. “I ... I called my mom. She ... she said she’ll call a lawyer and then drive out here with ... with my grandfather. They don’t have much money. I don’t know where they’ll stay.”

Nicky caught Franco’s eye. “Call Savannah. See what she can arrange.”

“You’ll be okay with him?” At her nod, Franco left the room, phone already to his ear.

“Willy? Who’s the lawyer?” Nicky asked. “Do you know?”

“He’s out of Gallup. He’s A:bachu—Navajo—and helped me and George before. When I was fourteen, we kinda took a car that didn’t belong to us.” He lifted dark brown eyes to her face. “He negotiated with the guy who owned it ’cause he was our clan. We helped him around his ranch for a few months to make up for what we’d done.”

“What about Ruth Jäger?”

Willy shook his head. “Please. I know I did wrong, but can you just give the rifle back to my grandfather? It was his grandfather’s, and he has stories, and he said I was to add my stories, and I messed it all up. I don’t care what happens to me. I’ll go to jail, but the rifle—” He blinked, and tears splattered his cheeks. “I was stupid to bring it. Stupid. Did you see the scabbard?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Nicky. “But you should be more worried about yourself.”

He shook his head again. “No. The scabbard is important. It was beaded by my grandfather’s grandmother. Will that be taken, too?”

“Willy, it’s you who’s important.” She leaned forward, hands clasped. “If you cooperate, tell us who hired you—”

“I don’t know. Joe handled it.”

Cool, fresh air tainted with expensive perfume rushed into the room. Nicky twisted in her chair, then stood, her stomach dropping. Franco stepped inside, followed by Ruth. Dammit.

“Sergeant, you will cease this interrogation immediately.” A tight line circled Ruth’s lips. “William? I’m your lawyer, Ruth Jäger.”

Willy’s brows knit tightly. “But Mom said she’d call—”

“Hush.” Ruth’s voice was gentle. “We’ll talk as soon as these officers leave.

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