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—”
