Chapter 36: Simple Folkways Are Just Right
Tribal Police Station.
"Agent Banner, that you?"
The officer on duty, recognizing Jane, greeted her and then looked at Chuck standing beside her.
"This is..."
Jane started to introduce him, but the words died in her throat.
How exactly should she introduce him?
She couldn't just say he was a private investigator she'd hired, could she?
While many FBI agents were just coasting through their careers, investigating cases was still supposed to be a core competency.
Local police departments and federal agencies like the FBI were already competing for jurisdiction. If word got back to the Bureau, they'd definitely roast her alive.
"Consultant,"
Chuck offered calmly.
"Right, consultant!"
Jane immediately jumped on that.
"You Feds sure have deep pockets."
The tribal officer on duty shook his head with obvious resentment.
Jane's face reddened.
She understood exactly what he meant.
A powerful agency like the FBI had budgets that dwarfed local police departments, allowing them to bring in outside consultants whenever they wanted.
More often than not, it was actually these hired consultants who cracked the cases while the federal agents just took all the credit.
In the past, she would have fired back defensively.
But now she'd also brought in a consultant—not through official channels, but by hiring a private investigator through personal connections, which seemed to validate his cynicism.
She thought about the girl lying dead in the snow, with no one to speak for her and no one to seek justice.
Because even though everyone suspected murder, the autopsy results showed the girl had run through the freezing snow, inhaling the frigid air for so long that it caused her to cough up blood, and she eventually collapsed and choked on her own blood... If she couldn't find solid evidence proving the girl was murdered, her supervisor would definitely yank her back to Vegas immediately.
She could only swallow her pride and looked at Chuck expectantly.
"I need to review the case files."
Chuck got straight to business.
"I'll have to clear that with the sheriff."
The duty officer looked between Chuck and Jane, hesitating to give immediate approval. "It's pretty late. How about we handle this first thing in the morning?"
"Time's not on our side here."
Chuck frowned. "Agent Banner, call the sheriff now."
"Right!"
Jane, also feeling the pressure of the ticking clock, agreed and immediately pulled out her phone to call. The sheriff picked up on the first ring.
"Sheriff Bishop is on her way,"
Jane told Chuck after hanging up.
Chuck nodded.
Moments later, a patrol car came screeching up to the station, and a female officer rushed inside.
Chuck looked over and saw a middle-aged Native American woman in her forties, clearly of mixed heritage.
"Sheriff Bishop,"
Jane said. "This is my consultant, Dr. Chuck Wolfe."
"Dr. Wolfe,"
the sheriff extended her hand to Chuck.
Chuck shook it.
"Come into my office."
The sheriff gestured for them to follow, leading Chuck and Jane into her cramped office space.
"Has the Bureau decided to take over the case?"
The sheriff asked with obvious relief after they'd all sat down.
In her view, sending a rookie agent like Jane initially had just been standard bureaucratic procedure, but now they'd brought in a PhD consultant, which clearly meant they were preparing to officially assume jurisdiction.
This was exactly what she wanted.
Unlike most local departments that resented federal interference, she believed that as long as the case got solved and justice was served, it didn't matter who got the credit.
Compared to local law enforcement, the FBI had vastly superior resources and could actually get results.
"Not yet."
Jane realized the sheriff had misunderstood and explained awkwardly, "Dr. Wolfe is a consultant I brought in through personal channels."
"I see."
The sheriff nodded without showing any expression that might embarrass Jane. Instead, her eyes flashed with respect. "What do you need from us?"
"I want to review historical case files from this area,"
Chuck said.
"Absolutely!"
The sheriff immediately agreed, calling for the duty officer to bring them over.
"Anything else?"
the sheriff asked.
"Have there been similar incidents here before?"
Chuck inquired.
"No,"
the sheriff shook her head firmly. "The people here live simple lives with strong values. We don't get many serious crimes, let alone something this brutal."
Simple, good people... Chuck glanced at Jane.
Maybe he shouldn't have told her not to bother him with "minor cases" in the future, because his presence in such an innocent community was perfectly appropriate and reasonable.
Jane smiled ruefully.
"Is something wrong?"
the sheriff asked, confused.
"Nothing,"
Jane shook her head.
Even if she changed "minor case" to "simple case," describing a local tragedy that way would still be insulting to the sheriff and her community.
"Are there any military installations nearby?"
Chuck asked next.
"No,"
the sheriff replied.
By then, the duty officer had already delivered the files.
"These are our records going back several years,"
the sheriff said, gesturing to the stack. "It'll probably take forever to get through all of these. Why don't you just ask me directly? I know this community inside and out."
"I'll ask questions as I read. More efficient that way."
Chuck started flipping through the files, then continued, "Any other federal agencies operating in the area?"
"You think this was done by federal employees?"
the sheriff's expression darkened.
He was asking about both military bases and other government agencies, clearly focusing his suspicions on federal personnel.
As a fellow government employee, she instinctively resented that line of thinking.
"Small town, small population, simple relationships,"
Chuck said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the files. "If even an experienced sheriff like you, who knows everyone in town, can't identify a suspect, then most likely we're dealing with an outsider, not a local.
If there were military personnel stationed nearby, they'd naturally be the prime suspects."
"Why's that?"
Jane couldn't help but ask.
"You're FBI—don't you know this basic pattern?"
Chuck looked up at her with a frown. "U.S. military personnel have an appalling crime record. Wherever they're stationed, crime rates spike and you get the full trifecta of violence, drugs, and sexual assault. Just look at any country hosting our overseas bases.
This time, the victim is a Native American girl who physically resembles East Asians. Native Americans have even less political voice in their ancestral homeland than those foreign host countries. At least overseas populations protest our military's behavior—they don't celebrate it with national holidays like Thanksgiving. If there were U.S. troops nearby, there'd be over a 90% chance they're responsible, and I guarantee this wouldn't be an isolated incident."
He returned his attention to rapidly scanning through the files.
"..."
Jane was stunned into silence.
The sheriff's face went stone cold.
Although she was mixed-race, her loyalties lay with the tribal community, and she worked hard to maintain peaceful relations between her people and the federal government. She didn't want to hear such uncomfortable truths that she preferred not to acknowledge or discuss.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the office.
"Can you actually read that fast?"
Jane was the first to break the tension. Looking around nervously, unsure how to address the awkward atmosphere, she noticed Chuck didn't appear to be actually reading but just flipping pages at lightning speed, so she couldn't help but challenge him.
"The human brain consciously processes about 16 bits of information per second, equivalent to roughly 65,000 discrete data points, while the subconscious processes approximately 11 million bits."
Chuck didn't pause his rapid page-turning and glanced up at her. "So yeah, I can."
Jane and the sheriff: "..."
(End of chapter)
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