Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
Eliza Morningstar was halfway through writing up an incident report — a disorderly conduct case involving a county resident who’d wandered drunk onto tribal land again — when her phone buzzed for the third time.
She ignored it. Paperwork didn’t finish itself, and the Tribal Council expected her legal summary by noon. The phone buzzed a fourth time. She sighed, checked the screen, and felt her stomach tighten.
Samantha Wolf-Iverson (3 missed calls) 1 new voicemail
Samantha never called three times unless something was wrong. Eliza hit play. Samantha’s voice came through, tight and breathless.
“Eliza, call me back. It’s urgent. They found a girl near the border. Aiyana Red Elk. She’s alive.”
Eliza froze. Aiyana Red Elk. She didn’t need to think — she grabbed her duty belt, her keys, and was out the door before the voicemail ended.
###
At the Tribal Council Building
The council chambers were already buzzing when Eliza arrived in uniform. Word traveled fast on the prairie. Faster than she liked. Councilman Redday intercepted her at the door.
“Officer Morningstar,” he said, relief flickering across his face. “We’ve got a situation.”
“I know,” Eliza replied. “Samantha called.”
He lowered his voice. “County Sheriff’s Office is already here. They’re claiming jurisdiction.”
Eliza’s jaw tightened. “Of course they are.”
Redday reported, “They found her on the Montana side.” “But she’s one of ours.”
“Which means they’ll try to take the case,” Eliza said. “And they’ll mishandle it.”
Redday nodded grimly. “We need you in the room.”
Eliza followed him inside.
###
The Jurisdictional Storm
The room was a mess of overlapping conversations — council members, tribal police, and two county deputies who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. Sheriff Harlan stood near the center, hands on his belt, posture radiating the confidence that came from never being told no.
“Eliza,” he said with a tight smile. “Good of you to join us.”
She didn’t return the smile. “Sheriff.”
“We’ve got a missing teen found on the Montana side,” Harlan said. “That puts her under our jurisdiction.”
Eliza stepped forward, badge visible, voice steady. “She’s a Red Rock Flats tribal member. That puts her under ours.”
Harlan shrugged. “She crossed the state line.”
“She didn’t cross it voluntarily,” Eliza said. “And you know it.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Harlan’s smile thinned. “Look, we’re just trying to help.”
“No,” Eliza said. “You’re trying to control the investigation.”
Redday stepped between them. “We need to focus on the girl.”
Eliza nodded. “Where is she now?”
“En route to Red Rock Flats Clinic,” Redday said. “Greyhawk is with her.”
Eliza blinked. “Elijah Greyhawk?”
“Yes,” Redday said. “He was first on the scene.”
Eliza’s mind raced. Black Rock officer. Montana jurisdiction. Red Rock Flats victim. A perfect storm.
Harlan crossed his arms. “We’ll be sending deputies to the clinic to take her statement.”
Eliza’s voice sharpened. “No, you won’t.”
Harlan’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“She is underage,” Eliza declared. She is Indigenous. Trauma has affected her. And she’s on tribal land. You may not question her without the tribal council present.
Harlan scoffed. “You can’t block us.”
“I can,” Eliza said. "As a sworn officer of the Red Rock Flats Tribal Police, I am informing you that you have no authority to question her without our approval."
The room went still.
Harlan’s jaw clenched. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” Eliza said. “I’m preventing one.”
###
The call from the clinic
Eliza’s phone buzzed again.
Elijah Greyhawk
She stepped into the hallway and answered. “Greyhawk?”
His voice was low, steady, but edged with something she couldn’t place. “She’s stable. Weak, but stable.”
“Did she say anything?” Eliza asked.
“A name,” Elijah said. “Her own. And one more thing.”
Eliza waited.
“‘Blue house.’”
Eliza frowned. “Blue house?”
“That’s all she could manage,” Elijah said. “But it meant something to her.”
Eliza closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. There were blue houses on both sides of the border. People have abandoned several. Some lived in. Some people use them for things no one talked about.
“Keep her safe,” Eliza said. “I’m on my way.”
“Eliza,” Elijah said, voice dropping. “This isn’t just a missing‑person case.”
“I know,” she replied. “And that’s what scares me.”
She hung up and headed for the door. The jurisdictional storm was only beginning. And she was already in the center.