Blackening song

by Thurlo, Aimée

  "Did I interrupt something?" Ellas asked, barely masking her hurt.

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  "No/' Rose answered, "but I should go and acknowledge the others now. They were all your father's friends."

  Wilson never took his eyes off Rose as she walked away, and it dawned on Ella that he was here to guard her mother.

  "You two shouldn't have walked here alone," Wilson said, his eyes as cold as a February breeze.

  "Do you have reason to believe my mother is in dan-ger?"

  "I don't know that she isn't. Do you?"

  "I'm capable of protecting my mother from physical harm. Don't underestimate me," she responded sharply.

  "Are you? You're attuned to only one kind of danger," he countered, his gaze never leaving Rose.

  Ella stayed beside Wilson as he discreetly followed her mother around the patio. "Did my brother ask you to keep an eye on her?"

  "For him to have asked me would mean I've been in contact with him," he answered, careful not to confirm or deny. "Trickery," he added, shaking his head. "Is that what you've learned from your police friends?"

  "I've learned to win, old friend," she said, her voice hard.

  A sudden, angry shout from a parishioner caused her to reach for her pistol. Wilson did a double take at her response, but Ella scarcely noticed as she whirled toward the source of the noise.

  In the parking lot, Blalock sat in his car, camera in hand. "Bureau business," he said to Ella as she strode up. He continued to snap pictures as people stared at him in contempt.

  A cloud of rage engulfed her. She would have expected more discretion and common sense from one of her colleagues. He could have easily videotaped those leaving or

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  arriving at the church from a hiding place across the road. The way he'd chosen to do this was deliberately insulting.

  Ella removed her jacket and used it to block Blalock's next shot. It took all her willpower not to knock the camera from his hands and stomp it to pieces on the pavement. "Leave right now/' she ordered.

  "No way."

  Blalock slipped his camera into the glove compartment, slid out the other side of the car, and approached Willy Ute, a Navajo man who'd been a friend of Ella's father since their childhood. Ella saw an unmistakable and uncharacteristic flash of anger in Willy's eyes as Blalock asked for his name.

  Wilson Joe stepped forward and placed a hand on Bla-lock's shoulder.

  Blalock spun around. In one fluid motion he grabbed Wilson's arm, twisted it in a hammerlock, and slammed him into the car.

  Ella dove between the men, forcing Blalock to either attack her or release Wilson. Blalock glowered at her as he stepped back.

  Wilson moved toward Blalock, still angry, but Ella held up her hand to ward him off. "Check on my mother instead," she said calmly.

  Concern flashed across Wilson's features. Reluctantly he backed off and walked away, searching for Rose.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Blalock demanded in a harsh whisper.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she countered, leading him away from the church. "If you want to ask questions, do it somewhere else. Use your brain for a change, and lose this macho act. You're disturbing the peace, and you can be arrested for that."

  Blalock stepped closer to her. "Taking photos is stan-

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  dard operating procedure, and I wasn't trespassing. I parked just outside the property the church leases from the tribe. I know; I checked. Now stop being a fool. Someone took a shot at us yesterday. That person could very well be here right now."

  She moved away again, Blalock following. She studied his expression carefully. "I understand what you're doing. You're trying to provoke them into unguarded answers. But that tactic won't work with these people. They'll clam up even more."

  "The real problem is that you want me to cut you some slack because your family's involved. But you're interfering with my case. Keep it up and you'll be the one behind bars."

  Before she could answer, Peterson Yazzie drove up in his squad car. "Agent Blalock, the chief would like to meet with you back in his office."

  "I'll be there as soon as possible."

  "No, sir. You have to leave immediately." Yazzie signaled another tribal patrolman, who'd pulled up in a second squad car. "I believe it's important. Follow Officer Todacheene. He'll show you the quickest way."

  Blalock glared at Ella. "You blew it for me today. I'll make sure to point that out in my next report."

  As Blalock went back to his vehicle, Yazzie strode to his unit. Standing by the door, Yazzie flashed Ella a quick half smile. Ella realized then that he'd been keeping watch over the church. She gave him a barely perceptible nod, grateful that she had at least one friend here.

  After Blalock drove away, Wilson joined her. "Your mother was upset, but she's okay now. You were right to be concerned about her, but not about me. I could have handled myself with FB-Eyes. You shouldn't have come between us. I fight my own battles."

  She held his gaze. "This is one you would have lost. He wanted to provoke a confrontation, and you walked right into it. Don't underestimate him. He intends to find answers even if he has to put a dozen people in jail—or the hospital."

  Wilson shook his head wordlessly and walked back to the church. Ella noticed that Peterson was speaking to Rose. Finishing, he approached Ella.

  "The body hasn't been released," he said in a barely audible voice, "but I wanted you both to know I'm doing my best. I know your family needs to have him buried."

  His veiled reference to the chindi made her realize that Peterson was a traditionalist. "Thank you, I appreciate that. This memorial service will help Dad's converts, but my mother's ways deserve to be honored too."

  He nodded. "I'll also do whatever I can to help you with your own investigation, but it'll have to stay unofficial. Don't approach me at the station or where others might notice. That'll just make things difficult."

  "Understood. And thank you," she said, trying to convey with her gaze what words couldn't adequately express.

  "One more word of advice; you can take it or leave it. Wilson's pretty free with his fists. Don't let him bring unwanted attention down on you, and try to remember that your father had friends as well as enemies."

  The words echoed in her mind as he walked away. Her father's enemies were her own, but her father's friends were not necessarily hers as well. That could create problems.

  "It's time for us to go home," Rose said, joining Ella.

  "Would you like to try to catch a ride?"

  "No. I prefer to walk. It's not so far. Does it seem so to you?"

  "I can make it," Ella said, smiling, "but it is hot."

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  "That's the desert. Nothing can be done/' Rose answered with a shrug. "Shall we go?"

  As they started away, Ella glanced back. Wilson Joe was twenty yards or so behind the women, but there was no doubt in Ella's mind that he was following them.

  "I know he's there," Rose said without turning.

  "Why is he doing this?"

  "Out of friendship for your brother, and respect for your father. Your father trusted Wilson like he did you and his own son."

  Wilson Joe was still angry, and he couldn't decide what bothered him the most. The Anglo giant some of the Dineh called FB-Eyes had been a real asshole and needed someone to punch his lights out. He'd hoped to do it himself, but had been denied the opportunity.

  Ella was almost as hard to take. Navajo women, in his opinion, tended to be rough and independent, but Ella went way overboard. She was assertive and annoying, and probably could have knocked him on his butt. He hated that in a woman.

  What bothered him the most was that he'd made an idiot of himself in front of her. He'd promised to protect Mrs. Destea. But as Ella had indicated, he'd screwed that up, left her alone and unprotected when he let FB-Eyes get to him.

  Ella's control—of the situati
on and of him—had challenged him on a very basic level. A surge of heat coursed through his body. After all these years, Ella could still fill him with an almost oveiwhelrning desire to conquer—or was it to possess?

  That undercurrent of attraction between them had ex-

  isted as far back as he could remember. Yet he'd never pushed it, finding it difficult to forget she was his best friend's little sister.

  Now they were man and woman, but the passage of time, and the choices they'd made in their lives, stood between them, a more insurmountable barrier than youth had ever been.

  Ella and her mother walked in silence for several miles, Ella brooding the entire time. Even her mother didn't trust her. How could she expect to get any of the answers she needed when her own family refused to confide in her? If the People remained guarded, she wouldn't get any farther than Blalock on the case. It was time to start tearing down barriers. She needed to get on the inside track and stay there. But how?

  Ella weighed her options. At long last, she decided to start by clearing the air. "I'm not the enemy. Why do you keep secrets from me?"

  Rose glanced at her. "No one thinks of you as the enemy. But until you're sure of where your loyalty lies, the friendship you offer has limitations. That's why people are so guarded around you."

  "And you feel this way too?"

  "Yes, more so than most. I want to protect you; you're my daughter. I wouldn't have you torn between what you feel you must do and what you want to do."

  "Then you know where Clifford is?"

  "No, I do not."

  "But if you had to, you could get a message to him."

  "Perhaps."

  Ella glanced back, checking on Wilson. He was at the

  bottom of the small canyon they'd just crossed. She hated to admit it, but even though he was a wild card, his presence was oddly reassuring. He made her feel as if she had a wall behind her, guarding her back. She knew it was nothing personal; his loyalty was to Clifford, not necessarily to her, but the feeling persisted.

  As the miles passed, Ella became increasingly vigilant, her gaze darting around as she remained protectively close to her mother. She'd faced danger many times before, but the stakes had never been this high.

  So far the faceless one who'd torn apart her family had the odds in his favor. She had to find a way to turn that around before someone else was hurt or killed.

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  Still, being his kid hadn't been easy for either Clifford or Ella. So much had been expected of them! Raymond Destea had wanted his children to learn and accept his adopted religion, but Rose had insisted that they make their own choice. Consequently, Rose had taught them Navajo beliefs, while Raymond instructed them about Christianity.

  In the end, both Ella and her brother had disappointed their father. Clifford had chosen the old ways, turning from his father's path. And as children often did when their parents pressed them in opposite directions, Ella had refused to choose. Being guided by her own sense of right had been enough for her, at least for a while. About a year and a half ago, when she'd come to her brother's wedding, she'd realized just how different she'd become from everyone she cared about. Though she had her career, and the satisfaction she derived from it, something was missing from the center of her life.

  Ella had kept busy since then, volunteering for every assignment that had come her way. But in the back of her mind, uncertainty about her life choices had continued to grow. Now, choices she'd avoided were demanding her attention. She could feel the pressure building with each passing day.

  Her mother entered the room and sat down on the chair near the window. "Peterson called earlier, when you were out searching your father's pickup. He told me the body would be released soon."

  "He'll do his best for us, Mom. He understands what we're going through." Ella replaced the contents of the file drawer she'd searched. "Will you help me with something?" Seeing her mother's nod, she continued. "I haven't been able to find any of the threatening notes you said Dad received."

  "Your father threw them out. He never took them seriously/ 7 Rose walked to the small bookcase that held a snapshot of her husband, taken years ago. She touched his image lovingly. "He was stubborn, and impossible to deal with. But I do miss him. ,,

  Ella felt her mother's sadness as keenly as she felt her own. She would find her father's killer. Whoever was threatening her family would soon learn that Ella made a dangerous and relentless enemy.

  "Don't try to hide from your sorrow by burying it under your work," Rose said softly. "You have to let your feelings out before you can be free of them."

  "I can't run away from the pain, I know that," Ella agreed. "I only wish there was something I could do to make things easier for you."

  "I have to face this in my own way. No one can help me with that." Rose leaned against the wall and stared outside. Heat distorted the land with shimmering, undulating waves. "There's a ground-breaking ceremony and a barbecue today at the site of the new college. Your father and I were expected to attend. I'm exhausted inside as well as out. I need time to think. Will you go in my place?"

  Sensing that her mother wanted time alone, Ella nodded. Her mother seldom asked anything of her. "I'll be glad to."

  "You'll be asked if I'm in favor of the construction of the new church. Tell anyone who wants to know that I've agreed to lend my support to the project since it meant so much to your father."

  "Who else knows your position on this?" Ella asked, remembering Wilson's concern for her mother's safety.

  "The ones from his church," Rose answered with a

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  shrug. "I made my feelings clear to all who attended his memorial service/'

  Ella felt her stomach tighten. Her training warned her to expect trouble. That she wasn't sure what form it would take made her all the more uneasy. "I wish you hadn't said any thing/'

  "You shouldn't worry. My association with the religious aspect of the new church is minimal. As acting building committee chairman—or chairperson—my involvement starts and ends with the actual construction. It's something I'm doing strictly in deference to your father's wishes. Everyone knows my beliefs are different." She took a deep breath, then let it out again. "Please don't feel you have to stand and watch over me every moment. I am, and will be, all right."

  "That's not what Wilson Joe thinks," Ella commented.

  "He means well, but his concerns are not valid."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "If there was danger, I would feel it," she answered simply. "Trust my judgment on this. You should attend the barbecue. Many people will be there, it's an excellent place for you to continue your search for answers."

  She couldn't argue with her mother's logic, though she was surprised at her matter-of-fact acceptance of Ella's investigation during what should be a period of mourning. But Ella wasn't willing to trust her mother's safety to a premonition. "It would help me if we went together. To many people, I'm just a stranger, someone they don't know enough to trust. I may have a difficult time getting anyone to talk to me unless you're there."

  "I'm staying here." Rose's voice was firm.

  She'd heard that tone before. Trying to talk her mother

  out of anything after she'd made up her mind was impossible. Her father had been extremely flexible by comparison—and he was as stubborn as a mule. "Okay. I'll go alone," she answered, struggling to accept what she couldn't change.

  Ella showered, brushed her ebony hair until it shone, and prepared to go. Her dark green slacks and cream-colored silk blouse looked good on her, and took the middle road between dressy and casual. She secured her small derringer inside her boot using a strap of Velcro. The feel of the gun above her ankle would act as a constant reminder of what she was really there to do. Since there was no way to conceal it, her duty pistol would remain locked in the family truck.

  Ella walked to the living room, where her mother was knitting a colorful wool sash, probably
for a ceremonial costume. "I'm taking the truck."

  Rose nodded, not looking up from her work.

  At the door, Ella turned back to her mother. "Will you be okay?"

  "Go." An order, but an indulgent one.

  Ella drove down the dirt track. Home would never be the same without her father. She couldn't even begin to imagine what her mother was going through. Anger rose in her as she thought of the person responsible. She'd bring him down for what he'd done.

  No matter what Ella did, her mother would continue to suffer. Pangs of guilt and second thoughts assailed Ella as she thought of her mother—alone at the house with just the mutt to keep watch. But there were times everyone needed privacy.

  Wilson had to be wrong; her mother couldn't have any enemies. Both traditionalists and progressives loved her.

  The traditionalists admired her because she'd held on to her beliefs despite the path her husband had chosen. The progressives respected the way she'd learned to live in both worlds, a goal they often professed to hold.

  Reassuring herself, Ella drove across an empty span of alkali soil, a barren flatland she'd known about for years. It was a lonely route, but the terrain would make it difficult for anyone to ambush her. There weren't many places to hide.

  She arrived at the newly developed housing area around noon. The three-bedroom stucco houses each had one or two vehicles parked in the dirt driveways or along the washboard streets. Though the houses had carports, the People used them more often as covered porches or to store hay.

  Curbs had been installed, but asphalt roads were months or years away, if ever. Sidewalks were probably out of the question; Navajos simply walked straight where they wanted to go. Maybe the college would have them. Anglos liked sidewalks. Ella saw the advantages, though she still wasn't fond of them herself. Then again, even walking down some L.A. streets was out of the question. In many ways, the simpler Navajo lifestyle had a lot to be said for it.