by Aimée
“Rosemary said that she was going to stay with her ‘little mother’ in Fort Defiance. She said she hated living here now. With the hogan there, all she could think of was her dad. She feels responsible, you know.”
“Why?”
“She thinks that if she hadn’t let you see her dad the day you came over, he might still be alive. She said she should have made sure you never got within a mile of him.”
“She can’t believe that!”
“She’s not the only one who thinks like that around here,” Lois said, gesturing at the neighborhood. “They know you and I went to school together. They said if you came back, I should ask you to stay away from all of us. The water in their wells is dropping, too, and they think it’s part of the trouble.”
“How do you feel?” Ella asked pointedly.
Lois shrugged. “I know you and your family are okay. But I’ve got to live here. These are my neighbors.”
Ella shook her head. “I’m sorry about the water problem. It’s not related to anything except a dry summer. And I can’t make a promise to stay away. I’m in the middle of an investigation.”
“I told them you’d say that,” Lois answered. “But you won’t find the killer here. Whoever did that came from somewhere else. I know all these people.”
“Do you have any idea how often a cop hears those same words? Many times the killer turns out to be someone from across the street who seems perfectly normal in front of his neighbors. You watch the news, don’t you?”
“Yes, and I understand what you’re saying, but it’s not anyone in this community. What you’re talking about happens in places where the neighbors don’t really know each other, except maybe when they pass one another on the way to a mailbox. It’s different for us here. Everyone knows everyone else, and the wives talk a lot among themselves. I know each time Janet has a fight with her husband and what they argue about. I know when Betty’s boy colics and when Mary Ann’s husband comes home drunk. There are no secrets here.”
Ella knew there was a certain amount of truth in what Lois was saying, but she also knew that secrets could be kept from husbands, wives, and neighbors for a lifetime.
Ella returned to her car, acutely aware that almost everyone here was avoiding her. They were staying inside as if she had the plague.
Ella drove directly to the Shiprock post office. She wanted to look up Leroy Johnson. Thirty minutes later, as she walked inside, she noted that the lobby was virtually empty. Good. She wanted to ask a favor, and the fewer people who knew she had even come here, the better it would be.
Ella found Leroy behind the counter. Although she hadn’t seen him for ages, there was no need to introduce herself.
“I’ve been postmaster here for the last twenty years,” he said with a kind smile. “There are few people I don’t know.”
She studied his salt-and-pepper hair, tied back in traditional style, and his weathered and lined face. He was thin, but at fifty looked as fit as most twenty-year-olds. “I need a favor, Uncle,” she said quietly. “I want you to keep an eye out for any personal mail that comes to me, particularly anything without a return address. Instead of sending it with the regular carrier, will you keep it here and call me?”
Leroy nodded. “Are you trying to protect your mother from some unpleasantness? I read that letter in the paper,” he added.
“She’s been through enough,” Ella answered without really doing so.
He nodded slowly. “You can count on me.”
“I really appreciate it.” She paused, clearing her throat. “One more thing, Uncle. Will you keep your ears open to any discussions or gossip about the elders in our community? I’m interested in anything at all that affects them, or is about them.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll do my best to help you.” He gazed at a poster on the wall showing the latest Rock-and-Roll Legend stamp. “There’s a lot of talk about the murders, and of the other things that have been happening, of course. Many think that the death of the historian and now the hataalii are tied to other things, like the bus wreck and the coal miners losing their jobs. Our people know everything is interdependent and some are getting scared. Even the wells are starting to dry up, I hear.”
Ella nodded. “I’ve heard that too. Fear is contagious, and the Dineh do talk. Have you heard of anyone being attacked or threatened?”
“I did hear something about one of our stargazers, but that was several months ago.”
“What happened?”
“Someone jumped her,” Leroy answered. “She said that some guy tried to choke her right outside her hogan and she barely managed to break loose and lock herself inside a shed.”
“Did she report it to the police?”
“I don’t know. But I remember that what scared her most was that she didn’t recognize the man.”
“She saw him?”
“A glance, nothing more, but Naomi Zah is pretty sharp. If she didn’t recognize him, it’s nobody from around here. She’s lived on the eastern Rez as far back as anyone can remember. Everyone knows her, or has heard of her, and she knows everyone.”
Ella had met Naomi Zah years ago, and she had to agree with Leroy’s assessment on all counts. “Thanks. I’ll look this up on our records.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find much. I remember someone saying that the cops assumed it had been her husband and didn’t spend too much time investigating it. Raymond has a tendency to drink too much. I got that third- or fourth-hand though, so I’m not sure how accurate it is.”
“I can take it from there. Thanks for the tip.”
“Do you think it’s connected to the murders?”
“Probably not, but it’s worth looking into. Who knows? She may end up providing a clue no one’s even thought of yet.”
“Well, she is a stargazer…” Leroy let his voice trail off.
Ella returned to her vehicle, her thoughts racing. She’d wanted to find a trail, and now finally she had something she could follow up on.
Ella picked up the mike and checked in. Justine was ready to be patched through. “Carolyn Roanhorse wanted me to tell you she has some preliminary autopsy results.”
“Thanks. Anything else?” she asked, hoping Justine had discovered something new from the evidence.
“Not a thing. Sorry.”
“In that case, I’m going to stop by Carolyn’s now.”
“I’ll be here when you return.”
“Ten-four.” She racked the mike. Ella wanted to talk to Carolyn personally. Carolyn wouldn’t include theories or guesses she’d arrived at through a subjective process in her report. Face-to-face, however, she’d be far more likely to do just that.
As Ella pressed down on the accelerator, her heart began pumping fast. She couldn’t believe that the recent bad news was only the beginning of some great darkness about to fall upon the Navajo People, but there was something in the air that was making her nervous. It was almost like those ultrasound frequencies that were out of hearing range, yet nonetheless had tangible effects. Maybe it was just a cop’s gut feeling, but she suddenly felt scared witless of what was yet to come.
Ella drove through Shiprock thinking it seemed hotter and drier than usual, even for this time of year. The weeds on the school grounds were the only forms of life flourishing. She had a feeling the few puffy clouds in the sky today would produce no rain. That’s the way it had been lately. The lowering of the water table shouldn’t have been any great surprise, but it was frightening nonetheless. She remembered dry summers when the sun-parched ground yielded nothing for cattle to graze on, and only the smell of dust and scorched grass filled the air.
Ella pulled into the hospital parking area a short time later and went directly to Carolyn’s office. There was no secretary sitting by the desk, so she opened the double doors and glanced inside the autopsy room.
Carolyn sat on one of the gurneys eating a chocolate bar. A body lay on the next wheeled cart over, covered with a sheet.
Ella blinked. “Jeez, don’t you want to take your break outside and eat that someplace more pleasant?”
Carolyn stared at the chocolate bar in her hand, then shrugged. “It’s cool and pleasant enough in here, and very quiet. In fact, around these folks”—she gestured toward the body behind her, and the refrigerated wall unit that housed others—“I never feel guilty about the calories. They remind me life’s short, and we might as well enjoy all of it.”
“There’s a morbid thought,” Ella said.
“It’s a morbid job.”
Ella tried to appear relaxed, but this room gave her the creeps. “You got something for me?”
“You bet. I’ve verified from the wounds that someone in a car struck down the Singer. Only then, as if to make sure, he also bashed in the back of his skull with a blunt object. He seems to want them helpless before he finishes them off. Or maybe he likes the actual kill to be up close and personal.”
“We’ve got a real charmer, don’t we?” Ella muttered cynically. “But why implicate skinwalkers on his first victim, then hataaliis with the second? What’s he trying to do?”
“Make you suspect everyone? Or turn everyone against everyone else? These murders have certainly created some anxiety among the public.”
“Interesting theory. I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I, if you want to know the truth.” She glanced at her watch. “Hey, I’m starving. This candy bar is the only thing I’ve eaten all day. How about we go out and get a bite to eat someplace else? I could use a change in company,” she admitted, wheeling the gurney with the corpse toward a storage locker.
“Let’s go. My treat.”
* * *
Nighttime settled over the barren desert. Miles away, a silent figure studied the crude recording studio inside the portable Language Arts department’s building. He needed another kill. Soon. Waves of heat washed through him, accentuating his hunger despite the cool breeze. It was dark now, and it would remain that way for many hours. He liked this strategy better than striking at dawn, especially so close to houses and people. The last old man had almost dodged in time, and he had barely managed to get him with the car. The quack had paid for it though, with a terminal headache. Night was better. They would never see him coming.
He could feel his body throbbing in sync with his pulse. He had changed. He was no longer ordinary, someone nobody ever gave a second glance. He was a force now, one that they couldn’t defeat. He had the powers of a demon within him, he could feel it. Everyone was afraid now, unable to sleep thinking they would be next. And only he knew who it would be.
He selected the victims carefully, and struck when they least expected it. Like now. She entered the room alone and sat behind a console. Tonight, she’d be his. It was right. He felt excitement wash through him. He was on the hunt.
He started to move in when he heard the sound of an approaching car. No. It couldn’t be. She was supposed to be alone tonight, like every other time he’d watched.
Then he saw it was a police car. Seething with anger, he watched the uniformed officer emerge. The winds carried the patrolman’s voice to him, warning her, his victim, about him. He wanted to howl in frustration.
Slowly he gathered strength from the night. He knew all the ones he had selected. His enemies wouldn’t be able to stop him. Nothing could stand against him for long.
THIRTEEN
The following morning shortly after seven, Ella unlocked her door and stepped inside her office. Justine appeared seconds later, papers in hand.
“You’ve been here working already?” Ella commented, surprised. “Nobody used to beat me to work in the morning.” Ella tried to suppress a yawn.
“You wanted me to give you a list of elders who might be considered cultural experts. I’ve compiled one, but it’s lengthy. There are dozens and dozens of people all across the reservation who might be described that way.”
“But how many in this area?”
“Seven, depending on how you define them.”
“We need to warn them right away.”
Justine nodded. “Already done. I contacted the officers who patrol their areas and asked them to speak to the people. They’ll also be on the alert, and keep a watch out for trouble.”
“Okay, good. Take me through your list.”
“Naomi Zah, a stargazer, along with your mother and brother are the first ones that came to mind. Then there’s Sadie Morgan. She’s recording an audio dictionary in Navajo. And Herman Cloud, who is a friend of your family’s and mine.”
Ella nodded, remembering how helpful Cloud had been when she’d been alone in front of the police station, engaged in a battle for her life against the skinwalkers.
“Then there’s Victor Charlie. He’s an expert on plants that can be used as forage and for grazing by animals on the reservation. His father used to be the foremost authority, but everyone knows that he passed all his knowledge to his son before he died. Charlie knows how to find the best grazing spots, has maps on the location of water holes, and often teaches herders about plants that can be used as medicine for the animals.”
“His name sounds familiar,” Ella mused.
“He’s also the cartoonist for the paper. He’s quite a character but, unlike his family, his heart isn’t in herding. His love is creating those funny little characters he uses to poke fun at everything.”
Ella nodded, remembering who the man was. “Has any of them requested protective custody?”
“No, just the opposite. They insist they can take care of themselves and that they’re in no danger.”
Ella nodded, not surprised. “Some of them can, but others…”
“I know, but really, with our manpower situation we’re not in a position to insist, unless you can get Big Ed to borrow some officers from other parts of the Rez.”
“Not likely, until we have more to go on. We’ve got to start making some real progress to find this killer.” Ella filled Justine in on what she’d found out about Naomi Zah. “Can you get me more information on that incident involving her?”
“Let me see what I can find.” Justine sat at the computer terminal and called up the case history. “It looks like what Leroy told you was pretty accurate. Her report was dismissed for lack of leads and evidence. The investigating officer, Joseph Neskahi, believed that it was probably her husband wanting to put a scare into her.”
“Or not,” Ella concluded. “Have you ever met Naomi?”
“Not personally, but I hear she’s difficult at times. If she doesn’t know you, you’d be better off finding someone to take you up there and introduce you.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Have you managed to get anywhere on the fingerprint search?”
“Absolutely nowhere on the vehicles. The prints I found on those were from the victims and their families. There were a few other smudged prints here and there, but those didn’t have enough points to be much use. We’d never get them admitted as evidence against anyone. We did, however, get a partial on the envelope sent to the newspaper. It matches Peterson Yazzie’s. He tried to handle it on the edges, obviously, but there was a thumbprint on the back of the note itself, when he folded the paper. He was the writer too. It matched up letter for letter with a handwriting sample of Peterson’s I pulled from his old files.”
“That’s no surprise, but thanks for making it official. I’m going to follow up on Naomi Zah this morning. I’ll check with Wilson Joe first and see if he knows her personally. If he does, then I’ll get him to introduce me.”
“I’m going to have coffee with Furman Brownhat. He’s been telling me all he knows about the students who attend the special lectures. I’m doing a background search now on Irma Betone and Louella Francisco. Both are studying to be teachers and they went to all of the historian’s lectures. Furman told me that sometimes they’d really challenge him with some tough questions. I understand that they also tried to do a paper on the hataalii, but he wouldn’t give them
the time of day.”
“How friendly are you getting with this Furman?” Ella asked pointedly.
“Don’t worry. I’ve already checked up on him. He’s okay, but to answer your question, it’s strictly business as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good, because I’d hate to think of you getting involved with someone who could be considered a potential suspect.”
“Involved? No chance. I’m getting quite a bit of information from him, and maintaining that contact does require a certain level of friendliness, but that’s all there is to it.”
“Okay, humor me for a moment. Tell me about the background check you did on him.”
“He tells people that his father was killed in a hunting accident, but he confided in me that it was just a cover story he made up. Apparently his dad committed suicide, and you know how rare that is on the Rez. Our files here confirm Furman’s story. I asked him why he felt the need to hide the truth, since he wasn’t to blame for his father’s actions.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He was quiet at first, embarrassed, I think. But then he told me that he hates to see the pity on people’s faces. I could understand that, you know? It would bother me a lot if I was in his shoes.”
Ella considered it. “Okay,” she said at last. “Just be careful around him. It’s easy to get too involved with people on a case, and that means your objectivity is slowly eroded.”
“I’m a professional. You never have to worry about me. I know what my duty is,” Justine said crisply.
Ella smiled. “I know you do. It’s just that I’ve been there. I know how difficult it is to play the game you’re being forced into.”
Justine exhaled softly. “It is difficult, but I can handle myself.” She walked to the door. “See you later.”
Ella watched Justine leave. No matter how much Justine denied it, Ella could tell that Furman had struck a sympathetic cord. There had been deep concern in Justine’s voice as she described Furman’s background.
Justine was a professional, but she was also human. Cynicism and toughness came with age and experience, and Justine had neither to back her up. Whether her young cousin knew it or not, she was very vulnerable.
