by Aimée
By the time she walked into the kitchen, Ella could see her mother outside, offering prayers to the dawn. Releasing a pinch of pollen into the air, she remained still for a moment before returning to the house.
“Good morning,” Rose greeted her daughter pleasantly. “I’m glad to see that you’re not rushing off today. I wanted to tell you that I invited Wilson Joe to have dinner with us. So what night can I count on your being home?”
“Oh, Mother!” Ella looked away, trying to keep from revealing her impatience. “Wilson and I are good friends. If anything more is going to happen between us, it’ll happen naturally. You’ve got to stop pushing this!”
“He likes you, you like him. You’re both Navajo, you’re both single. You just don’t see each other enough to let nature take its course. You’re always too busy with your work. That’s why I figured Sunday dinner, if nothing else.”
“You know that I’m right in the middle of a case! It’s impossible for me to predict when or if I’ll be home,” Ella protested.
Rose’s face was set. “You may pick the day, but I am having him over, and you will enjoy yourselves.”
Ella had heard that tone before. No amount of arguing would do her any good, “I’ll see.”
Rose went to the stove. “Eggs?”
Ella nodded. “Sure. That’ll be fine.”
“How are things going with you? Everyone’s talking about this killer running around loose.”
“I’m getting closer, Mom, but so far luck’s been on his side. Sooner or later, though, he’ll trip up, and I’m going to be there to catch him.”
“You probably know that people are starting to gossip about us again. All the talk about our family bringing trouble.”
“Does that bother you? I think there’s no way to stop it. The only thing we can do is ride it out, like we did before.”
“I’m not worried about myself—”
As the phone began ringing, Ella stood and went to answer it. It was Leroy Johnson at the post office. “What can I do for you, Uncle?”
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m calling you at home, but I thought you’d want to know right away. Peterson Yazzie has mailed you a letter. I’m holding it in my hands now. His name and return address are marked clearly on the envelope. That’s why I know it’s from him. You want it to go out with the regular carrier, or shall I hold on to it?”
“Keep it right there. I’ll pick it up in about forty minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
Ella glanced at the eggs her mother was scrambling as she hung up the telephone. Peterson was getting bolder. He didn’t care who on the Rez saw his name on the envelope now. “I have to go.”
“You’ll eat first,” Rose said staunchly, adding grated cheese and green chiles to the eggs.
“On the way, then. Just put them in a bowl instead of a plate, and I’ll eat in the car.”
Rose sighed loudly. “You are an exasperating daughter.”
Ella kissed her mother on the cheek. “I know, Mom. I know. What did you expect from a cop?”
Ella picked up the laundry bag she’d put her own work shirt in for fiber and blood comparison. Justine could exclude them that way when she analyzed the evidence. A moment later she was under way. The highway was nearly deserted so there was no need for her to use the siren or the emergency flasher. The roadblocks she had arranged last night were farther down the highway, so she didn’t encounter the one at her end.
Once again, Bruce Cohen hadn’t phoned her as they had agreed. She made a mental note to call him later and ask him to explain. She had credited the lawyer with more sense; maybe Peterson had found a way to keep him in line. Either way, she’d call him.
Ella arrived at the post office just as Leroy Johnson was unlocking the lobby doors. He waved as she approached.
“I’ve got what you came for on my desk in the back. Why don’t you come with me?”
Ella followed him inside, then saw he’d placed the letter in one of the sealed plastic bags the post office used for mail that had been damaged in transit.
“Was there a problem with this?” Ella asked, unable to see any damage to the envelope.
“No, but that’s what the cops always do on TV when they need to check for fingerprints. I figured I’d help you out.”
Ella smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the effort.” There really wasn’t much of a worry about fingerprints. She knew who’d written it from the handwriting, and how he’d got it past the staff at the psychiatric facility. But it had been a nice thought on Leroy’s part.
“If anything else comes in, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do.”
Ella took the small bag to her car, opened it, and held the envelope up to the light. Assured there was only a note inside and it was safe to open, she tore the envelope carefully.
Ella pulled out Peterson’s letter and as she began reading, rage filled her.
You’re not aware of how badly you’ve botched things. Trust me when I tell you that you see only the surface, and it’s what lies beneath that will eventually destroy you. Long ago, I offered you the chance to join me and make your dreams come true. Instead of accepting you’ve turned me into your worst enemy. Sorry I missed you with the bomb in my old T-Bird. But don’t get cocky. Eventually, I’ll destroy you. I’ve had a hand in your destiny all along. It’s thanks to us that you are who you are today. I know you’ll doubt this, so I’ll tell you something you don’t know. Your husband was killed by a skinwalker. Yes, it’s true. How else do you think your father-in-law got his powers?
Ella stared at the words until they seemed to leap out at her. Pain cut through her as she remembered her husband’s death. Of course it was just another one of Peterson’s lies. Her husband had been killed in an auto accident.
As she turned the letter over, she realized her hands were trembling.
If you still doubt me, why don’t you check on your father-in-law’s whereabouts the day of the accident? Look at Southern Airways’ records, and check for a passenger by the name of Charlie Randall. Your father-in-law was never very imaginative.
Charlie Randall—Randall Clah. It made sense, but it couldn’t be. She sat back and slammed her hand against the steering wheel.
No matter how improbable, she’d now have to take the time to follow it up. There was no way she could let this slide. The thought that Peterson had influenced another of the major events in her life made her sick to her stomach.
Ella forced the thought aside. That was precisely what he was trying to do, influence her. He wanted to shatter her concentration on the case and prove her incompetent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Hearing her call number on the radio, Ella picked up the mike. Justine was patched through a moment later. “What’s going on?” Ella asked.
“Doctor Kring called. Guess what—it seems Yazzie had a visitor, one of the students from the college.”
“Who?”
“Betty Lott.”
It took her a moment to remember. “Her mother’s a nurse at our hospital?”
“Yes, that’s the one. It seems that as much as Anna hates traditionalists, Betty is determined to learn all about them.”
“Give me an address on her. I want to talk to Betty.”
Ella drove directly to a housing community in Shiprock, just on the other side of the new shopping center. Finding the modern tract home, she parked, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. If there was one place she was certain the old ways didn’t apply, it was here.
A thin woman in her late forties answered the door. She was wearing jeans and a cotton oxford shirt. “Can I help you?” the woman asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel that had drawings of ducks all over it.
Ella flashed her badge. “I need to speak with Betty. Is she at home?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “I’m Anna Lott, her mother. What has she done?”
“She hasn’t broken the law,” Ella assured the woman q
uickly. “I just need to get some information from her.”
Anna stared at her hard. “What kind of information?”
“I’d rather speak to your daughter first. Is she here?”
A young woman wearing a long, full skirt, a short-sleeved crimson blouse, and fashionable, colorful sandals emerged from the back of the house. A squash blossom necklace hung around her neck. “I’m Betty. Who are you?”
Ella studied the young woman. From her attire, she was neither as traditionalistic as she viewed herself, nor modern. If anything, like so many of their young people, she fell somewhere in the middle. “Can we talk privately?”
“There’s nothing you have to say to my daughter that you can’t say in front of me,” Anna maintained.
Betty turned her head. “I can handle this, Mom. She came to talk to me.” Betty pointed to the hallway. “We can talk in my room.”
Ella followed the young woman. The tension between mother and daughter was obvious. Justine had been correct in her estimation that the two were at odds over something.
Betty shut the door. “Okay. What do you want?” she asked directly.
“I understand that you’ve been to see Peterson Yazzie.”
She gave Ella a thin smile. “He warned me that you’d find out and come by to hassle me.”
“I’m not here to hassle you, just to talk to you. Peterson was at the heart of the trouble that rocked this reservation about a year ago. Now we’re facing new problems. I don’t want old enemies of the People using this current situation to create even more fear and distrust.”
Betty bit her bottom lip. “All I did was go up there to talk to him. I’m doing a psych paper, and they let me talk to him through the door. I wouldn’t have been allowed to do that if the head nurse hadn’t known my mom. Yazzie has already admitted being a killer and a skinwalker. I figured he’d make an interesting subject.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, sure, what did you expect?” Betty shrugged.
“I’m not sure. What did you talk about?”
“Well, before he would answer any questions, he wanted to know more about me. He knew my mom, but not me. So we talked about my interest in the Dineh’s history and our culture. He’s a fascinating man.”
“He’s a killer too—you admitted that yourself,” Ella said flatly.
Betty looked hesitant. “He explained that. Yazzie believes that our people need power, and to attain that certain sacrifices have to be made. He said he was trying to help everyone.”
“Lives aren’t an acceptable sacrifice to gain control over others, and that’s what it’s all about. It’s self-serving, not altruistic.”
She shook her head. “I understand what you’re saying, but to hear him talk—well, everything sounds so reasonable.” She looked down at her hands. “He’s intriguing, and is very powerful, in a way.”
“He’s also evil,” Ella said gently. “Be careful.”
“He said he only acted in self-defense. He claimed that medicine men attacked him because they didn’t understand what he was trying to do. He had to defend himself.”
“That wasn’t the way it really was. Go to the library and read the newspaper accounts of that time,” Ella insisted calmly.
“He said you’d say that. But those accounts aren’t necessarily accurate, no more than what they sometimes say about you and your brother. Didn’t you see that editorial page the other day?”
Ella looked at the girl, surprised to see that she had discounted the allegations in that. Betty prided herself on logic, it seemed, and that was exactly how Peterson would manipulate her. He would twist arguments to fit whatever point he wanted to make.
“Are you going back to see him again?” Ella asked.
“If I need to for my paper. You can’t legally stop me.”
“He said that too?”
Betty nodded. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You can read my paper when it comes out if you want.”
“Be warned, then. He’s a danger to you, no matter how harmless he seems. He’s spent so much time manipulating people, he’s a master at it. Worst of all, in some ways, he’s come to depend on it.”
“He’s not manipulating me. I can think for myself. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You’re interested in our past, and in things that speak of power. Do something for your paper, and for yourself. Talk to Clifford, my brother. He’s the counterpoise to Peterson Yazzie. He also has power, but it hasn’t been corrupted.”
“He’s the Singer, right?”
“Yes, and Clifford helped put Peterson in jail, where he belongs. That, no matter how you look at it, speaks of a power that’s greater than any Peterson possesses.”
“Peterson said that your family used trickery, but not real power.”
Ella felt anger welling inside her. How dare Peterson accuse her family of what he was guilty of himself! “You must be awfully naive,” Ella baited her.
Betty’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not naive. I research things before I decide what to believe.”
“That’s all I was trying to get you to do.”
Betty sat back. “What is that, reverse psychology?”
“No, just the truth,” Ella answered, feeling a twinge of guilt. “To take one person’s word for anything is to shortchange yourself. You know that. I’m asking you to do what you would have done anyway. Confirm your information.”
Betty nodded. “Okay, I’ll go see the Singer, just as soon as I have time.”
Ella stood up, knowing that was the best she was going to get. To push any harder would yield only negative results. “Thanks for talking to me.”
Ella opened the bedroom door and practically ran into Betty’s mother. Anna’s eyes were wide with fear. “What have you done?” she whispered as she walked Ella to the door.
“Tried to get your daughter to start thinking again. She’s being brainwashed,” Ella answered softly. “The problem started when she went to visit Yazzie.”
Anna stepped outside with Ella. “I don’t understand this. To even go talk to a man who took so many lives and did incalculable harm to the tribe is just crazy! I can’t figure out what Betty is trying to accomplish with this.”
“I think she’s testing herself, but if you stand in her way now, you may push her in precisely the direction you don’t want her to go.”
Lines of tension framed Anna’s face. “And if I do nothing, that may happen anyway.”
“Yes,” Ella admitted. “But there’s a time when you have to let go and trust that grown children will choose the right paths. There’s nothing much you can do to influence her now. Anything you do might backfire.”
“Will your brother help her see that man for what he really is?”
“I hope so.” Ella forced a thin smile. “I’ve done all I can. If you need me, or just want to talk, call me. The dispatcher will find me, day or night.”
As Ella drove to the station, she tried to figure out a way to keep Peterson from influencing anyone else the way he had Betty. If more kids were allowed to interview him, there was no telling the problems he’d create. She had to put a stop to that even if it took a court order to do it.
As Ella walked through the side doors, Justine came out of her lab and greeted her. “Dispatch got a call from Officer Neskahi. He met Naomi Zah and her husband on the highway. They’re going to be at her sister’s for a while. And I checked for blood on the brush you collected. Sorry to say that if it was ever there, it isn’t anymore. I found several threads, however. They’re from a blue cotton chambray work shirt, but any closer analysis will have to wait for the state lab. I don’t have the equipment here.”
Ella winced. “Chambray shirt? I was wearing that. I meant to bring in a sample sooner. Sorry. I’ll get it right now. It’s still behind the driver’s seat of my car.”
“I’ll go get it. Then I’ll see if it’s a match using my own equipment here. It won’t be one hundred percent accurate but it’ll give us a high de
gree of probability.”
“Okay.” Ella handed her the car keys. “I’ll be in my office,” she said, continuing down the hall.
Ella fished the office keys from the bottom of her purse, unlocked the door, and walked to her desk. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the case, her mind continually drifted to that other matter. She needed to check out what Peterson had told her about her father-in-law. She had to prove, if only to herself, that this time Peterson was lying.
Ella picked up the telephone and checked with the airline. As she waited, the thought occurred to her that she was being manipulated just like Betty. Peterson had found her Achilles heel. Eugene’s death had devastated her. Since that time, she’d needed to feel in control of herself and her life. By taunting her with this information, Peterson was trying to strip her of that control, which she’d worked so hard to achieve. Clifford had been right in warning her of Yazzie’s strategy.
After transferring her repeatedly, the airline finally promised Ella a quick callback. In the meantime, she accessed old records and checked on Randall Clah’s whereabouts for that day. The data made her stomach hurt. He’d been away for two days, using some accumulated time off.
Ella paced in her office, hoping the telephone would ring soon. Eugene had been a good man. He’d tried his best to please her, and he’d idolized his father. Surely Peterson couldn’t be right.
Fifteen minutes later, the telephone rang. “We did have a passenger by that name registered on the day you requested. He flew from Albuquerque to Columbus, Georgia, with several connecting flights. He returned the following day.”
Ella’s hands began to shake. Had the skinwalkers truly held the power of life and death over the man closest to her? The implications sent a bolt of fear slamming into her. How much influence could they still exert over those in her life? Fear for her mother and her brother shattered her confidence.
Ella walked directly to Big Ed’s office and placed the letter she’d received before him. “I got this a few hours ago.”
Big Ed glanced at it, then up at her. “This has nothing to do with the case you’re working on.”
