EARTHWAY
Also by Aimée & David Thurlo
Ella Clah Novels
Blackening Song
Death Walker
Bad Medicine
Enemy Way
Shooting Chant
Red Mesa
Changing Woman
Tracking Bear
Wind Spirit
White Thunder
Mourning Dove
Turquoise Girl
Coyote’s Wife
Plant Them Deep
Lee Nez Novels
Second Sunrise
Blood Retribution
Pale Death
Surrogate Evil
Sister Agatha Novels
Bad Faith
Thief in Retreat
Prey for a Miracle
False Witness
Prodigal Nun
The Bad Samaritan
EARTHWAY
AN ELLA CLAH NOVEL
AIMÉE & DAVID THURLO
A Tom Doherty Associates Book
New York
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
EARTHWAY
Copyright © 2009 by Aimée and David Thurlo
All rights reserved.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thurlo, Aimée.
Earthway : an Ella Clah novel / Aimée Thurlo and David
Thurlo.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 978-0-7653-1717-9
1. Clah, Ella (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Police—New Mexico—Fiction. 3. Navajo Indians—Fiction. 4. New Mexico—Fiction. I. Thurlo, David. II. Title.
PS3570.H82E26 2009
813'.54—dc22
2009028187
First Edition: November 2009
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Jan E.,
who was with us from the very beginning
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With special thanks to Detective Ryan Tafoya of the BCSD Violent Crimes Unit for all his help and patience answering our questions.
The Earthway: Sing that counteracts bad dreams involving the land.
ONE
Today was one of those days when “Indian Time” just wasn’t good enough. Special Investigator Ella Clah of the Navajo Tribal Police checked her watch for the second time in five minutes. One way or another, she wasn’t going to be late. Reverend Bilford Tome, “Ford” to his friends, was giving a special talk at the Navajo Community College this afternoon and Ella had promised to be there.
She glanced at the file folders and forms stacked in five piles on top of her desk. Not much had happened lately that involved her Special Investigations Unit. Perhaps because of it, she had an incredible amount of paperwork to catch up on—a bureaucratic snoozefest that she’d ordinarily brush aside for more important work.
Although she might have normally welcomed some slow moments like these, nothing was normal about her life right now. Her eleven-year-old daughter, Dawn, was spending the last of her summer vacation with her dad, Kevin, in Washington, D.C., and Ella missed her terribly. Her mother, Rose, active with Plant Watchers committees, was almost always gone until evening and Herman Cloud, Rose’s husband, was spending more and more time watching TV in the new addition they’d built onto the house they all shared. He still made those beautiful piñon lamps once in a while, in the garage, but lately he’d slowed down a lot.
Their normally active home seemed uncomfortably quiet these days, particularly after suppertime. It was then that Ella felt Dawn’s absence the most. During those hours, the only sound disturbing the silence would come from Two, the old family mutt, who’d be on his rug in the kitchen, snoring away.
Spending time with Ford—the Navajo minister at the Good Shepherd Church—had become her way of staying sane. All too often during quiet moments, memories of past cases haunted her. Police work always took its toll. Like most seasoned officers, Ella lived with a darkness in her soul—the cost of dealing with criminals day in and day out—that touched all other aspects of her life.
When Dawn left town, as she did from time to time to be with her father, Ella could visualize dangers that would be unknown to most moms outside the PD. That ever-present dread tempted Ella to fight hard to keep Dawn close to her, but overprotecting her daughter was wrong and Ella knew it. Dawn deserved freedom as well as the right to try out her own wings.
After a quick drive down the streets of downtown Shiprock, Ella arrived at the visitors’ lot of the community college—a mixture of hogan-style structures and more conventional modern buildings. There were few trees on campus, most of them small, drought-resistant Navajo willows that granted welcome circles of shade. The campus had been xeriscaped with various tints of gravel, rocks, and native plants selected for the desert climate. Lawns were for water-rich regions, Ella knew, not the Navajo Nation, where farmers and ranchers struggled against nature for every drop of irrigation water.
Following the narrow, reddish orange-tinted sidewalk, she strode quickly toward Edmond Hall, a boxy, modern building where the lecture would be held. Ella enjoyed reading the faces of the students she passed, each with unique agendas and goals. Unlike high school, nobody came here except by choice, and that positive viewpoint often led to success. These young people, and some of them not-so-young, were the future of the Diné. They’d bring hope and skills to the tribe through education and training.
Ella’s pace quickened naturally when three young women rushed past her, probably on their way to a class. The darkhaired students were carrying book bags, and two were discussing an upcoming test. The third, lagging behind a few steps, was distracted with her cell phone, chattering away in Navajo, her voice light and happy.
The community college vibrated with life, and that kind of enthusiasm was contagious. For a moment, remembering the freedom of thought and action of her own college days, Ella wished she were back in school.
As she stepped into the foyer of the cinder block-walled building, a stand-alone structure that had once been an office, Ella glanced at the clock on the wall—three-fifty. Ford wasn’t scheduled to speak for another ten minutes. The realization that she’d actually arrived early surprised her. Talk about standing “Indian time” on its head.
The lecture hall was filled to capacity—at least a hundred people. Ella spotted Ford at the front, by the podium, getting things ready.
He smiled and motioned for her to join him. “You’re either early, or I’m running way behind schedule,” he said only half-joking.
“Believe it or not, I’m actually early. Can I help with anything?”
“Thanks, but I’m almost ready.” He gestured toward the green chalkboard, which held a brief outline of his presentation, all written in his n
eat, precise handwriting.
“Professor Begay is supposed to be joining us shortly to make the introduction. Now where did I put my notes?” He looked back toward the instructor’s desk, several feet away and closer to the chalkboard.
Ella spotted a nylon book bag on the lectern’s shelf. “Maybe they’re still in your bag.”
“My what?” Following her gaze, he shook his head. “That’s not mine. I’m an old school nerd, I carry a leather briefcase. There it is, on the chair,” he added, gesturing with his chin.
“So who does the book bag belong to, then?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” he answered, getting his notes. “Maybe one of the instructors found it after the last class and put it there for safekeeping.”
Ella looked at a clear plastic storage container on the floor against the wall by the door. It was labeled “Lost and Found” and inside was a textbook. “Or maybe not,” she muttered.
Glancing back at the black-and-red nylon bag, Ella felt a prickling at the base of her spine. As a detective, she’d never liked the unexplained—things that didn’t belong or were out of place. Even if it turned out to be nothing more than books some student or professor had left behind that hadn’t been placed in the lost and found bin, she felt compelled to take a look . . . just to make sure.
Ella brought out the bag carefully by one of its shoulder straps. It felt heavy, yet the contents rolled—not what one would expect from books. She was undoubtedly being overly cautious, yet her skin was prickling and the badger fetish she always wore around her neck felt uncomfortably warm—an almost sure sign of trouble.
Careful not to jiggle the bag, she pulled it closer and lifted the flap, held down by self-sticking fabric. A paperback dictionary was at the top, resting on some kind of round contraption.
Ella raised the dictionary slightly, and immediately recognized the device below it. Nails were duct taped to the outside of an eight-inch piece of galvanized steel pipe. One end had a metal cap, and at the other was a taped piece of green circuit board, wires, and what looked like a battery. The rest of the bomb was hidden beneath the tape. Ella remained as still as possible, not even daring to set down the dictionary she’d lifted to see inside. If it touched the wrong thing—
Trying to remain calm, Ella glanced around for Ford, her mouth suddenly very dry and her heart hammering.
Ford looked up, notes in hand, and saw her expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, stepping up beside her.
“Pipe bomb. Get everyone out of this building as quickly as you can,” she whispered.
He nodded, then turned to face the room full of students. “Welcome, everyone. This afternoon is so nice that I’ve decided to speak outdoors. In order to begin on time, I’d like everyone to proceed immediately to the shaded benches in the commons outside the student union building. I’ll join you there as soon as I gather up my materials.”
Once people began leaving, Ford glanced back at Ella. “I’ll set off the fire alarm as soon as the room’s empty. After that, what do you need me to do?”
“Go outside with the others, keep everyone clear, and call 911. We need our explosives expert here as soon as possible.”
“I’ve had some training with explosives. Remember my background,” he added softly. “I can do more to help.”
“No. I need you to let the other instructors know what’s going on, then make sure the rest of the buildings are evacuated. This may not be the only bomb,” she said.
“All right. I’ll pass the word . . . and pray every step of the way.”
“Do that,” Ella answered in a whisper. She didn’t follow the Navajo Way, nor was she a practicing Christian like him, but right now she’d take help from wherever she could get it. Though she wasn’t sure that prayers did much of anything except offer comfort, they couldn’t hurt.
Soon Ella found herself all alone, the flashing strobe only a slight annoyance compared to the din of the fire alarm. No matter how hard she fought against it, fear pried into her, the gut-clenching kind that made it nearly impossible for her to even think. With a bomb beneath her hand, knowing that each second could be her last, cold sweat poured down her body. Yet somehow, she had to keep her body steady and her hand from shaking.
The ever-growing possibility that she’d never make it out in one piece—that she’d never see her daughter or Rose again—clawed into her. Blinking back tears, she forced herself to take a deep breath. It couldn’t be her time to die. She had too much left to do. In the back of her mind, she’d always planned on settling down again someday, maybe even having another child.
Seconds passed with agonizing inertia as she waited for help to arrive. Trying to stay calm, she cleared her thoughts, and concentrated on what was in the bag. She wasn’t a bomb expert, but unless the explosive was C-4 or the equivalent, it probably wasn’t powerful enough to blow up the entire building. The nails—wicked shrapnel when flying at supersonic speed—told her it was an antipersonnel weapon.
Judging from the location of the bomb, she guessed Ford had been the intended target. As a Christian minister on the Rez, he had his share of enemies. The question was, who hated him enough to want to kill him—along with maybe a half-dozen other innocents who just happened to be seated at the front of the room?
That brought up yet another question. Had the bomber somehow known she’d planned to be there, probably in a front-row seat? As a police officer responsible for putting a long list of criminals in jail—and the deaths of several over the years—she had no shortage of enemies.
Before she could give that further thought, Ella heard sirens outside, above the din of the alarm. The police station was close by, and their response time had been quick.
When Officer Ralph Tache failed to immediately appear, Ella reminded herself that it would take him several minutes to suit up. The possibility that he’d arrive seconds too late ate at her, undermining her confidence. She took an unsteady breath, trying to suppress a bad case of the shakes.
The book bag was heavy, and she was relieved to finally see a big shadow appear in the doorway. It was Ralph, suited up in his PPE—personal protective equipment—and carrying a heavy ceramic-plated vest for her.
Looking more like a GI astronaut than a police officer, he shut off the annoying alarm, then waddled over in his heavily armored suit. “How long was Reverend Tome supposed to speak today?” he asked without preamble, as he put down the duffle bag that held his equipment. His words sounded hollow behind the clear, thick faceplate, and unnaturally soft after the din of the alarm.
“Forty minutes—then twenty minutes for discussion,” she answered. If there was a timer, and that appeared likely based on the circuit board she’d seen, the bomb was probably set to go off during that time period. Ella looked down at her watch. “The class was scheduled to end at five, but we have no idea when the bomb was left here.”
Without touching either her or the book bag, Ralph glanced inside. “I wish our PD had a portable x-ray machine,” he said. “There’s a lot of duct tape around the mechanism, but I can still make out a battery, and what I think is an electronic timer on the circuit board. Typically, pipe bombs are filled with black powder.” His voice was as calm as if he’d just given her a weather update. “Dynamite and other high explosives usually don’t require a container. I’m going to use a high-powered water gun to short out the circuits. After that, I’ll haul the device out of here and put it in the vault.”
“You know what you’re doing, Ralph,” Ella said in a surprisingly steady voice.
“I appreciate your trust. Just don’t move your hand yet. I don’t think there’s a pressure switch, but we don’t want to put that to the test,” he said, helping her put on the extra vest. As soon as that was done, he slipped his now-gloved hand over hers, in the same place as hers, and gave her a nod. “Okay, let go and step back.”
Ella didn’t breathe again until she’d completed his instructions. Every instinct she had told her to run as far
away from the building as possible, but she remained where she was, several steps from Ralph. “Tell me how I can help you.”
“I’ve got the protective suit. I can handle this,” he said. “Go outside.”
“You may still need an extra pair of hands, and I’m already here. I’ll duck down behind one of these tables, and you let me know if you need my help.”
He considered it, then nodded. “Deal.”
Ella moved the chairs away from the farthest table, then tipped it on its side, using the two-inch-thick top as a shield. As she watched, Ralph opened the book bag wider and studied the bomb. Then, moving slowly, he pulled back his hand, and placed the bag gently on the floor. A moment later he stepped away from the bag, and brought out a high-pressure water gun.
Ella knew it was protocol, but she could feel her skin crawling. “Are you sure about using that thing?” She was shivering, but her entire body was covered with sweat. The badger fetish around her neck felt scalding hot, too, but with her own body temperature rising because of the vest, she didn’t know whether to make something of it or not.
“Super soaking usually works. Don’t worry. Once the circuits are saturated with water, I’ll take this outside and place it in the containment vessel. Stay low.” He aimed the nozzle at the open bag, pinned the straps down with his foot, then soaked the interior thoroughly. Finally, with a satisfied grin, he turned and gave her a thumbs up. “Let me check things out just to be sure. Then we can go outside.”
Ella relaxed and took an easy breath. No one would die today. The bomb was inoperable.
Ralph took out a metal manipulating tool, then extended the telescoping rod. As he grabbed the straps of the soaked bag with a clamp, raising it off the ground a few inches, there was a blinding flash and a roar.
Earthway Page 1
