“All right. Let me rephrase this. Who might have a reason to resent you? Think of anyone you might have counseled, telling them things they didn’t want to hear. Or maybe someone who has made it clear they don’t like you, either personally or because of something connected to the church. And, Ford, think hard. Your life’s on the line.”
“My life is in God’s hands,” he said flatly.
Ella exhaled loudly. “I’m just asking you to tell me the truth, Ford. How could that offend your God?”
“If you love, you can’t see your brother as your enemy.”
“Do you believe in evil?” Ella countered.
Ford paused.
“If you do, Ford, and if you believe that evil presents a danger to everyone, then you owe it to the rest of us to help restore the balance.”
“That’s exactly what I do, though our methods are different.”
Ella glanced at Teeny, looking for help, but he shook his head and shrugged. Ella focused on Ford once more. “Don’t think of it in terms of enemies then. Who in your congregation is capable of violence against you or anyone else?”
“At any given time we all lose our tempers. I don’t judge my brothers and sisters in Christ.”
Ella felt her frustration turning into anger and knew it was time to stop going in circles. If he couldn’t admit that a parishioner might be gunning for him, that avenue of discussion was closed, at least for the moment. “All right, Ford. Focus on the code, and see if you can find some answers we can use,” she said, standing up.
As Ford turned back to the computer, Teeny walked her to the door.
“The Way is closed to him now, so you can’t expect him to react to threats and aggression as if he was a Navajo hataalii,” Teeny said in a whisper-soft voice. “He’s rejected a lot of what it means to be Navajo, maybe because he associates it with a past he wants or needs to suppress. As a minister in his new life, he’s cut from a different mold—maybe more so than most, in order to refute his take-no-prisoners background. That’s part of the reason you’re drawn to him.”
“There’s a lot I admire about him, but our beliefs . . . they’re poles apart,” she said at last. “Sometimes, around him, I feel pressured to reject my own background and culture, and my family.”
“Nobody can make you do that. You believe too much in yourself. At least your ultimate goals are the same. Navajos try to restore the balance one way, while Christians work from a different perspective.”
“One that can turn them into victims.”
“Sometimes, but in the long run they tip the scales on the side of good. That, in itself, helps restore balance.”
Ella smiled at him. “You’re a smart man.”
On her way minutes later, Ella decided to follow a hunch and head directly to Ford’s church. For a brief moment, she considered calling Reverend Campbell and letting him know she was on the way, but then decided against it. She didn’t want him to prepare. She’d have a better chance to get the kind of answers she needed if she caught him off guard.
When Ella arrived at Good Shepherd Church, she was relieved to see Reverend Paul Campbell’s old blue sedan parked by the open side door. Ella went inside, and as she walked down the hall, heard the reverend practicing his sermon inside his office.
A second later, Reverend Campbell stepped out into the hall. “I thought I heard footsteps. Welcome, Investigator Clah,” the tall, balding Anglo man said, greeting her with a smile.
“Do you have a minute, Reverend? I’d like to talk to you,” she said.
“Of course. Come in, and have a seat. Tea?” he asked, gesturing to the kettle atop a hot plate. “It’s decaffeinated green tea, which is supposed to be good for you. I’m trying to lay off the caffeine, particularly these days.”
Ella didn’t ask the obvious question, but looked at him and waited. In her many years as a police officer, she’d learned that if you just waited, and appeared interested, people would tell you just about anything. Reverend Campbell didn’t disappoint.
“I’m glad to fill in for Reverend Tome, but the workload’s been staggering,” he said, sitting behind his desk. “And, of course, the fact that someone actually tried to kill a minister keeps me looking over my own shoulder.”
“I think it’s target specific—they want Reverend Tome, for whatever the reason. Mind you, it’s good for you to stay alert, but I don’t believe you’re in danger.”
“I just don’t understand what’s happening. Our job’s to help people, to love them as Christ loved. To us, combating violence means loving more. It’s not an easy road, believe me, but it’s the one we were called to follow.”
Ella stared at a spot on the wall just beyond the reverend. His words sounded so much simpler and easier to accept than if they’d come from Ford. Maybe it was because Reverend Campbell was more flexible. Or maybe it was because she wasn’t in love with Campbell. Either way, she had to get answers, and to do that, she’d have to approach him in just the right way. Remembering her father’s views, and trying to put herself in Reverend Campbell’s place, she finally spoke.
“An officer of mine is in the hospital and may never completely recover. You can’t allow this disturbed person to harm another one of God’s children. Loving your enemy means protecting him from himself, too. By placing him in a position where he can receive help, you save two souls—his and the potential victim’s.”
“That’s very true. Well said.”
“Which brings me to the reason I’m here. I need your help, Reverend Campbell. Ford’s too close to this situation and I need someone who can be objective. There’s a good chance that the person trying to kill Ford knows him personally. Does anyone here at the church have a problem with him?”
“Minor skirmishes break out between different committees when it comes to the ministry and budgetary matters, but all-out violence?” He shook his head.
“Think hard, Reverend Campbell. Has Ford had a disagreement with anyone who might be prone to violence?”
“You should be asking him this,” Campbell said.
“Ford’s in a bad place mentally right now. In his eyes, admitting that the person after him might be a parishioner will also mean admitting that he and this church failed that person. I don’t think he can deal with that at the moment. Will you help me?”
Reverend Campbell fell into a thoughtful silence.
As Ella waited, she wondered what Ford would say when he found out she’d spoken to Reverend Campbell. By his own rules, he’d have to forgive her. . . .
“I can recall two instances of trouble in the past few months. When the wife of one of our parishioners, Edna Billey, left for Albuquerque on business, she asked Ford to make some routine stops at her home to check on her husband, who was bedridden. Ford agreed, but one afternoon when Ford went to the house, he found that the man had passed away. When Edna returned, she blamed Ford, convinced that he hadn’t checked on her husband closely enough. She was very upset, but Edna’s a gentle person. She wouldn’t harm anyone.”
“What about their children? What was their reaction?”
“They only have one son, who’s in the Marines. He was granted leave to attend the funeral, but I understand he’s scheduled to be shipped back to the Middle East soon.”
“I’ll need his name,” Ella said.
“Louis Billey. They’re both currently staying at a rented single-wide trailer over in Waterflow. Edna moved in there right after her husband’s death. There’s nothing wrong with the house, but no one will go near it now that a death’s occurred there. You know how that works.”
Ella knew about fear of the chindi. It was said that when a man died, the evil in him wouldn’t be able to merge with universal harmony, so it stayed behind to create problems for the living. It was a powerful belief on the Rez, even among churchgoers.
“You mentioned two instances of trouble. What’s the second?” Ella pressed.
“Kim Mike. . . .”
The name sounded familiar, b
ut she couldn’t place it.
“It was a very sad situation. Her husband Henry used to beat her up. She’d come to church a total mess—busted nose, black eyes, split lip, the works. We both tried to work with Henry and Kim because, believe it or not, Kim didn’t want to leave him, despite the abuse.” He shook his head, then took a deep breath before continuing.
“The beatings grew so severe that Ford and I were both worried that he’d end up killing her. Then last month, Henry put her in the hospital and got arrested. While he was in jail, Kim finally took our advice. She left the Navajo Reservation, telling no one where she was going. When Henry got out on bail he came over here drunk, threatened Ford, and started pushing him around. Things got really bad fast, so I called the police. They took him back to jail and put him in a detox program. After that I was told that he’d moved over the mountains to Many Farms.”
“I appreciate your help, Reverend Campbell,” Ella said, standing. “Thanks very much.”
He nodded. “Tell Ford that I’ll be praying for him and everyone else involved in this case.”
“I will, and thanks. We need all the help we can get.”
THIRTEEN
As Ella headed back to the station, she telephoned her team for a meeting. It was time to get more minds on the problem. Maybe together they’d be able to come up with new strategies.
It was already dark by the time Ella walked into the station. Time seemed to be slipping through her fingers, just like the answers she was trying so hard to find.
As she entered her office, Ella glanced at the group already gathered there. Blalock was sitting in her chair, sipping coffee from one of the machines down the hall, Justine was leaning against the wall, and Anna seemed restless, fidgeting in her chair. Marianna was typing on a laptop.
“Phillip Cloud has taken over surveillance from Joe, who’s en route back. Dr. Lee didn’t leave her home again today,” Justine said.
“Maybe she knows we’re keeping tabs on her,” Blalock said, standing and motioning Ella to her chair.
“I suppose she could have made us,” Ella said. “Except for Anna, we’ve all been part of this community for years, so she may know who to look for.” Ella sat down and glanced at them. “Okay, moving on. Anyone have anything new to report?”
“I spoke to the construction company foreman, Don Zahnes, who reported the theft,” Justine said. “He says this is the first time they’ve had an explosives locker broken into, and they’ve been in business for twenty-five years.”
“When Justine mentioned that it was Valley Construction, I volunteered to go talk to the owner, Gary Ute,” Anna said. “He and I were . . . friends . . . once.”
“What did you get?” Ella asked her.
“The explosives are stored in a ventilated steel shed out in the back of the yard. The shed—actually a concrete locker with a steel door—is kept locked and they’ve never had a problem. Gary said that he went out to take inventory yesterday and that’s when he realized that someone had cut off the locks and helped himself. Missing were five blasting caps, and three electrical and two non-electrical detonators with fuses. Also fifty pounds of ammonium nitrate and ten sticks of dynamite.”
“The lot number of one of the missing electrical detonators matches the one used to set off the pipe bomb on campus,” Justine added.
“What did you get from the prints, anything interesting?” Ella asked Justine.
“Lots of partials, most belonging to the crew who deals with demolition over at Valley Construction. None of the men have criminal records beyond minor traffic violations.”
When no one else spoke, Ella glanced around the room. “I have a theory. Despite my hesitancy to believe in coincidences, it’s possible we may be working two cases with separate motives,” she said, then told them about Ford’s problems at church. “Right now I’d like to go over all the hard facts we have and see what we can make of them.”
She paused for a moment, and, assured she had everyone’s attention, continued. “At least one of our suspects is an expert shot. We’re also dealing with someone who knows how to make a bomb. This person may or may not be the leader, but he’s well-read, or trained in setting up and running a covert operation.”
“And someone who’s familiar with codes,” Blalock added.
“If you lump it all together, then it looks like we’re looking for people from law enforcement and/or the military,” Anna said.
“A non-Navajo would stick out on the Navajo Nation, and have trouble enlisting other Navajos. We’re probably talking about one of our own people,” Marianna said.
“Let me do a little digging and take a closer look at Navajo officers who serve in departments adjacent to the Rez,” Justine said.
“Look inside our own department, too,” Ella said in a heavy voice. “And, Justine, don’t go through channels. We can’t afford to tip anyone off, and we don’t know how highly placed the individual or individuals might be.”
“That’ll take some finessing then,” Justine said.
Anna regarded Ella thoughtfully but said nothing.
“Got something on your mind?” Ella pressed.
“Just a thought,” Anna answered. “You can learn just about anything you want about bombs in a library, more via the Internet. The Patriot Act gives us the right to monitor the reading and search patterns of people of interest. Since we don’t have any names, maybe we can get a lead from the librarians at the Media Center. It’s possible they can point us to someone who has visited suspicious sites or has been reading books on explosives.”
“I suggest that you forego the fishing expedition, Officer Bekis,” Blalock said. “Get a name first. Then, providing you’re able to demonstrate probable cause, get a warrant before you monitor a specific person. It keeps things clean. I’m getting close to retirement and I’d rather spend my future wading in a trout stream, not slogging through court proceedings.”
Ella looked at Justine. “Try to locate Henry Mike for me. He’s supposed to be living on the Arizona side of the Rez at Many Farms. Just don’t make the trip unless the locals can verify his location. No sense in wasting half a day on the road. Recruit extra personnel if you need to, but only with the intention of interviewing Henry on domestic charges.”
As Anna and Justine left, Ella glanced at Blalock. “Let’s go talk to Louis Billey. We know he’s got the weapons skills, at least.”
Following the directions Reverend Campbell gave Ella, they soon arrived at an area of single-wide trailers on the mesa north of the highway, about ten miles east of Shiprock. In the headlights they could see that most of the homes had torn or missing window screens. Roofs were held down by old, junked tires, to keep them from shaking loose. Running water came via garden-type hoses running inside windows from a common faucet, and each mobile home had an outhouse at the back.
Ella found the right trailer, judging from the number on the white sign facing the hard-packed dirt road.
“At least they have electricity, but I’ve never figured out why people stay in places like this,” Blalock said. “If they’d leave the Rez, they could get decent jobs and better housing.”
“Jobs here are few and far between, that’s true enough, but leaving the Rez is equally hard for some of the Diné. Here, we have the sacred mountains and other Navajos who understand and value the same things we do. We have clans, and that means family nearby no matter where we go on the Dinétah. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always made my own rules and I was never close to my family. They went their way, I went mine.”
Ella had heard this before, but she didn’t understand it. She couldn’t even count the many ways her family enriched her life.
“Don’t look at me like that, Clah, I like the way I live. There’s freedom in it,” Blalock said.
“Freedom to be lonely,” she answered. She’d seen too many people on the outside wandering through each day of their lives, lost and searching for meaning and
purpose. What a Navajo family gained by staying on the Dinétah couldn’t be measured easily, but the rewards were there. Her own life with Dawn and Rose kept her connected to the past, the present, and the future.
Ella turned off the headlights and the engine and sat back. “We want cooperation, so we’re going to afford them the courtesy of waiting for an invitation to approach.”
Time passed. Ella saw the curtains of the old trailer move as a figure she couldn’t see clearly peered out, but no one came to the door.
“No cars are parked here, Clah. We’re wasting our time.”
“She’s there, and there’s a light on. She’s just testing us.”
At long last, a middle-aged Navajo woman wearing a long skirt and a velvet blouse tied at the waist with a concha belt came to the front door, turned on an outdoor light, and waved.
“Good. The fact that she invited us inside will make things easier,” Ella said.
The woman ushered them into the narrow living/dining room. Shelves and cabinets were loaded down with an overflow of canned goods and dishes from the kitchen. On top of the portable television, which rested on a window seat, was a photograph of a stern-looking young Navajo man in his Marine dress uniform.
“Are you here because of what that Navajo preacher did to my husband?” she asked immediately.
“We’d like to hear your side of the story,” Ella said.
“Reverend Tome promised that he’d check on my husband. I wouldn’t have left him otherwise.” Her voice broke and she turned away, handkerchief in hand. “Everyone says that it wasn’t the preacher’s fault, but he didn’t take care of my husband and neither did his God.” She took a deep unsteady breath. “I should have taken my husband to a hataalii. My grandparents relied on them and they lived into their nineties.”
A daddy longlegs spider crawled onto her chair and she captured it between her two hands and set it outside. After a moment she returned to her chair. “So you gonna arrest him?”
Ella blinked, but managed to keep all expression from her face. “We’re here because we wanted to talk to you about him. It appears that someone wants the reverend to die. They’ve tried to kill him twice in the last three days.”
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