by Aimée Thurlo
Wanting to set a different course for her own life, Valerie had sworn never to depend on anyone or anything except herself. She’d never waste her time searching for a knight in shining armor like her mother had done. Instead, she’d live her life one moment at a time.
“I’ve seen the crime scene photos, but is there anything else you can tell me about the first homicide?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“The same dry painting was there—at least it looked the same to me. The vic was also missing the same digits from her hands. But one thing was different—the vic’s tongue was painted black.”
“Do you mean it had turned black?” he asked, verifying.
“No, it had been painted that color with cheap poster paint.”
He nodded slowly. “A blackened, swollen tongue is said to indicate that the person was the victim of a skinwalker. He either changed the pattern or ran out of time setting up the display for victim number two.”
“This guys’s going to a lot of trouble to make himself fit the bill. The second vic’s tongue was forced out of her mouth, and held in place by a plant stem and a rock. I heard one of the crime scene people familiar with herbs say that it was something called datura or Jimsonweed.”
“Frenzy medicine,” he said softly.
“So we are dealing with someone from your tribe?”
“Others know about this, too,” he said slowly. “We could be looking for someone who spent time living among us. But, even then, this isn’t knowledge that’s easily come by. It’s a subject that’s never openly discussed.”
She nodded, remembering. “It calls evil to you. That’s why I shouldn’t use the word skin—” She stopped abruptly then, correcting herself, added, “witch.”
Valerie drove into what was called Albuquerque’s North Valley. Soon they reached an area of county jurisdiction beside the wooded Rio Grande bosque, near an irrigation canal. The backs of houses stood on both sides of the deep, flowing ditch.
“The bloody soil around the body was removed by a hazmat team, but we can find the place easily enough even without the photos,” she said, leaving the car. Valerie pointed ahead to the conservancy district service roads, which paralleled the ditch on both sides in this area of the county. “The body was found by someone jogging down the west side road around dawn. There are a lot of Hispanic families in this area and some Navajos as well. We questioned quite a few people but nobody admitted seeing or hearing anything.”
“Would they have told you if they had?” he asked in a quiet, thoughtful voice.
“People in neighborhoods like these don’t always trust the police, that’s true enough,” she admitted. “There’s always a lot of unresolved tension. Do you have communities like these on the reservation, too?”
“Poverty makes people resentful and angry, but that wasn’t what I meant.”
Valerie started to ask him to explain, but he shook his head, deep in thought.
The earth beneath their feet was hard packed where the service vehicles had formed tracks and sandy elsewhere except on the ditch banks themselves. Valerie studied the area as they drew near. She’d expected a slew of footprints from curious onlookers. Yet it was clear that ditch-bank joggers had veered to either side of the smoothed over area, now covered with a few inches of relocated sand. Nothing else marked the site, not even a rustic wooden cross. Those were typically left behind in New Mexico whenever a death had occurred, especially on long rural highways.
“A Navajo family lives close by,” he said.
She blinked. “That’s entirely possible. As I said, this is a mixed neighborhood.” Valerie looked down at the footprints, trying to guess how he’d been able to tell.
“They live over there,” he said, pointing with his lips. “The closest house to the ditch.”
“How do you know? Moccasin prints?”
“Like in a John Wayne western?” he asked, laughing. “Naw, it’s the home cooking. Don’t you smell the fry bread and mutton stew?”
She sniffed the air and got nothing except the vague scent of what might have been sopaipillas. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking since she’d skipped lunch and had a craving for a big combo plate from Maria’s.
“We should approach from the front of the house,” she said. “They’re probably a little jumpy around here, and people in the county often have a gun in the closet.”
“Here’s the way,” he said, pointing out the best route, which was still visible though the sun had finally set.
Valerie followed as he led the way down the ditch bank along an obviously well-traveled foot trail. The man had incredible senses.
As they reached the end of a dirt road that led away from the river, she made a call to the station and soon had the information she wanted. “None of the locals our deputies interviewed stated they were Navajo.”
“I’m not surprised that local Navajo families made themselves scarce. Like me, most dislike speaking of the dead.”
They walked a half block to reach the house backed up to the ditch bank and read the address on the mailbox. Valerie called it in and after getting the information she needed, closed up the phone. “Rita and John Tsosie are the listed occupants, but no one was home when our deputies checked. Officers have come by twice since then but no luck so far.”
He nodded, then stopped at the end of the sidewalk that led to their front porch. Valerie brushed past him. “I saw movement. Somebody’s definitely inside,” she said.
Before he could stop her, she knocked on the door, identifying herself loudly.
Hearing the slamming of a door by the side of the house, Valerie ran over to a sedan parked beneath a carport. A Navajo man and woman were getting into the vehicle.
“Sheriff’s Department. Stop right there,” she ordered. “Out of the car, please, sir, ma’am.”
The couple froze and stared at her.
“I’m Detective Valerie Jonas with the Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Department. I need to ask you a few questions,” she said, hearing Luca coming up.
The man and woman stared blankly at her.
“We need your help to catch a killer. A young woman was murdered on the ditch bank not far from your house and—” She saw pure horror flash in their eyes, and both stepped away from her, moving down the driveway. Sure they were going to bolt, Valerie added, “Just stay put. Nobody thinks you had anything to do with this, but we need your help. Navajo witchcraft was involved—”
The woman gave a startled cry and the man, taking her hand, edged even farther away from Valerie.
“Please just go away, Officer. We don’t know anything,” he said. “We can’t help you.”
“Yáat’ééh,” Luca greeted. “I apologize. We should have waited to be invited to approach, though things are different here away from the Dinétah.
“I’m Detective Luca Nakai of the Navajo Tribal Police,” he said, using the name only because it was a necessity. “My clan is Dibéłizhiní. I was born for k’aahanáanii.”
“I’m from the Black Sheep People, also.” John Tsosie glanced down at Luca’s special medicine pouch. “I know your father, the hataalii. Is he the reason you were chosen to come help the police here?”
He nodded. “The one who’s been causing so much trouble needs to be caught soon, Uncle,” Luca said.
Valerie immediately smiled. “You should have told me he’s your uncle.”
Luca shook his head. “We’re not related. It’s a term we use to show respect,” he answered.
Valerie clamped her mouth shut. It was hard for her to take a backseat in an investigation but, here, her way had gotten them nowhere. Forcing herself to remain silent—which was as difficult for her as giving up chocolate—she watched Luca and listened closely.
“Did you see anything unusual the night of the killing?” Luca asked Rita.
“I heard something outside while I was cleaning up in the kitchen. It was the evil one at work,” the woman said in a hushed whisper. “We have protectio
n,” she said, pointing to her jish, “but we’ll still be leaving soon to have an Enemy Way.”
“So you saw the guilty one?” Luca pressed.
Mrs. Tsosie hesitated. “He was only an outline in the moonlight, but I saw enough to know what he was.”
She’d said what not who, Valerie noted. When Rita lapsed into another long silence, Valerie could barely stand it. She was about to press her for an answer when Luca, noting it, shook his head. She bit her tongue and did her best.
An eternity later Mrs. Tsosie continued, her voice the merest of whispers. “He had a coyote animal skin over his head and back.”
“Did you see his face at all?” Valerie asked immediately.
She shook her head. “It was dark, and his face was covered in shadows,” Rita said softly.
“But you’re sure he was using the skin of a coyote…not, say, a wolf or a big dog?” Luca asked softly.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve seen plenty of coyotes before. Right after that I closed all the windows and drew the curtains. My husband sat by the door with his rifle for about an hour, maybe longer. Afterward, we left to spend a few days at a relative’s house over in To’ hajiilee.”
The small Navajo community in the county was west of Albuquerque. As Valerie considered what the woman had told them, she found herself growing more skeptical by the second. To her, it sounded more as if the woman were describing the stuff of her nightmares as opposed to anything real.
Luca looked from Rita to John. “I could do a hozonji, a song of blessing, for you,” he said. “It’ll bring peace to you and your home.”
“Nephew, we would welcome that,” John said.
Valerie looked at Luca, wondering what he had in mind. Then Luca’s voice rose in a song that seemed to pulsate with its own power. It held the magic of antiquity and the soothing strength of a culture that had persevered against all odds.
Valerie could hear her heart drumming inside her chest as Luca finished the blessing. His song had wrapped itself around her and filled her with emotions she didn’t dare define.
“Thank you, Nephew,” John Tsosie said, his tone now more relaxed.
The Tsosies walked toward their home, then Rita stopped and focused on Valerie. “The one you’re after is very dangerous,” she said. “He can harm with nothing more than a touch. You don’t believe in our ways but this evil is real.”
“We won’t give up until he’s in custody, ma’am,” Valerie assured, deliberately avoiding anyone’s name.
“There are many ways of causing death,” John Tsosie added, glancing around warily in the gathering gloom. “Listen to the hataalii’s son,” he added, indicating Luca. “He’ll help you stay alive.”
“I’m not going into this unprepared,” she said with an encouraging smile, patting her holster. “A coyote skin isn’t bulletproof.”
She’d meant it to reassure them, but the couple shook their heads almost in unison then walked to the side door and stepped inside their house.
Valerie started to follow them inside, but Luca stopped her. “You’re not welcome. You’ve been near a dead body without the proper wards.”
“Then ask them to come back out. We’re not finished.”
“Yes, we are, at least for now. They’ve told you all they know.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The man and I come from the same clan. He has no need to lie to me or hold back. We’re connected through blood. Do you understand?”
Valerie didn’t answer, having been lied to by relatives a lot closer than that.
As they walked back down the street, she thought about what had just happened. Even the timbre of Luca’s voice seemed to hold an inexplicable power. Everything about him whispered to her to stop trying to explain the unexplainable and learn to accept mysteries that defiedlogic by their very existence.
Chapter Six
As they climbed into the police unit, Luca caught a whiff of the lavender scent she wore. The soft fragrance was in sharp contrast with the toughness she tried to project. Valerie was a maze of inconsistencies strung together and, like a squash blossom necklace, all the different facets combined into one beautiful whole.
He’d been attracted to many women during the course of his life, but what drew him to Valerie was too powerful to dismiss easily. He hadn’t felt anything like this since…his beautiful Merilyn.
She’d meant everything to him and he’d intended on making her his wife. Then a senseless accident had suddenly taken her from him. Grief had held him in a stranglehold and he’d raged against fate for eighteen months. Then, slowly, he’d worked himself out of that valley of pain.
He’d been told that a heart scarred by a devastating loss is never the same, and for him, that was the case. That dark period had taught him lessons he’d never forget.
The Navajo Way held that everything had two sides. Now that he’d seen the dark side of love, he’d never walk down that path again. And certainly not with Valerie Jonas. She was all wrong for him. If he’d been searching for a mate—which he wasn’t—he would have looked for a homebody, a soft, gentle spirit who would act as a counter to his warrior nature and balance him.
Yet despite logic, something about Valerie tugged at him, compelling him to look beyond her fiery toughness and see the woman she kept hidden from the world. But to do that would require more than just a tumble in bed, and therein lay the problem.
“When you mentioned clans back there, you said you were ‘born’ for one of them. What’s that mean?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts as she drove back into the city.
“My clan is the same as my mother’s. The clan I was ‘born for,’ the Living Arrow People, signifies my father’s clan.”
She said nothing for a few minutes, then added, “As partners we should get to know each other better, but everything about you is so different I don’t even know where to start.”
“Come inside the apartment with me,” he said, throwing caution to the wind as something dark stirred inside him. “We’ll learn until dawn.” Seeing her shiver in response to his words, his body tightened.
“No,” she managed in a strangled voice. Then, taking an unsteady breath, she added, “We both like playing with fire. It’s part of our natures. But in this case, we could end up getting fried. Come over and get some clean sheets for your bed. Then we’ll meet again early tomorrow morning.”
Moments later she handed him a set of sheets and some towels. “Get some sleep, we’ll need to leave here no later than eight. Shall I wake you up at seven?”
“Not necessary. I’ll be up at dawn.”
“Does your watch have an alarm?”
“No, I’ve got an internal clock that never fails me. I always wake up at dawn.”
“Oookay, country boy,” Valerie said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a quick wave, she closed the door.
Taking a deep breath, he carried the things she’d given him into his apartment. The bare mattress in the bedroom looked singularly uninviting, but even after he made the bed he felt no compulsion to call it a night. Without Valerie, crawling between those sheets seemed pointless. He was too wound up to get any sleep. Maybe a shower would help him relax.
Luca stripped off his shirt and started to undo his jeans when he heard a noise somewhere behind him. He froze, recognizing the dry rattling sound. Turning only his head, and that very slowly, he spotted the small western diamondback snake. Uncoiling its black-and-white striped tail, the reptile slithered slowly across the hardwood floor, heading toward the darkness beneath the couch.
Luca took a steadying breath. He’d capture the snake, then take it someplace where it could be safely released. There was no need to kill it—providing he acted quickly.
The towels Valerie had given him were still within reach. In one fluid motion, he grabbed one from the stack and unfurled it as he tossed it over the rattler.
Luca stepped closer, carefully watching the movement beneath the towel. When the snake poked i
ts head out from under the cloth, tongue flicking the air, Luca grabbed the diamondback just behind its head. It hissed and squirmed, attempting to coil, but it couldn’t strike him now.
Keeping the snake at arm’s length so it couldn’t wrap around his wrist, Luca eyed the bronze-colored metal trash can in the corner. He could drop it in there, but he’d need to find something to work as a lid and the towel wouldn’t do.
He glanced around the apartment, but found nothing that would serve to keep the snake securely inside, like a big plate. And that was only part of his problem. No matter what he ended up using, one thing was clear. He’d need an extra pair of hands—something to keep the lid in place while he pulled his hand back.
Keeping a firm but not harmful hold on the rattler, he knocked on the left wall of the apartment. Valerie was bound to hear him.
“I need your help,” he said, pressing his head against the wall, remembering that she’d said they were paper-thin.
A moment later he heard a knock at his door. “You okay?”
“No. Yes. I’m opening the door, but stay cool.”
Keeping the snake well away from his body, and wiggling it slightly to keep it from coiling upward toward his forearm, he unlocked the door then stepped back.
Valerie rushed in, gun in hand. The first thing she saw was Luca, shirtless. He was magnificent. His jeans were undone, too, and it was obvious he chose to forgo underwear.
Her breath lodged at the back of her throat and she lowered her gun. The bronzed muscles that rippled down his chest practically begged for a woman’s touch. For a heart-stopping moment she wondered what it would be like to taste him, to run her tongue down the length of him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she grew aware that he appeared to be shaking a beaded rope…. Then, suddenly the rope moved on its own.
