Bad Medicine

by Aimée

  “Is there someone else I can speak to?”

  “Someone who would know who your father-in-law associated with? No. The others I can think of are all either dead or hiding somewhere from the law.” Rose grew somber. “If your father-in-law’s aunt chooses to talk to you, she could probably tell you a lot. She lived next door to him most of his adult life.”

  Ella checked a map for more detailed directions on how to find the woman she needed, then began the long drive. The paved road gave out about six miles west of highway 666, and the dirt track after that had obviously suffered badly over the last winter. As the miles stretched out, Ella wondered if the trip would be fruitful, or turn out to be just another waste of time.

  Almost sixty minutes of washer-board road later, Ella arrived at a log and mud hogan in the middle of an open stretch of beautiful, barren desert right out of a John Wayne western. The rundown corrals were empty, an open gate swaying in the breeze. Wondering if the woman she sought had indeed passed on, Ella waited in the Jeep, glancing around for signs of life. Minutes stretched out into eternities as the sun pounded on the Jeep. When the heat became intolerable, Ella stepped out of the Jeep and leaned against the side door, waiting.

  Ella wasn’t sure why, but she felt certain that she should wait.

  She followed her intuition.

  Finally, an elderly woman leaning on a cane appeared at the entrance of the hogan, brushing the faded blanket aside. Her face was a patchwork of deep, intricate lines, like the spiderweb of roads Ella had just traversed. She waved at Ella to come in. “You’re persistent,” Jane Clah said, sitting down on the ground. “Why are you here? I am xa’asti, and too tired to deal with visitors.”

  Ella understood the word for extremely old, but the term also contained another warning. According to the Navajo Way, the elderly were believed to be spiritually strong, and their power for evil worthy of being feared.

  “I need your help, Aunt,” Ella said, telling her who she was.

  “I’ve known who you were all along. I remember when you married my kin. But why do you come to me now?”

  “Do you know of the recent trouble on the reservation?” Someone had to be bringing the old woman food and supplies, and news of the meningitis threat had been widely disseminated.

  Jane nodded slowly. “But you have no reason to worry. My nephew is gone now. He can’t harm you or anyone else anymore. You can’t blame him for this.”

  “There is a young man who claims to be, well, connected or linked to him. I wondered if my father-in-law sought the friendship of some young people after his son was gone.”

  The woman stared at the ground, drawing patterns in the soft earth with her long, twisted index finger.

  Ella waited, knowing she could not interrupt or push for faster answers, no matter how much she might want to.

  Finally, Jane looked up. “My nephew hurt many people, even his son. Why should I help you hurt others who are not to blame?”

  “This young man who claims a link to my father-in-law might be at the center of some serious troubles facing our people,” Ella said, and went on to explain about the meningitis outbreak and the sudden illnesses experienced by the children at the clinics.

  The woman exhaled softly. “I don’t know about friendships, but your father-in-law had another family that only a few knew about. He had other sons.”

  Ella felt her body grow cold. For a moment, she could almost feel her father-in-law’s presence reaching from the grave. She pulled out Howard Lee’s photo. “Is this one of his sons?”

  “Yes.” The woman looked away quickly after viewing the image.

  Ella fought a crazy sense of vertigo as she struggled to remain cool. There was no entry in Lee’s hospital records naming his parents. Both had been listed as deceased. “Where can I find Howard’s brothers and how many are there?”

  Jane Clah shook her head. “They are all trying to forget. I won’t betray them. You can’t blame them for the actions of their father. They pose no threat to you or anyone else.”

  “But—”

  “You got what you came for. Now go.”

  “Did my father-in-law love them?” Ella asked as she stood.

  The elderly woman nodded. “They were a part of him.”

  Ella now knew how Howard had been able to forge Randall Clah’s writing, and how he’d known so much about the man—his father. But the certainty that there were others in that family was like a needle piercing her to the marrow. She was certain that someday, one or more of them would also come after her. Yet, until they did, there was nothing she could do except wait.

  Howard Lee was another story.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  As Ella drove back to the station, a plan formed in her mind. She dialed her brother’s number, and filled him in about Howard Lee. “If he’s really trying to act in his father’s behalf and assume the skinwalkers’ ways, can we use something traditional to rattle him? I need a weakness.”

  “There are ways to reveal a Navajo witch. But, to expel the evil from one contaminated with the chindi it’s necessary to do a Sing and other complicated rituals.”

  “What I want is something that will lead Lee to think he’s been exposed and weakened somehow. I need to undermine his confidence.”

  “Let me think about this. I’m on my way to the hospital to see a patient of mine who’s there for breathing treatments. Why don’t you meet me there?” Clifford asked.

  “Sure. I was on my way there anyway. I’ve decided to pick up Howard for questioning,” Ella answered.

  After saying good-bye to her brother, Ella contacted Justine and asked her to go ahead with the request for a search warrant for Lee’s home. “I’m going to pick up Lee and bring him in. Get word to the officer tailing him to not let the man out of his sight until I arrive. I may need backup if Lee resists.”

  “Ten-four.”

  When Ella arrived at the hospital a short time later, she found Clifford waiting inside, near the front entrance.

  The expression on her brother’s face chilled her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I passed by our enemy,” he said, knowing there was no need for him to specify. “He was very agitated and wasn’t able to hide his true nature like he had done earlier at the inoculation clinic. There is much of the father in him.”

  “Yeah, he has managed to fool us all up to now. He certainly has the deceptive powers of a skinwalker.”

  Clifford shook his head. “There’s more to this. I actually felt our old adversary. The father and the son are one, at least in his heart. The hatred was there, filling the space between us. The intensity, the power in him, felt familiar. I’m glad my family isn’t at this hospital.”

  Ella remembered when Loretta had given birth. Someone had sneaked into the nursery and placed a possession of Randall’s on Julian.

  “Flint protects against the chindi,” Clifford said thoughtfully. “I suggest you have some with you when you approach your quarry.”

  “You think it’ll give me an advantage?”

  “It will give you protection,” he said sternly, handing her a small stone.

  Ella took the piece of gray flint Clifford offered and put it in her pocket, then she watched him walk down the hall. She could understand her brother’s concern for his family. They’d been targeted before. The ritual in the nursery had been meant to harm his baby by infusing Randall’s chindi into the child. But her brother had done a Sing and protected his son, not only from the dangers the skinwalker ritual had posed, but from the burden of carrying that stigma for the rest of his life. If Howard had been the one who’d tried to harm the child once before, would he do so again?

  Following a hunch, Ella went to the maternity ward, walked up to the nurses’ station, and identified herself.

  The nurse looked at her calmly. “Yes, I remember you from when your brother’s child was born.”

  “Do you remember the incident with the baby?”

  “The watch chain that was found ins
ide the incubator? Every nurse on the ward was looking over her shoulder for weeks after that. We can’t have people threatening the babies under our care.”

  “Do you know Howard Lee?”

  “The med student? Sure. He’s worked with us here.”

  “Could he have been in the nursery the day the chain was placed on my brother’s child?”

  The nurse thought about it. “He could have been, I suppose. He was assigned here around that time.”

  “Thank you, Nurse.”

  Ella hurried to the elevator and went down to the first floor. As the doors slid open, she saw Justine. “What brings you here?”

  “Our officer lost track of Lee half an hour ago. He left the hospital in his car, then whipped around in the new housing area and dropped out of sight. He apparently noticed we’d put a tail on him.”

  “Where’s the officer now?”

  “Still out on the highway, searching. A motorist said he saw Lee’s car heading west. The officer tried to call in several times, but was in a canyon area that blocked the transmission. We finally got enough of his report to get a handle on the situation, and that’s why I’m here. From where he lost him, the officer thinks Lee is taking the back way to your brother’s home.”

  “Did you send someone to cover Clifford’s home?”

  “Yes, one car was already in the area. We’ve sent other units, but I doubt they’ll get there before Lee does.”

  Ella jogged down the hall, Justine keeping pace by her side. “I’m going there myself. Clifford is here visiting one of his patients. Find him and let him know what’s going on. He needs to be with his family now. As a hataalii, he can protect them from someone like Howard Lee. What’s with the search warrant?”

  “It’s in the works. I can’t push it past my relative this time; he’s gone fishing over at Bluewater Lake. I have another piece of news. According to Judy Lujan, Bitah had suspected Lee was keeping his peyote buttons instead of consuming them during the rituals. He was angry and determined to teach him a lesson.”

  “What kind of lesson?” Ella already knew the answer. Bitah had placed the jimsonweed in the buttons handed to Lee, intending to punish his sacrilege with death—only Angelina had received a fatal dose instead.

  “Judy didn’t know what Bitah had planned,” Justine said, then nodded, understanding the look on Ella’s face. “I guess we know how Angelina was killed.”

  “Howard Lee was a victim of his own manipulations, and killed his girlfriend accidentally. But that doesn’t excuse what he’s tried to do to Carolyn and to the innocent people who went to the inoculation clinics. Now Lee’s going after my brother’s family, and he’ll come for me next.” She ran across the parking lot, heading toward the Jeep.

  “But why would he try to kill our M.E? That doesn’t fit.”

  “Yes, it does. He tried to kill Carolyn because she discovered Angelina had been poisoned,” Ella continued. “He knew the trail would lead back to him eventually and destroy him, unless he destroyed her first. He’s after my family now because the net is closing in on him. He’s lost the game, so he’ll strike out at those who were responsible for the death of his father.”

  Ella slipped behind the wheel. “Once you find my brother and warn him, come out and meet me at his home. Then call Neskahi and tell him to stay by my mother’s side, and keep Carolyn safe, too, if she’s there. Lastly, get word to Wilson Joe. Tell him that Howard Lee is out to get those responsible for killing Randall. He should be on his guard.”

  Ella switched on the sirens and sped down the highway, weaving past the slower-moving vehicles in her way with ease. As she reached the narrow, two-lane stretch of old highway, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw a big, six-wheeled pickup right behind her. It seemed determined to stay with her, and that meant he had to be traveling at least twenty miles over the speed limit. Then the truck began to gain ground. Ella picked up the radio, but the canyon and mesa terrain filled the transmission with static. She could barely make out the dispatchers 10-1, asking her to repeat.

  Knowing from experience the cellular phone was spotty in that area, too, Ella tried the radio again. It was no use. Almost as if sensing his advantage, the large four-seater pickup pulled up alongside her Jeep as if to pass, then eased over into her lane, trying to force her off the road. Ella accelerated, trying to pull away, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. Suddenly she felt the jarring impact as the large vehicle slammed against the back end of her Jeep, metal screeching against metal. The sturdy Jeep remained under control, but barely.

  Fear twisted through her. She didn’t recognize the two Anglo men in the truck. This attack wasn’t connected to Howard Lee. Had she chased the wrong criminal, giving a more dangerous enemy the chance to move in on her?

  The terrain flew past her. She was traveling close to eighty miles an hour on a road designed for fifty-five; and the road was so narrow, if a vehicle met them head on, surely someone would die.

  Seconds later, still racing neck and neck with the truck, Ella approached a bridge that traversed a forty-foot-deep canyon. The truck swerved again and slammed into her Jeep, hurling her vehicle against the guardrail. She jerked on the steering wheel, and bounced back onto the road, wrenching herself painfully from side to side against the seat belt. If she could only make it past the bridge, she would have a better chance, particularly if her vehicle went off the road. Here, she faced certain death. Elsewhere, it was a matter of surviving a rough trip up or down a hillside.

  As she got to the end of the bridge, she let off the gas and touched the brake hard, realizing she’d never be able to outrun her pursuers, yet unwilling to give up without a fight. As her Jeep suddenly fell back, the truck swerved again, clipping the left front fender. The steering wheel jerked erratically, as if with a life of its own. Her teeth clacked together and the pain that exploded down her jaw made her wonder if that would be the first of her bones to be broken in the assault.

  Before she could regain control of her vehicle, the truck cut right in front of her and braked hard. The Jeep hit the heavy metal truck bumper, throwing Ella against the seat belt harness and inflating the air bag with a frightening whoosh.

  Ella was blinded and helpless as the Jeep left the road and continued its acceleration wildly up the side of a hill. As it neared the top, Ella managed to bring the Jeep to an abrupt stop, but the soft sand of the hillside gave way beneath her, and the Jeep toppled over onto the driver’s side. Ella’s head was snapped sideways, and she banged against the side glass hard enough to stun her. The Jeep slowly slid downhill, metal screeching. After what seemed like forever, it came to rest.

  Ella pushed away the half-collapsed airbag and groped for the seat belt release, but her fingers were clumsy, her ears were ringing, and her eyes refused to focus. Finding the button finally, Ella stood on her door and reached up, moving the lever to open the passenger door like the main hatch on a submarine. Looking around for her attackers, she cautiously climbed up onto the side of the Jeep. Before she could really orient herself, both men suddenly sprang up from where they’d been crouched beside the Jeep, and pulled her off the car onto the ground.

  Ella rolled away quickly and reached for her gun. Her knees were still wobbly as she struggled to stand and face her adversaries.

  A stocky Anglo she’d never seen before kicked the pistol out of her grasp just as it cleared her holster. “You’re going to lose this fight, squaw,” he laughed. “Your good luck has just run out.”

  Ella ignored the pain shooting through her body, using adrenaline to stay alert and evaluate her situation. The second man, almost a head taller than the first, held a lug wrench in his hand like a club. It was obvious they intended to finish her off. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Decent, hard-working white men are suffering because of your racist laws. You’re working to take away their jobs. It’s time you had a fatal car crash.”

  As the stocky man grabbed at her, Ella jumped to one side. Every muscle in
her body screamed, but by the time she scrambled to her feet, her backup pistol was out of her boot and in her hand. She fired two shots at her closest attacker, the shorter man, and he went down hard with two hits in his chest.

  “You only have two shots in that little derringer, Indian. Your luck just ran out,” the other spat out, waving the lug wrench back and forth to taunt her.

  Ella knew her chances were slim, but maybe she’d still be able to pull off a miracle. She certainly couldn’t afford to give up. Ella fell to her knees as if exhausted, clutching her head with one hand and groaning. It wasn’t much of an acting job. As her adversary moved in confidently for the kill, she threw a fistful of sand into his face.

  He staggered back, covering his eyes, and Ella scrambled to her feet and kicked him in the groin. When he doubled over, dropping the wrench, she clasped her hands and delivered a blow to the back of his neck.

  The man fell to the ground, stunned, but not unconscious. Ella quickly grabbed her fallen pistol, then dragged her adversary over to the Jeep, handcuffing one hand to the frame. Moving back, she tried to clear her thoughts. Glancing over at the man she had shot, she saw he hadn’t moved. Blood covered his chest and she knew he was dead or dying.

  The other man tugged at the handcuffs, struggling to free himself. “This vehicle’s dripping gasoline. Can’t you smell it?” He glanced down. “It’s running onto my shoes and pants. We’ve got to get away from here.”

  “I intend to get away. You, I’m not worried about. Let your Brotherhood buddies bail you out of this one.” She wouldn’t let him die here, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him think so. Fear could expedite the kind of deal she’d never get from him otherwise. “Like they say, what have you done for me lately?”

  “You can’t leave me here. You’re a cop,” he added, his voice rising.

  “Yeah, one very pissed-off cop. I’ve got more important things to do than worry about what happens to slime like you,” she shouted, climbing down the hill slowly, looking for an approaching car.