“Do you think they might come after me?” he asked quickly.
“It’s unlikely, but since we still don’t know for sure who the target of the attack was, it’s better to be cautious,” Blalock said, giving the pilot his card as well.
“There’s no way those two crazies came after me. It had to have been one of you guys,” Pete said, looking at Ella. “Lawyers and police make a lot more enemies than pilots do.”
“Maybe so, but keep your guard up,” Ella said.
As Blalock and Ella headed back to the Rez, he glanced over at her. “You want to stop by my office?”
She shook her head. “Just take me home. I’m calling it a day. Unless something pops up before then, I need to spend some time with my kid. I want to see for myself how she’s handling everything that’s happened. Dawn’s always thought of Kevin as this larger-than-life person who’s somehow above the danger I face daily.”
“A father-daughter relationship isn’t about facts. It’s about emotions.”
“That’s precisely why I’m worried about her. She adores Kevin. Half the reason I think she wants to leave the Rez and go to school in D.C. is because she wants to spend more time with him.”
“I don’t think you’re seeing the whole picture,” Blalock said slowly. “If you leave the Rez, you and Kevin are also bound to spend more time together—or at least more so than you are now. In a city of strangers, you’d be more inclined to hang out with each other, and my guess is that Dawn’s counting on that.”
Ella looked at him in surprise. “That can’t be it. My kid knows there’s no hope of Kevin and I getting back together. And she likes the man I’m dating—Ford.”
“You’re using logic. Think with the heart of a kid who has a big imagination—one who dreams big and can see what she wants right there in front of her.”
“You may have a point there.” What he said rang true, but Kevin and she were nothing more than a footnote in history. Even before she discovered she was pregnant, their romance had ended.
Ella’s thoughts then shifted to Ford and her chest tightened. Although she cared deeply for him, there was an emotional and physical distance between them that neither could bridge. Religion—it had divided people and nations since the beginning of time. At one time, she’d thought they’d be able to work things out, but she’d learned the hard way that in situations like these, compromises satisfied no one. In time, their different beliefs were bound to pull them apart. She suspected that he’d soon be asking her to convert to his religion—a logical assumption considering he was a preacher—and she knew already that would never happen. Ultimately, Ella realized their relationship had little chance of growing beyond the current level.
As Blalock passed through the town of Shiprock, turning south in the direction of her home, Ella shook free of the thought. Worrying about what might be was as bad as living in the past. That made it easy to overlook today, and the present was all anyone really had.
SEVEN
When Blalock pulled up to her house, Ella said good-bye and started walking toward the porch. On the way, she saw the yellow sports car parked by the side of the house, and cringed. Abigail Yellowhair was here.
Ella had warned Rose repeatedly not to trust Abigail’s friendship, that the woman had an agenda, but Rose had still been willing to give Abigail the benefit of the doubt and had welcomed Abigail into the Plant Watchers. The group Rose led shared knowledge and protected native plants that often played an important role in the tribe’s rituals and healing ceremonies. Rose’s expertise was so valued that she was also a tribal consultant, recording and locating plant specimens for Navajo botanists, environmentalists, and officials working to protect the natural heritage.
As Ella came into the kitchen, Abigail looked up from the table and gave her a cold nod. “It’s good to see you doing so well,” she said, her voice not matching her forced smile. “Since this morning I’ve heard a lot more about the events at the airstrip and your involvement.”
“Things were touch-and-go, but I’m fine. Thank you for your concern,” Ella said, matching her tone, then looked at Rose. “Is my daughter still up?”
Rose nodded. “She’s listening to music through those earphones. She says it helps her do her homework. I’m not so sure about that, but as long as her grades don’t slip, I don’t think we should say no.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Ella said, remembering that it was Kevin who’d bought her the iPod. Taking two of her mother’s oatmeal cookies from the plate on the kitchen table, she went down the hall to Dawn’s room.
As Ella entered, she saw Dawn sitting at her desk in front of her laptop computer. Ella touched her daughter’s shoulder, and Dawn’s jumped, startled.
“Sorry, Pumpkin,” Ella said, patting her gently.
Dawn closed the lid on the laptop, shut off the tiny music player, and took off her earphones. “Hey, Mom,” she said, scooting over to the bed quickly.
A wave of uneasiness suddenly swept through Ella. Dawn was only supposed to go on the Internet when an adult could see the screen as well. That was a house rule. Following her instincts, she went to her daughter’s computer and opened it. “What have you got here?”
“Mooom! I was just talking to my friend on Facebook,” Dawn said, hurrying over. “I couldn’t have any privacy in front of Mrs. Yellowhair.”
“This is a friend that you know and have seen in real life, right, not someone you met online?”
“It’s Clara, Mom,” she said pointing to the small photo of the girl Ella recognized as Dawn’s current best friend.
Ella took a closer look at the dialogue box, skimming the conversation that had been going on between the two girls.
“Mother, please!” Dawn protested, closing the laptop once again.
By then Ella had read enough to know that Dawn had been telling Clara how worried she was about both her parents.
Although this was a subject she wanted to broach with her daughter, Ella remained silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out the best way to do that.
“Will you be taking the job in Washington?” Dawn asked, suddenly diverting her.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Mom, you’ve got to take that job! Things would be more . . . I don’t know . . . normal,” she said at last. “Clara never has to worry about her parents. They come home at five-thirty every night. They always have dinner together, too, not just at Thanksgiving or somebody’s birthday. . . .”
Ella took a deep breath, then let it out. “There’s more to life than living by the clock. You’re very loved, daughter, and you have your Shimasání here when you come home.”
“Yeah, but if we made a few changes and worked a little harder, things could be even better. Think of all the stuff you and I and Dad could do in D.C.! And Shimasání could come with us, too, and maybe stay for weeks at a time. We could help all the Diné just by being us. Some people in the Anglo world think ‘Indian’ means ‘stupid.’ Or they think we’re like those people who play Indians in the movies. To them, every tribe is the same.”
“There’s some truth in what you’re saying,” Ella admitted slowly.
“You and Dad work for the tribe, and you want to make things better for all of us. If you work together, there isn’t anything you couldn’t do for the Diné.”
“Whoa! I’m a police officer, not a politician,” Ella said with a ghost of a smile.
“But in our nation’s capital, you could do even more important things for the tribe. And it’s not like you couldn’t ever see your boyfriend, Ford,” she added. “Of course he’s not like you and Dad but . . .”
Ella looked at her daughter and waited, hoping Dawn would finish her thought. She didn’t want to guess what was on her kid’s mind.
“The thing is, Mom, he doesn’t work for the tribe, not really,” Dawn said at last. “He works for his church—preaching and trying to get other Navajos to join. Stuff like that. He does a lot of good things for people, but mostl
y it’s for the ones who go to his church.”
“He practices his own beliefs, sure, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” Ella argued. “This country gives everyone a chance to express their religions, or choose not to have one.”
“Okay. But you and Dad are Navajo first, and Mom, that matters.”
Ella stared at her little girl. She’d voiced some very adult ideas. Yet as the computer made a dinging sound, and Dawn opened it to see the screen, it was almost as if someone had flicked a switch. “Oh, Mom, look! Jane got a hamster! Isn’t he cute? Can we get one?”
“We’ll see,” Ella said with a sigh. Kissing her daughter’s forehead, she stepped out into the hall. If this had been a preview, she was nearly certain she wouldn’t survive Dawn’s teenage years.
As Ella entered the kitchen once again, Abigail stood. “I’ll be going now and let you two have some time together.” Abigail gave Rose a warm smile, then slipped out of the kitchen.
Moments later they heard her car pulling away.
“So what brought your friend over tonight?” Ella asked.
“She’s working with me on the Prickly Weed Project.” Rose took a deep breath. “If anyone had told me that I’d actually be growing ch’il deeníní in my garden, I would have told them they were crazy.”
Ella chuckled. “I’ve read the newspaper articles. It’s supposed to be a potential source of ethanol, which is added to gasoline to reduce fuel consumption. If it works, and they can stop using corn to produce fuel, that, in turn, could lower food and animal feed prices.”
“And become a huge crop for our tribe,” Rose added. “Unlike the casinos, this can bring us nothing but good. We’d be making use of something that’s readily available to lessen the nation’s dependency on foreign oil. I’m proud to be able to take part in this. Some of the Plant Watchers are now busy trying to find places on the Navajo Nation where tumbleweeds already flourish. That hasn’t been difficult, the weed grows almost everywhere, but we also need to see how easy it is to grow them where we want them to be. That’s why there’s a crop planted in our backyard.”
“You may regret that decision,” Ella said with a wry smile.
“If this works, Navajo families who don’t have other job skills may be able to grow prickly weed and earn a living,” Rose said.
“Isn’t there some hitch in the pilot project right now, something to do with the project’s location?”
She nodded. “The land the tribe wants to use is ideally situated, adjacent to the current Navajo Irrigation project and close to a road network near Farmington. Unfortunately, that has also been occupied by the same Navajo family for years and they don’t want to turn the bulk of it back to the tribe.”
“Well, if they’re using it, why should they?”
“That’s just it, they aren’t, and since no individual owns tribal land, they have to abide by our laws. They can’t keep those parcels unless they’re farming the land or using it for grazing,” Rose said. “Of course they claim they still have animals, but they let their grazing permits expire years ago. There have been chapter house meetings about this already, but I don’t think anything’s been resolved. Of course it will be eventually, and once it is, the Prickly Weed Project will undoubtedly become an incredible gift to the tribe.”
“And that’s why the new Plant Watcher has decided to take part in the project,” Ella said, referring to Abigail. “If there’s good publicity to be had . . .”
“Daughter, you’re too hard on her,” Rose answered. “We have our family. Our lives are full, but she has very little except for money, which, in this case, I understand she’s invested every last dime in the project. It explains her enthusiasm, I suppose. Her biological daughter passed on years ago in that accident, then her husband was shot dead. She adopted that other girl, who turned out to be a criminal. Poverty isn’t the only evil among us.”
“Mom, you’ve got too good of a heart, but don’t trust her, okay? People don’t change,” Ella added, recalling with amusement Blalock’s description of Abigail as the “she wolf.”
“Some do,” Rose answered quietly, not noticing the hint of a smile on Ella’s face. “But let’s not talk about this now. I’m too tired.” She stood and walked to the doorway. “I’m going to bed early. I’ve had a very long day.”
Ella said good night, then as her mother disappeared from view, went down the hall. To her disappointment Dawn had already turned off her lights. She’d hoped to spend a little more time with her daughter tonight.
As she went to her own room, she tried not to think about Abigail Yellowhair or the PPS job that hung in the balance. These days, it was always there in the back of her mind. But there were other priorities now. She had to find whoever had attacked Adam and Kevin before she could shift her attention to anything else.
Police work—she lived it and breathed it on a daily basis. It defined her and filled her with purpose. And sometimes it was the only thing in her life that made perfect sense.
TUESDAY
Ella woke early the following morning. The household wasn’t up, so she made coffee as she phoned Justine.
“I was just about to call you,” Justine answered. “Need me to pick you up?”
“Sure do. Then we’ll go over to the casino’s business offices. Let’s see if we can figure out where the money Adam was carrying came from.”
“We need to find out more about Grady,” Justine said. “Benny said that he followed up on what you’d told him and that Grady’s alibi seems to check out. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t set up the hit. We need to find out more about the man—unofficially.”
“Do you know someone who could help us do that?” she asked, sensing what Justine had left unsaid.
“I sure do. My second cousin, Martin, on my dad’s side, works for the casino.”
“What’s he do there?”
“He’s the assistant office manager—and as honest as the day is long, Ella. I don’t want to approach him at the office because I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his job. But it’s barely seven now. If we hurry, we might be able to catch him before he leaves for work.”
“Where’s he live?”
“In Fruitland—not far from the casino, actually.”
“Then get here as soon as you can,” Ella said, knowing it was a half-hour drive from her house. Fruitland was east of Shiprock and adjacent to Kirtland. The casino was south of that valley community, just across the San Juan River and on tribal land.
“I’m on my way to your house now,” Justine said. “I should be there in ten or less.”
Ella stepped outside and Two came out with her. The old mutt—a rescue who’d just shown up one day—loved the early morning sun. He usually lay out on the hard ground beside the porch, soaking up the rays. Ella bent down to pet him. Though Two was getting up in years, he was in remarkably good shape.
“Hey, buddy,” Ella said softly.
The mutt wagged his tail furiously, then lay beside her as she sat on the porch swing Herman had built for her mother.
Two was the perfect family dog. Whenever anyone was sick or troubled about something, Two would remain with them until the crisis passed. He was a good friend to each of them, but he favored Rose. Her mother, in turn, adored the dog and was always cooking or buying special treats for the guy.
A short time later, just as Ella finished her coffee, Justine pulled up. Ella scratched Two behind the ears one more time, got into the car, and fastened her seat belt. “Tell me more about this cousin of yours,” she said as they got underway.
“He and I have always been good friends. I called right after I spoke to you, just to make sure we caught him. He said to come over and he’d do his best to help us.”
They arrived at a small house below the mesa along the San Juan River a short distance from Kirtland. There was a well-tended apple orchard surrounding the white cottage, and the apples looked ready to drop. A young Navajo man in his late twenties, short like Justine, came out to meet
them as the vehicle tires were crunching in the gravel drive.
“I’ve got fresh coffee inside,” he said, opening the gate on the white picket fence and gesturing for them to follow him.
As they sat around the kitchen table, he placed mugs of fresh coffee before them. “I don’t have to be at work until nine, and the drive takes less than ten minutes. That means I’ve got plenty of time, so fire away.”
Ella sipped the coffee and found it incredibly good. Choosing to take it as an omen, she leaned back in her chair. “You’ve heard about the shooting outside Shiprock, right?”
“It even made CNN—of course I know about that,” he answered. “And since Kevin Tolino’s the one after Grady, people are saying that Alan’s behind it somehow. But I don’t believe it. It’s too obvious, and my boss isn’t stupid.”
“Then who do you think is responsible?” Justine asked him.
“I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the casino. If I had to guess I’d say it’s an enemy one of you guys made, you in particular, Ella. Talk to Grady yourself, you’ll see. The man’s too smart and too smooth to pull something this brazen.” He paused. “Of course, all the talk going around took its toll, so right now he’s going to be hard to find.”
“Why’s that?” Ella asked. “He’s not going in to work, or what?”
“The tribal president called Grady yesterday at work and placed him on a paid leave of absence until the investigation is finished. Mind you, Grady doesn’t take me into his confidence, I’m just a minor league player, but I know his assistant. Betsy Dodge and I get along great, and she and I talk all the time.”
“Do you have any idea what the reason was for the leave of absence?” Justine asked. “It can’t be just because of the talk.”
“You didn’t hear this from me, okay? But here’s what went down,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, though no one else was around. “According to Betsy, Grady got a call last week from BIA honchos in Washington. Some of Grady’s business contacts are suspected organized crime figures in Arizona who—as it turns out—have investments in a tribal casino. There’s already an investigation underway in that state about money laundering and political corruption associated with casino activity, and Grady ended up in a BIA report as a person of interest. The tribal attorney general’s office found out about that almost right away and since the tribal president had asked to be kept in the loop, they informed him shortly thereafter.”
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