"I'm here with you now. My friendship with your brother doesn't require that."
"If you are my friend, then why don't you trust me?"
"Why do you ask me for something you can't give me in return? To walk in beauty, there has to be balance."
BLACKENING SONO X 1Q7
He was right. There was nothing else she could say. Time was what they needed most, and what they most lacked.
Wilson stopped at a soft, sandy spot halfway up a hill. "We'll rebury the belt here. Then we'll go back."
He dug a hole with a stout branch, then dropped in the belt, along with the handkerchief he'd used to handle it. Once he'd covered them with dirt, he reached into his pocket and brought out a small pouch of pollen. He touched a pinch of pollen to her lips, then to his own, while uttering a prayer. Then, he released the yellow dust, scattering it to the winds. "May our trail be in pollen."
She remembered the ritual blessing. Pollen was light. It signified peace and prosperity. It was hope because from it came life. For that one instant, she felt the power of beliefs that were as old as the Dineh. Once again, she was part of what she'd left behind.
As they started back, a feather floated across her path. Ella said, "The dust devil swept something good toward us. I remember my brother teaching me that feathers stand for beauty and happiness, and are present whenever a transformation is about to take place." She reached for the feather, had just grasped it, when Wilson said, "Let it go."
"Why? It's beautiful. Look at the brown and white markings. It's almost striped."
She held it toward him, but he brushed it out of her hand. Seeing the surprise on her face, he pursed his lips, pointing Navajo style. The rotting carcass of a dead owl, covered in similar feathers and bursting with maggots, lay at the base of a nearby pinon tree.
"That bird is a sign of ill omen to the Dineh; surely you know that." Wilson took Ella's hand and, led her away.
"Then it's a good sign that the owl is dead, right?" Ella asked.
"I wish I could answer that," Wilson mumbled as they walked back toward the crowd and safety.
Rose patted down the dirt around the last plant, then stood, brushed off her skirt, and walked over to turn on the garden hose. "Did you see Wilson?"
"Yes, of course. He and I had a long talk." Ella wondered now, had they just wandered into each other, or had Wilson sought her out?
Rose placed the hose, running at a trickle, so it would soak the area she'd just planted. She studied her daughter's expression. "You're beginning to understand. I'm glad to see that."
"Understand? What do you mean?" Ella asked, thrown by her mother's statement.
"You know precisely what I mean. That boy's been interested in you since high school."
Ella gave her mother an incredulous look. "No way. He didn't even know I was alive."
Rose laughed. "My daughter the great detective! You miss what's right in front of your face!"
"I don't see it because it's not there," Ella argued. Clearly she couldn't discuss her doubts about Wilson with her mother without affecting their own relationship.
Rose Destea laughed again, then led the way inside. Ella dropped her pistol in her room. "How can you be so smart and still so blind!"
"Mom, he dated almost everyone but me! In fact, he'd avoid me even when he came over to visit with Clifford."
"Exactly." Rose walked to the kitchen and poured them each a glass of her special blend of iced tea.
"I don't get it."
"You were Clifford's little sister. He was very careful not to do anything that might strain their friendship. Brothers can be very protective."
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"Well, maybe that was some of it, but he certainly wasn't interested in me, not in a boy-girl-type way."
Rose's eyes twinkled. "Should I assume you've also managed to miss his interest in you now?" A tiny smile played on her lips.
Ella averted her gaze, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She considered protesting, then changed her mind. Better that her mom thought it was a budding romance than a direct consequence of the murder.
"No answer?" Rose insisted playfully.
Ella shrugged.
Rose chuckled. "There's hope for you yet."
Ella couldn't believe that her mother was teasing her. It had been ages since she'd done that. As Ella looked around for a coaster to place under her moisture-covered glass of tea, she noted that sacred pollen had been sprinkled everywhere. A thin yellow trail lay on the windowsills, and in each corner of the room.
"Did you have company while I was gone?" she asked suddenly, suspecting Clifford had been around.
"Company? No guests have been here."
"Don't be evasive, Mom. Someone's blessed the house."
"Oh, so you see that!" Rose smiled.
"Mom!" Ella tried to make her voice sound sharp, but failed miserably. She sounded like a child, not a top investigator. "Was my brother here?" Had he been watching the house and seen her leave, or had someone tipped him off?
"You came to that conclusion from a little corn pollen? Our tribe has more than one hataalii, daughter." Rose filled a plate with cookies.
"Yes, but not in this chapter. And you still haven't answered my question. Was Clifford here?"
112 K AIMEE & DAVID THURLO
''It seems you've already made up your mind. Why bother asking me?"
Ella sighed. She was getting nowhere. Her mother could dodge questions better than any criminal she'd ever met. She smiled, remembering how Peterson Yazzie had claimed the same applied to her.
"Tell me about the barbecue," Rose said, setting the plate of cookies on the table in front of Ella.
She hesitated, wondering how much her mother was prepared to know. "It was ... interesting."
Rose sat up straight. "Tell me what happened."
Ella told her about meeting and talking with Anna, then described the discovery Wilson and she had made, gauging her mother's calm reaction carefully. "Why aren't you surprised?"
"That area around the new church is evil. I've always felt it, and so have many others. Nothing that you found there would shock me."
"Is what's happening at that site linked to the reason Clifford is on the run?"
"As a hataalii, your brother is the sworn enemy of any skinwalker. Keep that firmly in mind while you search for your answers."
"And what do you think I'll find?" Ella asked, certain her mother knew far more than she was admitting.
"You'll have to decide for yourself." Rose paused. "I received a phone call earlier from Loretta's brother, Paul. It seems the police have started watching her. When Paul took her to the market, they saw a car with two men following them."
"Were they certain the men were police officers?"
Rose nodded. "Paul recognized one of them—and he thinks he's being followed too. He saw some lights behind
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him when he went to the pharmacy last night. From what I've heard, the police have been questioning all of Clifford's friends, trying to find out where he's hiding."
"Wilson didn't mention that," Ella said thoughtfully, wondering why he hadn't. "Maybe they haven't gotten to him yet," she added. She'd ask Peterson about it later.
It occurred to Ella that except for Wilson, she didn't know who Clifford's friends were. It was part of the price she'd paid for being out of touch for so long with her fam-ily.
Ella heard a vehicle driving up the dirt track. Moving to the side of the window, she peered out. "It's Wilson."
Rose grinned. "See, he misses you already."
"Right, Mom," Ella answered, knowing that she was being teased. "Just an hour without me was too hard for him to bear."
"Poor love-struck man!"
"Oh, puh-leese!"
Rose nodded toward the door. "Go greet him. It's you he came to see."
"How do you know?"
Rose gave her a steady look and smiled. "My intuition is better than yours. Mor
e years, more experience."
She realized that her mother was right. Ella's own intuition hadn't done her much good on this case. She had to start thinking like a cop, not a victim.
Ella waved to Wilson from the porch. Watching him walk, she realized that something was worrying him, and her trained instincts focused on discovering what he was hiding.
"You should have stayed a little longer at the barbecue," he said quietly when he reached her.
Ella glanced into the house. Her mother was still in the
kitchen. "What happened?" she asked, her voice deliberately low.
"FB-Eyes showed up."
Ella grimaced. "What's Blalock done now?"
"He badgered everyone about Clifford. He tried to act polite, but everybody knows that with him, it is an act. He's convinced your brother's being hidden by his traditionalist friends, and he wants to stir the progressives into betraying him."
"He'll keep putting pressure on people, offering deals or making threats. He won't let up until he gets some leads," Ella said ruefully.
"It doesn't matter what he does. He still won't get anywhere. Your mother told you about FB-Eyes' big AWOL arrest, didn't she?"
She nodded, then narrowed her eyes and studied Wilson speculatively. "You're awful damn sure that Blalock won't get anywhere. Does that mean that you think my brother really is acting entirely on his own, or that you think people would never betray him to Blalock?"
"Ah, the Blalock school of endless interrogation. I see I'm with a graduate."
"Well, we both trained in the same place. I'm just not as rude as he is." Ella smiled. "Talk to me. You know I'm the best chance Clifford's got."
"Not if you turn him in."
"Turning him in may be the best shot he's got."
"If you really understood what was going on, you wouldn't be so quick to say that."
"So enlighten me." Ella knew she was making progress with Wilson. He was at least talking to her about Clifford.
He took a deep breath, then let it out again. "I've got a better idea. Let me take you on a little drive. By the time we
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finish, I promise you'll have answers to many of your questions."
"Where do you want to go?" Ella's training told her to be wary. She wasn't going anywhere without both eyes open.
"You'll have to trust me."
"All right. Just let me tell Mother I'm leaving." After Ella spoke to her mother, she retrieved her gun and pocketed some extra ammunition before rejoining her guide. "I'm ready."
Wilson led her to his pickup, then held out his hand. "Your weapon, please."
"Why do you need it?"
"A precaution."
"Against what? You're in no danger from me. I'm sure you know that."
"Your choice," Wilson maintained. "Either give me your weapon or we stay here."
She reached underneath her windbreaker and handed him her pistol. "Satisfied?" She could feel her backup weapon safely inside her boot.
Nodding, he placed the pistol in the glove compartment. "A sign of trust between us; the gun won't be far from your reach."
Ella could feel that she wasn't in any danger. By playing along, she might finally get some answers.
Wilson drove toward the highway. The truck bounced hard, tossing them everywhere. She gripped the dashboard with one hand. Before the main road became visible ahead, Wilson pulled over.
"What's wrong?"
"From this point on, you'll have to cover your eyes." He offered her a clean blue bandanna.
116 It AIMEE & PAVIP THURLO
"What?"
"That's the only way we can proceed. I'm sorry, but it's for your own protection. Trust me, please."
"What's to keep me from removing the blindfold, or do you plan to tie my hands too?"
Wilson shook his head. "Your word will be good enough for me."
"Fine. You have it." She had the gut feeling he was taking her to see Clifford, and this was the chance she'd been waiting for. She fully intended to use her training to keep the upper hand. He might have thought he was in control, but he was wrong. Ella shifted in her seat, angling away from him so he could tie the handkerchief over her eyes. She didn't like the feeling, but knowing her hands would remain free made her feel partially better.
"You know that you're in no danger. Your gun is in the glove compartment, and your hands are untied. Just do nothing until I tell you."
Ella shifted again until her back was against the seat. "I'm trusting you," she said reassuringly. She was less helpless than he thought.
"I won't betray you," Wilson answered. "I'm going to reach across you know and refasten your seat belt."
Although she was perfectly capable of doing it for herself, even blindfolded, she allowed him to help. Ella felt the warmth of Wilson's body as he leaned over her. His aftershave was musky and masculine. Shrugging off the pleasant warmth she felt from his nearness, she concentrated on the fact that his scent would help her ascertain his position if he moved away from her while she was still blindfolded.
She felt tension in the air, like an intense, unexpected storm.
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Finally he sat back and restarted the engine. The truck jerked forward.
Ella forced herself to concentrate, memorizing every bump in the road, trying to ascertain the direction in which they were traveling from the warmth of the sun on her face. She kept track of animal sounds, the rush of wind through a canyon, anything that might give her a clue. She heard the distant sound of a lone oil well amidst the sound of birds. From that, and the scent of pinons, she grew confident that she'd be able to find the area again.
After they'd traveled for what seemed like an hour, she began to feel restless. She had a feeling that Wilson had anticipated her effort to gather clues from the land itself and had driven them in circles for a while. She knew it for sure when the pickup dipped sharply to the right and the underside collided with a sharp crack against a rock. That had happened before.
"We'll reach our destination soon," he said encouragingly.
"Try to miss a few of the bumps."
"Impossible out here. Sorry about that."
She felt the pickup slow down, then brake to a stop. "Why didn't you bring me here directly from the ceremony?" Ella asked, her voice taut. "Did you need someone's permission first?"
"You'll know the answer to that soon enough."
Wilson came around the truck and helped her down, then led her forward. She heard another set of footsteps. The strides were measured, and soft as a skilled hunter's. They were steps she recognized.
Wilson removed her blindfold, and she shaded her eyes with one hand, trying to adjust to the sudden influx of light.
When she could finally see, she nodded a greeting to her brother, Clifford, who was standing to her right.
His back was ramrod straight; a tiny smile played on his wide mouth. He was dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt that hung loosely outside his pants. Except for the medicine pouch on his belt, he was dressed like any of a thousand young Navajos. But Ella could sense the special charisma that gave Clifford his power over others.
Despite that power, he looked tired. There were dark circles around his eyes, and an aura of intense wariness that reminded her of the hunted, almost feral look she'd seen on many fugitives over the years. It attested to sleepless nights and the toll fear took when it became a constant companion.
Concern filled her as Clifford's gaze darted over the terrain behind her, searching with the thoroughness of a hunter who suddenly recognizes that he is the prey. "Why didn't you have Wilson bring me to see you sooner?" Ella asked, breaking the silence that had shrouded them all.
"Always criticizing, little sister," he teased softly, holding her hands for a moment.
Ella fought a sudden urge to hug him, respecting the tribal custom that discouraged physical contact between a man and a woman of the same clan. "You're in so much trouble! Will you let me h
elp you?"
"I'm the one who has to protect you." Clifford gestured toward a small, somehow familiar-looking old-style hogan hidden among a stand of tall pines halfway up the long slope the pickup had climbed. "Come inside."
Ella followed him in, then sat across from him on the cool dirt floor, glancing around. A two-burner gasoline stove and a box of canned goods suggested he'd been there for some time. The lack of new ashes in the fire pit told her he'd been careful about smoke. Were they close to other ho-
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gans? Realizing that Wilson had remained outside, she glanced at her brother questioningly. His eyes were half closed. Ella wondered how long it had been since he'd slept.
"He'll keep watch and make sure no one comes up unexpectedly. It's a necessary precaution." Clifford rubbed his eyes.
"Tell me what's going on."
"Our father is dead because he refused to believe the truth. Don't repeat his mistake. You have to listen to what I tell you with an open mind."
"I promise that I'll do whatever I can to help you. Remember, I'm trained to be observant and objective. I have no preconceptions."
He leaned back against the earthen and pine log sides of the small hogan. It was a type of structure called Tzin-yah'-dee klin', or logs stacked up. Constructing it required no woodworking tools. Navajo warriors in the story of the Cub Mountain Chant had occupied this kind of hogan in defense against the Utes. Ella knew she'd seen this place before, but it had been years. Damn her memory!
The hogan suited Clifford's traditionalist nature. He remained quiet for a few seconds, looking at her with eyes half open but very perceptive.
"Throughout your career, you've found a way to avoid the things you feared the most," he said. "Intangibles have always frightened you far more than anything you could visualize and define. What I have to say will make you remember what you've fought hard to forget."
"My memory's better than you think," she answered quietly. How like Clifford to put things in mystical or magical terms! She'd listen to his explanation, then make up her own mind.
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