by Aimée
The project had been mostly a labor of love. She certainly hadn’t been paid enough for the time she’d spent on the work, but Rose had performed an invaluable service for the tribe, and now that information, in digital form, could be preserved forever.
When Ella went to answer her ringing phone, she was surprised to hear Gerald Bidtah on the other end.
“Investigator Clah, I’m planning to be in Shiprock and I’d like to meet with you this morning. Will you be available?” Bidtah asked.
“No, sir. We’re at a critical point in a double homicide investigation and we’ve just uncovered an important lead.”
“Your people can’t follow it up for you?” he snapped.
“As lead investigator, I handle certain aspects myself. It’s even more so in a complicated case like this one.”
“Harry Ute’s murder?”
“Yes, sir. And another victim just last night.”
“Stay on the trail, then. You’ve done excellent work coordinating federal, county, and tribal law enforcement, Clah,” Bidtah said. “I know that you’ve undoubtedly heard about the restructuring within the department, but rest assured your future is secure. Your experience is invaluable to us.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Make good choices, Investigator Clah, and the sky’s the limit.”
“Yes, sir,” Ella said, her voice strained. What she really wanted to do was hang up on the sanctimonious prick.
“Call me as soon as you can free up an hour in your schedule. We need to talk about your future with the department.”
“Yes, sir.” Ella placed the receiver down and swallowed back her distaste.
Maybe once Harry’s murder was solved, she’d have a better feel for what her next step should be. Until then, she had work to do. Ella hurried to her partner’s office and found Justine and Rose seated beside the large central counter. Her mom was wearing gloves, probably a double set.
“Seeds plus this tiny fragment tell me all I need to know. In Navajo, that plant is called Ch’il lizhini. It means ‘black plant,’ but most just call it blackbrush. Look at the stem. It’s a distinctive dark gray. The leaves were a dull green once, and those long spurs eventually become thorns,” Rose said. “It’s one of the few plants without any recorded medicinal or ceremonial use. It grows around sand dunes, and helps stabilize them.”
“Mom, do you know if it’s a species that’s prevalent in any areas right around here?” Ella asked, joining them.
Rose took a deep breath. “The closest one I know of is around Little Wash, west of Rattlesnake,” she said. “I’m sure there are some other sites in that general area, too. Wind distributes the seeds.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Justine said. “Can you give us a list of other places around the Four Corners where it can be found?”
“I’ll have to look that up for you once I get home and have a chance to check my notes,” Rose said. “But remember that the Plant People like to move around, and they settle where they will. No one can tell them where they should go.”
Rose picked up her purse and Ella walked her mom back to her pickup.
“I’ll get you that information as soon as I can,” Rose said.
“Thanks, Mom.”
After Rose drove off, Ella hurried back inside, where Justine was waiting. “Where’s the rest of our team?”
“Joe and Benny are at E. Atcitty Construction,” Justine said. “Ralph broke a tooth eating piñon nuts on break, so he’s off at the dentist’s.”
“So it’s just you and me,” Ella said. “Little Wash isn’t far from where we found Harry’s body. Let’s go over there. We have to take a closer look around and check for disturbed earth, tool marks, or tracks. If an illegal dig is taking place in the area, maybe that’s at least part of the reason Harry was killed.”
“An illegal dig, skinwalkers, murder … It doesn’t get any worse than that.”
“I sure wish you hadn’t said that,” Ella muttered.
By the time they arrived at the edge of Little Wash, Ella could see how tense Justine had grown. “What’s up, partner?”
“It’s the feel of this place. There’s evil out here, partner. We’ve seen the evidence of skinwalkers for ourselves.”
“Fear is one of their most valuable weapons, cuz. If you refuse to be afraid of them, they lose their power over you. Stay strong.”
Justine turned off the path and parked. There, on ground zero, they began a careful search for the plant Rose had identified. Little Wash was a long, meandering arroyo that ran for several miles. Their plan was to search the sandy areas along the perimeter of the arroyo first.
After ten minutes of searching fruitlessly, Justine glanced at Ella. “I’m going up that rise to get a better view of the entire area. From there, I’ll look for clusters of blackbrush.”
“I’ll stick to lower ground and check out places where runoff collects,” Ella answered, continuing to work.
Ella worked north to south, and reaching a section between two low hills, saw Mrs. Yazzie’s sheep grazing nearby. Mrs. Yazzie, Norman’s grandmother, stood in the shade beneath a tall juniper with her dog and waved. “If you’re going to be working here, I’ll take them back to their pen,” she called out.
Ella jogged over to talk to her. “Do you come out this way often?”
Mrs. Yazzie nodded. “I like eating lunch on that hollowed-out rock over there. It’s cool and I can keep watch over my sheep,” she said, pointing. “You’re not looking for more bodies, are you?” Her eyes were widening with fear.
“No, just a species of native plant,” Ella answered quickly. “The locals call it blackbrush or black plant. Do you know it?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I don’t pay attention to all of the Plant People, just the kinds that can harm my sheep, like broom snakeweed. It’s one of our Life Medicines—good for people, but bad for livestock. At least my flock has always had the good sense to avoid it.” She looked up at the sky. “It’s time for me to move them on. That way they won’t overgraze.”
Mrs. Yazzie said good-bye, then, with the assistance of her nondescript-looking but well-trained dog, began herding her sheep in the general direction of her home, visible in the distance.
Ella quickly turned her attention back to work. Glancing around, she saw the hollowed-out rock Mrs. Yazzie had mentioned. As she walked over to check it out, something on the ground caught her eye.
On a flat layer of sandstone beneath a low overhang was a small ash painting. She had a feeling it had been placed there for the express purpose of scaring Mrs. Yazzie. It was a good thing she hadn’t come here today.
“Justine,” she called out.
Her partner jogged over, followed Ella’s line of sight, and stopped about six feet away. “What’s that doing here? Are skinwalkers after Mrs. Yazzie now?”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” Ella said. “I’m going to call my brother. I want him to see this firsthand.”
Ella pulled out her cell phone, but unable to reach Clifford, was forced to leave a message instead. “He knows it’s urgent,” she told Justine, “so hopefully he’ll call me back soon.”
“There’s something that looks like a little medicine bag over there, on top of that flat rock,” Justine said, pointing with her chin.
Ella circled toward that high spot, searching the ground for footprints along the way but finding none. “That’s not a regular leather pouch. From the looks of it, I think it’s made from the skin of a horned toad. It’s one of their calling cards.”
“There are other things here,” Justine said, going over and studying what was on the ground. “It’s a bunch of human hair, like the tangle you’d pull from a hairbrush, weighed down with a rock. And there are nail clippings, too.”
“Try to get a DNA match on those,” Ella said. “Skinwalkers steal personal things like those and use them to cast spells to make their victims suffer and die.”
Justine shuddered.
“It’s just somebody’s hair and nails,” Ella said. “Stay focused, cuz.” As her phone rang, Ella glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Clifford.
Ella described the scene to him, then waited for her brother to comment, but there was only silence at the other end. “Did you get all that?” she asked. “I can send photos to your cell.”
“I’d rather see the display in person, and frankly, I don’t want this kind of evil showing up in my cell phone gallery. These things, if they are real, have power of their own, and my family uses this phone sometimes. Humor me on this, okay?”
“Okay. But so far, what’s your take on this, brother?”
“From your description, I’ve got to say it sounds like the real deal, but I’ve never seen those signs and displays all in one place,” he said at last. “I’ll come over and take a look, but in the meantime, don’t touch anything with your bare hands. You need to watch for contamination with datura, poison ivy, and other dangerous plants. Some of those are particularly nasty if inhaled, so don’t go sniffing around, either, trying to pinpoint a scent that may seem peculiar to you.”
“Good to know, brother.”
“I’ll be there in about forty minutes,” he said.
Ella joined Justine. “My brother’s coming to take a look.”
“As soon as we can, we should talk to Truman,” Justine said, taking photos of the drypainting from different angles. “He’s Navajo, a social studies teacher, teaches Navajo culture, and he’s probably a skilled researcher as well. He may be our man.”
“I agree. The teacher’s been out of work for months, yet still seems to be prospering. If he’s found a way to make some extra money, like working an illegal dig and selling the artifacts to O’Donnell, he might have decided to use fear to keep others away from his site.”
“But then why not take credit and let people think he’s a skinwalker?” Justine asked.
“Remember what happened to his grandfather? He probably wants to make sure he stays in control—in other words, undiscovered. He doesn’t want to end up dead.”
“One thing—there’s no way our friend came across this drypainting,” Justine said, avoiding Harry’s name now that they were so close to where he’d died. “It rained Tuesday, the day he was killed, and Wednesday it was windy and dusty. Like the other things we’ve seen recently, even the tracks at the crime scene, this display was created at least a day or two after the murder.”
Ella studied it and nodded. “If our friend was killed by a skinwalker protecting an illegal dig that would tie in to Billy O’Donnell, too, the man marketing the artifacts. Billy must have put things together when our friend turned up dead, but figured it was to his advantage to keep his mouth shut. Then when we caught Billy with the illegal pots and stuff, he knew the only way to avoid jail time was to identify his source. The skinwalker knew that, too, so he killed Billy, the only person who could identify him.”
“I’m also thinking along those lines, partner,” Justine said.
“The problem is that in order to prove any of this, we need more than a theory. My gut tells me that our best bet is to identify the mystery ‘hooker’ who picked up our friend at that bar,” Ella said. “She’s tied to the killer. Otherwise, the timing of that ‘date,’ the missing laptop, and H’s murder are way too coincidental.”
“We looked into Alice Cisco’s background, but ruled her out despite her resemblance to the woman in the sketch,” Justine said.
“Yes, but we never considered Eileen, who’s older and appears to be a die-hard New Traditionalist. Would she do whatever Truman asked without question? We need to get Eileen’s prints, not Alice’s, and compare those with the ones on the belt buckle.”
Justine nodded. “A wig and makeup can make for an amazing transformation. Give her a halter top and a push-up bra, and most men wouldn’t spend much time looking at her face.”
“Once my brother gets a chance to check things out here, we’ll turn the scene over to other officers. They can continue the search. You and I need to go over to Teeny’s and use his special software.”
TWENTY
Since Benny and Joe were still busy at E. Atcitty Construction, Ella recruited Victoria Bitsillie and asked her to provide a team to search the area for signs of a dig.
Ella called Teeny next and described what she needed. He assured her he’d have something for her by the time she arrived at his compound.
Ella didn’t have to wait long for the first of the search team to arrive. Though it was her off-duty day, Victoria came within twenty minutes of Ella’s call. Four other officers also arrived on scene minutes later.
Victoria fastened a small medicine pouch to her belt, then put on two sets of gloves. “My ad hoc team will search for signs of a dig, but tell me again about the evidence of evil you found.”
“There’s an ash drypainting around that hollowed-out rock,” Ella said, and pointed.
“Okay.” Victoria glanced down at the pouch on Ella’s waist. “When you called, you mentioned that your brother was on his way?”
Ella nodded. “He should be here anytime now,” she said, then warned her about Frenzy Witchcraft plants.
“I’ll tell everyone. My team will also need special protection. Maybe your brother could provide the officers with medicine pouches? Under the circumstances, I’m sure the department would compensate him.”
“If I know my brother, he’ll be bringing extra medicine pouches with him for whoever needs one.”
“Good.” Victoria glanced around, studying the area. “How far out do you want us to search?”
Ella told her the areas she and Justine had already searched, then described the plant her mother had identified. “If you find any of those plants, search the adjacent areas very carefully. Beyond that, use whatever strategy works for the team.”
“I’m acquainted with blackbrush. My shimasání used to call it useless brush,” Victoria said with a smile. “She’s a Plant Watcher, too.”
“Maybe she knows my mom,” Ella said.
Victoria shook her head. “Bi adin doo holo da—bi,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Ella said, understanding from her words that Victoria’s grandmother had passed away. There was no direct way in Navajo to say that a person had died. The word adin, which was used to describe death, meant the absence of everything. Translated, what Victoria had said was that her grandmother didn’t exist anymore.
“My shimasání sounds a lot like your mother. She knew the land and lived in harmony with it,” Victoria said, then walked away to join her team.
Hearing the familiar sound of her brother’s big truck, Ella turned her head. Like a giant ATV, it could go practically anywhere on the Navajo Nation, even places where roads were scarce.
Clifford, wearing the white headband that identified him as a hataalii, climbed out of the four-wheel-drive vehicle and looked around.
“Sister,” he said, coming over carrying a small cardboard box. “I’ve brought some medicine pouches for anyone who might need them.”
“Good. I’ve already been asked about that,” she said, then waved at Victoria.
“I know her,” Clifford said, and smiled. “Her great-uncle taught me to be a hataalii.”
“She never mentioned that,” Ella said.
“Uncle,” Victoria said, walking up and greeting Clifford. “It’s good to see you here.” She looked down at the box. “Are those for our officers?”
“Yes, feel free to hand them out.”
“Thank you, uncle. Four of my people are unprepared for this kind of danger.”
“Have you already seen the drypainting my sister found?” he asked, handing her the box.
Victoria shook her head. “This time I have a different job.”
As Victoria walked away with the medicine bags, Ella looked at her brother. “What did she mean by ‘this time’? Have you worked with her before?”
“It was ten or twelve years ago, I think. Her great-uncle over by Teece Nos
Pos asked for my help. Three skinwalkers had staked out their territory, and people were being witched. When I arrived, I saw he’d brought her along to help.”
“Why? That’s no place for a kid, and she must have been my daughter’s age back then.”
“It surprised me, too, until I saw her work. That woman has a very special gift.” He gazed at Victoria, then looked back at Ella. “I’m a hataalii, a Singer, and my power comes from the Songs and the knowledge I’ve acquired through the years. Hers is a divine gift. She’s a stargazer.”
“You mean a diagnostician, like a hand-trembler?”
“No, not like that. She has the ability to gaze into a rock crystal and find things that are missing.” He paused. “Her abilities are … remarkable.”
Her brother never handed out praise easily, so his words surprised her. “Does she work as a stargazer when she’s off duty?”
He shook his head. “According to my teacher, to develop her talent, she would have had to apprentice with one who’s like her. Unfortunately, like many of our young people, she won’t even acknowledge that the gift is hers.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure, but I do know her older brother is a pastor at a very conservative Christian church in Farmington. He preaches that her gift is a mark of the devil. Maybe that has something to do with the choices she’s made.”
Ella watched Victoria, a consummate professional, direct the officer in a methodical search pattern. Ella had a feeling that little escaped her careful gaze.
“It looks to me like she’s reconciled who she is with the ways of the future and the needs of our tribe. I admire her for that.”
Ella led Clifford to the drypainting and watched as her brother crouched down and studied it closely.
“Some of the details of the drypainting aren’t quite right, but the one who made this may have been in a hurry,” he said.