by Aimée Thurlo
“Good point,” Emily said, chuckling as they climbed into the county car.
As they drove up the bumpy gravel road Ella glanced over at Emily Marquez. Her blond hair was wrapped up in a tight bun at the base of her neck. It was a severe hairstyle, but Ella had a feeling she was trying to downplay the fact that she was pretty. Good looks weren’t always a plus when working in a department filled with men. As a sergeant, she undoubtedly was far more concerned about commanding respect.
“You must have worked pretty hard to earn those,” Ella said, gesturing to her stripes.
Emily gave Ella a guarded look, then realizing the compliment was sincere, relaxed. “I’ve chosen law enforcement. When you love what you do, you give it everything.”
Ella nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way about my work.”
Emily glanced at Ella’s hands. “Which is probably why neither of us is great marriage material.”
Ella smiled. “I have a little girl. That and my job is all I can handle. No more kids for me, even if I do get married again.”
Emily nodded, her eyes on the dirt track ahead. “I had a daughter, but she passed away before she turned one. A blood disorder,” she added, her voice taut.
When they exchanged a glance, Ella saw the depth of her loss mirrored in her eyes and her heart went out to her.
“That was a long time ago. Now I have my work,” Emily said.
“There have been times in my life when working was all that kept me sane,” Ella said, remembering the death of her father. But what Emily had gone through was in many ways far worse. The loss of a child upset the natural order of things. No preparation could ever be sufficient. No matter how well Emily seemed to cope, as a mother, Ella knew that Emily lived with a hole in the place where her heart had been.
As if reading her mind, Emily added, “At first you think you’ll never get over it. You can’t understand how time continues to tick or why the sun continues to rise. But, eventually, you go on.”
But you’re never the same, Ella added silently.
“I’m active with kids in a different way now,” Emily said, her voice stronger now. “I coach a girls soccer team and they’re a terrific bunch. You should see my girls play.” They pulled up in the driveway of the house by the main road and Officer Marquez parked, turning off the engine.
“It’s too bad I didn’t know you before my kid got interested in horses. Believe me, I would have much rather bought her a soccer uniform and ball than a pony.”
Emily laughed. “We should get together sometime. You can teach me about horses and I’ll teach you about coaching soccer.”
“You’re on.”
As Emily and Ella stepped out of the car, a middle-aged Anglo woman came out her front door and stood on the porch.
“I saw the fire and heard the commotion, Officers. What’s going on? Is George all right?”
“Mr. Branch wasn’t injured,” Ella replied. “The fire began after someone rammed a car into the front of his house. The driver got away in a second truck. Were you up at the time, and did you happen to see a pickup go by your home right after the first disturbance?”
“I was and did. My husband leaves for work at seven so we’re up early. A truck came past here from the direction of his house, cut the corner, then went up onto the highway, tires squealing. I know he cut the corner because he broke off the corner fence post of my garden.” The woman pointed to the square post, which was hanging from the wire now.
“I ran outside and managed to catch a glimpse of the license plate,” she continued, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here. I wrote it down.” She handed the paper to Ella. “I have no idea if these are the same people who are responsible for what happened at George’s place, but I saw them hit my fence, and they can’t weasel out of that.”
“How many people were in the pickup?”
“Two, but I can’t tell you if they were men or women, or one of each. I didn’t get a close enough look. It happened too fast.”
“What color was the pickup and did it have any distinguishing marks?” Ella asked.
“It was old and dark brown. There might be some paint scraped off onto my fence post,” she said and pointed. “But I got you the license plate. Isn’t that enough to catch them?”
“Usually, but sometimes people steal license plates and put them on different vehicles—particularly if they’re about to commit a crime.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” she said.
Ella glanced around for Emily and saw her taking a photo of tire prints near the garden. “That’s where the truck fish-tailed, right?”
The woman nodded and followed Ella to where Emily was working. “Take all the photos you want and let me know if there’s anything more I can do to help. Someone that crazy needs to be caught. You can take the fence post too if the paint on it will help.”
“We’ll do that. If you see that truck around here again, give us a call, okay?” Emily said, handing her a card. “The department will send out a deputy right away.”
“Okay,” the woman answered.
“Thank you for your help,” Ella said, then glanced at Emily, who was placing a chip of paint taken from the post into a paper envelope. “Ready?”
“Just a second.” Sergeant Marquez labeled the envelope, writing down the address of the house as well.
After they were in the car, Ella handed her the license plate number. “Run a make on that, will you?”
Once they returned to Branch’s house, they had their answer over Sergeant Marquez’s handheld.
Ella was standing close enough to hear the report from the county sheriff’s dispatcher. Hearing Cardell Benally’s name come up once again, she quickly jotted down his address.
“That address is on your turf,” Emily said. “Do you know it?”
“I know the general area.” Thanking Emily for her help, Ella started to walk off.
“Wait a second.” Emily reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out one of her cards. “Give me a call and we can get together sometime.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that,” Ella said, giving Emily one of her own cards in return, then went to join Sheriff Taylor.
“We’re starting to work the scene,” he said. “But it’s going to take forever to process what the fire left of that car. From what we’ve been able to tell, there was a gasoline can tossed onto the engine to help the fire along after the crash. What did you turn up with the neighbor?”
Ella filled him in. “Cardell Benally is Arlene Hunt’s brother so he certainly would have had motive to pull something like this.”
“If we can place him at the scene, not just his truck, then we’ve got him and maybe whoever it was that provided the getaway vehicle.”
“While your people process the scene here, I’m going to head back to the Rez and see what I can get from that end.”
NINE
Ella called her team together and, after meeting in Big Ed’s office, filled everyone in on the early-morning events.
“You’re going to have a big problem with this one, Shorty,” Big Ed said.
“You mean because there are going to be people sympathizing with Cardell even if he did ram Branch’s home and set it on fire?”
“That, the influence of his brother-in-law, Lewis Hunt, and the fact that about twenty years ago Cardell was a Tribal Police officer,” Big Ed answered.
“Did you know him?” Ella asked.
Big Ed nodded. “He served for about five or six years. He worked from the Window Rock station and I was his lieutenant.”
Ella looked at the chief speculatively. “So, do you think he did this?”
Big Ed considered it for a while. “He might have, but if he did, he also probably found a way to cover his back or create some reasonable doubt for a jury, probably with the help of Councilman Hunt, who’s in a position to know how to cover his trail. We may have his truck linked to the scene, but we’re still going to have to place h
im in the vehicle at the time.”
Ella glanced at Justine. “What about Louise Sorrelhorse, Mrs. Hunt’s nurse. Did you check her out?”
“I spoke to her on the phone and she said that Arlene kept the car there for their use. That way they’d both have reasonably comfortable transportation if Arlene had a doctor’s appointment or needed to go shopping.” Justine paused and checked her notes. “Louise also has a very good alibi. Early this morning she was at mass. Father O’Riley served her communion and vouched for it. Then she served breakfast to her church group.”
“Any ideas who was driving the getaway vehicle?” Big Ed asked.
“Logic says it was Lewis Hunt,” Ella said. “But he’s an attorney as well as a councilman, so approaching him without some evidence already in hand is going to be tricky.”
“Be careful. Besides being very powerful politically, he’s also very smart. If you make one misstep, he’ll turn on you and the department,” Big Ed said. “The man has done some fancy maneuvering as an attorney, putting a spin on things so that the bad guys look squeaky clean when compared to the police.”
“He’s right,” Justine said. “I remember some talk about two years ago when Hunt filed civil charges against an officer at the Window Rock station. Hunt’s nephew had been hauled in for vandalism but Hunt got all the evidence thrown out of court on a technicality and then sued the officer and the department for harassment. Eventually, the suit was dropped, but if we go after him, we better make sure we do it by the book.”
“I’m on patrol today,” Neskahi said. “I’ll keep my ears open and if anyone I come in contact with has seen Hunt or Benally, I’ll pass the word along.”
Tache looked at the other officers with his normal, glum expression. “I’ve got photos of the Branch crime scene coming in, including those of the post that was knocked over and plenty of vehicle tracks. There will be footprints as well. I’ll study those and make a report based on what the county crime-scene team has found.”
“One more thing,” Chief Atcitty said. “The Benallys are traditionalists, for the most part. I know because my wife is a friend of that family. The entire clan was up in arms when Arlene married a modernist. They disapproved of the match, and of Lewis in particular. Then when Cardell went to work for Lewis, they nearly disowned him. I believe that the extended family—with the exception of Arlene—live next to one another over by Cudei.”
Ella considered what he said. “So if we can’t track down Cardell directly and we end up having to go to his family, they probably won’t talk to me—not until the Sing is done.”
“Exactly. But there’s more. Since Smiley decided to blow his own brains out yesterday, some new and very disturbing stories about you have been added to the ones already circulating out there. The way I heard it, you came out of the place where death lives and now it follows you like a friend. People who oppose you will die just as Smiley did.”
Ella’s stomach sank. She’d been alienated before when she’d first come back to the Rez but this promised to be far worse. Her very existence would become a source of contention for the tribe. The modernists would make a great show of not caring, as would the Christians. But to the traditionalists, she’d become a sign of everything that was wrong on the Rez—and of how Anglo influences that had supplanted the Navajo ways could end up endangering everyone. Religious beliefs, no matter the culture, seldom depended on logic and rationality and often brought out the worst in people. Hopefully, not all of the traditionalists would be against her. Clifford had a fine reputation and he’d said she was untainted. His opinion might carry among some of the Dineh.
“Do you plan to have the Sing done?” Big Ed asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Ella took a deep breath and let it out again. “I have no other choice, not if I want to continue working as a cop on this Rez.”
He nodded. “Until then, I’m sure you’ll find ways to get things done. In the meantime, I’m going to see if we can get you a search warrant for Cardell Benally’s house. Under the circumstances, I think we can persuade a judge.”
“Justine and I will drop by his home while that goes through and maybe we’ll find what we need without a warrant. If he’s there, he can answer some questions for us.”
As they all left the chief’s office, Justine glanced at Ella. “Let me check my computer real fast and get some more information on Cardell. Then we’ll go.”
“Too bad we don’t have computers in the cars like some of the bigger departments,” Ella said.
Justine laughed. “Computers? I’d settle for new tires.”
Ella went with her, then waited while Justine checked the databases. A moment later Justine hit the print command. “All I’ve got as an address is Cottonwood Canyon, which is northeast of the Cudei Chapter House. But it’ll be enough.”
Ella was quiet as they got under way moments later. Finally Justine glanced over at her. “What’s eating you, partner?”
“This whole business with the Sing bothers me. I’m having it done just to appease people and that seems wrong to me.”
“When you live and work on the Rez you have to follow certain rules and customs. You can’t change what is.”
Ella nodded thoughtfully. “I’m aware of that, and I’ll do it out of respect for others here. But it still bugs me.”
“My advice is accept it and don’t give it another thought.”
Ella nodded, but didn’t reply.
They drove through Shiprock and headed northwest on a road that paralleled the San Juan River. There were lots of small farms and fields in this area along the river valley.
After about fifteen minutes, they came upon several small homes along a curve in the river. Cardell Benally’s residence was a simple wood frame home with a cleared field to the right of the house. The small irrigation ditches that ran along one side toward the river were overgrown with weeds. No crops were being cultivated on the land and there were no animals or corrals anywhere, though a metal post in the ground with a long, light chain attached suggested that he’d owned a dog in the recent past.
“There are no trucks or other vehicles around. I don’t think he’s home,” Justine said.
As they got out, Ella noticed that two rosebushes by the front door were in need of water, though a garden hose was coiled nearby, still attached to a faucet. Ella knocked on the front door, but no sounds came from inside. After a moment, Ella walked around the side of the house and peered through an uncurtained window. The bed was made, and there was no sign that anyone had been there recently.
Justine came up beside her. “We still don’t have a search warrant so we can’t go in. But we can try the tribal offices where Benally works. If that doesn’t pan out, we can try his parents’ house.” Justine pointed toward two hogans farther down the road. “I think it’s one of those.”
“First, call Hunt’s office and see if Benally’s there.”
Justine did, then a moment later shook her head. “The secretary said that Cardell never came in this morning.”
“Then we go to the Benallys’.”
It took just a few seconds by vehicle to reach the two buildings. The smaller octagonal hogan in the back was probably used for ceremonial purposes. To the right side of the large hogan, which had a conventional door rather than a blanket across the entrance, was a corral made of interlocking branches. About thirty sheep were gathered there and an elderly man was in the process of feeding them.
“We stay in the unit until we’re invited,” Ella said.
Time passed slowly, but the elderly man made a show of ignoring them.
“Follow my lead,” Ella said, getting out. She and Justine stepped out and leaned against the SUV, watching the sheep and talking back and forth in whispers but never looking at old Benally directly.
Before long the elderly man approached, but stopped about fifty feet from where Ella stood. “What do you want from me?”
“We need to find your son. Is he here?” Ella asked.
“We just came from there.” Ella pointed out the obvious.
“And you didn’t find him, did you? You might go to where he works.”
“We called. They haven’t seen him today.”
The old man shrugged and wiped some perspiration from his brow with a red bandanna. “I don’t know what else to suggest. My son is a grown man. He does as he pleases.”
“We think he may be in a lot of trouble,” Ella said, then told him about George Branch’s home being destroyed.
The old man looked sorrowful. “My son had great respect for his sister. But he is not a criminal.”
“If your son is innocent, he can save embarrassing his family by coming forward quickly. By avoiding us, he’s just making things worse for himself and his clan. The police will keep after him, and I have no idea what will happen if he resists arrest . . .” She let the sentence hang.
It had seemed like a good tactic, but as she saw his expression change, she suddenly realized that she’d made a huge mistake.
“Death follows you and that’s what you’ll bring to my son,” he said coldly. “Get off my land.”
“If you truly believe that death follows me, then your son would be better off if he turns himself in quickly to another officer before I find him,” Ella said.
He gazed at her for several moments, then spoke in a clear, steady voice. “I don’t think you even realize the danger you pose. You’re like the bilagáanas, the whites, who judge everything and understand nothing.”
Ella wanted to counter his accusations by naming all the things she’d done to protect the Dineh and to keep everyone on the Navajo Nation safe, but it was obvious Mr. Benally had already made up his mind about her. “I will get a Sing done as soon as someone finds the hataalii,” she said, then got angry with herself for explaining that to him. She was a Tribal Police officer. She deserved his respect on that basis alone. Yet, even as the thought formed, she realized that respect went both ways. The man was just scared.