by Aimée Thurlo
“You say he’s still heading east?”
“Yeah, and, Ella, his home isn’t out this way and neither is the place he’s been staying at. I checked. He’s been living with a friend of his just outside Shiprock where most of the power company’s tribal employees live.”
“Hang back and watch him through binoculars. I’ll take over as soon as I can. I’m on my way now.”
It took Ella another ten minutes to reach the area Justine had mentioned. “I’m coming alone above you on the main highway. Where’s he?” Ella asked.
“About a mile up, close to Waterflow now.”
“Okay, I’ll take over from here. I’ll stay on the highway north of him. Go back to the station for now.”
“I’m sorry, partner.”
“Get Neskahi and tell him I’ll need him earlier than we thought. I can only stay with the councilman for another half an hour or so.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“He might be watching the road behind him, so double back rather than go all the way to the Morgan Lake turnoff. If you can let him see you pulling back on the highway,” Ella said, “that would be even better.”
Ella kept her eyes on the large, white pickup slowly heading east. It was one of those trucks that had every amenity in the world and was the size of a white elephant. It must have cost him more than what three average Navajo families grossed in a year.
Ella watched Hunt as her partner got back on the road. Without a pair of binoculars the truck would have been nothing more than a white dot, but with them she could easily see that the bed of the truck was loaded with grocery sacks. She had a feeling he was delivering supplies to someone. His caution and the direction he was heading in, which would eventually take him into a very isolated area, made her suspect that he’d been on his way to see Benally.
Ella had to drive slowly in order not to get ahead of him. Soon, he came to a stop. She parked by the side of the highway and waited. She had a feeling that he was searching for another telltale trail of dust. Then, without warning, he turned the truck around and headed right back to Shiprock, crossing the river at the only bridge between Waterflow and Shiprock.
Ella couldn’t figure out if he’d seen her or just suspected he was being followed. But a short time later he entered a housing area at Shiprock’s northeast end, pulled into one of the driveways, and began carrying his groceries inside.
Disgusted that this operation had been a bust, Ella contacted Neskahi and turned things over to him. “Hunt’s got a sixth sense when it comes to spotting a tail, so hang back and good luck.”
Ella drove down the highway, lost in thought, when the back of her neck suddenly began to prickle. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw nothing, yet her uneasiness continued. The badger fetish at her neck felt uncomfortably warm, almost hot. Acting on instinct alone, she slowed abruptly, pulling off to the shoulder of the highway beside a low mesa. Just then something shattered the windshield and she felt a slight tug on her left cheek, followed by a burning sensation that made her eyes tear automatically. As blood began dripping down her cheek, then flowing onto her neck, she realized that a bullet had creased her face.
Hitting the brakes, she grabbed the mike, keeping the vehicle under control with her other hand. “Officer needs assistance. Shots fired,” she yelled. By the time the vehicle stopped she was below the dashboard, out of view.
Her cheek burned like fire, and with her head down, blood dripped freely onto the floor of the SUV. Ella waited a full five minutes, but when no other shots followed, she finally raised her head to look around. It was quiet, there weren’t even any cars coming.
Ella studied the hole and the spiderweb pattern around the cracked safety glass of the windshield, then turned around and looked for an exit hole or impact site. She found another small hole in the plastic covering the rear window pillar on the driver’s side. Judging from the direction she’d been traveling, and the place where the round had impacted, the sniper had been above and just ahead of her. Had she not turned, he might have scored a direct hit.
That’s when Ella started to shake. If she had nine lives, as many in the department claimed, she’d used up at least half of them in the past week.
Hearing the wail of the police sirens, and aware that others were on the way, bolstered her courage. Her team would arrive shortly and they’d scour the entire area together until they found something, even if they had to stay out here all day.
Ella’s cheek continued to bleed, and despite the annoyance of having to leave the crime scene she decided it was best to go have it checked at the hospital. After reaching into her SUV’s glove compartment and grabbing the life insurance forms she’d wanted Carolyn to fill out, she met with Justine. Her partner had insisted on driving her.
“I’ll drop you off, then come right back here to look around the mesa,” Justine said. “I’ll find the spot where the sniper was hiding. Count on it. At least we can rule out Lewis Hunt on this one.”
When Ella arrived at the emergency room, a young Hispanic doctor began to work on her. “I’m hoping that you won’t need stitches, but let’s see how it goes.”
“You’re calling it, Doc,” Ella said. Experience told her that Dr. Martinez was one of the many young physicians who served at the tribal hospital as a way to pay back their student loans, then would disappear as soon as their time was up.
“You got off lucky. Another few millimeters and you’d be in surgery now, a centimeter and you could have been in the morgue,” Dr. Martinez said.
“You’re nice and upbeat today, aren’t you, Doc?” Ella smiled ruefully.
She gave Ella a sheepish grin. “A good bedside manner is hard to come by when you get four hours or less of sleep at night. But I’ll work on it.”
Ella was about to answer when Carolyn Roanhorse, the tribe’s ME, knocked and poked her head inside. “Justine called and said you were on your way in, Investigator Clah. This is getting to be a bad habit.”
“Doctor, can I help you?” Dr. Martinez asked.
“We’re old friends, Doc,” Ella explained.
“In that case, come in,” Dr. Martinez said. Carolyn checked the doctor’s work as she treated the wound, then bandaged it. “Very nicely done,” she said at last.
“Make sure it stays clean and airtight, and keep a little petroleum jelly on the bandage,” Dr. Martinez told Ella. “That’ll minimize scarring.”
As the doctor left to take care of another patient, Carolyn looked at Ella. “She really did do a great job. She’s not so good with her communication skills, but she’s a very competent physician. You shouldn’t have much of a scar there after it’s all said and done.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Ella looked at her watch and groaned. “I need to meet an informant, but I’m already late. Justine insisted on driving me here after my unit became Exhibit A, so I’m without wheels. And I absolutely refuse to call one of them away from the scene just so I can have quick transportation.”
Carolyn tossed her a set of keys. “Take my car.”
“This isn’t what you charmingly call the ‘meat wagon,’ is it?” she asked, knowing that Carolyn had a warped sense of humor.
She laughed. “I considered that one, but I figured you aren’t in the right mood for black humor.”
“You’ve got that right. At the moment, what I’d really like to do is find the jackass that’s using me for target practice and throw him in a cell until he rots.”
“The keys I gave you are to my new Suburban,” Carolyn added. “Well, it’s not new, but it’s new to me. Treat it gently.”
“Thanks. I should be back in about an hour or so, okay? When I return can we talk? I need to ask you another favor.”
“You know where to find me.”
Ella called Hoskie to see if he was still at home. Apologizing for being late, she drove there quickly. He came out to meet her as soon as she pulled up.
“What took you so long? I thought maybe you’d changed yo
ur mind,” he said.
“No way.” She pointed to the bandage on her cheek. “I had a small accident.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but when she didn’t, he didn’t press. “What do you need from me?” he asked, leading her inside.
They sat around a small kitchen table, and he offered her a sandwich, which she declined, and some coffee, which she accepted.
“I need to ask you about George. I know he doesn’t socialize with his listeners, by and large, but who are George’s closest friends at the station?”
“He’s strictly business and doesn’t socialize with anyone there that I know of. My wife and I invited him for dinner once but he declined, saying that he preferred to keep his business and personal life separate.”
“What about when off the job? Do friends ever come visit him at the station or has he mentioned anyone specifically?”
“I don’t have the remotest idea who he associates with outside the station. When we leave work, he goes his way and I go mine.”
“One more important question,” Ella said. “This is completely off the record, okay?”
Hoskie nodded. “You want to know about Branch’s thousand-dollar offer, don’t you?”
“So he did make it?”
“Hell, he even offered me a finder’s fee if I could recommend someone. ‘A tracker,’ he said, ‘bloodhounds optional.’ ” Hoskie smiled grimly. “He was dead serious, and was even flashing some cash. I saw it myself. But you didn’t hear this from me.”
“Of course not. Do you know if he found someone?” Ella watched his eyes.
Hoskie looked right back at her. “I think he did. One of the station’s salesmen who goes bow hunting every season asked for the job but was turned down. George told him it was too late.” Hoskie put up his hand. “And before you ask, no, I don’t have any idea who it is, except they don’t work at the station. Nobody’s taken any time off since then. I’d know.”
“Thanks for your help, Hoskie.”
“I couldn’t have helped you because this meeting never happened, okay?”
“Meeting? What meeting?” Ella answered. She tried to smile, but it stung her cheek and she winced.
Moments later she was on her way back to the hospital to return Carolyn’s car. As she drove down the highway, she telephoned Justine and asked her for an update.
“We recovered a twenty-two shell from the foam at the bottom of the rear window pillar of your unit,” she said. “It’ll probably match the other round we have from the other incident. They’re the same type. The bullet had to have been fired from above at really close range to even penetrate the glass. Any angle except dead on and it would have most likely bounced off. We also have vehicle tracks and shoe prints. Whoever is after you was wearing jogging shoes, not boots.”
“Hey, that’s something, considering boots are the order of the day on the Rez, but it still doesn’t really narrow it down.”
“I know. From the depth of the footprints and his stride, we figure he’s five feet six or seven, and weighs about one-forty. Also his vehicle was a pickup based upon the tire size. That’s all we have right now. We were hoping to find a wad of gum or cigarette butt so we can have DNA to compare to a suspect eventually, but no luck so far.”
“No shell casing?”
“No. He must have picked it up or the shell wasn’t ejected if it was a bolt-action rifle. We searched a fifty-foot radius.”
“There are some residential areas around there and someone might have heard or seen something. Talk to everyone you can, and then go to the gasoline station on the highway about a quarter of a mile from the scene and talk to the clerk there.”
“We’ll take care of it. By the way, your vehicle was towed to the police garage. Larry said he’d have to get you another vehicle because requisitioning funds for a new windshield would take forever.”
“I’ll hitch a ride over there with Carolyn later.”
“Good luck. By the way, expect Larry to talk your ear off. He’s very upset that he hasn’t been able to get the funds to service the units that need it, and he’s already griped to me about the way you go through tires. I gather from talking to him that the department’s replacement vehicles are not in great shape, so the bottom line is that I don’t think you’ll have much of a selection.”
“I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“If it turns out to be inadequate, I’ll trade you my unit until they get the windshield replaced on yours.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks.”
Ella drove back to the community medical center. Parking near the side door, she took the elevator downstairs and found Carolyn in her office adjacent to the morgue going over paperwork.
“Thanks for the car,” Ella said, flipping the keys back to her. “Do you have time to talk?”
“Of course.”
Ella told her about the life insurance policy she was planning on taking out. “It’ll cost an arm and a leg, but I need to do this for Dawn and for my own peace of mine.”
“Do you have the health form they require for the physical?”
Ella reached into her shirt pocket and handed it to Carolyn.
“It’s fairly straightforward. Let me give you a physical and get some basics, and then you’ll be all set.”
After twenty-five minutes Carolyn handed Ella the signed form. “Thanks, old friend,” Ella said. “Now how about I buy you a late lunch in return for this and the ride you’ll be giving me to the police department’s garage afterward.”
Carolyn smiled. “Pushy aren’t you? But I can be bribed with food. All I’ve had since breakfast are candy bars and Cokes.”
Ella looked at her friend. Carolyn was a large woman but she was comfortable with her size. She made no pretensions about dieting nor did she worry about her weight. She was who she was and others could either accept it or not. Her attitude and self-acceptance alone commanded the respect she deserved.
“Any particular place you want to eat?” Carolyn added.
“You pick,” Ella said.
“Hey, that’s dangerous. You buying, me eating.”
“Not a problem.” Ella grinned.
“It’ll have to be off the Rez. You know how people who know what I do for a living feel about me around here.” She paused, then added, “And come to think of it, it won’t do you much good to be seen with me under the circumstances.”
“You’ve heard about the news of my death being greatly exaggerated?”
Carolyn nodded. “Oh, yeah.”
“Maybe Mom will be able to track down John Tso for me and hurry him up a bit. At least he knows I’m looking for him now. I’m not expecting a miracle, but I’m hoping that once people find out I’ve scheduled the Sing, things will get just a little easier for me.”
“Wishful thinking,” Carolyn said, shaking her head. “The dust won’t even begin to settle until long after that Sing is done.”
“It’s going to be tough to schedule an entire week off for something like that. But I haven’t got a choice. A lot of people won’t talk to me at all now, and I think it’s starting to get to me a little.”
“Welcome to my world,” Carolyn said as they got under way.
Ella felt her gut tighten as she thought about what her friend went through on a daily basis. Although her job was crucial, it had made her a pariah with the tribe. No Sing would ever gain her The People’s acceptance. Many of the modernists, who by all accounts shouldn’t have minded, were creeped out by what she did, and the traditionalists and new traditionalists avoided her like the plague.
Before long, Ella realized that Carolyn was driving to her own home. “Hey, I told you I’d treat.”
“I thought of picking out a restaurant, but I have something even better in mind. I baked a chocolate torte last night that’s to die for and we had a huge roast that’s going to make terrific sandwiches. It’ll be the best lunch around for miles. I guarantee it.”
“Well, in that case, by all means,
the Chez Roanhorse-Lavery it is,” Ella teased.
As they pulled up to Carolyn’s modest home in Fruitland, an old farming community in the river valley east of Shiprock and north of the Rez, Ella saw a large sedan parked in the driveway.
“I didn’t realize Michael would be home,” Carolyn said in a guarded tone.
Curious as to the reason for her friend’s abrupt change of mood, Ella glanced at her friend, but her expression revealed nothing.
A moment later they went inside and Carolyn led the way into the living room. Oversized leather furniture, a kiva fire-place, and Navajo rugs gave the place a homey, comfortable feel.
Michael Lavery, Carolyn’s husband, came out into the hall and, seeing them, stopped in midstride. “Oh—I’m sorry. Did I interrupt?”
“Not at all,” Carolyn said. “I was going to treat Ella to lunch. Why don’t you join us?”
He shook his head. “I’m just leaving. There are some brochures I want to pick up at the travel agent’s.”
Carolyn’s features tightened, and she pursed her lips. “Fine,” she said coldly.
Ella felt the tension between them clearly as Michael nodded to Ella, then went out the front door without looking at Carolyn directly.
Avoiding Ella’s gaze now, Carolyn went into the kitchen and began fixing sandwiches on French bread. “I made the French bread in the new bread maker. It’s really good,” she said, bringing plates with thick sandwiches to the table.
“I’m impressed,” Ella said, taking a bite of the sandwich Carolyn placed in front of her. It was wonderful, the homemade bread giving it that special touch. But Ella knew that Carolyn seldom went on cooking binges unless something was bothering her.
“So what’s new?” Ella asked softly.
“I’ll tell you after the chocolate torte.”