Wind Spirit: An Ella Clah Novel (Ella Clah Novels)

by Aimée Thurlo

  Despite his bravado, Ella saw the uncertainty in his eyes and knew that she now had his complete attention. “I know Cardell Benally scares you. You’re convinced he burned down your house with Hunt’s help, and now that Benally has dropped off the radar, you’re afraid he’s getting ready to make another move.”

  “Of course I am. Hunt is throwing out that smoke screen of Navajo justice, trying to justify what Benally’s done in case Benally’s ever caught. He’s using Cardell to do what he’d like to do himself, but he’s smart too. He won’t let Cardell go down because there’s no telling what Cardell might say on his own. The crazy thing is that they both hold me responsible even though Smiley’s the one who burned down that house, not me.”

  “We haven’t proven that Smiley was guilty of arson,” Ella pointed out.

  “That’s only because he killed himself and blew up everything he owned in the process. But everyone still knows he’s the one who set fire to the Hunts’ home. Unfortunately for me, I’m the focus of Benally and Hunt’s revenge because I’m the only target left. They burned down my house, sure, but it won’t stop there. Hunt doesn’t have the stomach to try and kill me himself—it’s not his style. But Benally would. Then, Hunt would produce a dozen people who can give his brother-in-law an alibi—people who swallowed that Navajo justice crap hook, line, and sinker.”

  “So you hired Daniel Smart to kill Cardell before he could kill you?”

  “Kill? I did no such thing,” he snapped. “I’m not a murderer, even by proxy.”

  “Then why did you hire Smart?”

  “I never said I did.” He held her gaze. “If anything, what I needed was a tracker—someone who could tell you where Benally is.”

  Ella considered what he’d said. “If you hired a tracker and he ends up killing the target, you’ll have one hell of a time proving you’re not an accessory to murder, particularly if Smart turns on you. Remember, you’d be the best witness against him.”

  “I get your message loud and clear, Clah. But we’re speculating here, that’s all. I haven’t done anything except sit in this motel room—just me and Jack.”

  “Jack who?” she looked around.

  He pointed to the bottle next to the TV set. “Jack Daniel’s.”

  “Take some friendly advice. If you hired Smart, call him off. Chances are he’s more than you bargained for.” Ella stood up. “By the way, do you have any idea where I can find the guy?”

  “Not a clue, and that’s the truth,” he said, looking directly at her. “Why don’t you ask weirdo Professor Garnenez from the community college? The two are cousins.”

  The news took Ella by complete surprise. “Come again?”

  “Second cousins, actually, but Garnenez and Smart grew up together. Garnenez was the nerd; Smart, despite his name, isn’t very, but his muscles kept Garnenez from being pounded all through high school.”

  “Where did you pick up the nickname ‘weirdo’ for Garnenez?”

  “Some used to call him that in high school. He pretty much kept to himself, one of those quiet, intense types who was always looking for something to identify with. Before he became a new traditionalist obsessed with being Navajo, he was hooked on heavy metal, if you can believe it. His notebooks looked like album covers for Black Sabbath and groups like that. Talk about a turnaround.”

  “Let me guess, Branch. You prefer Grunge.” She waved her hand around the room.

  “Smart-ass.”

  Ella chuckled and headed for the door. “Thanks for the information.”

  “Remember who gave it to you.”

  Ella nodded once. “And, Branch, do yourself a favor. Go on a diet, stop drinking so much, and consider seeing a medicine man or a doctor. You look like hell.”

  “Gee, does that mean you won’t go country-western dancing with me next Saturday night?”

  Ella closed the door between them before she said something she knew she wouldn’t regret. As she walked over to the SUV her cell phone rang.

  “It’s me, Kevin,” he said, identifying himself. “I’ve been trying to find ways to get the producer to up his offer and I think I’ve found one. I can have you hired as a ‘consultant’ on the film. That means they can call you with questions, but don’t have to take your suggestions. Are you interested?”

  She groaned. “Kevin, it’s bad enough I can’t walk away from this. Now you want me to talk to these characters?”

  “It’ll give you an extra ten thousand. Think about it, Ella. So you answer their questions if they call. Provide your expertise. What harm is there in that? At least you’ll have a chance of influencing what they do—maybe a little.”

  “I’m going to have to think about this. I want to leave a nest egg for Dawn, but I’m a Tribal Police officer and there’s no telling what they’ll do with the script.”

  “They’ll show it to you. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “But I won’t be able to force them to change anything?”

  “You can suggest, but they don’t have to comply. All things considered, I’d still advise you to take the deal. I’ll look after your rights. They won’t walk over you legally.”

  “Yeah, but there are a lot of other ways they can leave cleat marks on my face,” Ella answered. “Can you stall a bit? Before I agree I want to be sure I’m doing the right thing.”

  “I spoke to the California guy on Friday, Ella. They’re interested in you now but they have incredibly short attention spans. I’d take the money and worry about it later.”

  “I can’t do that. It’s not my way.”

  “All right. It’s your call. Dawn will never lack for anything anyway.”

  “I know. I just wanted her to have something extra for when she was ready for college. I’ll be getting life insurance, but since I don’t plan on dying, this would be a chunk of money she could have when she grows up—money I could never give her otherwise.”

  “Then I advise you to take the best deal I can get you.”

  “Give me a chance to mull it over and I’ll call you back later,” she said.

  Ella hung up, deep in thought. What she hadn’t told Kevin was that she dreaded answering questions about what had happened to her in that mine. She hadn’t been able to explain it to herself in any way that made sense, let alone to someone else. And if she’d noticed anything about television and the movies, it was that exaggeration and sensationalism were common. She was very reluctant to allow what had happened to her to be exploited like that.

  Ella glanced at her watch. It was two hours past lunch-time, but she wasn’t hungry for food—just for answers. What Justine had said about Reverend Campbell came to her mind. Her partner had spoken highly of him and she was a shrewd judge of people most of the time.

  Ella called Justine on the cell. “Do you think he’s around the parsonage now?”

  “Services are over by now at Faith Fellowship, and he usually stays in the church office afterward. Give it a try,” she said, giving Ella directions to the church.

  Ella turned the vehicle in the opposite direction. If the pastor was around, she’d speak to him. If not, she hadn’t lost anything except a little bit of time.

  There was one vehicle in the parking lot and another in front of the small house that served as the parsonage when she arrived. Ella parked near the open side door to the main building and went in. As she walked down the hall, she discovered small classrooms and the church nursery—judging from the cribs and children’s toys. Down the hall she could hear voices. A moment later she saw Campbell, an Anglo man in his mid-fifties with thick eyebrows and a shiny bald head, talking to a Navajo man who was wearing a tool belt and overalls.

  The Navajo, apparently the maintenance man, nodded as he passed her, going in the opposite direction. The Anglo man smiled. “I’m Reverend Campbell. Can I help you?”

  “Perhaps. My partner, Justine Goodluck, said you were interested in talking to me. She also said you might be able to help me figure out a few things—without trying t
o convert me,” she added pointedly.

  He laughed. “I give you my word of honor, Detective. Fair enough?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a smile.

  “Then come in and have a seat.”

  As she followed him to his office, she couldn’t help but remember her father. He’d been a Navajo Christian minister, a real zealot who could never resist the urge to try to convert people. She wondered if Reverend Campbell would really be any different.

  “I’m working on a paper for my doctorate,” he said. “The topic is Near Death Experiences from a Theological Perspective. I understand that you were pronounced dead for a short time, and I wondered if you had seen, or heard, or felt anything you’d be willing to share with me.” He paused, then smiled. “If not, I’ll still be happy to help you with whatever you’re trying to figure out.”

  Ella smiled. “Traditional Navajos believe in balance. I’ll help you out with what I know or remember, and then you can try to help me. How’s that?”

  “Okay. Fair enough.”

  “I would imagine the first question you have is whether I was really dead.” Seeing him nod, she continued. “I stopped breathing and my heart stopped beating, so I think it’s a pretty good bet—but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else that. It’s a touchy subject for most Navajos.”

  “Whatever you tell me will remain in the strictest confidence. The paper, if it’s ever published, will never list you by name either. Just so you know, I’d like to compare your experience to the NDEs of people who come from a different belief system.”

  “I’m not sure how much help I can be to you. The truth is I haven’t figured it all out yet. First of all, it’s possible I may have been hallucinating. I know I passed out at one point, but after that, it’s hard to say when I actually stopped breathing and . . . the rest.” She shrugged. “Logically, I have to admit that what I went through could have simply been my brain trying to cope with lack of oxygen.”

  “Deep down, do you believe you were hallucinating?” he asked, his gaze steady as it met hers.

  “No,” she admitted after a brief pause. “What I felt . . . what I saw . . . it was as real to me as the conversation we’re having now.”

  “Did you see a bright light?”

  “The place where I found myself was bright and filled with colors, but there was no being of light.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “No. My husband and then my father were there.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been married.”

  “I got married right out of high school but my husband was killed,” she answered, not bothering to elaborate on the details.

  “Would you say you were in heaven?”

  “Probably not in the way you mean. I was told that it was an in-between place and my thoughts determined what I saw. It was desert—and ocean. Contradictions existed there harmoniously.”

  “Was it the kind of place you would categorize as heaven?”

  “I never thought of heaven as a specific locale. But based on what I saw . . . what I learned . . . I’d say that there are many different kinds of ‘heavens.’ ”

  “Did you have any kind of life review?”

  She shook her head. “But I was asked if I’d finished what I’d wanted to do on this plane. That took some thought on my part. Then I was given a choice—I could stay there, or return. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew my daughter needed me so I came back.”

  “Has your experience changed you in any way?”

  She nodded slowly. “I think so. I’m not afraid of dying, but I’m much more aware of the ticking clock, if you understand my meaning.”

  He nodded. “Is that what troubles you?”

  “Not directly, but it’s linked to that. You see, I used to think that I was in control of my life, that my choices determined my present and my future. But that’s not necessarily so.” Ella considered her words carefully before continuing. “I like to plan things. It’s the way I am. But all of a sudden I’ve come face-to-face with the fact that you can plan to a point, but after that you might as well roll the dice.”

  “There are few guarantees in this world, but faith can make the path you have to walk a little easier. What do you believe in?”

  “Just a few weeks ago I would have said ‘me’ and things I can prove with hard facts. But now . . .”

  “Maybe that’s why you feel so lost. You have to have a foundation—something that’ll give meaning to your life and put things into perspective. Christianity gave me what I needed, but you may find it through Navajo beliefs. I think what you’re searching for is a staff of sorts, something to lean on that’ll help you make more sense out of the things you experienced. My advice is to read. Find out as much as you can about different religions, philosophies, and belief systems and see what makes sense to you. From what you’ve told me, I don’t think you’ll fit in perfectly with any one group, but you may find your own niche somewhere between the cracks.”

  Ella smiled. “Thanks for your help. And I’m amazed. You never mentioned fire or brimstone!”

  “I go out of my way never to alarm anyone carrying a gun,” he said and laughed.

  “You’re okay, Reverend.”

  “Come back anytime,” Campbell said. “I’m always here.”

  Ella left feeling more at peace. Maybe that was what she’d been doing wrong—trying to find her answers all in one place. But she’d always been alní, someone who’s split in half, or in her case, with one foot in two different cultures. She couldn’t expect her search for answers to be linear—nothing else about her life was that way.

  Ella took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She believed in order and harmony and the need to restore both. She believed in freedom of choice and she now believed that death wasn’t the end. She’d hold to those for now.

  It was almost three by the time she reached the highway again. As she was waiting at the stop sign her cell phone rang.

  “It’s Justine,” the familiar voice said.

  “What’s up, partner?” Ella asked.

  “Come by the house. There’s something you have to see.”

  Something in her voice made her muscles tense up. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, but come over as soon as you can.”

  Ella resisted turning on the sirens, but she put the pedal to the metal. Something bad had happened. She knew Justine too well not to have picked up on that.

  When Ella arrived less than five minutes later, she didn’t even have to step out of the vehicle to see what the problem was. Spray-painted on Justine’s door in red was a message—“Leave the Rez or die.”

  NINETEEN

  As Ella came up to the door, her fists were clenched. “You realize that this message was meant for me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Justine nodded. “But this is my home and you’re my guest. And, frankly, this really pisses me off. When I pulled up, the perp was racing away in a blue pickup. I went after him and called it in. Joe backed me up and we chased him to the Rez border, but after that we had to turn it over to the county police.”

  “Did you get a license plate?” Ella asked. “And was it light blue or dark blue?”

  “More dark than light, and the plate was smeared with mud—deliberately. But, Ella, I’m almost sure there was a campus parking sticker on the rear window. They’re bright orange, and I spotted something that color at the left-hand corner.”

  “Garnenez,” Ella muttered. “But his pickup is light blue. Are you sure about the color?”

  “Yeah. Maybe he borrowed a friend’s truck,” Justine replied.

  “As usual, we have nothing we can prove,” Ella muttered. “What happened with the sheriff’s department? Have you heard anything?”

  “They put up a roadblock in Kirtland but I don’t think they’ve turned up anything, or I would have heard,” Justine said.

  Ella called Sheriff Taylor for an update, her thoughts racing. The last thing she’d wanted to
do was to expose Justine to this type of harassment.

  Sheriff Taylor came on the line and greeted her. “I have Sergeant Emily Marquez out there working this, Ella. Let me give you her cell number.”

  “Thanks, I’ve got it already.” She reached into her wallet and pulled out Emily’s card and dialed.

  “Marquez,” came a curt voice.

  “It’s Ella Clah. Anything on the vandal in the blue pickup?”

  “No, and I don’t think we’ll find him. He never passed through Kirtland. My guess is that he headed back to the reservation, either north or south as soon as your officers called off the chase.”

  “Yeah. Could be,” Ella said. “Hey, how is it going, watching my home? Any problems.”

  “Not at all. I was going to call you later today about the other officer who covers from midnight on.”

  “Is it someone you’ve worked with?”

  “Yeah, and he’s a good cop. I wouldn’t have recommended him otherwise. He’s a member of our SWAT team and will be taking the sergeant’s exam next time around.”

  “All right. Remember, if there’s any trouble, whoever’s watching can call me.”

  “Understood. I briefed him on that. What’s going on at your end?”

  Ella told her about the vandalism of Justine’s door. “I hate to have brought this to my partner’s doorstep.”

  “If either of you decide to move out for a few days, you can come to my place at the east end of Kirtland. But I should warn you that everything is a mess. I have to move out by the end of the month. They just upped my rent, and I can’t afford it.”

  “I don’t want to endanger my partner by staying here, but I’m not sure it would be any better or safer for you.”

  Justine glared at Ella. “Don’t you dare move out! I’m a cop and I can defend myself as well as you can.” She paused, then in a soft but determined voice, added, “Don’t give this creep a win.”

  “You’ve convinced me, partner,” Ella said. “Okay, I’m staying here,” she told Emily. “But listen, I know my partner is looking for a permanent roommate. You two should meet. I think you’d get along.” Ella looked at Justine, who nodded.