Death Walker

by Aimée

  “I can’t stay. I was on my way to see Big Ed and thought I’d pop in and see if there was anything you needed.” She shot Clifford an inquiring glance. His calm expression told her nothing was wrong.

  “Your brother came for the same reason,” Rose commented absently, and Clifford finally smiled. “You two aren’t worried about me, are you? There’s no need to be. They will never attack my home again.”

  There was no hesitation or doubt in Rose’s tone. Although she knew her mother’s intuitions could be trusted implicitly, Ella didn’t feel comfortable dismissing a possible threat so quickly. “We always worry about you, Mom, just like you do about us.”

  Rose nodded. “Well, that’s what family’s for. We care too much to do otherwise.” She poured both her children a glass of her special herbal tea. “I’m going to spin some more wool. You two visit. You really don’t spend enough time with each other.”

  Ella waited until her mother was out of the room before saying anything to Clifford. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Trouble?” He looked in her eyes questioningly.

  She told him about her unnerving experience with Peterson at the hospital facility. “I honestly believe he knew I was there.”

  “I don’t doubt that he did. He used to be a cop. He knows how to search out the little signs, just like you do. Maybe he heard the sound of your Jeep coming up the road, or your voice through a vent. Also, you’ve got to remember that he does have one big advantage over you. As a skinwalker, he knows all about misdirection. Peterson can use tricks you’ve never thought of.”

  “That may be so, but I’m a better-trained cop than he ever was. I can still throw him a surprise or two.” She saw the skepticism on her brother’s face, but decided to ignore it. “Keep an ear out for Peterson’s buddies. If any of our people are still in league with him, I need to know who they are. You can bet they’re going to take any opportunity to spread as much fear as possible, linking the bus accident to the murder, and all of that to the power of the skinwalkers. In the meantime, I’m going to request additional patrols around Cohen’s home and office. Nothing obvious, just a way of making sure his family’s not being physically threatened. I have a bad feeling about that.”

  “Peterson is capable of anything. Nothing he could ever stoop to would surprise me.”

  Her brother stood and walked to the door. “I’ve got to go see a patient across the Rez. Be careful and take care of yourself,” he said.

  After he’d left, Ella, too, got under way. She was certain that Cohen’s fear of Peterson was real, but how far would Cohen go to maintain the safety of his family? Although she doubted Cohen would do anything more than mail a few letters for Peterson, she wasn’t really sure. The minute she got back to the station, she’d do a background search on the man.

  As she headed down the highway, Ella got a radio call from Justine. Patty Ben was having a group of women over, to demonstrate native dyes that could be used to tint wool. With summer starting and sheep-shearing season at its height, this community class was bound to attract women from all over the reservation.

  “I thought you might like to come,” Justine said. “We could meet there and I can bring you up to date after we get a chance to mingle and hear what people are saying.”

  Ella noted the directions to Patty’s. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

  Gossip was a favorite pastime on the Rez, and what better place than a gathering like that. As they worked, the women would talk. Ella could learn the latest news, people’s fears or concerns, and all the while enlarge her circle of contacts. Certain that was Justine’s strategy, she found herself looking forward to the meeting.

  Ella drove east out of Shiprock and turned onto the dirt track leading to the Ben residence. She noted the many vehicle tracks that had recently disturbed the wide ruts. Half a dozen or more cars and pickups would be there already.

  The first thing Ella saw as the road led her down off a bluff was an empty sheep corral. The thick woolly churro sheep had been sheared close and now wandered about, grazing on the thin desert grasses. Women sat in the shade of a windbreak made out of cottonwood branches and brush while Patty dipped samples of wool into vats filled with indigo, red, and yellow dyes.

  Ella walked around, staying toward the back, and saw Justine. Her young cousin was taking an active part, taking notes about the composition and preparation of the dyes.

  Uncertain what kind of reception she’d get, Ella kept a low profile. When Patty’s demonstration concluded and everyone gathered for refreshments, Ella was glad to see the women welcomed her.

  Patty came up to her and handed her some of the dry, freshly tinted blue wool. “Will you take this to your mother? She was interested in this new dye.”

  As Ella agreed, two more women joined them. They were both dressed in jeans and cotton blouses, though one was in her twenties and the other in her fifties. Although they said little, they seemed to stay near Ella expectantly.

  “What do you think of our class?” the younger asked. Her tone indicated she was only making polite conversation, but the light of curiosity in her eyes told far more.

  Ella smiled politely. “I think it must be wonderful to make such beautiful things,” she said, gesturing to a woven shawl Patty had draped over a chair for all to see.

  Another woman, about Justine’s age, came up to join them. She was dressed more traditionally in a long skirt and a bright red cotton blouse. “I want to learn all this. Doing things faster isn’t necessarily better. I mean, we can all buy wool, but it’s just not the same.”

  The eldest of them shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be all one way or the other. There’s a place for both.” She then glanced at Ella. “Tell us, what brought you here today? Is it the trouble we’ve all heard about?”

  “Partly,” Ella admitted, “but I’m also interested in learning about the old ways. All of this,” she waved to the sheep and the wools, “is part of what I am too. It feels good to reconnect to it.”

  “Understandable.” Patty nodded, glancing at the others. “But we all know that your duty to protect the tribe never stops. You work all the time. So I hope you don’t mind my bringing this up. We all have families we want to keep safe. Tell us what we can do to help you and ourselves.”

  The offer touched Ella deeply, filling her with a special warmth. Their implied trust and acceptance were two things she needed in her life right now. Having these women who were active and scattered all over the Rez listening for trouble was an asset she couldn’t afford to turn down. “Stay alert to potential trouble. Keep your eyes open and listen. We’re all taught to walk in beauty and seek harmony. When you sense someone who upsets that, come to me. I’ll take it from there.”

  “Do you think this will all be over soon?” one of the young women asked.

  Ella considered her reply carefully. “I don’t want any of you to be overly concerned. Anyone who commits crimes against our people will be brought to justice.”

  “White man’s justice?” one elderly woman challenged.

  “And our own. No one has the right to take the life of another member of this tribe,” Ella answered. “That’s not our way.”

  The woman nodded somberly.

  Silence stretched out among them. Finally Ella broke the tension by openly admiring a deep russet dyed wool.

  The next hour was far more pleasant. The women were eager to teach. Ella found she enjoyed the process of mixing the dyes and coloring the wool. Timing and technique were everything, and that suited the perfectionist in her.

  As they worked, Ella felt the warmth of being part of the group. The acceptance she’d found among the women was strangely fulfilling. She hadn’t experienced that kind of closeness outside law enforcement before.

  After a while, Ella reluctantly returned to the car, Justine at her side. “This was an excellent idea,” Ella said. “What better place to build contacts than among those who take classes to learn traditional skills?”


  Justine gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “Well, to be honest, that wasn’t the whole reason I asked you to meet me here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Your mother called my mother and mentioned you desperately needed a hobby. They twisted my arm.”

  Ella blinked, then laughed. Sometimes in the seriousness of her job, she forgot that there was another side to life on the reservation. “Well, thanks for confessing. I’ve got to admit, this was one of the most enjoyable undercover operations I’ve ever been drafted into.”

  SEVEN

  A short time later, Ella joined Justine at the Totah Café off the main highway in Shiprock. As Justine consumed a thick slice of freshly baked peach pie, Ella studied the report her new assistant had completed.

  “I tracked down everything I could on that bomb,” Justine said. “The serial numbers show the dynamite came from a batch that was stolen from a construction site on the Rez a year ago.”

  “I remember. No sticks were recovered, but we suspected most, if not all, were used by the skinwalkers to blow up their tunnels beneath the old church last year.” Ella’s gaze grew distant and unfocused as her memory flashed back to those dark hours. “So this came from that batch. Interesting.”

  Justine finished her pie. “I’ve also tracked down the digital timer. The device came from the Circuit Shop in Farmington. The label was still attached. It must have been stolen from their inventory. Their computer bookkeeping shows no sales of that model within the last three months.”

  “Good basic detective work,” Ella commented.

  Justine hesitated. “I could have done it faster, but I have been tracking down students from the victim’s classes, as you asked,” she said a bit defensively.

  “Anything new turn up?” Ella asked.

  “Not at all. I tracked down a student who’d missed class that day, but he didn’t know anything. He’s been at home with a respiratory problem the last two weeks. I also checked with the students who were there, but I got the same story they gave in their statements. I wasn’t able to find Professor Joe, as you suggested. He didn’t have any classes today.”

  “I need you to do something else for me. Run a check on Bruce Cohen from the Farmington public defender’s office. I want as much as you can get.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Ella sipped her iced tea. “Now I’ve got to fill you in on what’s been happening.” She told Justine about the letter and her visit to the Hilltop Psychiatric Hospital.

  “It wouldn’t have been hard for Peterson to know about the ash painting,” Justine said quietly, her eyes big as saucers. “Even my brothers knew by this morning.”

  “So it’s traveled that fast, has it?” Ella mused.

  “He’s one scary guy trying to jerk your leash.”

  “There’s one bit of evidence that really disturbs me. What you’ve uncovered on that bomb tells us that one of Peterson’s skinwalker buddies is responsible for that incident.”

  “Yeah,” Justine admitted. “But I find it hard to believe the would-be bomber and the murderer are the same person. The two crimes are vastly different.”

  “Yeah, I agree. It’s too bad, really, because we at least know something about the killer from the evidence we have. Everything we know about criminals suggests the killer is a man. He’s probably an average-height Navajo and wears size nine Nike cross-trainers. That suggests he’s young, and either interested in learning about the old ways or maybe someone with a beef against Kee Dodge. He may live in a place where burning wood isn’t practical, like an upstairs apartment, so he chose readymade charcoal.” Ella paused, seeing that Justine was writing down everything she was saying in a notebook.

  When Justine looked up again, Ella continued. “His actions were premeditated, organized, and he staged everything. He doesn’t know much about witchcraft imagery, but he does know they work with ashes instead of using natural pigments. That’s still a pretty thin profile, however,” Ella concluded. “We just don’t have enough to go on yet. We’ve got to keep digging.”

  Justine nodded. “I’ve been asking about missing cats, but no luck so far. Cats wander off. It’s part of their nature.”

  “Have you heard of any roadkills?” Ella ventured.

  “Checked that too. Mostly dogs and lots of little critters. It’s summer.”

  They paid the tab, then walked out to the parking lot. “I still need to establish a contact at the community college,” Justine said. “I have to find someone who’s around the students, or at least knows a lot of them.”

  “Go back and track down Wilson Joe. He’s your best source out of my generation. I also think it’s a good idea for you to develop your own sources. Because of your age, you’re more likely to get people to talk to you freely.”

  “Yes, but with reservations,” Justine said cautiously. “I’ve taken a lot of courses, but nothing traditional. And a lot of people around here know I’m a cop.” She weighed the matter for a moment. “Maybe I should approach this a little differently. Let me see what I can come up with.”

  Ella watched Justine get into one of the department’s unmarked vehicles. Justine would do well. She was tenacious and had very good instincts for police work.

  Moments later, Ella was on her way to Wilson Joe’s office at the college. The semester would end in a few weeks, and with finals just around the corner, almost every student she saw would either be in a rush to class or desperately hitting the books.

  As she parked her vehicle and walked across the newly erected campus branch, she could feel tension in the air. Students sat in small, subdued groups, and they looked up anxiously whenever anyone approached. There were few smiles, just a wariness that had little to do with finals.

  It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Students had obviously reacted strongly to the death of their professor and the other deaths that had claimed the lives of tribal members. Snippets of conversations she heard as she passed confirmed their fear. They were worried about an evil they could all feel, yet one that remained out of their grasp. Even here, in this enclave of progressive thinking, beliefs held for centuries made them dread the disharmony that had given evil the power to take the lives of those who’d walked in peace among them. It was as if a darkness had fallen over them, and strange sounds could be heard just outside the door.

  Ella approached the southernmost of four hexagonal hogan-shaped concrete-and-stone buildings, one at each compass point. Going in the entrance, each of the doorways facing east according to custom, Ella walked around a circular corridor to Wilson’s small office. Two young Navajo women were standing in his doorway. She saw the admiration in their eyes as they listened to Wilson explain some assignment.

  Silently she watched him go about his business. He was a born teacher as well as a handsome, intelligent man. Wilson needed the stability of his job as much as she needed the adrenaline rush and excitement of hers. In all the basic ways they were as different as night and day. Despite her mother’s hopes, Ella wondered if anything beyond friendship could ever develop between them.

  Wilson smiled at Ella as his students finally left, and gestured for her to come in. “I figured you’d be by today. Rumors are flying all over the campus, and the kids are all pretty grim about what happened to their teacher as well as the bus accident. Half of them believe the two incidents are linked and that the tide of events has turned against the People. The others aren’t sure what to think.”

  Ella took a seat beside a pine desk equipped with a computer and printer. “I noticed the atmosphere on my way here. What’s the latest gossip about the professor’s murder? Are fingers being pointed in any particular direction?”

  “Not from what I’ve heard. The most common theory is that the killer isn’t really a skinwalker.”

  “You’re kidding.” The accuracy of the gossip took her by surprise. “How did they come to that conclusion?”

  “Kids who saw the crime scene say that there are things off the mark, though that’s as
specific as it gets.” He gave her a long look. “I did hear one theory that makes sense.” Wilson steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Some think that although you took care of the initial wave of skinwalkers, their children and relatives were left behind and now want revenge. They may not know the details of skinwalker magic, but they’re willing to improvise and learn as they go.”

  Ella considered it. “It’s an interesting thought.”

  “How are you coping with the fallout from that kidnapping thing in Farmington, Ella? I suppose you got roped into that in the first place because you’re Navajo.” Wilson’s voice softened.

  She nodded. “It turned out so badly, yet I did my best.” Ella tried to sound philosophical. She didn’t want sympathy, although she knew Wilson’s concern was genuine. “To be honest, I try not to think about it now. There’s a killer out there somewhere and that’s where my energy must go.”

  “I hear you, and you’re right.” Wilson looked at his watch. “Oops. I’ve got a class to teach. Why don’t you walk with me?” He rose from behind his desk and gathered up his notes.

  Ella waited for Wilson to lock up his office, then matched his strides to an identical building directly north, about two hundred yards away.

  “If you hear any gossip I might find interesting about the killer or a resurgence of skinwalkers, let me know,” Ella said.

  “Is the suspect you’re searching for one of our students?” he asked, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.

  “I don’t know, but that’s certainly one possibility.”

  “Don’t be cagey with me,” he said softly. “I deserve your full trust.”

  Ella realized that he was right. He’d stood by her when the going had been deadly, and had never even thought of walking away. “I really don’t have much to go on. But I will tell you that Peterson Yazzie wrote me a letter. He claims to be behind the murder and even hints at a connection with the bus accident.”