Death Walker

by Aimée

  “You’d probably have better luck steaming it open.”

  “That might show and I don’t want to risk it.”

  “How about if we hold it up next to our X-ray viewing screens?” Carolyn suggested. The envelope looks pretty thin.”

  “That’s an idea. Let’s give it a shot.”

  Carolyn glanced down at the envelope. “Can I touch it?”

  “Sure. I know who wrote it, and who has handled it already.” Ella saw the question in the other woman’s eyes. “Yazzie.”

  Carolyn studied the name and address on the envelope. “A post office box in Farmington won’t tell you much. Do you have any idea who Barbara Sanchez is?”

  “Not a clue. I could try to get a court order to force a street address from the postal authorities, but the name and address would probably be phony. I don’t think Yazzie would be stupid enough to leave us with any trail we can follow.”

  “Which is why you want a look at the contents. Let’s see what we can do.”

  Carolyn took the envelope over to the viewing screen, turned the lights on, then slipped the envelope under the top clip. Words stood out clearly, but because the paper inside was folded, some of the lines were upside down and backward. “I’ll read out the letters, and you write them down,” she told Ella. “It’ll take a while to make some of them out, so have a seat.”

  Ella found a tall lab stool and wrote each symbol down in her notebook as Carolyn called it out. As long as that letter made it to the Farmington post office before five, she’d be okay. Despite knowing she was not pressed for time, waiting to see what the message contained was more difficult than she’d expected. She held back trying to read what she’d written, concentrating solely on Carolyn’s voice.

  Finally Carolyn announced that it was the end of the message. Ella began assembling the letters into words and then the few sentences. When she was done, Ella read the message aloud.

  “Here it is: ‘Possessor for secret into Navajos. Rug made great preserve hidden finally. As more have work perfect copy.’ That’s the message.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Carolyn looked at Ella. “It sounds like one of those textbooks that attempt to translate Navajo phrases into literal English.”

  “It’s a code of some sort, but I have no idea how to decipher it. I’m going to pass it to one of the FBI cryptographers, but it’ll be days, or weeks, before I get an answer. Even then, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to break it.”

  “If you find out who Barbara Sanchez is, maybe it’ll give you an idea of how best to pursue this.”

  Ella removed the letter from the clip. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s out of my jurisdiction, but I’ll set up a very discreet stakeout by the Farmington post office.” Ella smiled, seeing Carolyn run a finger around the edges of the pie and then stick it in her mouth. “Enjoy. And thanks for your help.”

  Ella walked out to her Jeep. First she needed to get hold of Justine to let her know the new plan of action. Then she would mail the letter and set up surveillance with Justine at the post office. Maybe they’d get a break and one of them would spot and be able to identify the person who’d rented the box. It would be another day before the letter reached the box, but “Barbara Sanchez” might check the box every day.

  Ella was able to get through to Justine a short time later. Her assistant was on her way in from the college, so the transmission was clear.

  “Meet with me at Luther’s Self-Serve. I want to get some snacks, then you and I are going to a stakeout.”

  “Ten-four,” Justine replied.

  Ella drove slowly to Luther’s, knowing her assistant was at least fifteen minutes behind her. She used the time to devise a plan. Four to six in the afternoon would mean a rush of people at the post office. She’d need an extra pair of eyes just to make sure she didn’t miss Yazzie’s contact. Together with Justine, however, she was certain they’d be able to succeed. It was all in the timing and positioning. If Barbara Sanchez didn’t show up today, Justine and Ella would set up shifts to cover the post office from opening to closing tomorrow.

  Ella arrived some time later at the gas station. After a moment of hesitation she gave in to temptation and walked inside to prowl the rows of candy bars and snacks. By the time Justine arrived, Ella had a paper bag full of assorted chips and candy. Justine eyed her stash with raised eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were a junk food junkie. Or are we in for a long haul?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to stay alert, and in the bureau I learned how a sugar rush can work for you.”

  “Who are we after?”

  “Get in. I’ll give you the details on the way.”

  * * *

  At around four that afternoon, the post office experienced the beginning of the evening rush. Justine had taken a position inside, but to avoid being obvious she continued to walk around. Most of the people came in, checked their box for mail, and left quickly. No one paid any attention to Justine, except for an occasional man who sneaked a once-over.

  Ella had asked the postmaster for a favor. By pretending to sort mail behind the counter, she had a clear view of box 2687. If anyone approached, she’d have a clear look, then be able to slip out the loading dock, to back up Justine if that became necessary or, preferably, simply to tail the suspect. Without a court order, and out of her jurisdiction, there was nothing more she could do legally to find out the identity of whoever had rented the box. The postmaster had let her stake it out, but wouldn’t let her see the records without a warrant.

  People came and left, but no one tried to open the box. Ella had observed a postal worker place a junk-mail letter in the box facedown, so she knew the user hadn’t just peeked in at an empty box and left. Unofficially she’d learned that no one had any recollection of the person who had that particular box, but that meant nothing. There were hundreds of boxes in that station, though it was only a branch.

  After the service counter of the post office closed, the front door remained open until ten. Justine remained inside, pretending to be reading a letter, but Ella moved to her Jeep, watching from outside. The narrow, but long, rectangular window on the side of the adobe-style building still allowed her to see the box and any people inside.

  At ten, the door was finally locked for the night. Justine came out to join Ella. Leaning back in the seat, she rubbed her feet. “We try again tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. What’s on your schedule?” Ella asked, tossing an empty candy wrapper into the backseat.

  “I’ve tracked down several adults who have audited the victim’s other classes. I’ve interviewed most of the ones I’ve found, but I still have zip. Tomorrow I’m going to talk to Betty Lott, who’s just out of high school. Furman Brownhat, one of the students I met at the community college, suggested I talk to her. He said that she attends quite a few of the free lectures. I know Anna Lott, her mom. She’s a nurse at the PHS, and thinks our medicine men are a bunch of primitive quacks. Anna went to school off the Rez and thinks a lot like the Anglos do.”

  “Yeah, I know that family.” Ella nodded. “One time Anna’s mom, Rita Mae, called in my brother to do a Sing for her. Anna refused to let him in the house. There were a lot of bad feelings because Anna ended up taking Betty and moving away from home.”

  “That’s why I can’t figure out what Betty’s doing attending those lectures, with her mom so set against traditional healing.”

  “She may be rebelling. This sounds more like a family squabble than a plot. Don’t read too much into it, okay?”

  “I’m not. I just figured that it’s worth looking into. But I’ve had the dickens of a time tracking her down. Betty’s supposed to be living with Anna in a trailer home near the community college, but she’s never there, and neither is Anna. Betty’s not a regular student, so I’m going to try and catch her before she goes to work at the bookstore.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll take the morning shift. You can relieve me after lunch. We’ll pull
four-hour shifts throughout the day. The letter will be there by lunchtime, and if the person’s expecting it, then they’ll be there sometime tomorrow for sure.”

  “I did a background check on Cohen like you asked. He’s never even had a traffic ticket. He’s squeaky clean. I also asked around about him. He’s a regular Boy Scout. There’s nothing even remotely shady about him.”

  “Thanks.” Ella considered the information. It confirmed her own feelings about the man. No surprises there.

  When they arrived back at Luther’s gas station, Ella parked beside Justine’s vehicle. “What will you be doing now?” Justine asked. “Are there any reports I can help you with tonight?”

  “You’re not quitting?”

  “After six candy bars? No way. I figured I’d go back to my desk and catch up on paperwork.”

  “Forget it. We’ll both have to get an early start tomorrow. Let’s call it a day and pretend we have private lives to go to,” Ella teased.

  Justine laughed. “You sound like my mother. And your mother when she talks to my mother.”

  “Well, it’s the truth. We’re both addicted to our jobs.” After Justine waved good-bye, Ella started along the highway in the direction of home. The Southern Fried Chicken was upwind from the station, and the aroma of food filled the air. Ella decided to stop for a box of chicken before the place closed. Frustration always made her hungry, and this case was making her ravenous.

  Several minutes later, box of chicken in hand, Ella went back to her Jeep. She was starting to pull back out onto the highway when Justine’s car went past. A pickup was following close behind her, although traffic was light at this late hour.

  A shudder of uneasiness coursed down Ella’s spine. Chiding herself for being overly cautious, she started to pull out to follow Justine.

  Suddenly her radio came to life, and Justine’s voice came over the air. “Boss, I think I’ve got myself a tail. There’s this pickup that’s been behind me for a while. How far toward home are you?”

  “I’m still in the area. As a matter of fact I’m about a half mile behind you. I’m just pulling out of Southern Fried.”

  “Funny, I was about to go there myself, but then I realized I might have company.”

  “Ready to see if this is anything more than a coincidence?” Ella asked.

  “You bet.”

  “Then take the turnoff leading to Fred Benally’s place. Nobody goes down that road except family and visitors since it’s so bad it rattles your teeth. There’s lots of big arroyos that cross the road. We can ambush the guy in one of them.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’ll close the gap in a while. But I’m going to go without lights once I reach the dirt road,” Ella said.

  Ella saw Justine’s taillights as she turned, then the pickup behind her pulled off and stopped on the shoulder of the highway. Ella pulled off too, killing her lights, and waited. After hesitating there for several long moments, the driver proceeded to follow Justine.

  “He’s still following,” Ella said. “When you reach the first arroyo, stop almost at the bottom. We’ll trap him where he can’t turn around.”

  “Got any ID on the pickup?”

  “Can’t read the license plate, not without coming up close and blowing this.”

  Five minutes later, Justine radioed back. “I’m at the bottom of the arroyo, and in position. My vehicle will be facing him as he comes down over the top. I’m going to flip my headlights on at max the second I see him. What’s his ETA, and yours?”

  “You should be seeing him in another thirty seconds or so, I’m about two hundred yards behind him. Get ready.”

  A moment later, Ella saw Justine’s lights come on. She flipped hers on as well, and activated the red flasher she’d placed on the dashboard. “Get out with your hands up,” Ella ordered through the loudspeaker.

  Through the glare, Ella could see that Justine had her pistol at the ready, bracing it over the open door of her car. “Out of the car. Now!” Ella repeated.

  A young man came out, hands held high. “It’s just me!” came the voice. “What’s going on?”

  “Put your hands on the car, and don’t move.” Ella approached cautiously. As he turned toward her, the lights from her car illuminated his face. She’d seen him before somewhere.

  Justine holstered her handgun. “Furman, what the hell are you doing here?”

  He had a weak grin on his face. “I stopped for gas at Luther’s and saw your car there. Someone mentioned that you’d be back for it later, so I went to buy some chicken. I was hoping to talk you into sharing some with me when you returned. But when I got back I saw you pulling out. I followed, hoping to catch you. Look for yourself,” he gestured to the front seat. “I even bought some corn on the cob. You told me you liked it, remember?”

  Justine nodded, looking pained. “Furman Brownhat, meet Special Investigator Ella Clah.” Justine gave Ella an embarrassed look and put her gun away. “I did say that,” she assured Ella. “We met earlier and attended one of the classes.”

  Ella remembered that Furman was the young man she’d seen with Justine at Haske’s lecture. “Why did you follow her up this deserted road?”

  Furman shifted from one leg to the other nervously. “I was planning to flag her down. I thought I was showing a little creativity and, with luck, she might appreciate that.”

  Ella bit her lip, trying desperately not to smile. “Well, in that case, I suggest next time you get a little less creative. Right now you both better get back on the main road. This place is perfect for ruining a tire or an oil pan.”

  “I’ll wait for you back on the turnoff,” Justine told Furman, then gave Ella an apologetic look.

  As Furman got back into his pickup, Justine met Ella’s gaze. “I had no idea. I’m sorry about this.”

  “He’s your contact, I gather.”

  “You bet. He knows a lot of people, and he attends the classes. He’s the one who told me about Betty Lott.”

  “Then go handle your source. I’m going home.”

  “I should have figured it was nothing,” Justine mumbled.

  “No,” Ella answered quickly. “We’re working a very dangerous case. Better to take the chance of looking foolish than to end up dead.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Her voice was stern. “I mean it. Don’t take any chances. And I will expect you to cover me just like I did you. If we make a mistake, let it be on the side of caution.”

  As Ella pulled out onto the highway several minutes later, she saw Justine park next to Furman’s pickup. For a brief moment she envied her assistant. Justine was young, and at least for now wasn’t encumbered by the emotional baggage that years in law enforcement imprinted on a cop.

  Ella stared into the darkness beyond the range of her headlights. She tried to shake free of the strange mood that had come over her. She had no real reason to complain about her life. She liked being single. There was a lot to be said for answering to no one but herself.

  Yet every now and then she longed for someone special in her life. She wanted to recapture the thrill of dating someone she cared about, that crazy kaleidoscope of emotions she hadn’t felt since high school. But maybe at thirty-four, she’d seen too much of human nature to feel totally carefree around another person. Fear and distrust would eventually undermine her. Some things, like innocence, came only once in a lifetime.

  Ella arrived home and parked near the kitchen door. The lights were on inside, and she could see Rose putting away dishes. Ella climbed out of the Jeep slowly. No matter what else happened in her life, there was always a sense of continuity about coming home. It reconnected her to the past while giving her strength to face the future.

  Rose met her at the door. “You look as if you’ve had a difficult day.”

  “Yes,” she answered, not feeling up to elaborating.

  Rose seemed to sense it. “There’s some green chile stew I can heat up.”

  Ella shook her head. “No.
I have a box of chicken I left on the car seat. I’d love some of your tea to go with it, though.”

  A few minutes later, as she sat across the table from her mother, Ella noticed how Rose had a habit of stirring her tea though she never put sugar in it. Ella glanced down at herself and saw she too was stirring, though she hadn’t added anything to it either. Continuity. It made her wonder what kind of daughter she would have had, or might have still.

  Ella shook free of the thought. She tended to get overly philosophical when she was dead on her feet. “Do you mind if we don’t talk much tonight? I need time to just lay back and think.”

  Rose smiled. “When I was much younger, and trying to figure something out, I used to take dinner into my room, turn the lights off, and sit in the window, eating alone by moonlight.”

  Ella smiled. “That’s just what I want to do tonight.”

  Rose handed Ella the half-eaten plate of chicken from the table and the glass of tea. “Go then. If you decide to talk, I’ll be around.”

  Continuity. Some links went so deep nothing could ever destroy them. Even time, with the enormous power it wielded, could not stand against them. If anything, it strengthened them even more.

  NINE

  The next morning, Ella stopped by the office to fax the strange message she’d intercepted from Peterson over to the FBI. Once finished, she drove to the Farmington post office. She arrived shortly before eight. She saw the postmaster come out and unlock the lobby doors. Cup of coffee in her hand, Ella went inside.

  As the hours passed, her restlessness grew. She had checked as the postal clerks sorted and put away the mail, and the letter was already in the mailbox. Despite the morning crowd, no one drew near that particular box. Ella wondered if she’d been compromised somehow, but that didn’t seem likely. No one had given her even a passing glance.

  Ella met Justine outside on the loading dock shortly after twelve. Although Ella hadn’t really done anything except stake out the box, she felt more tired than if she’d run a marathon. “If you see anyone getting that letter, get hold of me on the radio and make sure you follow them.”