by Aimée Thurlo
“Anything else on the dead woman?” Valerie asked.
“She’s got a student ID card from the university and crime scene found a paycheck from an area print shop in her purse. The amount suggested a part-time job. Deputy Gonzales is following up on that lead, hoping to backtrack her recent activities,” the officer replied.
“Call the campus police and get her class schedule,” Valerie ordered, increasing her stride.
To their left there were several old multistory apartment buildings that took up several blocks. Ahead of them, on their side of the street, were run-down single-family homes a decade or so older than the apartment structures. The fronts of the homes were open to the street, and several of the houses had low cinder-block walls in the rear.
“From what I recall, a lot of Navajo families live in this neighborhood, but I don’t see any among the onlookers,” she said, glancing at the crowd that lined the yellow tape cutting across the alley at both ends of the property.
“We avoid the dead. Contact with them doesn’t bring anything good.”
Valerie and Luca followed the tall deputy through an open wooden gate at the midpoint of the block wall and found themselves in a small backyard—the crime scene. The body hadn’t been covered yet, but its location close to the wall blocked it from the view of the onlookers.
Her attention already on the body, which rested not five feet from the wall, Valerie reached into her pocket. “We’ll need gloves,” she said, handing him a pair.
“I’ll need a second pair,” he answered.
“Why?”
“Tribal officers prefer to wear two. That way we don’t inadvertently touch anything that came into direct contact with the body.”
Valerie called another officer over and soon Luca had his second pair. As they approached the body she glanced back at him. His focus had shifted from the body itself, and the fact that the fingertip joints were missing, to the bare earth and the items left around the victim.
“Let me know when you get the results on the green powder placed on her lips,” Luca said. “I think it comes from plants used in our rituals but I’d like to know which ones specifically. You’ll also want to get those strips tested,” he said, pointing next to the body. “Find out if that’s buckskin. Navajo witches are said to wear masks of that material at a kill site.”
In a smoothed-over area of dirt by the body he could see the black outline of the circle and flames—the Brotherhood’s emblem.
She followed his gaze, then pointed across the alley to the property opposite them. The wall there was covered with gang signs painted in a multitude of colors. “I saw that same symbol, or one close to it, at the first scene. Is it graffiti, spray painted onto the ground?”
“That’s not paint. Take a closer look. It’s finely powdered ash,” he said. It had been left there as an insult to the Brotherhood. “Make sure the team takes a sample and identifies the source. It may help us in the long run.”
“I’ll take care of that,” a young woman from the medical investigator’s office answered, overhearing them. “We’re ready to transport, Detective Jonas. The team leader says we’ve got enough photos. All we need now is your okay.”
Valerie glanced at Luca, who nodded. “Go ahead,” she told her. “What about the vic’s belongings?” Valerie asked. “Do you have a list of what she had on her?”
One of the crime scene techs looked up then. “Her purse, with billfold, driver’s license and university ID. There were some bus tokens, too. Deputy Gonzales is running down the print-shop check now. We didn’t find any car keys, but there’s a book bag. Inside are pencils and a pen, notebooks and an anthropology textbook.”
“Let’s have a look,” Luca said. “Students sometimes doodle on their notes or slip papers into their textbooks for safekeeping.”
“She took English lit—here’s something on Beowulf,” Valerie said moments later. “Here’s another section with some anthropology notes. It’s all pretty general so it must be a beginning survey class. Yeah, here it is, Anthro 101.”
Luca, thumbing through the anthropology text, nodded. “This book fits that description. Any mention of a professor or TA?”
“Not yet. Wait—here’s some scribbling next to some sketches of arrowheads. It says, and I quote, ‘Dr. Finley sucks.’ That could be one of her professors.”
“Interesting wording—respecting the title but not the man—but it gives us a name to check on. Maybe Dr. Finley, whoever he is in the anthropology department, will recognize her photograph and provide us with some information we can use,” Luca added. “There’s a strong cultural connection to the way she was killed.”
“Sounds like a plan. When we leave here, we’ll go straight to the university. It’s not too far back down Central, on the north side of the street.”
As the body, now in a sealed plastic bag, was placed on a gurney, she studied the faces in the crowd. Their expressions told the story—along with horror and disgust there was also morbid fascination.
Praising the members of the crime-scene team who were busy placing numbered cards near each piece of evidence, she studied the camera-laden reporters. They were all struggling from behind the yellow tape for the best angles.
“Who found the body?” Valerie asked an APD sergeant working crowd control, aware that city officers were the first to arrive on the scene.
“A couple of area residents.” He called her attention to two women who were seated on the back steps of a neighboring home. Another APD officer was standing beside them. “The young redhead with the short skirt and low-cut blouse was on her way home from work, and the other’s a widow who was out looking for her cat. Apparently it was the cat that led both of them to the body.”
Valerie turned to speak to Luca, but to her surprise saw that he’d left the taped area. He was now climbing a large elm tree to the left of the crime scene with the grace and agility of a mountain lion.
Hearing comments from curious onlookers and wondering what he was up to, she went to meet him. “What on earth are you doing?”
“The scene was carefully arranged, and I wanted to get another perspective,” he said, inching out on a low limb then staring down.
A moment later he came back down. “Don’t act surprised or alarmed, but someone’s been watching me from the flat roof of that two-story apartment building at the east end of the block. Binoculars and gray, hooded sweatshirt—even in this heat,” Luca said.
Valerie scanned off into the distance, but failed to spot the person Luca had seen.
“He’s working hard to keep his face hidden. Otherwise he would have come in closer like those other folks.” He gestured toward the onlookers by pursing his lips, Navajo-style. “I’m going to find out why I’ve got his interest.”
Luca and Valerie walked slowly toward the house as if searching for something on the ground. They soon stepped into the shadow cast by the roof of the next building and there were hidden from the person with the binoculars.
In the blink of an eye Luca took off around the side of the house. He crossed the street and circled around the opposite side of the apartment building, planning to catch the guy with binoculars from behind.
Valerie shot after Luca, trying her best to keep up, though he ran like the wind. Unable to close the gap, she worked hard to at least keep him in sight.
Then, as she turned the corner, she saw their suspect climbing up the fire escape onto another pueblo-style rooftop, Luca directly behind him. A heartbeat later, both of them disappeared from view.
Knowing that Luca was on his tail, she pressed on and climbed up after them. As she reached the top of the ladder she heard a loud scraping noise somewhere ahead. Valerie crossed the roof in a crouch. Peering over the edge, she saw Luca on the parapet of the next building, dangling from one of the cañales. Separating Valerie from him was a fifteen-foot gap. He’d obviously jumped but had come out a foot short.
Before she could call out, he quickly pulled himself up over the
ledge and onto the roof. “He’s some kind of athlete, that one,” Luca yelled, seeing her. “I’m in good shape, but I barely made it.”
“Where did he go?” she asked, looking past Luca toward the east.
Luca studied the expanse of roof beyond. There were several chimneys as well as heating and cooling units big enough to hide behind. A moment later he looked back at Valerie and gave her a quick thumbs-up.
Valerie studied the area carefully, but all she could see were three pigeons on the graveled roof. There were no shadows anywhere to give the suspect away.
Luca pointed to the pigeons, to his eyes then to a spot across the rooftop.
It took her a moment but Valerie suddenly realized what he was telling her. The pigeons were watching the suspect.
As Luca ran across the roof a shadowy figure slipped out from behind a large chimney then dropped over the far side, apparently finding a ladder.
“Go back down, circle around and cut him off,” Luca called, not looking back.
Seconds mattered. Instead of climbing back down the ladder, she shimmied down a drainpipe, dropping the last four feet to the ground and landing in a crouch.
The narrow alley was in deep shadow and constricted to one lane by two large trash bins. Hearing a footstep ahead she reached for her sidearm and, putting her back to the brick wall, moved forward cautiously.
Standing at the corner, Valerie stopped to listen. Someone took a breath. She had him now.
Chapter Three
Ducking down, gun ready, she took a quick look around the corner—and found herself staring directly into Luca’s face.
She lowered her weapon immediately. “Sorry. I thought I had him.”
Luca holstered his own weapon and glanced back the way he’d come. “I shouldn’t have lost him, but between his familiarity with the area and his speed, he had the advantage.”
“What made you spot the guy?” she asked. “There was quite a crowd back there.”
“I was looking for anyone who might be paying attention to me—not the crime scene. That’s when I saw him.”
“I don’t get it. Why focus on you? You mean because you’re Navajo?”
“Not just that. I figured that a skinwalker would be watching for anyone who might be a hataalii, a medicine man, and wearing a medicine bundle,” he said, pointing to his jish. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth either. The skinwalker, or skinwalker wannabe, had issued a clear challenge to the Brotherhood of Warriors and would have undoubtedly been looking to see who’d come in response to that.
“Did you get a close enough look to be able to make an ID?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Just general size and shape, and the fact that he moved like a man, not a woman. I’m not talking about fitness, just gait, okay?”
She gave him a wry smile. “No harm, no foul. I get you. But that puts us at a dead end. Let’s go back and interview the witnesses.”
“They may be reluctant to talk to us, particularly in a case where witchcraft’s involved. Navajos aren’t the only ones taught to avoid things of that nature.”
Valerie gave him a surprised look. “I have no idea how you investigate a case like this on the reservation,” she said, “but, out here, they can either talk or find themselves down at the station. I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer—not when I’m investigating a homicide.”
As they approached the crime scene Valerie was aware of everything about her new partner. Their styles of working were vastly different, yet she had a feeling about him. A quiet man of strength, Luca had come prepared to solve the case. She could feel his determination and understood that feeling well. They’d mesh well as partners…if only she could stop letting the fire in his eyes distract her.
Focusing back on the case, Valerie spoke to the city officer who’d kept the witnesses separated. Elderly Mrs. Santiago had been escorted home so Valerie approached the younger woman who’d remained behind. Mary Sanchez had listed her employment as entertainer, but the short skirt, revealing tank top and hard look despite her age left little doubt what kind of entertaining she did.
“I’m tired, guys, and ready to go home. Tell me what you need so I can get out of here,” she said in a weary voice.
“We’ll make this as quick as possible. Just tell us what you saw,” Valerie said.
“It was around eight. I was on my way home—I usually cut through this alley—when I heard Mrs. Santiago looking for that blasted cat of hers. The thing’s a nuisance, but it’s all she’s got so I decided to help her find him. I know he likes digging through the garbage, so I looked in the alley near her trash can. He was up on that wall,” she said and pointed, indicating the spot just above where they’d found the body. “The cat was making such a racket I thought he was hurt, so I went over to pick him up. That’s when I saw the dead girl,” she said and shuddered. “I’ve seen people cut up before, but this was bad—real bad.”
Valerie gave her time to pull herself together. A crime scene like this one was enough to rattle even a seasoned veteran.
“The blood—it was everywhere—and that Satanic stuff, right out of a horror flick. That’s going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life,” she whispered. “And poor Mrs. Santiago. She came up behind me for a look before I could warn her away. She nearly fainted.”
“Did you notice anyone else around—maybe someone wearing a gray sweatshirt, hood over their head?” Luca asked.
“Not today. Sometimes I see people in sweats out jogging, but that’s usually closer to the university,” Mary answered.
Leaving her to sign the statement she’d given earlier to the county officer in charge of the crime scene team, they followed up on Mrs. Santiago.
The sergeant who’d secured the scene directed them to a house two doors down. “That woman’s got to be in her eighties and she was looking downright frail. I let her go back to her home and left an APD officer with her.”
When Luca and Valerie arrived at the house they were greeted by brightly colored flowers that edged the path to the front door. Although the paint on the trim was faded and the screen door looked worn, they could see that the owner had done her best with her limited budget.
Mrs. Santiago was a small woman with intelligent eyes that, at the moment, mirrored only a barely contained panic despite the presence of the burly city cop standing beside the window.
Not wanting to traumatize the elderly woman any further, Valerie released the APD officer, then, seeing a knitting basket across the room, smiled. Her mother had been an avid knitter and if Mrs. Santiago was anything like her, the activity would immediately relax her.
“Let me move that closer to you,” Valerie said, picking up the basket. “That’s a lovely sweater,” she added, looking at the partial work lying on the top.
“It’s for my niece. I’m hoping she’ll come for Christmas….”
“That’ll be a wonderful present,” Valerie said. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
Mrs. Santiago fingered the yarn absently then picked up her needles and began to knit. “I’m going to have to stop letting Oscar out. These days, between the gangs and the drugs, no one’s safe. But the way that poor woman was massacred, and those things around the body…” Mrs. Santiago shuddered and her knitting needles began to click together at a furious pace. “That’s not drug related or the work of the gangs around here. That’s brujería.”
“Excuse me?” Valerie asked.
“I know witchcraft when I see it—but that’s not Spanish brujería. That’s from your people, isn’t it?” she asked, looking at Luca.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“I overheard two officers talking,” Mrs. Santiago said in a hushed tone and crossed herself. “When you’re old like me, people don’t notice, or maybe don’t care that you’re there. Sometimes that’s a good thing, other times it’s not.” She paused and lapsed into a long, thoughtful silence.
Getting impatient, Valerie started to p
ress her, but Luca shook his head and signaled her to wait.
“Like that strange man I saw this morning,” Mrs. Santiago added at long last. “He hovered around at the edges of the crowd, watching the officers instead of trying to get a look at the body like the rest of the people there. I think he was more interested in the officers’ reactions than anything else.”
“What was he wearing?” Valerie asked immediately.
“A gray sweatshirt with a hood. He was probably a jogger trying to lose weight. He must have been sweating like crazy in that outfit.”
“Did you happen to get a look at his face?” Luca asked. “Was he Anglo, Indian, maybe black?”
“I didn’t get a close enough look. All I really noticed was the sweatshirt ’cause it struck me as odd in this heat. Then a deputy asked me a question. By the time I glanced back, the man was gone.”
“How tall was he?” Luca asked. He’d never seen the person standing still up close, and it was harder to estimate the height of someone who was running.
“He was about your size and weight. But that’s all I can tell you. My eyes…they don’t work too good at a distance.”
Despite that, their oldest witness had noticed more than most others had today. “We’ll need you to sign a statement, then we’ll be out of your way,” Valerie said.
“Good, because it’s time for me to get Oscar’s lunch ready. He gets crabby when he doesn’t get his tuna on time.”
Soon they left Mrs. Santiago’s, and, as they walked back to the scene, Valerie matched Luca’s strides. He was built for strength and endurance…. The possibilities sparked her imagination.
Almost instantly, Valerie pushed those thoughts firmly back, shaking her head.
Noticing it, he glanced at her. “Something wrong?”
Just with my brain. She scrambled for a way to cover for her lapse, and then answered. “You and I need a way to communicate out in the field,” she said. “We got separated back there while pursuing the suspect and things could have gotten out of hand in a hurry. Let me give you my cell phone number in case that happens again and we need to find each other fast.”