As the truck rumbled down the dark and deserted highway toward Mexican Water, Abe replayed the previous night’s conversation with Emily. They had identified two possible suspects in the kidnapping of the young girls but so far had not been able to locate either.
Sounding breathless and exhausted, Emily had said, “Cortez Police went to the address given by Phillip Harris when he applied for his Colorado driver’s license. It’s the home of his widowed mother, Sophia Harris, but she swore she hadn’t seen her son for over three years—not since he left the Mormon Church and became involved in some cult. Cortez cops and the Montezuma County sheriff’s department are keeping a twenty-four-hour watch on the house just the same. At least we have a face.”
“What about the other suspect?” Abe had asked.
“No trace of him yet, but we know he hangs out with Harris, and the two of them made home visits to the victims and were familiar with all the back roads on the rez. Arviso is going to look into any possible cult activity in the vicinity.”
Abe had worried about Emily, at age thirty-two, dressing like a young girl and running in a race, using herself as bait to draw out a couple of psychopaths. “Don’t do it, Em. Keep an eye on things and be ready, but don’t put yourself in danger. Play it by the book this time.”
Emily had laughed. She kept insisting there was nothing to worry about.
“I want to be near the girl, Abe, and I’ll be armed. I talked to Charley. The morning trail is two miles in and two miles out. There’s only one road that intersects that trail, and a couple of clan members are going to station themselves there and near the midway point. At dusk, we will run for the final time. It is a different path but heads toward the east, clockwise, in pursuit of the setting sun. It’s a shorter route, and there are no roads that cross or run alongside the trail. Then Lina can cut the alcaan, the big corn cake she made to honor the sun, and we can celebrate her coming-of-age. It’s all about the cycle of life, balance, and harmony, Abe.”
Abe hadn’t realized there would be a morning and an evening run. That meant he would have to be there the entire day. In fact, the traditional ceremony lasted for four days, but because of employment obligations of family members, Charley and Millie Nez had to cut their festivities down to one big day of celebration.
“Be careful, Emily,” he had said before hanging up.
When Abe reached the hogan at Mexican Water, he saw Lina Nez lying facedown on a blanket, her arms stretched out perpendicular to her body. She wore a brightly woven dress tied with a sash belt and adorned with turquoise-and-shell jewelry. Leggings and buckskin moccasins completed her ensemble. Will, kneeling at her side, appeared to be giving the girl a massage. He chanted in Navajo as he stretched and pulled on her limbs. His medicine bag, or jish, was draped around his neck. Abe watched in silence, unaware until she spoke that Emily had appeared by his side.
“Will got here yesterday and spent the night singing. He’s molding her body now,” Emily said. “Making sure she grows straight and vigorous in the image of Changing Woman, the mother of creation, and daughter of night and dawn.”
Abe turned to gaze at Emily, awed by her appearance. “You look like a young girl yourself, a beautiful young Indian princess.” Emily had dressed in a manner similar to Lina, but her blanket dress was woven in a red-and-black pattern, as opposed to Lina’s blue, black, and white. Ornate turquoise-and-silver jewelry draped around her neck and wrists. Her hair, like Lina’s, was pulled back and combed into a traditional Navajo bun, and tied with long strands of white yarn.
“What is Will singing about?”
“Hózhóójí. The Blessing Way,” she said. “It’s sung at a girl’s Kinaaldá to ensure a life of good health, emotional strength, prosperity, and a positive outlook.” She wrinkled her nose, and her eyes turned misty. “I guess it didn’t work so well for me, considering I was such a fuckup when I was young.”
Abe touched her face and tilted it so he could look in her eyes. “You’re the bravest, most caring person I know. It just took you a while to find yourself. This Kinaaldá business is bringing back memories.” He brushed an escaping tear from her cheek.
Emily shook her head and laughed, regaining her composure. “Stop being a worrywart. It’ll be over soon, and we will have the bad guys.” She looked toward the eastern horizon. The first rays of sunlight kissed the red buttes and rock spires, casting a rosy glow on the juniper-flecked desert. She saw Lina stand up and beckon to her. “It looks like we are about to begin,” Emily said to Abe. “Remember, no eating the corn cake until after the races. Cutting and serving it is Lina’s job.”
Emily joined the girl standing in front of the hogan. Holding hands and smiling, they faced the flaming aurora of a beautiful sunrise.
11
Wednesday, April 11, 1990
Nez Sheep Camp, Navajo Reservation
Mexican Hat, Arizona
The morning run was completed without a hitch, though Emily had to slow down frequently to encourage the chubby Nez girl. Lina was out of shape and apparently not used to physical exercise. The long festivities of the night before and restricted diet of nothing but cornmeal mush had left her body weak and exhausted. Emily knew the girl wanted to run farther and faster to show her endurance and prove that she would be a strong woman, but her body could not oblige what her mind desired.
“Just a little farther,” Emily had said to the wheezing girl, bent forward and holding her sides. “You can rest in the hogan until the evening race.” She had been vigilant about checking the brush along the path for signs of anything unusual and had seen nothing. They were on their way back, less than a mile from the hogan. The small band of children who tagged behind them at the beginning of the race had quickly fallen by the wayside and returned to their parents. “I’ll tell you what, Lina. Walk a little ways until you catch your breath. When we are close, you can run again. It will be our secret.” She winked at the girl and received a dimpled grin of gratitude in return.
Judging by the sun’s position in the morning sky, Abe determined it was nearly ten o’clock. He stood off by himself, surveying the small gathering. Friends and family members would not begin to arrive until dusk. After Lina cut the corn cake, the older women would start serving the rest of the food and drinks. Will continued to sing, nodding his head in time to the rhythm, his voice soft and mystical. The women tended to the tortilla-making and stew pots while the men stood in small groups, smoking and telling stories. Abe felt like the misfit he was and wished he could be somewhere else. But he would stay until Emily finished the final race and was headed home, safe and sound. He heard cheers, looked up to see the two runners coming down the path, and breathed a sigh of relief.
He grinned when he saw Emily’s flushed face, and she smiled back. Will had finished his session of prayer songs. He stood up to take a break and greet the runners as well.
Abe ambled over and put his arm around Emily. “Well?”
“So far, so good,” she said. “Poor Lina is worn out, though. She is going to take a nap before her hair is recombed and we run the second race.” Emily filled a cup from the water tank and downed it.
One of the women held out a plate piled high with slices of roasted lamb, green chilies, and tortillas, and beckoned to them.
“Fasting is not a requirement for this job,” Emily said. “Come on.”
“You go ahead,” Abe said, hanging back, feeling intrusive. Charley Nez would have none of it.
He brought Abe a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee, and a paper plate full of steaming meat and chili wrapped in warm tortillas. “Eat, my friend, and thank you for coming to my daughter’s Kinaaldá. It made her happy to see you here.”
Abe thanked his host, grateful for the hot meal after his early morning wake-up. He joined Emily and Will.
“Nice singing, Will.”
Will, his mouth full, nodded in response. Between bites, he said, “Stick around. More to come. It gets better.”
“Where’s your sid
ekick?” Abe asked Emily.
“Hosteen? He should be showing up anytime. He can’t stay all day, though—has to go to Cortez to question the mother of a potential suspect first.”
The sound of an approaching vehicle caught Abe’s attention, and he watched as a white Ford Explorer with the insignia of the Navajo Nation Police pulled into the parking area. The tall, lanky man who emerged from the vehicle reminded Abe of an origami creation unfolding.
So this is the infamous Joe Hosteen.
Emily saw him, too, and excused herself. She stood beside Hosteen, their heads bowed together in a private discussion. Despite himself, Abe felt a pang of jealousy. After their conversation, Hosteen got back in his SUV and drove away.
A short time later, Emily disappeared inside the hogan. It was close to noon, and a brisk wind began kicking up the desert sand, making the juniper trees whistle and last year’s dead tumbleweeds roll into irregular hillocks. Abe huddled with a group of men, drinking coffee, making small talk about sheep, and listening to Navajo jokes he often did not get. The day moved slowly. He missed Patch and wondered if Danny was doing all right, knowing there was no way he could call and find out. The guests chatted and watched the sky, waiting for dusk so the celebrating could begin.
By the time Emily and Lina emerged from the hogan in the late afternoon, a crowd of about fifty guests had arrived—the women dressed in their fanciest velvet blouses and turquoise jewelry, the men in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and ribbon shirts. The mood became celebratory. Will sang to the accompaniment of two additional drummers, and some of the women initiated a circle dance. The two runners smiled, looking freshly primped and rested. Lina’s face beamed with excitement as she caught Abe’s eye. Abe watched as she approached a group of young children and, one by one, lifted them by their arms.
After the song, Will sidled up beside Abe to explain. “It’s part of the ceremony. She’s stretching their bodies so they’ll grow straight and tall.”
Abe nodded while he scanned faces in the crowd. Most were Navajo, but he spotted a few Anglos bunched together, off to the side. Teachers, possibly? One man wearing a ball cap stood alone, leaning against a white pickup truck. He appeared to be speaking on a walkie-talkie. Suspicious, or just another guest making contact with a friend? Every stranger looked suspicious to Abe. He chewed his lip and wondered when Hosteen would return.
Will had been singing prayer songs on and off all afternoon. His voice sounded scratchy, and his eyes burned red with fatigue. He patted Abe’s shoulder and said, “I have eight prayers to sing while the girls run. After that, I can rest and let the others do the singing and dancing.” As the sun dropped in the western sky, Will returned to his drum and began chanting to a soft, rhythmic beat.
Emily and Lina stood side by side once again, this time facing the setting sun. The wind whipped at their skirts as they began the final race. Hosteen had still not returned. For a reason he couldn’t understand, Abe felt the skin prickle on the back of his neck.
The once-puffy white clouds now rumbled, gray and angry. Emily jogged beside Lina, who had slowed considerably from her beginning pace. Something moved in the brush. It’s just the wind, Emily told herself. Nevertheless, she felt more secure once she put a hand on the butt of the weapon she had holstered over her buckskin leggings.
Something lay in the middle of the path ahead of them. When Emily realized what it was, her blood chilled. The coyote pelt had been freshly skinned, and the head had been left attached—the eyes, sorrowful and accusing, burned into hers. Emily froze in her tracks, grasped her Glock in both hands, and pivoted in a circle, responding to each sound made by the wind whistling through the piñon and sagebrush. Lina let out a cry and began backing away. Stumbling over her own feet, she whimpered, fell to the ground, and cowered, her arms shielding her head and face.
“Coyote has turned into a skinwalker and is coming for us.”
Emily hurried to Lina’s side and knelt down to help her. “Stand up and stay close to me. Coyote didn’t do this.” Keeping the Glock steady in one hand, she grabbed the radio with the other. But before she could turn it on, she felt a stinging sensation on the back of her neck. She brushed at it, thinking a scorpion had bitten her. Then she saw the dart—a syringe and hypodermic needle with a distinctive tuft of fibrous material at the end—fall to the ground. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Based on her experience with sedating rogue animals, Emily knew it would only be a matter of seconds before she lost all muscle control.
Already, the hand holding her Glock felt numb. She tried to aim it in the direction she thought the dart had come from. She began to feel the full effects of the drug and discovered she couldn’t move her arm. Her fingers lost their grasp on the Glock, and the two-way radio fell at her feet. She tried shouting, but nothing came out. Her legs crumpled under her. With her eyes wide in horror, Emily watched helplessly as a hooded figure grabbed Lina and covered her face with a handkerchief. The girl went limp, and the man picked her up as if she were a sack of flour. Emily’s police mind remained sharp even though her body was immobilized. She knew what the outcome would be. She had been hit with a tranquilizer dart containing a fast-acting paralyzing agent. She was completely immobilized and might die soon—and she had failed to protect Lina.
12
Wednesday, April 11, 1990
Nez Sheep Camp, Navajo Nation
Mexican Water, Arizona
Abe shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. It was getting cold and dark. Emily should be back by now. And where the hell is Hosteen? He decided he would go out on his own to find out what was keeping the runners. He grabbed a jacket from his truck. While in the parking area, Emily’s partner pulled up and jumped out of his vehicle.
“Are they back yet?” Hosteen yelled, a note of urgency in his voice.
“No. Where have you been? You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
“I got held up—a wreck on 666. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Emily’s friend—Emily’s boyfriend. They should have been back by now. This was supposed to be a short run. I’m going to look for her.” Abe turned to walk away, but Hosteen stopped him.
“We’ll go together. It’s quicker this way.”
Abe heard the urgency in Hosteen’s voice and felt a chill. “What’s wrong? I thought there were no roads along this trail. I’m going to follow the path.”
“There’s a pipeline that runs near here. Check the camp one more time to see if they made it. If Emily and the girl have returned safe and sound, great. No problem. If not, tell Emily’s brother and Charley Nez to get a search party together. Hurry up—there’s a storm coming.” Hosteen had already jumped behind the wheel of the Explorer and had the engine idling.
Abe didn’t argue—he took off running. When he returned and hopped in Hosteen’s waiting vehicle, he said, “There’s no sign of them. Will already took off down the path on his motorcycle. A search party on foot is right behind him. Do you know something you’re not telling me?”
“Just a gut feeling something’s not right.” A streak of lightning momentarily illuminated the Explorer’s interior, casting an eerie glow on the Navajo’s chiseled face. Hosteen spun out of the parking lot and tried his radio. “Out of range, and dammit, here comes the rain.” A few big drops splattered the dusty windshield.
“Shit,” Abe said when it began to rain harder. “I never liked the idea of her doing this.” He drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “Can’t you speed up? We have to find them. What’s your plan?”
“I’m going as fast as I can. And, to start with, we locate the pipeline, look for any sign of recent disturbance—broken branches, bent or broken grass, tire tracks—whatever doesn’t seem right.” He gave Abe a sideways glance. “You got a name, buddy?”
It sure as hell isn’t “buddy,” Abe thought. Why hasn’t Emily even mentioned me to her colleague—now partner?
“Name’s Abe Freeman.”
“Hosteen,” the co
p said, his mouth an unsmiling seam. He turned on the side-mounted spotlight and drove slowly down the rain-drenched right-of-way.
“How are you going to find a pipeline in the dark? It all looks the same out there.” Abe’s trepidation increased. He needed to do something besides ride around in the dark next to this asshole, who was supposed to have helped protect Emily and the girl.
But so was I.
“I should have followed them on the last race.”
Hosteen ignored Abe’s remarks. “One of the boys at the station got some maps from the National Pipeline Mapping System. They show all the main gas lines, state by state and county by county. There’s a pipeline near here—connects with a major line near Farmington and ends in Kayenta. The gas company had to clear the brush to make way for the line, and they use it when they check for problems. It’s not really a road, and it’s off-limits to everyone but the pipeline workers. It runs along here somewhere. I want you to keep an eye out for a yellow marker sign designating an underground line.”
Abe let out a frustrated sigh, but after a few minutes said, “I think I see a marker up ahead.”
Hosteen froze the spotlight on a yellow pipe and a small clearing on the right. “This is it. It’s where we start. Are you coming or staying here?”
“Hell, yes, I’m coming.”
Hosteen grabbed a flashlight, and the two men scrambled up a slippery slickrock embankment only to quickly descend into a rocky ravine. Once out of the ravine, the land leveled out into a treeless, meadowlike strip. Hosteen swung the flashlight across a narrow ribbon of land bordered on one side by the canyon and on the other by oak brush and juniper. “This is the pipeline. The girl’s running path should be no more than thirty or forty yards to the right of those juniper trees. If anyone came after them in a vehicle, it had to be somewhere along here. Start looking for any signs something or someone came through here.”
Abducted Innocence (Emily Etcitty) Page 6