“Unfortunately, the files we took are all gone, Reverend,” Ella admitted reluctantly. “They were destroyed in the fire.”
“Is that why someone crashed the truck through the wall? That would have made perfect sense if they hadn’t wanted you to look at them,” he said.
“What made you jump to that conclusion?” Ella asked instantly.
The preacher grew serious, then took a deep breath. “I’ve received a few phone calls from a man who refused to identify himself but warned me that I’d pay if I continued to cooperate with you,” he said wearily. “In view of what happened at the Good Shepherd, I have to admit, it concerned me.”
“I know the group who was responsible for what happened there. The threats you’ve received don’t fit with their MO. Can you tell me more about these calls you’ve gotten?”
“There’ve been two, and both were quick and to the point. He doesn’t want me, or this church, to cooperate with you in any way.”
“Did you hear any background noises when you spoke to him?” Ella pressed.
He thought about it. “Not that I could tell.”
“When did you get the first call?”
“A few hours after I gave you the paperwork, and I told him, he was too late. Then I got one more call after that, warning me that I shouldn’t give you anything else.”
Ella and Justine exchanged glances.
“The man the other day, the one across the ditch. Could he have been the same man who made those calls to you?” Ella asked. “And do you think that man might have been Caleb Frank?”
“You know, the voice was a good match to that of the man we spoke to across the ditch. But I haven’t seen natzee since I was a kid. I wouldn’t know him even if I ran into him,” he said then paused. “Caleb Frank…” he repeated thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ve seen that name recently.” He glanced around the office, lost in thought.
As Justine shifted in her seat, her elbow collided with the file cabinet.
The reverend’s gaze shifted and suddenly he smiled. “I remember now. Your father started our heretical prophets file. That’s still in this office. I came across it the other day when I was shifting files around.”
“The what file?” Ella asked.
“It’s a file with the names of people who are a threat to this church or the Scriptures. I should warn you that some of the people included in it are preachers from other churches, so it’s not like a criminal file. Over the years we’ve added names to it but, overall, it’s a very small file.” He went to a file cabinet near the corner of the room then, after a brief search, pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Ella. “I will make one request. Considering what happened to the ones you borrowed before, could you look at this here?”
Ella nodded. “That’s not a bad idea, Reverend.”
Ella studied the contents of the folder. Toward the back, she found several handwritten letters made out to her father and signed by Caleb Frank.
“Our former church secretary mentions in there that the police came here after your father was murdered. They apparently saw that file but, at the time, they already had a suspect in mind.”
Ella nodded, remembering that her brother Clifford had been their prime suspect. Working quickly, Ella searched all the papers in the file for any mention of Stan Brewster, but there was nothing there on him.
“Thanks,” she said, handing the file back. “Is there anything else my father might have left behind?”
Reverend Curtis thought about it. “The burial records for his time here, maybe?”
“Can I see them?”
“It’s just a list of everyone who was buried in our cemetery and what plot they occupy.”
“I’d still like to see it,” Ella insisted.
He nodded, then stepped over to a large walk-in closet. “We access these records from time to time though they go back fifteen years or more. But what earthly good could they possibly do you?”
“I’m not sure,” Ella said. “Give me a chance to study them.”
Ella and Justine examined the lists carefully, but there was nothing that caught their attention. Then Ella saw Dorothy Yabeny’s name, read the small annotation beside it, and then pointed it out to Justine. “Apparently her family brought her body back and requested she be buried here,” Ella said. “I didn’t see that in the police reports.” She glanced at the Reverend. “Do you know where we can reach the victim’s mother?”
He nodded. “I’ll get you her address. She lives north of Shiprock, about halfway to the Colorado state line.”
After they left, Justine glanced at her. “It’s close to midnight, boss,” Justine said, “and we shouldn’t go waking up people this time of night to ask them about their dead daughter. What do you say we get some sleep first?”
Before Ella could answer, their radio came alive. “SI One, you’re needed at the new power plant’s construction site. Backup’s on the way.”
“Ten-four, Dispatch. What’s going down?”
“The night watchman needs help. His call was garbled, but we think he said something about skinwalkers.”
“We’re on our way.”
“Skinwalkers?” Justine spun the unit around and headed for the turnoff to the site. “We haven’t had any problems with that kind of stuff in ages—not that I’ve heard about anyway.”
“We’re going in silent. I don’t want to scare the troublemakers off,” Ella said. “I wonder if this is a new angle the protesters have come up with to scare off the crew.”
When they arrived at the guardhouse, a big metal shed hauled in since their last visit, a portly Navajo man came out running, clearly spooked. “You got a jish with you?”
“A medicine bag?” Ella studied the man’s face. The illumination from the two floodlights attached to the building was minimal, but she could tell he was terrified just from the sound of his voice. Ella pointed down to her belt and the small leather bag that hung from it.
“Good. It may help.” He looked at her holster and added, “But that probably won’t.”
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” she said, perceiving that there was no immediate threat.
“It’s them. They’re cursing the place. The other Navajos in the crew, even the modernists, once they find out…”
Justine’s gaze took in the area around them, and Ella noted that she was still keeping her hand close to her weapon.
“Over there,” he said pointing, Navajo style, by pursing his lips. “Where the forms are going in for the footings and foundation.”
“Are we still talking skinwalkers?” Justine asked him, not seeing anyone.
“Don’t say the word out loud,” he said, stepping away from her. “You call them to you that way.”
“Sorry,” Justine said quickly. “Wasn’t thinking.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered.
Ella walked in the direction he’d pointed, then stopped at the edge of the fenced perimeter. It was still locked and the openings in the chain link fencing were too small to give anyone a climbing foothold. Beyond, was a deep, dark pit, and the vague outline of a vast network of metal forms and stacks of rebar. Closer, on the ground beside the first stack of reinforcing rods, she saw what appeared to be a very small severed hand.
“Oh, crap,” Justine muttered almost simultaneously.
“We need to get in there. Key?” Ella asked the night watchman.
He fished it out his pocket and tossed it at her, remaining well back. “Stay away from the pit. You fall in there, you’re dead.”
Ella passed through the gate, breathing through her mouth as she drew closer. The flesh was shriveled and decomposed, and there were bugs on it now, feeding or laying eggs. “This isn’t from someone who died recently,” she said crouching by the body part, “but we’ll need to get an ID. This is the hand of a young child. Get our people out here,” she added, suppressing a shudder.
“The construction crew won’t report to work if they find out
about this, so my boss asked that you try and keep a lid on what’s happened,” he called out, cell phone still in hand.
“Stuff like this doesn’t stay under wraps long,” Ella warned.
Justine called the crime scene team, then joined Ella, who was already searching the ground with a powerful flashlight. “There’s got to be half a million boot prints around here, not to mention all kinds of heavy equipment tracks,” Justine said.
“Yeah,” Ella said, refusing to be discouraged. “And a hundred discarded soda cans and food wrappers. But stay at it. I’m going to try and get more details from the night watchman.” Ella turned her head and noticed that he was staying as far back as he could without getting out of earshot.
“So tell me what happened?” Ella asked, going over to join the man, whose name tag identified him as Albert Benally.
“I heard some really weird chanting, so I went to the window and looked outside. I saw a shadow—just darkness moving in darkness, really—and then, in an instant, it vanished. Just like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I’m not superstitious,” he added, “but this creeps me out. Particularly that,” he said, gesturing toward the hand. “Even those dudes in the Anglo world who say they aren’t afraid of nuttin’ would get a little crazy around body parts, you know?”
“Sure,” Ella said. She was willing to bet that it wouldn’t take much to get Mr. Benally to quit his job altogether now.
“They give you a Taser or a nightstick?” Ella asked, glad he wasn’t carrying a pistol. His training was obviously nonexistent.
“Naw, just that spray,” he pointed to a cannister of pepper spray on the windowsill. “Probably only works on roaches. Besides, who wants to get close enough to use it? My job was just to watch the place and call for help if I saw anything.” He avoided looking in the direction of the severed hand. “I called.”
Officer Tache and Sergeant Neskahi arrived shortly thereafter. Joe was in jeans and a Chieftains sweatshirt—the local high school team—and Tache in khaki pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He had to be cold, but he’d shrugged out of his jacket so he could work without being encumbered. Navajos seldom needed a shave, so even at the late hour, their faces were smooth.
“I’ve cordoned off a perimeter and I’ve called the ME,” Justine said. “She told me that one of us would have to deliver the severed hand to the morgue once we get enough photos. She’s working on something else right now.”
It didn’t surprise her to hear Carolyn was still at the hospital. Carolyn was as dedicated to her job as they were to theirs. When your passion and what you did for a living were one and the same, they often combined forces and took over your life. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, just that it was so.
“This entire area is fenced off, so we need to find his point of entry,” Ella said.
Justine glanced over at Neskahi, who was setting up floodlights to illuminate the perimeter defined by the yellow crime scene tape. As usual, Tache would be photographing the scene. “I walked all the way around the pit, and I didn’t see anything but more work site refuse,” Justine said. “If you want us to pick up every soda can or wrapper, we’ll need some trash bags, too.”
“How far down is the hole?” Ella asked.
“I shined my flashlight down there and it looks like fifty feet or more. The reactor vessel is supposed to be pretty small, if I recall the details from the newspaper, and they’ll install it using a crane,” Justine said, then in a softer voice added, “If anyone fell in, they’re probably dead.”
“How about if we hook up a searchlight to the generator and search below as far as we can—after we check at ground level. There was supposedly only one intruder,” Ella said.
The search around the perimeter continued and they left anything that looked like trash in place for the moment. Ella contacted Dispatch to see if there had been any reports of grave robbing in the county, but the answer came back negative. Of course it was after midnight, and that just meant it probably hadn’t been discovered yet. Seconds later, her cell phone rang. It was Big Ed.
“Shorty, we have a report of a grave broken into at Good Shepherd cemetery. The bad news is that Reverend Campbell closed the casket and covered it up again before he even thought of calling us. According to what he said, the body was that of a girl of six.”
“When did she die?” Ella asked.
“Ten months ago in a car accident. The family’s moved away since then and no one knows how to contact them. Officer Cloud filed the report but, basically, all we have is that the caretaker heard someone outside. Unfortunately, he was drunk at the time and passed out shortly thereafter. By the time he woke up it was over. Officer Cloud said the man was totally useless as a witness,” Big Ed added.
“I’ll look into it and give you a full report once I have more,” Ella said, then hung up. Ella was about to go back and finish questioning the night watchman when her cell phone rang again. It was Teeny.
“I’ve got some bits of information for you. Come by whenever you can.”
“I can drop by later, but it’ll be closer to morning by then.”
“I don’t sleep much,” he said. “Come by whenever.”
Ella still wasn’t sure how he did it, but the big man didn’t seem to need as much rest as most people did. On the other hand, when he wasn’t working, Teeny was known to hole up and sleep for days. She’d teased him about being part bear.
At Justine’s request, Ella helped her team search for a point of entry, walking slowly around the fence line, looking over the chain link carefully. “It’s possible we’re dealing with someone with very tiny feet,” Ella said after they’d gone around once.
“You’d have to be a size four or smaller to get it into these ultrasmall holes on the wire mesh,” Justine said. “I’m a size five and I couldn’t manage it.”
“Well, the intruder didn’t just materialize in there, so let’s keep looking,” Ella said.
As she moved around the fence line, the flashlight beam fell on a droopy-looking section leading into a corner. It immediately caught Ella’s eye and she moved in closer, holding the flashlight, and studied the fenced section. It had been cut all the way down, then fastened back into position with wire hooks, undoubtedly after the intruder had stepped back outside the enclosure. “Guys, over here.”
Neskahi crouched next to her. “Smart guy. All he needed were wire cutters, a pair of pliers, and a dozen or so ready-made wire hooks. He hung the fence back up again after he left. That’s why we didn’t see it before. A lot of places in this fence are droopy.”
“He crept in and out,” Justine noted, “and this was far enough away from the guardhouse that the snip of wire cutters probably wasn’t heard at all. But how did the watchman spot the skinwalker? It’s pretty dark out here, and this must be two hundred yards from his little building.”
“Good question. While you guys keep working here, he and I are going to have another little talk.”
Ella found Albert Benally on the front stoop of his temporary building. He had a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, and she noticed that they were shaking.
“It’s cold tonight,” he said, following her gaze. “Want a cup?”
“No, thanks,” Ella answered, noting how nervous the man was.
“How long have you been working here?” Ella asked.
“Not long. I hired on just after that last protest. One of the old guys quit after having to chase some people around for a half hour.”
Ella nodded. “We found how the intruder got inside the fence. He cut the wire way down at the other end, then slipped through. Which brings up a question. How did you discover he was in there? The glare of the lights hide everything beyond the fence.”
He seemed uncomfortable and shifted from side to side. “Actually, he found me,” he admitted grudgingly. “I was listening to a Lakers home game on the radio—gone into overtime, great game—and something hit the roof and rolled down. I turned off the radio then and listene
d. That’s when I heard the chanting. At first I thought it was my fool of a cousin playing a joke on me, so I went outside.”
“It was very dark. How did you manage to see anything at all?”
“I didn’t—at first. I didn’t have my flashlight, I’d left it in my truck, so I didn’t go beyond the range of the floodlights. Then I heard someone laughing. That, the chanting and running around in the dark, well, that’s a skinwalker thing. I went back and got my flashlight and when I aimed it through the fence, I saw the hand,” he said and swallowed. “I ran back here double time.”
“You a traditionalist?” she asked.
“No, but you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that messing around with the dead is a real bad idea.”
He had a point. Some crossed themselves, others backed off, but nobody wanted to hang around something death had contaminated.
Ella contacted Justine on the radio. “This might just be another attempt by the protesters to halt work on the plant, but just in case, keep a watch for ashes, bone ammunition, corpse powder, and anything else associated with skinwalkers,” she said, then focused her attention on Albert once more. “Tell me something. Once you found the hand, that’s when you called us? Or was it before that?”
Albert looked decidedly uncomfortable. “When I saw the hand I ran back here and locked myself in. I picked up the night vision binoculars, turned off the lights, and watched out the window trying to figure out who—or what—was out there. But what I managed to see didn’t make much sense.”
“Explain.”
“The guy was inside the enclosure, closer to this end of the fence. I couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten over the eight-foot wire, because it was still up.” He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Then I saw him open a pouch of something, throw it up into the air, and scatter it all over the place. Right after that, he stretched his hand to the sky and twirled something.”
“What was he wearing?”
“A jacket with a hood and pants. No animal skin. I would have expected that. With that green image in the night scope, everything looks a little distorted, though.”
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