Bad Medicine

by Aimée

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you arranged that just for effect.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. I find this as revolting as you do.”

  As the lid lifted, Ella pressed her back against the earthen sides of the grave. Her stomach contents came up and she forced them back down with a foul-tasting swallow. Then a smell reminiscent of strong perfume mixed with the odor of damp earth hit her. She coughed and scrambled out, gulping for air.

  It took her a minute, but when she was relatively certain she wasn’t going to vomit after all, she returned to the grave and jumped back into the hole, avoiding looking at Blalock and Dr. Lavery, who were intent on the body. The mutilated body stared at her accusingly, and memories of what had been done to her father assailed her. Ella staggered backwards and slammed into the earthen wall.

  “The organs are missing,” Dr. Lavery said, oblivious to what was going on. “Explain,” he asked, glancing over at Ella.

  Ella tried to regain her composure. “I’m sure the body didn’t leave the morgue that way. Dr. Roanhorse uses the same protocols as every other M.E. in the state. She’s told me the organs are returned to the body cavity once the autopsy is complete. This must have been done afterwards.” She paused, then added, “No wonder the ground is still soft. This grave’s been dug twice now.”

  Ella struggled to keep from shaking. She wouldn’t come apart in front of the men. If they could handle it, so could she. She finally looked down at the body as Dr. Lavery took photographs. “That mutilation looks like—” her voice trembled and she stopped speaking abruptly.

  “What was done to your father?” Blalock finished for her.

  Ella nodded.

  “You’re losing me here, folks,” Lavery said, setting his camera on the surface out of the way.

  Ella looked directly at him. “In the eyes of someone not fully versed in our ways, this mutilation might have been viewed as part of the ritual intended for War Medicine. In olden times, when an enemy was defeated, the tendons of his legs, arms, and neck were taken, along with his scalp. These would then be used by a medicine man to make the victors’ enemies weak, and their own warriors more powerful. But in this case it doesn’t fit. Angelina couldn’t have been much of an enemy.”

  “What about her father, the senator?” Blalock suggested.

  “The symbolism might have worked—had her father known about it, or if they were counting on one of us telling him.”

  “But this body’s mutilations go way past what you described,” Dr. Lavery said. “Somebody wanted to make sure they removed every piece of the vital organs.”

  “You’re saying that someone was making sure that duplicate samples couldn’t be taken,” Ella said.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “So now we have to track down whoever did this,” Blalock said, helping Dr. Lavery place the body in the bag.

  Ella and Blalock helped Dr. Lavery bring the body up and load it into the back of Blalock’s government van. “What can you possibly do with that body now, Doctor?” Ella asked.

  “I can examine the muscles and skeletal system to determine if there was a physical injury or trauma that could have caused death. I’m also going to check and see if there are any minute sections of the organs still present. But if I were you, I wouldn’t hold out any hope that I’ll come up with a startling revelation.”

  As Blalock and Dr. Lavery drove away, Ella looked back at the grave—now covered with a piece of plywood so no one would fall in—lost in nightmarish thoughts. Then she turned and walked hurriedly to her Jeep.

  As she drove back, vivid images of the corpse continued to flash through her mind. She wondered if whoever mutilated the body had more than one purpose. Maybe the person who did this was hoping it would be blamed on skinwalkers at the same time he was covering his tracks. Or it might have been one of the senator’s men, acting under orders to sabotage any further investigation. But it also could have been a way to rattle her, to bring back old memories that would disrupt her thinking as well as the investigation.

  Ella knew she could be dealing with someone who hated her and her family, as well as someone who was trying to protect the senator. Unfortunately, that didn’t do much to narrow the suspect list.

  * * *

  It was shortly after noon the following day when Ella got a call from Blalock. “Despite the way the body was torn apart, Dr. Lavery was able to determine a few things. There were no broken bones or evidence of trauma severe enough to have caused Angelina Yellowhair’s death. So, the case is still open.”

  “Have you told the senator?”

  “Oh yeah. There was this silence at first, then he went ballistic. He claimed that Carolyn Roanhorse was responsible for desecrating his daughter’s body, and insisted that the evidence points to her.”

  “What evidence?”

  “Dr. Roanhorse would have known about Navajo lore. He claimed she’d tried to mislead us all, while wiping out evidence of her own incompetence.”

  “That’s total garbage. We wouldn’t have exhumed at all unless Yellowhair had pushed us into it,” Ella argued.

  “I pointed that out. I also checked on a few other things, including having Dr. Roanhorse view Lavery’s photos. She was horrified. The body didn’t leave her office torn up that way. She has photos of her own to prove that. It turns out, the mortician who took care of the body was from Farmington. He corroborates Dr. Roanhorse. The man said the body was intact when he placed it in the casket, and the organs had been placed back into the body cavity, which was then closed with those staples they use. So whoever took the organs removed them after the corpse left the funeral parlor. Problem is, the driver who took the body from the church to the graveyard left the casket for the burial detail. He didn’t wait to see it done. It sat there in the cemetery alone for a couple of hours.”

  “Who took care of burying it?”

  “The preacher and five Anglo men. I’ve already talked to them. They all vouch for one another.”

  Ella exhaled softly. “Those incisions were crude. I can’t imagine it taking very long to gut an already embalmed body.”

  “I brought all of this up with the senator. I don’t think he heard half of it. He’s pretty steamed that we’re not arresting Dr. Roanhorse, despite the evidence and a witness verifying her work.”

  “Yeah, well, then he’s got two problems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Getting steamed and getting over it.” As she hung up the receiver, Justine walked in. “I just came back from the mine. There’s been some trouble over there again, scuffles breaking out and that sort of thing. Big Ed ordered increased patrols in the area.”

  The telephone rang and Ella picked up.

  “You recognize my voice?” a man asked.

  It was Billy Pete. “Of course.”

  “Then meet me at Kevin Tolino’s place.”

  “Why there?”

  “He’s away, working, and it’s out of the way. Nobody hangs around his property, either. He’s too well connected. Nobody will see us there.”

  Ella stood up. “I’m going out to meet a contact at the place where Kevin Tolino is building his home. In the meantime, see if you can find out how Neskahi is doing. If he can talk to us, find out if there’s anything he can tell us about what happened, what he ate or drank, who had access to it, etcetera. And we’re going to need someone to fill in for him. Ask the chief for a recommendation. Since he’s the one who told me I could add to my team, he may be more inclined to give us the extra help. I don’t think we have much of a chance of actually getting anyone, not with these increased patrols, but it won’t hurt to ask.”

  Ella was well outside Shiprock when she spotted a van several hundred yards behind her on the all but deserted highway. It wasn’t Billy Pete’s vehicle: He drove a pickup. As Ella watched, the van matched her speed, staying with her whether she slowed down or sped up. Ella turned up a dirt road, then drove cross country, wanting to see
if the van would follow. It stayed well back, but remained on her tail, the dust that rose up high into the air giving it away.

  Ella picked up her cellular to contact Justine. Too many people nowadays had radio scanners. “I need backup,” she said, giving her assistant a rundown. “I think my contact set me up. Where are you?”

  “I was on my way to the medical center to talk to the sergeant, so I’m not too far behind you.”

  “Do you remember the long dirt track that leads into an open field about three miles west of the high school? It was going to be a housing development area, but it never happened.”

  “Yeah. I know exactly where you’re talking about.”

  “That’s where I’m at. There’s a canyon just ahead that will give me a place of concealment to turn around and come straight back at this van. I’m going to turn the tables.”

  “I’ll block the way out if the van decides to make a run for it.”

  Ella continued on, keeping one eye on the vehicle behind her. It was still hanging back, like someone experienced in surveillance tailing. She headed up the canyon, knowing Justine wouldn’t be far behind. Ella pressed the Jeep for more speed the minute she hit the sandy soil that would give her the advantage. Once out of sight of the van, she skidded into a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, and started back toward where she’d last seen the van.

  “Do you have a visual on them?” Ella asked Justine when she emerged from the canyon without confronting the vehicle.

  “I’m turning down the track now. I can see it ahead. But it’s stationary. They never followed you into the canyon.”

  Ella frowned. It was smart of them not to follow blindly, but stopping didn’t make any sense either. That could mean trouble. “Is anyone still inside the vehicle?”

  “Not that I can see, but they have tinted windows. I’ll go in on foot for a closer look.”

  Ella’s chest tightened, dread filling her so completely it was as if her blood had suddenly frozen. “No! Hold your position.”

  “At least let me drive in closer.”

  “No. Consider that an order.”

  “All right. I’ll just block the track and make it more difficult for them to try to take off.”

  Ella drew closer, parked sideways on the road, then took a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment. She focused on the vehicle ahead, but the tinted windows made it impossible to see anything inside. She searched the surrounding terrain, but couldn’t see where anyone could be hiding in ambush.

  As a breeze blew against her, she felt a chill and realized her body was bathed in sweat. Something was wrong, very wrong. She tried to analyze everything. She could see no driver or passengers. It was possible they’d jumped out and were hiding in a nearby gully. With the dry, hard-packed ground, it would be difficult to track them, and there were thousands of places in the surrounding desert they could use to conceal an ambush. She glanced around, searching for anything that would give her some answers.

  “We can’t just sit around forever,” Justine said, using the radio.

  Ella picked up her mike. “I know. Give me a minute to put on my kevlar vest. You do the same. Then order them to come out with their hands up. If they don’t respond, we’ll move in. You’ll cover me, but be alert to an ambush from behind cover.”

  She heard Justine blare the order. Five minutes later, there was still no sign of movement in or around the van. Gun in hand, Ella circled around, planning to approach from the rear. With no back facing windows, anyone inside could only use the outside mirrors to keep watch. Her skin felt as if electric currents were traveling over it, not painful, but pushing her nerves to the very edge of awareness. She listened and watched as she crept forward, but the van looked deserted.

  Ella saw Justine come out from cover briefly, shotgun in hand, to protect her from anyone trying to exit the van. Ella continued, placing herself so she couldn’t see either of the van’s side mirrors. That meant they couldn’t see her either. She was about ten yards away, when she decided to halt and wait for a moment. Suddenly the van blew apart, and a hot wall of air hurled her to the ground with a wicked thump. The air shrieked as bits of metal flew overhead in every direction.

  Ella felt as if a wrecking ball had slammed against her. Struggling to catch her breath, she remained prone, turning onto her belly to search behind her for Justine.

  Her assistant was rising to her knees slowly, looking around for her shotgun, slightly dazed. “Whoa. Never done that before.”

  “At least we’re both in one piece,” Ella said, moving toward Justine to verify she was unharmed.

  “Yeah, but I hurt all over, and I can barely hear you. What a noise.”

  “Same here.”

  They walked around the burning van. Flames shot out the holes where the windows used to be. The back doors had been blown clean off, and one lay about ten feet from where Ella had been knocked off her feet. It was smoking like a hot coal.

  “I’ll call to get Sam Pete out here. I want an expert opinion on this explosion. He can search the scene for bomb parts and whatever clues are left.” Sam Pete was a distant relation of Billy Pete’s, and he was also their entire bomb squad. “I want you to work with him on this,” Ella said.

  “No problem.” Justine reached for her notebook and saw her right sleeve dripping with blood. “Uh-oh. I sprung a leak.”

  Justine pulled her tattered sleeve, exposing several small wounds oozing blood. Cubical pieces of glass had peppered her upper arm like shotgun pellets. “It’s nothing. I caught a little flying glass, that’s all. Lots of little cuts, which hurt like hell, but I’ll live.”

  Unclipping the two-way radio from her belt, Ella called in the incident and added a 10-83, an officer-needs-help call. After hearing that the medical team would be unable to reach them for at least a half hour, Ella motioned to her car. “Come on. I’m taking you in. We’re only twenty minutes away from the Medical Center. Fifteen, the way I drive.”

  As Ella raced down the highway, she spoke with Sam Pete about the bombing and arranged for him, Tache, and Ute to secure the site. “I want to know what kind of explosives were used, where the bomber got them, and how they were detonated. And I want the information yesterday.”

  “So what’s new?” Sam answered. “I’ll do my best.”

  Ella parked by the ER doors, and hurried inside with her young assistant. Dr. Natoni met them and led Justine away. Before Justine was even out of the room, Ella’s cellular began to ring. Ella opened it up, wondering when she was going to have time to take a deep breath.

  “I got the news on the notes.” Ella recognized Blalock’s staccatostyle reporting. “Nothing conclusive. The notes could have been written by a skilled forger, or Randall himself. The ink is from an ordinary ballpoint you can buy anywhere, same with the paper. One thing is certain. Since it has to be a forgery, we know the person who wrote it must have studied Randall’s handwriting for a long time. Also, it’s clear the person knows you, too.

  “Now for another tip,” he continued. “I learned that Noah Charley spent the night in the Holbrook, Arizona, jail on a disorderly conduct charge, and was released the day after he was reported missing here. It just showed up on my computer. I’ve put out a request to all law enforcement agencies in that area to detain Charley if anyone sees him.”

  “Thanks. Now let me update you.” Ella told him about the explosion.

  “Any idea who’s responsible?”

  “It’s too soon, but I’ve sent our people to look over the van. I’ll let you know more as soon as they report in.”

  Ella saw Justine as she walked out of the examining room. Her arm had been bandaged. She looked pale, but okay. “Hey, you need a ride home?”

  “Uh-uh,” Justine shook her head. “If my mother sees you, there’s going to be trouble.”

  “You think she’ll blame me because you got hurt?”

  “She blamed you for my sprained ankle,” Justine said, with a sheepish smile. “When I come in with
this bandage, she’s going to hit the ceiling. Better if you’re not around. I’ll call one of my brothers to pick me up. I’ll be at work tomorrow, but I’m taking the rest of today off. Okay with you?”

  “Take whatever time you need.”

  “I had expected to go right back to work today. But I needed a couple of stitches and they gave me a painkiller. Now, my mind really feels fuzzy.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll get back to the station and report this mess to Big Ed. He’s going to want to know about this as quickly as possible.”

  “There’s a report on your desk about that bottle of furosemide that you found in the trash downstairs. There were no prints on it whatsoever. It had been wiped clean.”

  “Thanks.” That meant someone had added the poison to Neskahi’s coffee at the hospital. She’d have to question Neskahi to find out who’d had the opportunity. Her cellular rang again. As she heard Big Ed’s voice, Ella gave Justine a weary smile. “I’m on my way in right now, Chief.”

  * * *

  Ella stopped by her office before going to see the boss. She hadn’t had a minute to even gather her thoughts, and to make matters even worse, she hadn’t made it to her meeting with Billy Pete either. There was no telling how he’d take that, or when he’d reschedule. She wanted to question him about setting her up, too.

  As she dropped into her seat, she saw an envelope from the state crime lab on the desk. Ella opened it and found the test results on the second set of fluid and tissue samples Carolyn had taken from Angelina’s body. The report confirmed that the senator’s daughter had been under the influence of peyote, and that she’d died from jimsonweed poisoning. Carolyn’s findings were completely supported.

  Angelina’s ability to maneuver the car safely while she was hallucinating or having seizures would have been minimal, at best. It was a wonder that she hadn’t died from a wreck before the poison had taken full effect.

  Ella suspected that had been the killer’s intent all along. In New Mexico, if a person died in an automobile accident, and physical trauma was extensive, an autopsy was not usually performed. If no one had witnessed Angelina’s erratic driving and if her injuries had been more pronounced, the murder would have probably gone down in the reports as just another highway fatality.