Ford came up behind Ella, placed his hands on her shoulders, and squeezed gently. “I heard about yesterday. Are you okay?”
Ella patted his hand. That was all the affection Ford—the Navajo minister at the ultra-conservative Good Shepherd Church—would condone in public. “I’m fine.”
“I went by the hospital first thing. Your child’s father is out of ICU and in his own room, but he’s still under sedation.”
Glancing at Dawn, Ella returned her bright smile. “See that? He’s going to be fine. Once he’s awake, he’ll want to see you, but you’re going to have to keep your visits short. He’ll need rest most of all.”
“I know, Mom, I know. How about after school today? Can I go then?”
“Maybe, but no promises. We’ll have to wait and see,” Ella said.
As Rose set a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of Dawn, Ella grabbed Ford gently by the hand and led him into the living room.
The moment they were out of view, he gathered her into his arms. “When I heard . . . ,” he whispered, then kissed her gently.
“It was rough going,” she answered in a soft voice, resting her chin on his shoulder, her cheek next to his.
Ford held her tightly for a moment, then eased his hold and moved away, taking her hands in his. “Your job is too dangerous and unpredictable,” he said, then in a heavy voice added, “But that’s exactly what attracts you to it.”
“You should understand that better than most. You weren’t always a preacher,” she said. To this day she still didn’t know what his job had been, only that he’d been part of the intelligence community and had done jobs for the FBI. When she’d tried to get answers she’d been officially warned to back off. Need to know didn’t include her. She’d followed orders, but the questions remained.
“Dawn seems to be handling things very well,” he said.
“So far, yes,” Ella said slowly. “But I think she’s role-playing, trying to meet my expectations and be tough. Inside, she’s pretty scared.”
“She’s trying too hard to be just like her mother. But little girls need an outlet for their emotions. Big girls, too,” he added with a gentle smile.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got things covered. But Dawn . . .”
“Why don’t we both talk to her right now? That might help.”
They joined her at the breakfast table and, after Dawn finished eating, Ella asked her into the living room.
“Is it Dad? Something you’re not telling me?” Dawn asked immediately, her fists clinched and white-knuckled.
“That’s not it at all, sweetie,” Ella responded immediately, giving Dawn a big hug. “Sit down for a moment, okay?”
“Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?” she asked, sitting across from them on the sofa.
“Not at all,” Ford said quickly. “We were just wondering if there was any way we could help you. We know you must be worried about your father, and maybe a little afraid, too, though you’re being very brave about it.”
“I was scared, but not anymore,” Dawn said. “Shimasání knows things, and she said Dad’s going to be okay.”
Ella saw Ford’s face stiffen. Although he was a Navajo scholar with an intimate knowledge of the tribe and the Navajo Way, he didn’t accept any other power, or way of life, that didn’t center around the god he worshiped. Reverend Bilford Tome was a conservative Christian who preached that the Diné’s traditional beliefs were pagan and false—a part of the tribe’s history, but nothing more.
“Is there anything I can do to make the next few days easier for you?” he asked, sidestepping the issue.
Ella knew that Ford was hoping she’d ask him to pray for her dad, but although Dawn didn’t dismiss his beliefs, she didn’t embrace them either. Uncertain of what would happen, Ella watched the situation play out between Ford and Dawn.
“Dad’s going to be fine, but the other man, the soldier who got all those medals fighting for our country, he’s in bad shape,” she said at last. “Maybe you could pray for him to your god.”
“My God wants to be yours, too. He doesn’t play favorites. He loves you. Why don’t we ask Him together?”
“I don’t know how,” Dawn answered.
“Just repeat what I say,” Ford said, then led her in the Lord’s Prayer.
Halfway through, Rose appeared at the doorway, glared at Ella, then disappeared. Though Rose hadn’t said a word, Ella felt the sting of her mother’s disapproval. Ella’s dad had been a Christian preacher, and her mom, a Traditionalist her entire life, knew that the strict demands of conservative Christianity didn’t allow much room for the Navajo Way. Rose wanted her granddaughter to know and embrace her own culture before being asked to participate in what she saw as Anglo religion.
After they finished the prayer, Dawn grabbed her school bag and ran off to catch the bus.
Ford came over to where Ella stood by the living room window, watching her daughter. “I hope you didn’t mind,” he said.
“I didn’t. And I appreciate the fact that you didn’t insist that she pray only to your god,” she added, mostly to make a point.
“It’s not just my God,” Ford insisted, then shook his head. “Never mind.”
“What’s next on your agenda?” she asked, walking with Ford to the door.
“I need to meet with a parishioner, then I’m going back to the hospital. I’ll be there within the hour, so if you’d like, I can call you and give you updates on the men.”
“That would be great. In particular let me know when Kevin’s awake and alert enough to be questioned. The hospital said they would, but they have other priorities,” she added. “Adam, from what I’ve been told, is struggling to survive. I’m hoping for the best, but I doubt he’ll be coming around anytime soon.”
“That’s what I’ve heard, too,” he answered. “His wife attends our church and asked me to hold a bedside prayer vigil for him.”
“I got the impression that his parents are Traditionalists,” she mentioned, remembering how they’d been dressed at the hospital.
“Yes, they are. I’ll have to work things out so nobody’s upset, but the wife’s wishes come first.” Ford stepped to the front door. “I better get going, but we’ll talk later.”
Ella was about to say something when Justine walked into the room, having entered through the kitchen. “Good morning, partner—Rev. Ford,” she added, giving him a friendly smile just before he stepped outside. “Your mom offered me some of her piñon coffee,” she said, holding up an empty mug, “and I’m going to take her up on it. Then I’ll be ready to go, okay?”
“Sure, cuz, but what brought you here so early?”
“Big Ed reminded our team that he doesn’t want you to ride alone until the case is closed.”
“I don’t agree with him, but he’s the boss, so I guess I’ll adapt,” Ella said, hearing Ford drive away in his old truck. “Go get your java, then we’ll hit the road.”
They climbed into Justine’s unit a few minutes later. “Where to first?”
Ella considered it. “My brother’s. I want to talk to Clifford.”
“You’ve got it,” Justine answered, driving down the private road, which led farther west toward Clifford’s home. “How are you feeling? Still sore?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve got more bruises than I can count.”
“Speaking of counting—the $75K Adam was carrying was cleaned. It took quite a while to dust, but there were no prints at all—not one. Not even from Lonewolf himself.”
“That’s some wad of cash—and no prints? That’s interesting all on its own,” Ella said. “Were there any leads in his notes or his wallet about how or where he got the money?”
“No, but I’m still digging into it. From what I’ve learned a lobbyist might buy someone a thirty-dollar gift, or maybe a fifty-dollar lunch, but the former’s on the high end. Junkets and expensive vacations or ‘conferences’ are still around, but much lower profile than they’ve ever been. Next on my
list is talking to Lonewolf’s business contacts, but I’m still trying to find an angle. It’s hard to question people effectively about the cash we found in Adam’s possession without getting into specifics and putting them on the defensive. If someone was expecting a bribe, they certainly wouldn’t want to talk about it to a cop—not unless they’re rock stupid,” Justine said.
“I hate being forced to tiptoe around issues,” Ella said. “We’re detectives. It’s our job to get to the truth. Having to handle people with kid gloves—that’s for the politicians. Most of us stink at diplomacy.”
“You’re right. Pushing directly for answers ’til we get them is more our style.”
The dirt road they were on was rough this time of year from the seasonal rains, and Justine had to keep an eye out for sharp rocks sticking up and patches of sand that could bog them down.
“Why are we going to Clifford’s? You never mentioned,” Justine asked.
“Lonewolf’s parents are Traditionalists. I’m hoping Clifford’s dealt with them before and I can get some insight into the family,” Ella said.
“Marie, his wife, isn’t a Traditionalist. She goes to my church. Did you know that?” Justine asked.
Ella nodded. “Do you know her?”
“I see her around from time to time. She and I went to high school together, but even back then we weren’t close. We hung out with different groups.”
“But you’re a familiar face to her . . . ,” Ella said in a thoughtful voice.
“Do you want me to ask Marie about the money?” Justine said, following Ella’s train of thought.
“Yes. If you get the chance, go for it, but don’t ask directly. You can’t tip your hand. The money can’t become public knowledge, at least not yet.”
The drive didn’t take long. As they pulled up to her brother’s place, Ella noted that there was no smoke coming from the roof of the medicine hogan and took that as a good sign. She’d hoped that her brother wouldn’t be busy.
As they drew closer, Ella spotted Ford’s truck parked on the far side of the hogan.
“Oh-oh,” Justine said, voicing Ella’s unspoken thoughts. “Your brother and Ford in the same place . . .”
“Someone else is there, too,” Ella said, noting a second pickup on the other side of the main house. It was well used and had a wooden stock rack around the bed.
“I think that one belongs to someone in the Lonewolf family. I saw it in the hospital emergency room parking lot the other day,” Justine said.
Justine parked and Ella stepped out of the car. As she stood by the passenger’s side door she heard two men arguing on the far side of the hexagonally shaped hogan. Although their voices were muted, it was impossible to mistake the undercurrent of tension between them.
“I’m going to see what’s going on,” Ella said. “If you get a chance, talk to Marie.”
Ella walked to her brother’s medicine hogan. As she drew closer she could hear Ford and Clifford clearly.
“You cannot do the ritual while we have a prayer vigil underway,” Ford, who had his back to her, said. “The Christians in the family will object, and if there’s anything they don’t need, it’s more tension and confusion.”
Clifford saw her approaching, and his eyes diverted to her for just a second before focusing on Ford once more. “A Come-to-Life Sing is absolutely necessary right now.”
“It sounds to me like the family needs both of you,” Ella said, joining them.
Ford turned to look at her, then exhaled softly. “This isn’t about us. It’s about them—the entire family.” He looked back at Clifford. “You and I have to find a way to work this out.”
“You’re right.” Clifford mulled it over. “Since mine is essentially emergency treatment beside the patient and no sandpaintings or prayer sticks are needed, I can find a way to shorten the ceremony. With that in mind, I can do the Come-to-Life Sing before your prayer vigil. Will that work for you?”
Ford nodded. “After you finish, we’ll begin.”
“Then it’s settled. Let’s go back inside, talk to the wounded man’s wife, and explain what we’ve decided,” Clifford said.
Ford glanced at Ella, and seeing the questions in her eyes, answered, “The hero’s wife insisted on meeting me here,” he said, avoiding names out of respect for Clifford. “She wanted me to help her convince the hataalii not to interrupt the bedside vigil she’d already asked me to conduct.”
“So she’s in the house?” Ella asked, glancing back. Seeing Justine was watching her, Ella cocked her head toward Clifford’s home.
Justine picked up on the gesture and headed inside.
Knowing her partner would need time to work things out, Ella decided to do her part to help. “This case has brought a lot of pressure down on the department,” Ella said, looking at Ford, then Clifford. “I have to find answers quickly, but I can’t do it alone. If you’re willing, I could use a little help from both of you.”
Clifford nodded.
“All you have to do is ask,” Ford added.
“Let’s take a walk. I want to make sure no one can accidentally overhear what I have to say.”
With Ford on one side of her and Clifford on the other, they went down the road a short distance, then walked up a shallow wash toward a flat-topped mesa a quarter of a mile beyond.
“When we processed the hero’s personal effects, we discovered that he was carrying a considerable amount of cash in his briefcase. I need to find out where that money came from and why he had it with him. You’re both in professions that inspire trust, and people often confide in you rather than us. If either of you hear anything that might explain it, I’d appreciate a tip.”
“How large a stash was it?” Ford asked.
“More than fifty thousand dollars,” Ella said, deciding at the last second to keep the exact details within the team.
Ford’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think he was on the take?”
“The fact that it’s all in cash is suspicious, but we have no evidence that anything illegal was going on.”
“And to go after a man who’s so respected with nothing more than guesses is going to start a war right here on the Rez,” Ford added with a nod.
“Exactly. I need answers, but no one can know about the money,” she said.
“I’ll try to find out if the hero had someone he might have confided in—maybe an army buddy or someone like that. I’m assuming that you’ve spoken to his wife, or intend to do that on your own time,” Ford said and saw Ella nod.
“I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything you might find useful,” Clifford said.
As they walked back toward Clifford’s home, Ford spoke again. “This is in the strictest of confidence, of course, but I can tell you that he and his wife are strapped for money right now. No way that cash is his. Even with his tribal paycheck, he still has out-of-pocket expenses whenever he travels, and the reimbursement checks take months to come in. That, in addition to the regular costs of maintaining a household, means they’ve got an ongoing cash flow problem.”
“Even with Kevin’s relatively high-level position for the tribe, I’ve heard him complain more than once about the cost of living in D.C.,” Ella said with a nod. “Money can be an issue because it takes time for the tribe to pick up the tab.”
“Maybe that money has nothing to do with the war hero,” Clifford said. “Everyone knows about your child’s father and his legal attack on the casino’s management. Maybe the cash has something to do with them.”
“That’s a good point. The casino would easily have access to large amounts like that,” Ford agreed. “I’ve always said that gambling, even when the tribe makes a handsome profit, may not be worth the other problems it creates.”
“Nothing to excess. That’s how a Navajo walks in beauty,” Clifford said in a rare moment of agreement between them.
“The promise of instant riches is a powerful lure for people living on the edge,” Ford answered.
When they reached the hogan Ella saw Justine walking near the back of the house with Marie, who was crying. Wondering if more bad news had arrived, Ella increased her pace. Clifford’s wife, Loretta, who was now near the entrance to the hogan, stepped over and intercepted her. “Leave them alone for a bit. Your cousin is trying to calm her down after hearing some bad news.”
“What happened?”
“There was a phone call while you were gone with the men. Her husband’s heart stopped not long ago, and although they were able to revive and stabilize him, she’s terrified. She’d made herself believe that once her husband was finally out of surgery the danger would be behind them. Now, she’s seeing that it’s not that simple.”
Several minutes later, Justine led Marie back to where Loretta and Ford were waiting. Saying good-bye to them, she jogged over to meet Ella. “Sorry to keep you. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
Ella didn’t break the silence between them until they reached the highway several minutes later. “Once we reach Shiprock, head for the hospital.”
“Got it,” Justine said, turning north.
“So how did it go?” Ella asked.
“Marie’s barely hanging on. When Adam was discharged from the army she was relieved, thinking they would finally have a more normal life. But things didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped when Adam found work as a lobbyist within three months of coming home. For one thing, their financial situation is tighter than ever. Apparently, most lobbyists work for a multitude of interests, but the tribe wants Adam to work strictly for them, and that limits the Lonewolf income. Marie asked him to threaten to quit and pressure the tribe to either increase his salary or let him take on other clients, but Adam refused. His goal is to get into tribal politics. He wants to use his popularity to network and develop contacts in Washington, and make a name for himself as someone who gets things done,” Justine said. “But, Ella, to make a long story short, no way that cash belonged to Adam.”
As her phone rang, Ella answered it, identifying herself.
“It’s Blalock,” the voice answered. “I’m at the hospital right now and thought you’d want to know that Kevin’s awake and alert enough to talk.”
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