Looking Through Darkness

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Yeah, and those smell absolutely amazing. Unfortunately I need to go home, shower, and change,” Jo said, indicating her paint-splattered jeans and shirt. “There’s no way I’m greeting customers looking like this.”

  “I’ll tell you what: Let me give you a ride home and back. You can eat on the way and we can talk.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jo said. “I’m too stiff and sore to drive right now anyway.”

  Within minutes they were on the way. Jo carefully cradled a lidded, foam cup of hot instant coffee in one hand and one of Leigh Ann’s biscuits in the other.

  “Better now?” Leigh Ann asked after the first biscuit disappeared.

  “Much. My back’s not screaming in protest, either.” Jo glanced over and shifted in her seat so she could face Leigh Ann more squarely. “Okay, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  Leigh Ann told her what she’d learned about Kurt and how she’d handed the box over to the sheriff’s department. “I don’t see any reason for this to spill over onto the trading post, but I felt you had to know. Dale warned me that I might get a visit from a detective today.”

  “I appreciate you telling me, Leigh Ann, but don’t worry. We’re not responsible for the actions of others,” she said. “I know you’re not a thief, much less a killer.”

  Leigh Ann breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Let me know if I can help you in any way,” Jo added.

  Leigh Ann smiled. “Jo, you have no idea how much it means to me that you even offered.” She glanced down at Jo’s shirt. “What were you painting with such a bright red? A warning sign?”

  Jo told her what had been happening, starting with Rudy’s poisoning.

  “Do I know the guy who might have done this?”

  “I’m thinking it might be a guy named Edmund Garnenez. I knew him back in high school, but I haven’t seen him since. He’s not a Traditionalist, more like a Modernist, and I think he lives outside the Rez.”

  “I’ll keep a lookout around The Outpost for anyone who’s not acting right.” Leigh Ann glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a dark sedan keeping pace with her Jeep. Uneasy, she tried to remember if she’d seen that car earlier today. Lately, she’d become paranoid, and for a good reason.

  “There’s a reworked turnoff to my place. It’s just ahead on the left, about a quarter mile off the highway. The road used to be nothing more than potholes and dirt, which is why I always took the long way. Now it’s all been graded and graveled. Take the turn kind of slow, though, because there’s still a drop-off from the asphalt.”

  Leigh Ann didn’t slow down, instead taking another quick look at the car behind them. “Jo, I’m going to go past the turn, just to make sure.”

  “Sure about what?”

  “There’s a dark sedan that might be following us. I think I’ve seen it behind me before.…”

  “You think?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but if the guy is tailing us, I don’t want to lead trouble right to your doorstep.” Her mouth was feeling really dry at the moment, and it wasn’t from thirst. Suddenly she wished she had that revolver in the glove compartment.

  Jo turned to look back. “Looks like he’s decided to pass us.”

  “I’ll slow down and give him plenty of room to get by,” Leigh Ann said, easing up on the gas.

  The driver closed the gap between the vehicles. As the big old car drew even with Leigh Ann’s Jeep, she glanced over for a look at the driver, but couldn’t make out his features. A ball cap pulled low kept his face in the shadows.

  “Go ahead,” Leigh Ann said, waving at him. Suddenly the black sedan swerved and, with a sickening crunch, slammed into the driver’s side of the Jeep. The jarring collision almost made Leigh Ann lose her grip on the steering wheel, and her heart was pounding.

  The Jeep bounced to the right, tires screaming as they barely avoided running off the highway.

  “What the hell?” Jo gasped, grabbing the seat with both hands.

  “Hang on, Jo!” Leigh Ann yelled, trying not to lose it. She pumped the brakes just as the sedan cut right again, crashing into her left front fender.

  An ear-shattering screech of metal rattled her teeth, as the two cars locked together for a second. Leigh Ann felt the back of the Jeep lift off the roadway. Another few seconds and they’d roll for sure. Somehow, she had to get away. She took a quick look ahead.

  “Screw this,” Leigh Ann muttered, slamming on the brakes and whipping the Jeep to the right. They broke free, slid in neck-snapping jerks for an endless three seconds, then ran off the shoulder of the road onto the tall, dry grass of the drainage slope.

  Somehow the Jeep stayed on all fours, finally rattling and bouncing to a stop. Dust enveloped them in a cloud, and in the chaos, the black car disappeared.

  Leigh Ann stared at the white knuckles on each of her fingers, which were locked around the steering wheel in a death grip. Then she turned and looked over at Jo, who was leaning back, head up, muttering something in Navajo that sounded like a prayer.

  “Are you okay?” Leigh Ann asked her, shaking.

  “Yeah, but what the hell just happened?” Jo sat up and reached for her cell phone. “I’m calling the tribal police.”

  “You think it was Edmund what’s-his-name?” Leigh Ann said.

  “I don’t know, but whoever it was, he tried to run us off the road, maybe even kill us. There was nothing accidental about what he was doing. How’d you learn to drive like that?”

  She laughed nervously. “Bumper cars at the county fair, I guess. Besides, there was no other choice but to leave the road and hang on.”

  Leigh Ann waited until Jo had finished her call to the tribal police. “I realize we’re on the reservation, but this highway isn’t exactly private, and I’m almost sure I’ve seen that dark-colored sedan before.”

  “You could ID the car?”

  Leigh Ann shook her head, and filled her in on the details.

  “Do you think it could have been one of Kurt’s partners?”

  “Wearing a baseball cap?” Leigh Ann shook her head. “Maybe, in disguise, but I really doubt it. Both those men go for cowboy hats. It could be that they hired someone to keep an eye on me and run me off the road if the opportunity came up.”

  “Are you suggesting that either one of us could have been the target, particularly if Kurt’s partners have something to hide?”

  “Yeah. Lucky us.”

  A woman tribal officer responded within thirty minutes, a fast response time for the tribal police. The force was stretched thin these days.

  After getting the details of the incident from Jo and taking photos of Leigh Ann’s car and the skid marks on the pavement, the dark-haired officer continued questioning them. She took notes as they spoke. Leigh Ann told the tribal cop about her suspicions regarding Kurt’s death and Jo explained what had happened to Rudy, adding her theory regarding his poisoning.

  “You gave me three names of men you think might have done this, yet neither one of you is able to describe or identify the driver. I need some actual evidence, ladies, not just speculation,” the officer concluded.

  “You could have someone at least pay them a visit. If one of their cars is damaged on the right front end…,” Jo said, leaving the sentence hanging.

  “I’ll check Mr. Garnenez’s vehicle and have the sheriff’s office run a make and model on any cars Mr. Boone and Mr. Hurley own or operate. I’ll have a notice sent to local auto body shops as well. That’s all I can do unless some physical evidence is uncovered or a witness comes forward. At this point, I have to consider this just a random act, possibly caused by a drunk driver.”

  “I understand. However, if you find out something, will you let us know?” Jo asked.

  She nodded, handing Leigh Ann a business card. “You’ll be notified if we find anything. I’ll recover a sample of the chipped paint left behind as a result of the collision. In the meantime, you might want to call a towing service.”

  Leigh
Ann gave her a wan smile. “I know it looks like it’s gasping its last breath, but this Jeep can take almost anything I throw at it. The tires are intact and the damage is all cosmetic. It’ll start and keep going.”

  The officer gave her a skeptical look. “Better get that driver’s side front signal light fixed before another officer pulls you over.”

  Leigh Ann checked the support bracket, which had been bent almost ninety degrees. The cover glass had been smashed, and she’d have to get the wiring checked, but the bulb still looked intact. “Of course, Officer.”

  As she’d predicted, the Jeep started without any problem. Leigh Ann asked the officer to watch while she turned on the signal—which lit immediately.

  “Okay, it still works,” the officer said, shrugging. “It’s as good as a lot of vehicles I see out here. But you should get a cover over the bulb before it gets wet.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Leigh Ann said as Jo climbed into the passenger seat. The tribal police officer got into her vehicle and pulled away, quickly disappearing down the highway.

  “One way or another, we’ve got to find out who the target was—me or you,” Leigh Ann said, checking her seat belt and shoulder strap.

  “We will,” Jo answered as they got underway. “Just don’t let your guard down in the meantime.”

  Leigh Ann kept her eyes on the highway. Despite the paint incident at the trading post, she was sure that this violent, open attack had more to do with her than Jo. “If this turns out to be my fault, I can find another job, at least until I get matters settled.”

  Jo looked at her in surprise, then shook her head. “Trouble’s part of life, Leigh Ann. No one’s immune. The Outpost can handle whatever comes. I can’t think of a better set of people to depend on when times get tough.”

  “You’re right. We’re family—the best kind, too—one that’s bound by choice.”

  * * *

  Jo was alone in her office when she finally heard the soft Skype ring tone and saw the box on her monitor with Ben’s name. She clicked on the video button, put on the headset to keep it private, and within a few seconds Ben’s face appeared on the computer monitor.

  As usual, he was seated in a metal folding chair in front of his laptop, which rested upon a makeshift table of what looked like plywood. Behind him was a white painted wall of undetermined composition, and against it two bare wood shelves piled with duffel bags and wire metal containers full of army gear and personal items. Fatigue uniforms were hung from a metal rod and there was a cot barely visible to one side. A photo of her was tacked on the wall above the bunk.

  “Hi, darling,” he said and flashed his usual grin. She’d gotten used to the slight delay and frequent jumps in imagery long ago. It was a small price to pay to actually be able to see Ben and talk in real time.

  “Hi,” she said, touching the screen. “I miss you.” Her heart went out to him. She’d never seen him look more exhausted, yet he still managed to smile.

  “Sixty-two days left in this deployment, and I won’t re-up this time,” he said. “I’m ready to come home for good.”

  “You look tired,” she said in a gentle voice.

  “Been training for the last eighteen hours,” he said and shrugged. “It goes with the job.” He looked at her for a moment. “I may be off-line for a while after today, just a heads-up.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, instantly alert. “What can you tell me?”

  “Just that I’ll be fine,” he answered without hesitation. “I’m on alert twenty-four/seven, so if you don’t hear from me for a few days, don’t worry, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and smiled.

  “No, don’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m a workingman, not an officer.”

  She smiled.

  “You look pretty tired yourself. Are you getting enough sleep?” he asked.

  “Yeah, it’s just stress. Leigh Ann and I were in a fender bender with a drunk on the road, but nobody was hurt.”

  “What else?”

  She smiled. He could read her better than anyone else ever had. “I’m worried about my teacher, the hataallii. Rudy drank some contaminated tea and it made him ill.”

  “Your medicine man mixed the wrong herbs?” he asked, surprised.

  “No, he was poisoned, and it wasn’t an accident either. He ended up in the hospital. He’s okay now,” she said, giving him the highlights.

  “You probably saved his life. Just remember that you’re his assistant now, so you’ll have to be careful, too.”

  “I am,” she said, refusing to tell him how close the threat had come to home.

  Hearing a commotion behind him, and seeing him turn his head suddenly, she sat up instantly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got to go. Time for me to earn my pay. Love you!”

  With that, he was gone. She had no idea when she’d hear from him again, and the thought tugged at her, but she fought back the tears. Ben was serving his country. The least she could do was hold it together and take care of things until he came back home.

  She took a deep breath and took off the headset. It was time for her to get busy. She touched the screen with her fingertips. “Come home soon, Ben,” she whispered, brushing away an errant tear.

  * * *

  For a few days they’d been taking intermittent mortar fire from the hills, and that last round had hit close to the fuel dump of their FOB, forward operating base. A push to sweep the hills to the north for the Taliban mortar team was already in the works, so maybe this was meant to be a spoiling attack. The fact that it was still light outside showed how desperate the Taliban had become.

  Since his quarters were protected by concrete and sandbag barriers, it would take a direct hit by a 120mm bomb or bigger to do more than raise a little dust. Thinking fast, Ben selected Ambrose John’s name from his Skype address book, clicked the right boxes and waited, listening to the ring tone. Three minutes later, his longtime high school buddy’s face popped up on the monitor. Back then, Ben had stood up for Ambrose when gay bashers had confronted him. Now Ambrose, a very successful silversmith, returned the favor and watched out for Jo while he was deployed. “Hey, Ben, how’s the weather?”

  Ben chuckled. A.J. knew that it was either hot and dry or cold and dry at this FOB, and had to rub it in. Ben hated the sandbox, one of the printable names for Afghanistan. “Just working on my tan, A.J.”

  “What’s up, pal?”

  Ben watched the image flicker a little bit because of the signal delay. Live conversations had a tiny time lag due to the satellite relays and that halfway-around-the-world thing.

  “Remember when you promised to keep an eye on Jo and the rest of The Outpost crew for me? I hear Jo’s been catching some grief lately.”

  Ambrose nodded. “She’s never said word one to me, but I’ve heard that somebody’s trying to give her and Rudy Brownhat, the medicine man, a hard time. One of their patients died and rumor has it that the dead woman’s boyfriend is raising hell.”

  “I’m going to need you to stick close to her and The Outpost. I’m probably going to be out of touch for a while.” A big operation was hours away, first clearing the hills, then moving up the valley. Intelligence sources had indicated that there were several hundred Taliban in the area. His mission was clear. Go in, treat, extract, and transport the wounded until the operation was completed.

  “Give me an idea. Are we talking days, weeks, or more?” A.J. asked.

  Ben shrugged. “Can’t say. You may hear about it on the news in a week or two, once it’s over.”

  “Okay, stay safe, and don’t worry about Jo or the crew at the trading post. Watch your back, and I’ll take care of things around here.”

  “Appreciate it, A.J.,” Ben said.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nah, that’s about it. Take care of yourself. Things can get damned hot at home, too.”

  “Gotcha, Ben. Now get some sleep, you look like crap.”

  “Tell me about
it.”

  Ben felt a mortar bomb hit close by, then the screen flickered, and went blank. He wasn’t worried. A.J. knew what to do now and would take care of things for him back home.

  Two more blasts followed nearby. Mentally shutting out the noise, he went back to his bunk to try to get some sleep. All things considered, he wished he were back in his easy chair watching a Rockies home game instead of sweating away the hours in this hellhole.

  * * *

  Later that morning, John Littlewater stopped by the trading post. Seeing him, Leigh Ann stopped dusting the candy display beside one of the registers and went to greet Melvin’s uncle.

  “Hi, John. Are you here for Melvin’s check? It won’t be ready until this afternoon.”

  “Thanks, that’s great, but the reason I came by was to ask you a question: Do you think the trading post would be interested in displaying some of Melvin’s maquettes? They’re small, preliminary models he usually makes of his sculptures. He was going to break them up and throw them out, but I think they could be put to better use. If you can display them as samples of what he can do, it might drum up some extra business for him and for the trading post.”

  “Does Melvin need the extra work right now?” she asked, wondering if she was reading John right.

  John shrugged. “It’s not a big emergency or anything, but he has some repairs that need to done at his house. Just don’t bring it up, okay?”

  She nodded, having gone through the same situation recently. Last year she’d managed to get the roof patched instead of redoing the entire thing, but that was a temporary measure at best. Before long it would have to be completely replaced. When you owned a house, there was always a maintenance or repair issue.

  “I’ll ask Jo about the display and let you know as soon as possible,” she said, changing the subject.

  John nodded, opened his mouth as if to speak, then turned away.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there? Is Melvin really hurting for money?” she asked.

  “No, that’s not it. I have another question for you though, just between the two of us?” he asked softly, looking around to make sure nobody was listening.