by Aimée Thurlo
“That’s another name for it. According to the experts, it’s the closest any Native American animal is to the African antelope.”
“Thank you, Mr. Science.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, laughing. Leigh Ann was easy to talk to, particularly in contrast to John, who often had a beef with someone or was cranky about work.
Fifteen minutes later, as Leigh Ann slowed to a crawl and made several slow, sharp turns, he knew they were getting close to their destination.
“Hang on to the box, speed bump ahead,” she said.
He reached out and held on, but she’d slowed so much the bump was almost an afterthought.
“We’re here—tribal offices,” she announced. “I’ll come around.”
He heard the click click of her heels as she walked around the front of the Jeep, then the door opened. “Hand me the box, Melvin, and once you’re out, I’ll give it back to you.”
Three minutes later, they entered the cool lobby of the Navajo Nation Shiprock Agency and Leigh Ann led him to the receptionist’s desk.
“Here comes a guy in a suit,” she whispered as the snap of boots on tile came from his right.
“Yáat’ééh, Hosteen Littlewater,” a young man welcomed, coming up to Melvin. “Is this the antelope sculpture I’ve heard Director Nez talking about?”
“It sure is, Mr.…”
“Benally. I’m Thomas Benally, Director Sorrelhorse’s assistant. Mrs. Peshlakai is away from her desk at the moment. Can I lead you to Director Nez’s office?”
Melvin turned toward Leigh Ann, whose outline was just to his left. “Find a comfortable seat and wait for me. I’ll be back soon,” he said.
“Take your time, Melvin,” she answered.
A few seconds later, he felt a hand touch him briefly on his right shoulder and a gray shape appeared. “Would you like some help?” Benally asked, hesitation in his tone.
“If you’ll stay close, I’ll be able to follow and that’ll be enough.” Most Navajos disliked touching a stranger. Despite his disability, he was no different in that respect. He’d learned to shake hands a long time ago, but even that didn’t come as easily to him as it did to an Anglo.
The hall was carpeted, based on the near silence of their footsteps, but Benally moved slowly. Maybe he was a little uncertain about his role as guide.
As they passed an open door Melvin overheard a man he assumed to be Navajo, judging from his accent and tone. “Cut to the chase: How much is the contract worth to you?”
Curious, Melvin slowed down.
Benally picked up the pace instantly, however, forcing Melvin to speed up. A few seconds later Melvin heard a door slam behind them.
* * *
Ten minutes later he was back in the Jeep and Leigh Ann was navigating the side streets, heading back toward the highway.
“If the others like your sculpture as much as Mr. Benally did, you’re going to have some very happy customers,” she said, stopping at a traffic light.
“Director Nez unpacked the sculpture so he could see it for himself. He was so happy, he had Benally take a photo of us with the sculpture.”
“Once we get out of heavy traffic remind me to return your photo,” she said, stopping at the red light leading onto the main highway.
“Naw, keep it. John took several and he can print more.”
“Thanks.”
The light changed, and as she started to make the turn the Jeep lurched and the engine died. Hearing the car behind them honking, she looked in the rearview mirror. It was Wayne Hurley, of all people, in his big pickup. He waved and honked again, pointing to the green light.
She waved back. “Keep your shirt on,” she muttered.
Leigh Ann put the stick in neutral, switched the ignition off, then turned the key again and touched the gas lightly. The engine turned over this time, so she put it in gear, and made the turn onto the highway. As she speeded up, she gave Hurley, who was following, one last wave.
“On the road again, no sweat,” she said, relief in her voice.
“Has this happened before—the engine dying when you stop in traffic?” he asked.
“Sometimes on hot days. Fortunately, it always restarts. Maybe the idle is set too low, or something.”
“Have you ever considered trading in this ride for a new one, or maybe a good used model?”
“I’m barely getting by now, Melvin. Business has never gone back to where it was when Tom Stuart was alive, and expenses continue to rise. The trading post will survive this, I’m sure, but it’s still in transition. I’m concerned that we all might have to take a cut in hours so nobody has to be let go.”
“I had no idea. I guess things are tight for everyone right now.”
“Including you?”
“I get by okay. Sometimes the unexpected comes up, like my swamp cooler breaking down, but this check will take care of those repairs and then some,” he said. “One way or another, I always manage.”
Hearing a familiar electronic tune, she fished her cell phone out of her shirt pocket and put it on speaker. “Hi, Rache. Are you still in town? I thought you’d be on your way to Albuquerque by now.”
“I just passed through Farmington, but I thought you might want a heads-up. I stopped by the drugstore for hair spray and ran into Pierre Boone. He told me they just received the squirrel trap you ordered and he offered to bring it by. I told him you usually don’t get off work until after six and I was going to be out of town for a few days,” she said. “He said okay, but to let you know it had come in.”
“Okay, thanks for the heads-up,” Leigh Ann said. “Have fun,” she said, ending the call.
They rode in silence for several more minutes before Melvin spoke again. “I’m glad you’ll be staying with me.”
“So you can continue working on your new sculpture?” she asked hopefully.
He smiled. “I’ve never stopped working on it, but it’ll help to have you at home, talking to me.”
“How soon will I be able to see it?”
“Not for a while. It has a ways to go before it’s finished,” he said, and, smiling, added, “I never realized how curious you are.”
“I’m not always, but this time, yes.”
They arrived at Leigh Ann’s a short time later. The sky was gray, covered with a thick layer of clouds. It was getting dark fast, too, with the sun low in the sky.
“It feels cooler than it should for this time of day. It must be cloudy.”
“Yeah, but I doubt we’ll get any rain. It’ll evaporate before it hits the ground—at least that’s what the weatherman said.” She went around and took his arm. “Come on in. I’ll get you something to drink while I pack up a few things.”
“A drink’s not necessary. Just get your clothes and whatever else you’ll need.”
“You don’t want to hang around here any longer than we have to, do you?” she said, leading him up the sidewalk.
“I’ll feel safer at my place where I know my way around.”
She opened the door and flicked on the lights, but nothing happened. “The power’s off,” she said after a beat.
“Does that happen often?”
“Maybe three or four times a year. The entire neighborhood has the same problem. The power goes off for no discernible reason, and comes back whenever it feels like it. I think it’s because our area was developed without much planning, at least when it comes to utilities. Yet here we are, with the two biggest generating stations in the state within, what, fifteen miles?”
She led him to the chair in the living room, but before she could move away, he grasped her arm and placed one finger over his lips.
He pointed upstairs.
Leigh Ann heard nothing at first, then after several seconds heard what sounded like padded footsteps.
“I’ve got a gun, and I know how to use it,” she yelled, retrieving the .38 from her purse. “Get out of my house now!”
There was silence for a moment, then she hea
rd a window open upstairs.
Leigh Ann stepped in front of Melvin and pointed the gun toward the stairs. If the burglar wanted to climb out a window, that was just fine with her, but if he came down here, she’d blow him to kingdom come.
A heartbeat later, she heard running footsteps across the roof, then the rustling of bushes out back and a thump. That was followed by the sound of a squealing hinge, and a slam. After that, all she heard was the pounding of her heart.
Melvin reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.
“That last noise was the back gate,” she managed.
“Hopefully he’s long gone,” Melvin replied.
She stepped to the front door and pulled it open, holding the pistol barrel up.
“Wait another minute,” Melvin said. “Listen. There, an engine revving.”
Leigh Ann looked down the street and saw the taillights of a vehicle speeding away. “I’m going out back to check the breakers. Stay here.”
“We need to stick together in case he wasn’t alone. I’m going with you,” Melvin said.
She took his arm, and, using the flashlight app on her phone, walked out the French patio doors to the panel at the back of the house beside the electrical mast. “Someone switched off the master breaker.”
“Switch it back on, then let’s go inside,” he said. “After you call the police, take a look around, and see what’s missing—if anything.”
“You don’t think this was an ordinary break-in?”
“Do you?” he countered.
“No, not really,” she admitted after a beat.
“Tell me something. Are you carrying that revolver around with you full time now?”
“I keep it in my purse.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t think I’ve got a choice, Melvin. The gun … well, it equalizes the odds against me.”
“A .38 revolver has no safety.”
“Yeah, that’s true enough, but you have to squeeze the trigger to shoot. If I don’t—it won’t. I’m familiar with guns, Melvin, remember?”
“The real danger is that you’ll hesitate to shoot another person. If that happens, it’ll only take a second for your enemy to rip the gun out of your hand and use it against you.”
“That won’t happen,” she said firmly
“Why not?”
“I’m through being a victim. By the time he takes it from me, the gun will be empty, and he’ll have at least six holes in him.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
Leigh Ann reached for the doorknob. “What I can’t figure out is how he got in.”
“Was this door locked?”
“Yes. I had to unlock it to go out back.”
“And the front door?” he asked, moving past her into the kitchen.
“I used the key to get in.”
Once inside the house, she flipped on the back patio lights and kitchen light switches at the same time. “The lights work now.”
“Is there a third door, maybe leading from the garage to the backyard?” he asked.
“No, but there’s a garage window, let me go take a quick look at that.” She hurried, then a moment later, returned. “It’s intact, and locked. Whoever it was must have picked one of the locks.”
“You changed the house locks after your keys were stolen from the Jeep, right?” Melvin asked.
“Yes, but come to think of it, it’s possible the burglar got in the same way he got out—through an upstairs window.”
“Do you normally leave those open?” Melvin asked.
“The second story can get really hot during the day, so I crack the windows. Since they face the back of the house, I figured it would be okay,” Leigh Ann said. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Is there a tree high enough to reach the roof nearby?”
“Yeah, which is probably how he got down.”
“Let’s go upstairs and check things out,” Melvin said.
Pistol still in hand, Leigh Ann led the way to the second story, then down the hall to her bedroom. Inside, she flipped on the light switch and saw the window was wide open. The screen had been pulled off and dropped onto the roof. The curtain rod was dangling loose on one side, the drapes on the floor.
“The window’s wide open,” she said, describing everything, including the fact that all her dresser drawers had been emptied and their contents tossed across the carpet.
Leigh Ann set down the pistol, then automatically started scooping up her clothing and dropping them back into the drawers. Then she stopped and began to make a big pile in the center of the room instead. They’d have to go through the hottest wash cycle possible before they ever touched her skin again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m just putting my scattered clothing into a pile so I can wash everything,” she said, then by way of explanation, added, “He touched them.”
“I understand.”
“We’ll have to stop at the superstore before going to your house. I want to buy some new underwear,” she said. “Right now I better check out the rest of my room.”
She looked under the bed and saw that the shotgun was still there and the rifle case hadn’t been touched. She went to the closet next, but couldn’t find anything that even appeared to have been moved. The shelf held her shoes, all stored in plastic boxes, and everything else was on hangers.
With Melvin next to her, she proceeded to go through each room in the house. Soon she determined that the only other place that had been searched was her office. “He sure made a mess,” she said.
“Describe it to me,” Melvin said.
“He opened all the desk drawers and dumped everything on the carpet. I keep my utility bills in an accordion file next to the wall and those have been scattered all over the area rug.”
“Anything else?” he asked, standing in the doorway.
“My old desktop computer is on, so maybe he made a copy of some of my files,” she said, sitting behind the desk.
“What do you keep there?”
“Not much. I use the computer to keep track of my monthly bills and help me stay on budget. I also have my Internet provider loaded into it, but there’s nothing earth shattering in there. It doesn’t have my bank account numbers or anything like that.”
“You still haven’t called the police. Maybe you should do that now,” Melvin said.
“They won’t be able to do much because we can’t give them a description of the intruder. They probably won’t take prints either. Nothing appears to have been taken, not even the shotgun.”
“You’ve still got to try, Leigh Ann.”
“All right, I’ll call,” she said, though she suspected it would be a waste of time.
After returning her pistol to her purse downstairs, she went over to the kitchen area and offered Melvin, who’d followed her, a glass of iced tea. “The dispatcher said because it’s not an emergency it’ll take a while.”
As they sat down at the dining table, a thick silence settled between them. “I feel as if I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place,” Leigh Ann said, choking up now. “Everything I do seems to endanger other people—you, Rachel, Jo and the trading post.”
“You don’t know that’s true, Leigh Ann,” he said, reaching for her hand and finding it.
His touch soothed and excited her all at once and she tried to focus on that instead of the fear. “All I ever wanted was a quiet, ordinary life. After Kurt died and I found a job I loved, I thought I’d finally get my chance. I guess I was wrong.”
“You don’t know that. Don’t try to predict the future,” he said.
“What if I end up getting arrested for a crime I never committed?” She paused. “You know, I’ve always tried to be the good girl—good ol’ dependable Leigh Ann, the one who always plays by the rules. Maybe it’s time I made my own rules.”
“That’s a better idea. In a situation like this, not doing what others expect will give you the advant
age.”
“That sounds like another reason for me to stay at your place.”
“Yeah, exactly,” he said, and smiled. “In fact, you and Rachel should both move in with me until this matter is resolved.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take you up on it. I’ll stay with you until Rachel’s back, but once my sister’s home I’ve got to finish what I’ve started.”
“Just remember to stay cool and fight smarter, not harder.”
She was about to answer when she heard a loud knock. “Sheriff’s department. This is Deputy Mills. You reported a break-in, ma’am?”
Leigh Ann stood to let him in.
“Leigh Ann,” Melvin whispered. “Tell him what he needs to know, but don’t volunteer information. Remember: your rules, not theirs.”
“Right,” she said with a nod as she went to open the door.
— FIFTEEN —
After the officer left, Leigh Ann took a deep breath and began to pace around the living room. “Now do you see why I didn’t want to call them? He wrote up a report, mostly for insurance purposes, and that’s it. When the detectives investigating Kurt’s death hear about this, they’ll assume I set the whole thing up.”
“They’re free to come up with as many theories as they want. You can’t stop that from happening,” he said. “Just stay focused on finding the truth and shut out everything else. That’s the only way you’ll win.”
“You’re a good friend,” she said, stepping into his open arms. All she’d meant to do was give him a hug, but his body felt so good against hers. In his arms there was safety … and danger.
As he held her tightly against him, her heart began to race. For a brief moment she was tempted to throw caution to the winds and let nature take its course, but if she did, she’d just make things worse.
“Let’s go,” she said, moving away reluctantly. “We’ve got a long drive ahead.”
After stopping at the superstore outside Farmington so she could buy some inexpensive clothes, they continued toward Melvin’s place. A few miles from their destination, about halfway up a graveled road and miles from the closest neighbor, she braked at a stop sign.
Immediately after she started up again, they both heard a loud pop and the steering started to pull to the right.