Death Walker (13 page)

Another woman, about Justine’s age, came up to join them. She was dressed more traditionally in a long skirt and a bright red cotton blouse. “I want to learn all this. Doing things faster isn’t necessarily better. I mean, we can all buy wool, but it’s just not the same.”

The eldest of them shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be all one way or the other. There’s a place for both.”
She then glanced at Ella. “Tell us, what brought you here today? Is it the trouble we’ve all heard about?”

“Partly,” Ella admitted, “but I’m also interested in learning about the old ways. All of this,” she waved to the sheep and the wools, “is part of what I am too. It feels good to reconnect to it.”

“Understandable.” Patty nodded, glancing at the others. “But we all know that your duty to
protect the tribe never stops. You work all the time. So I hope you don’t mind my bringing this up. We all have families we want to keep safe. Tell us what we can do to help you and ourselves.”

The offer touched Ella deeply, filling her with a special warmth. Their implied trust and acceptance were two things she needed in her life right now. Having these women who were active and scattered all
over the Rez listening for trouble was an asset she couldn’t afford to turn down. “Stay alert to potential trouble. Keep your eyes open and listen. We’re all taught to walk in beauty and seek harmony. When you sense someone who upsets that, come to me. I’ll take it from there.”

“Do you think this will all be over soon?” one of the young women asked.

Ella considered her reply carefully. “I don’t
want any of you to be overly concerned. Anyone who commits crimes against our people will be brought to justice.”

“White man’s justice?” one elderly woman challenged.

“And our own. No one has the right to take the life of another member of this tribe,” Ella answered. “That’s not our way.”

The woman nodded somberly.

Silence stretched out among them. Finally Ella broke the tension by openly
admiring a deep russet dyed wool.

The next hour was far more pleasant. The women were eager to teach. Ella found she enjoyed the process of mixing the dyes and coloring the wool. Timing and technique were everything, and that suited the perfectionist in her.

As they worked, Ella felt the warmth of being part of the group. The acceptance she’d found among the women was strangely fulfilling. She
hadn’t experienced that kind of closeness outside law enforcement before.

After a while, Ella reluctantly returned to the car, Justine at her side. “This was an excellent idea,” Ella said. “What better place to build contacts than among those who take classes to learn traditional skills?”

Justine gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. “Well, to be honest, that wasn’t the whole reason I asked
you to meet me here.”

“Oh?”

“Your mother called my mother and mentioned you desperately needed a hobby. They twisted my arm.”

Ella blinked, then laughed. Sometimes in the seriousness of her job, she forgot that there was another side to life on the reservation. “Well, thanks for confessing. I’ve got to admit, this was one of the most enjoyable undercover operations I’ve ever been drafted into.”

SEVEN

A short time later, Ella joined Justine at the Totah Café off the main highway in Shiprock. As Justine consumed a thick slice of freshly baked peach pie, Ella studied the report her new assistant had completed.

“I tracked down everything I could on that bomb,” Justine said. “The serial numbers show the dynamite came from a batch that was stolen from a construction site on the Rez a year
ago.”

“I remember. No sticks were recovered, but we suspected most, if not all, were used by the skinwalkers to blow up their tunnels beneath the old church last year.” Ella’s gaze grew distant and unfocused as her memory flashed back to those dark hours. “So this came from that batch. Interesting.”

Justine finished her pie. “I’ve also tracked down the digital timer. The device came from the
Circuit Shop in Farmington. The label was still attached. It must have been stolen from their inventory. Their computer bookkeeping shows no sales of that model within the last three months.”

“Good basic detective work,” Ella commented.

Justine hesitated. “I could have done it faster, but I
have
been tracking down students from the victim’s classes, as you asked,” she said a bit defensively.

“Anything new turn up?” Ella asked.

“Not at all. I tracked down a student who’d missed class that day, but he didn’t know anything. He’s been at home with a respiratory problem the last two weeks. I also checked with the students who were there, but I got the same story they gave in their statements. I wasn’t able to find Professor Joe, as you suggested. He didn’t have any classes today.”

“I
need you to do something else for me. Run a check on Bruce Cohen from the Farmington public defender’s office. I want as much as you can get.”

“Consider it done.”

Ella sipped her iced tea. “Now I’ve got to fill you in on what’s been happening.” She told Justine about the letter and her visit to the Hilltop Psychiatric Hospital.

“It wouldn’t have been hard for Peterson to know about the ash
painting,” Justine said quietly, her eyes big as saucers. “Even my brothers knew by this morning.”

“So it’s traveled that fast, has it?” Ella mused.

“He’s one scary guy trying to jerk your leash.”

“There’s one bit of evidence that really disturbs me. What you’ve uncovered on that bomb tells us that one of Peterson’s skinwalker buddies is responsible for that incident.”

“Yeah,” Justine admitted.
“But I find it hard to believe the would-be bomber and the murderer are the same person. The two crimes are vastly different.”

“Yeah, I agree. It’s too bad, really, because we at least know
something
about the killer from the evidence we have. Everything we know about criminals suggests the killer is a man. He’s probably an average-height Navajo and wears size nine Nike cross-trainers. That suggests
he’s young, and either interested in learning about the old ways or maybe someone with a beef against Kee Dodge. He may live in a place where burning wood isn’t practical, like an upstairs apartment, so he chose readymade charcoal.” Ella paused, seeing that Justine was writing down everything she was saying in a notebook.

When Justine looked up again, Ella continued. “His actions were premeditated,
organized, and he staged everything. He doesn’t know much about witchcraft imagery, but he does know they work with ashes instead of using natural pigments. That’s still a pretty thin profile, however,” Ella concluded. “We just don’t have enough to go on yet. We’ve got to keep digging.”

Justine nodded. “I’ve been asking about missing cats, but no luck so far. Cats wander off. It’s part of their
nature.”

“Have you heard of any roadkills?” Ella ventured.

“Checked that too. Mostly dogs and lots of little critters. It’s summer.”

They paid the tab, then walked out to the parking lot. “I still need to establish a contact at the community college,” Justine said. “I have to find someone who’s around the students, or at least knows a lot of them.”

“Go back and track down Wilson Joe. He’s
your best source out of my generation. I also think it’s a good idea for you to develop your own sources. Because of your age, you’re more likely to get people to talk to you freely.”

“Yes, but with reservations,” Justine said cautiously. “I’ve taken a lot of courses, but nothing traditional. And a lot of people around here know I’m a cop.” She weighed the matter for a moment. “Maybe I should
approach this a little differently. Let me see what I can come up with.”

Ella watched Justine get into one of the department’s unmarked vehicles. Justine would do well. She was tenacious and had very good instincts for police work.

Moments later, Ella was on her way to Wilson Joe’s office at the college. The semester would end in a few weeks, and with finals just around the corner, almost every
student she saw would either be in a rush to class or desperately hitting the books.

As she parked her vehicle and walked across the newly erected campus branch, she could feel tension in the air. Students sat in small, subdued groups, and they looked up anxiously whenever anyone approached. There were few smiles, just a wariness that had little to do with finals.

It wasn’t what she’d expected
at all. Students had obviously reacted strongly to the death of their professor and the other deaths that had claimed the lives of tribal members. Snippets of conversations she heard as she passed confirmed their fear. They were worried about an evil they could all feel, yet one that remained out of their grasp. Even here, in this enclave of progressive thinking, beliefs held for centuries made
them dread the disharmony that had given evil the power to take the lives of those who’d walked in peace among them. It was as if a darkness had fallen over them, and strange sounds could be heard just outside the door.

Ella approached the southernmost of four hexagonal hogan-shaped concrete-and-stone buildings, one at each compass point. Going in the entrance, each of the doorways facing east
according to custom, Ella walked around a circular corridor to Wilson’s small office. Two young Navajo women were standing in his doorway. She saw the admiration in their eyes as they listened to Wilson explain some assignment.

Silently she watched him go about his business. He was a born teacher as well as a handsome, intelligent man. Wilson needed the stability of his job as much as she needed
the adrenaline rush and excitement of hers. In all the basic ways they were as different as night and day. Despite her mother’s hopes, Ella wondered if anything beyond friendship could ever develop between them.

Wilson smiled at Ella as his students finally left, and gestured for her to come in. “I figured you’d be by today. Rumors are flying all over the campus, and the kids are all pretty grim
about what happened to their teacher as well as the bus accident. Half of them believe the two incidents are linked and that the tide of events has turned against the People. The others aren’t sure what to think.”

Ella took a seat beside a pine desk equipped with a computer and printer. “I noticed the atmosphere on my way here. What’s the latest gossip about the professor’s murder? Are fingers
being pointed in any particular direction?”

“Not from what I’ve heard. The most common theory is that the killer isn’t really a skinwalker.”

“You’re kidding.” The accuracy of the gossip took her by surprise. “How did they come to that conclusion?”

“Kids who saw the crime scene say that there are things off the mark, though that’s as specific as it gets.” He gave her a long look. “I did hear
one theory that makes sense.” Wilson steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Some think that although you took care of the initial wave of skinwalkers, their children and relatives were left behind and now want revenge. They may not know the details of skinwalker magic, but they’re willing to improvise and learn as they go.”

Ella considered it. “It’s an interesting thought.”

“How are you coping
with the fallout from that kidnapping thing in Farmington, Ella? I suppose you got roped into that in the first place because you’re Navajo.” Wilson’s voice softened.

She nodded. “It turned out so badly, yet I did my best.” Ella tried to sound philosophical. She didn’t want sympathy, although she knew Wilson’s concern was genuine. “To be honest, I try not to think about it now. There’s a killer
out there somewhere and that’s where my energy must go.”

“I hear you, and you’re right.” Wilson looked at his watch. “Oops. I’ve got a class to teach. Why don’t you walk with me?” He rose from behind his desk and gathered up his notes.

Ella waited for Wilson to lock up his office, then matched his strides to an identical building directly north, about two hundred yards away.

“If you hear any
gossip I might find interesting about the killer or a resurgence of skinwalkers, let me know,” Ella said.

“Is the suspect you’re searching for one of our students?” he asked, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.

“I don’t know, but that’s certainly one possibility.”

“Don’t be cagey with me,” he said softly. “I deserve your full trust.”

Ella realized that he was right.
He’d stood by her when the going had been deadly, and had never even thought of walking away. “I really don’t have much to go on. But I will tell you that Peterson Yazzie wrote me a letter. He claims to be behind the murder and even hints at a connection with the bus accident.”

Wilson stopped and put his hand lightly on her arm. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know. That man’s a born liar, but
he gives me the creeps. I’ve never been able to psych him out.”

“Right now, I suspect he’s doing a number on you,” Wilson said, watching her expression speculatively.

“He’s trying,” Ella admitted grudgingly. “Now tell me about the kinds of students the traditional courses are attracting.”

“That’s a difficult evaluation to make. I can’t narrow it down to any particular set of kids. What I find
most interesting is that although the numbers are never large, there’s always a steady interest.”

“Anyone opposed to these classes, or overly interested?”

“I’ll ask around. In the meantime, why don’t you audit one yourself? There’s an old
hataalii,
Leonard Haske, giving an open lecture near the site where the skinwalker problems culminated. It’ll be held in the canyon right behind where the
church now stands. It’s going to start in an hour or so.”

“By the church?” Ella’s voice rose slightly.

“He chose the spot. He’s teaching about balance and harmony, and the role of a
hataalii
in finding the pattern and helping restore it.”

“He should have picked a lake, or a shrine. Not that place.”

“Maybe. But that’s where he’ll be.”

“Thanks.” Ella said a quick good-bye, then hurried to her
vehicle. The old man was tempting fate. Yet she couldn’t deny it was a perfect chance for her to watch from hiding and study the ones who came to the lecture. There was plenty of cover around that area and she would be providing protection for Haske as well.