Death Walker (39 page)

Ella shook her head. “No, let me take that.”
Ella suspected that her mother would feel restless in a room that had retained so much of her father’s personality. “You can use my room.”

Rose shook her head stubbornly. “You need uninterrupted, comfortable sleep time. Stay in your own room. I’ll stay in the den. Your brother did a Blessingway on everything after your father’s death. There’s nothing in there that can bother me.”

“Are you sure?”
Ella saw her mom nod, so she continued. “In that case, I’m off to bed. I have to be up early, but I’ll try not to wake anyone.”

“I’ll be up at dawn,” Clifford said.

“I hope you’re not planning to go anywhere. You’re needed here,” Ella said.

“I’ll be around. Things are too critical. With Peterson at large, I won’t trust my family to anyone else. I know Michael and Philip Cloud, and I’m sure
they’ll do their best, but this is primarily my responsibility.”

Ella walked slowly to her room. So many were counting on her! She needed to make progress soon. Her mother was right. The tribe couldn’t afford any more tragedies.

*   *   *

The following morning, Ella went to work early. By then she had the details of the other disaster that had taken place the night before. The newspaper reported
the Packrat’s killing of Sadie Morgan, but most of the front page detailed the drowning deaths of almost an entire Navajo family. It coincided with a report Carolyn had given her.

Their pickup had become stuck in a deep arroyo and a wave of water from the thunderstorm had swept away five small children riding in the open bed and two teenagers in the cab. One small boy had survived somehow by
clinging to a wheel of the overturned truck, but six were dead. The Tribal Council had called an emergency meeting to discuss ways of coping with the recent tragedy.

Ella’s mother and brother had read the accounts. Although a touch of fear had shone in their eyes, the only audible comment they’d made was their decision to keep the paper out of Loretta’s hands for now.

Shortly after nine, Justine
walked into Ella’s office, folder in hand. “I’ve got the book on Lewis. He has no real record. He’s disrupted Sunday services, but Reverend Curley wouldn’t press charges.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Justine said.

“Let’s talk to Lewis first. We’ll have to release him soon, anyway, because the knife he had doesn’t check out as the murder weapon. Carolyn verified that it’s much too big
and dull to have made the throat wounds. There is no physical evidence at all linking him to the crime, either. The church isn’t even going to make him pay for the damage to the tapestry. Did he ever ask for an attorney?”

“No, Lewis says he has nothing to hide, so he doesn’t need one.”

“Then let’s go ask our questions before he changes his mind,” Ella said, reaching for the phone.

Ella made
a call to have Lewis escorted from the holding cell to one of the small interview rooms they used to question suspects. Ella met their prisoner there, then nodded to the officer who had brought him in handcuffed.

After Lewis’s hands were free, Ella asked him to sit down. Lewis stared at her suspiciously, then glanced at Justine, who stood leaning against the wall. “If you two think this is going
to put you on my good side and I’ll make some dramatic confession, you’re wrong.”

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Lewis,” Ella warned, “and you’d be doing yourself a favor if you talked to us. There was a murder committed in that church a short time before you arrived.”

“But that’s the key, isn’t it?” Lewis baited her. “I wasn’t there
when
the murder was committed. There’s no way you can place
me there at the time of the murder.”

“You were sure there soon enough afterwards. You could have been hiding nearby, parked in some arroyo, waiting for our people to clear,” Justine challenged.

“Then why wouldn’t I have waited until all of you were gone?” he countered smoothly. “I heard all your calls on the scanner. I knew who was coming and going. You’re grasping at straws. Don’t underestimate
my intelligence. I’m a lot smarter than, say, those idiots who drowned last night.” The smile he gave Justine never reached his eyes.

“You may have wanted to taunt us,” Ella suggested, ignoring his crude comment. “By coming out and putting on a show, you were doing what you do best—getting attention for yourself.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “I have certain powers and I offer them to our People.
It’s what I do for them.”

“Oh, please! Cut the crap. Nobody has boots high enough to wade through that much manure.” Ella’s tone was harsh.

“Don’t insult me. You don’t want to turn me into an enemy.” His voice was monotone, lending it even more menace.

“You said that already, last night. Are you threatening me again?” Ella countered.

“It’s just a matter of logic,” Lewis answered with a shrug.
“You need information from me. You’re going to lose all hope of getting it if you piss me off.”

Ella felt her temper rising. With effort, she kept it from showing in her expression. “If you have information pertinent to the crime, tell it to me now. You don’t want to be charged with obstructing justice, do you?”

“Some justice,” Lewis spat out. “You’re picking on me because I had the guts to
try and shut down that church. It’s a place that no one without powers can approach with impunity. What happened there just proves my point.”

“But you can go there without endangering yourself, right?” Justine asked.

“You bet I can. I can control the forces there, even more so than those who rely only on their abilities as skinwalkers. I command the demons that fight the cross as well. They
help me whenever I ask.”

“Why are you trying to run the Christians off from that site? What difference could it possibly make to you? You live off the reservation in Farmington,” Ella insisted.

“I’m trying to show Navajos a better way. Skinwalkers, Christianity—it’s all a search for power. I can show them how to get it.”

“There have been three murders on this reservation recently. After the
way you acted at the church, and particularly in view of your beliefs and goals, tell me why we shouldn’t consider you a suspect.”

“I’ve read about the murders. I have no alibi that you would value. Kee Dodge was killed right before one of his classes, according to what I read. I’m usually in bed until noon. I don’t like mornings,” he added with a shrug. “Haske was killed in the early morning
too.”

“Can anyone corroborate that you were in bed?”

He laughed. “You mean did I have one of my followers there to keep me warm?” He shook his head. “I don’t play those games.”

Ella watched him carefully. “What kind of games
do
you play?”

“You’re starting to bore me. I know you can only hold me for twenty-four hours without filing charges. Do you have anything to charge me with? If not, then
I’m close to walking out of here.”

Ella met the challenge in his gaze with one of her own. “Oh, we’ll eventually let you go. We want you to have enough rope to hang yourself if you
did
murder those people.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Lewis answered with a thin smile. “But by all means, waste your time looking for evidence against me while the real killer runs free. Then people will see your
incompetence. When people lose faith in their leaders, they look elsewhere for their salvation. I intend to be there to offer them a choice. With all these people dying lately, it may be sooner than you think.”

The words were so reminiscent of Peterson Yazzie’s that Ella regarded him bitterly. “That’s enough for now, Lewis.” She glanced at Justine. “Take him back to his cell until his twenty-four
hours are up.”

He was playing with her, much like Peterson would have. She watched Justine handcuff and lead him out to return him to holding. Before the end of the day, however, she intended to know everything about Anton Lewis. If he was Peterson’s stooge, then Peterson had made a crucial mistake, and she intended to exploit it for all it was worth.

Big Ed came into the interview room and
sat across the desk from her. “Is that our man?”

“Maybe. He fits the profile, and his shoe size matches. But the knife he had wasn’t the murder weapon.”

“If Peterson Yazzie is using Lewis, then that could be another of Peterson’s mind games.”

“That’s very true, but I can only work with the evidence I uncover. For now I’ll just have to continue gathering facts. Eventually the pieces will all
start to fit together, then the weave of the pattern will be clear.” She stared at a spiderweb that filled the far corner of the room. “I’ve learned one thing over the years: To restore order, or harmony as my brother would say, one needs patience most of all.”

TWENTY-ONE

Shortly after ten-thirty that morning, Justine walked into Ella’s office. “I got the bureau report on the paint chips recovered from Haske’s clothing. It’s a factory finish on the more inexpensive Ford fleet vehicles, both sedans and trucks.”

“At least we can exclude trucks, based on the evidence we already have. But that doesn’t narrow our search much. Several tribal agencies use
fleet vehicles from the interagency motor pool.”

“We can call around first to see if any vehicles have been damaged recently. If there’s no record, then we’ll have to go and check every single one,” Justine said with a shrug. “Shall I get on that?”

“Please. I’ve been trying to get hold of Peterson’s lawyer, Bruce Cohen, but I can’t get him either at the office or at home. I may end up having
to go over there.”

Ella made one more call to Cohen’s office and finally a stranger answered. It was another attorney, a man named Bob Carpenter. According to him, Bruce Cohen had asked for police protection the moment Yazzie escaped. Within hours, Cohen had taken a leave of absence and left town, headed somewhere back east with his family. He wasn’t planning on returning until Yazzie was returned
to confinement.

As her telephone began to ring, Ella picked it up and identified herself. Leroy Johnson, from the post office in Shiprock, was on the other end. “Can you stop by my office? I think you’ll want to see a letter we intercepted that’s addressed to you. Since it has no return address I kept it here like you asked, but it was mailed from inside the reservation.”

“I can be there in
about forty-five minutes. Is that soon enough?”

“No problem. I’ll be here.”

Ella hung up the phone. “I think something’s up. Leroy just called from the post office. There’s a letter for me that might be from Peterson.”

Justine nodded. “What would you like me to do first, then?”

“Start on the fleet vehicles. I should be back in about two hours, then I’ll work with you. It’ll go faster with
both of us checking things out,” Ella said.

“Great!”

Her relief was so obvious, Ella laughed. “I wasn’t going to abandon you to it,” she said.

“Good. Tracking down individual fleet cars in search of one in particular is going to be like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky. We’re about due for a change.”

*   *   *

When Ella arrived at the post office,
she found Leroy behind the counter sorting packages.

Seeing her come through the door, he gave her a worried smile. “I hope I haven’t wasted your time.”

“Don’t give that another thought. I’m grateful that you telephoned me rather than just sending the letter out for delivery.”

Leonard led the way back to his desk, then reached into the bottom drawer to withdraw a plastic sack that held a legal-sized
envelope. He handled it gingerly, as if it were tainted. “I wish none of us had ever heard of skinwalkers. Many people are coming here with fear in their eyes now that those youngsters are dead and Yazzie is still on the loose. People are wondering what will happen next.”

Ella reached inside her purse and pulled out surgical gloves. It was a slim hope, but maybe if they could lift another fingerprint
besides Yazzie’s, she’d be able to track him down through whoever was helping him. Ella removed the envelope, slit it open carefully with her pocketknife, then pulled the letter out.

It took all her training not to let the vileness of the comments within show in her expression, but she didn’t want to alarm Leroy.

Ella

I hope you are sleeping well. You looked so tired last time we spoke. I want
you to be rested when I come for you and put my hands around your neck. Speaking of strangulation, I could just feel my strength growing when I squeezed the life out of that pretty nurse—Isabel, was that her name? Maybe that’s the way I’ll kill you. Or do you prefer a knife to the heart? Perhaps I’ll let you choose, if you’re nice to me.

I believe the work of my novice student has attracted some
of your attention, too. I had a good laugh when he described how he killed that quack Haske. I only wish I could have been there myself. He gave me all the details when he helped me escape that jail they call a hospital.

He wanted me there next time one of your friends dies. I told him I’d be delighted. You’re invited too, only I know you’ll be late, as usual. Ella, you’re getting too old and
stupid to put a stop to us. Give up, and just wait there in your home. We’ll get around to you sooner or later. Just how soon will be our surprise.

Yours in every way imaginable—Peterson

Ella folded the letter slowly, taking care not to reveal her thoughts.

“It was from Yazzie, right?”

Ella nodded. “I appreciate your help. I wouldn’t have wanted this delivered to my home.”

“I heard this morning
that you’ve caught the Packrat,” Leroy said.

Ella smiled, knowing the futility of trying to keep gossip from spreading. “We have a suspect, that’s all, but we can’t charge him at this point.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you’d arrested Anton Lewis.”

“How did you hear that?”

Leroy smiled, but shook his head. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. But for every police officer, there are mothers
and fathers, and uncles and … Well, we all talk.”

Ella nodded. “Anton Lewis is a strange one, but I don’t have enough evidence to hold him at this point.”