Death Walker (44 page)

*   *   *

Ella drove east again, off the reservation and back to Farmington. She’d made a cursory background check on Furman before leaving. He wasn’t scheduled at the bank today, but he did have two classes. One started at five in the evening and the other at seven. From the information Wilson had given her, she knew Furman never
missed class. Ella intended to take full advantage of the opportunity to do a more thorough check on this man.

First she’d find out more about where he lived. That often told a great deal about a person. If possible, she’d speak to a neighbor or two, and maybe dig up something useful.

Ella drove down a tree-lined street in an older, established Farmington neighborhood. She had no doubt that
even part-time, Furman’s computer expertise enabled him to command a decent salary. From the neighborhood, it was clear that although he wasn’t wealthy, he certainly lived more comfortably than most Navajos.

She parked across the street from the small apartment building. It was the kind of place young people moved into as their last step before buying a home. There was a communal lawn maintained
by management, short driveways in front of each unit, and a pool where a few residents were sunbathing. It was a pleasant-looking place and blended well with the private homes in the neighborhood.

Ella parked at the curb, then walked along the sidewalk until she came to the apartment listed as Furman’s. It must have been trash day, because almost every apartment had one or two green plastic trash
bags out by the curb.

She glanced up and down the street. There was no one outside in the ninety-degree heat except the people by the pool. From the drawn curtains, she figured that most either worked, or holed up during this part of the day.

Ella walked back to her car, then drove farther down until she was directly in front of Furman’s apartment. Stepping out quickly, she grabbed the trash
bag and shoved it on the floorboard in the back of the Jeep.

Ella was about to close the door when Furman’s neighbor came out. The woman, a slightly overweight blonde in her mid-twenties, came toward her. For a second Ella wondered if she was going to have to explain about stealing trash. Ella closed the Jeep door quickly and walked up to meet the woman halfway.

The neighbor gave Ella a hesitant
smile. “Are you a friend of Mr. Brownhat’s? I’ve been trying to catch him all week!”

“Yes I am, but it turns out he’s not home right now.”

“Well, I’m about to go to Colorado on vacation, but I wanted to thank him for acting so quickly on our complaint. We’d left a note on his door about his cat. It was digging up our bulbs and really making a mess. And he took care of the problem right away.
We haven’t even seen the cat since then. When you talk to Mr. Brownhat, will you tell him that we really do appreciate it?”

“Sure. No problem. I’ll catch up to him soon,” Ella assured the woman.

A second later, Ella was on her way. She hadn’t gone more than a block when a putrid smell began to fill the air-conditioned car.

A missing cat, and now the trash with this suffocating odor. She rolled
down the windows and headed back to the station. That was the only place she could conduct a search without having to look over her shoulder constantly and guard against an ambush. With Peterson on the loose, she couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.

She sped down the highway, trying to breathe only through her mouth. Before long she’d know exactly what Furman Brown-hat considered garbage.

TWENTY-FOUR

Ella parked behind the station, near their Dumpster. Placing several evidence pouches beside her, and wearing rubber gloves, she began to work. The moment she opened the tie on the bag, an awful, heavy smell rose up into the air, engulfing her. Something wrapped in another plastic bag within caught her attention. She pulled it out carefully, dreading having to check whatever was hidden
inside.

She felt a small leg beneath the white plastic, then another. It was an animal carcass, she was certain of it. She tried not to cringe as she unwound the metal tie and reached inside the bag. It was bony, like something that had been stripped of its skin.

The smell made her gag. As she pulled a leg out, she realized it wasn’t the right type of carcass for a cat. A second later she was
staring at the remains of a baked chicken.

Hearing someone clearing their throat, Ella snapped her head around. Justine was standing there, a hand pressed over her nose. “If you’re that hungry, I can suggest several restaurants.”

“Don’t bother. There’s still some meat on this!” Ella held out a leg as she cracked a smile, trying to remember to breathe through her mouth only. “How did you know
I was here?”

“Officer Nez saw you here when he pulled in. What on earth are you doing?”

Ella stood up and turned her head away from the bag, breathing deeply. “Go back inside. I’ll explain later. No reason for you to have to breathe this stench too.”

“I can help you,” Justine said, then pulled rubber gloves out of her back pocket. “Is this what I think it is? Furman’s garbage?”

“How did you
know?”

“I was walking past Big Ed’s office when you went to talk to him. I overheard enough to figure out what you were doing.”

Ella shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. I was just following a hunch.”

“No problem. How did you get a search warrant? We didn’t have enough evidence.”

“I didn’t need one for this,” Ella answered, explaining where she’d found the sack. “But nothing we find in here
would be considered conclusive evidence. Any defense attorney would argue that whatever we found in the bag could have been planted there by someone else
after
Furman brought it out of his house.”

“So what’s the point?”

“It might help us build circumstantial evidence, and with luck, it could give us another clue we can follow up on.”

“Have you found anything yet?”

“No, but I just got started,”
Ella answered.

Justine crouched next to her and began sorting through a gooey mess of leftover salsa that had smeared several utility bills. “I want you to know I’m not personally involved with Furman,” Justine said softly. “I just didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that I might have misjudged the man. I thought you’d lose all faith in me if my informant turned out to be the Packrat. Not that
I’d blame you,” she added.

“I suspected that might be it.”

“But after you left, I did some more checking on my own. Furman has only one living relative on the Rez, his grandmother, Lena Brownhat. She lives about fifteen miles from the mouth of Dry Wash. Maybe we should go talk to her.”

As Ella neared the bottom of the sack, she pulled out a small piece of foiled paper, then unfolded it. “I’ve
got something. Chewed gum.”

“We can check it against the piece we found at the Dodge crime scene.”

“It’s still circumstantial, but it might help us build a case. I want you to take it in to Albuquerque yourself. Fly over there, and tell them that we must have results as quickly as possible.”

“It might take a couple of weeks for a complete work-up, although we could get some info within twenty-four
hours.”

“The sooner you get there, the better then,” Ella said.

“I’ll take care of it right away.” Justine took the gum from Ella, placed it in an evidence pouch, and strode back inside the building.

Ella placed the rest of the trash back inside the bag, then tossed it in the Dumpster. The flies were pleased.

Removing her gloves and tossing them into the Dumpster too, she went inside to give
Big Ed a report. The moment she walked into his office, she saw him recoil.

“Cripes, what is that smell?”

Ella explained what she’d done and what she had found. “I’m going to have Justine fly it over. In the meantime, I’m going to go talk to Brownhat’s grandmother. Justine tracked her down.”

“That’s fine, but do us all a favor. Take a shower and change clothes before you go. You can’t subject
an old woman to this smell. No one deserves
that.
”

*   *   *

As she left Shiprock, Ella checked in with the dispatcher, to give a full report of her route and destination. Once she drove down into the canyon, she was sure the terrain would block the signal.

She glanced at the map one of the patrolmen at the station had made for her. It started with an easy drive along the Teece Nos Pos highway,
but as she left the highway and turned north, there were suddenly fewer obvious landmarks except the mountains to the west. Weaving along the badly rutted dirt road, she finally reached Dry Wash, a large, meandering arroyo that eventually fed into the San Juan. Two small hills flanked it like silent sentinels.

Ella drove slowly down into the wash, a vague feeling of unease filling her. The shack
where the skinwalkers’ tunnels had originated from was only about five miles south, and the sun was going down.

She chided herself for allowing memories to disturb her, but her uneasiness grew. Ella continued on through the canyon, then the road left the winding wash and she saw a wide valley opening up ahead. She could just about make out Lena Brownhat’s shack in the distance, up against a hill.

Ella went over a small ridge and had started down the slope when a gunshot blasted through the air. The bullet took out her right front tire, and the Jeep swerved abruptly to the right. As Ella fought to keep control, two more shots whined overhead, forcing her to swerve in the opposite direction. There was no cover on the slope, but there were some large boulders at the bottom. Ella swerved the
Jeep back and forth to throw off her attacker’s aim and tried to radio in. As she’d suspected, the terrain was blocking the signal.

A round smashed through the windshield, leaving a spider-web pattern. It had missed Ella’s head by inches. There were at least two gunmen, firing from two different directions. More gunfire erupted, forcing her to keep her head down. She could barely see where she
was going.

She could smell gasoline, so a bullet must have hit the gas tank or fuel line. At least there was no sign of fire yet. She slammed on the brakes at the bottom of the hill and spun the vehicle sideways. Grabbing her shotgun and its ammo sling, she crawled out of the car, radio at her waist. Behind her was a boulder about the size of a refrigerator. It was the only thing in sight that
would give her cover for now, but with that advantage came a disadvantage: it would block her vision too.

Ella racked a shell into the shotgun’s chamber then checked the clip on her pistol. It was full, and she had two spare clips in her pocket. She had plenty of firepower, though it was short-ranged. If they approached, she’d take them out. Providing she held out until morning, her absence would
be noticed and someone would start looking for her. Her mother and brother would make sure of that by calling the station.

It took awhile, but as darkness descended, she began to hear the cautious movement of those who were trying to force her out from cover. She remained still, hardly breathing, then detected someone moving to her right. In the darkness before moonrise, it was impossible for
her to discern a shape.

Ella concentrated, aligning the faintly glowing tritium dots on her pistol sights. When she heard the noise again, she aimed in the direction of the sound and fired two quick shots. She heard a gasp, and the thud of a body striking the ground. Soon there was another scrape, like clothing brushing against a branch, but this time to her left.

As she waited, listening, it
seemed that the darkness was filled with whispers. She touched the fetish in her pocket and remained quiet. There were more than two others out there now, yet they were holding back. They had seen that she wouldn’t be frightened into doing something stupid and that her training was excellent. If they approached, the first two or three would be killed, regardless of what happened to her. Her enemies
had lost their advantage.

Ella heard the sound of something being dragged away somewhere off to her right. She fired two shots in that direction and shifted her position slightly in case the brief flashes had been noted. There was a moment of utter silence, then suddenly the wailing cry of coyotes rose high in the air. Her flesh prickled, and she shuddered. Skinwalkers. It was Peterson Yazzie’s
friends, and probably he as well.

They hadn’t followed her, she was sure. At least two had been in position, waiting for her to go by. That meant that they must have known where she was going. Searching for an answer, she tried to put herself in Peterson’s head and think like he did. Suddenly she knew precisely what had happened. Peterson had come after her not as a common criminal intent on
revenge, but as an ex-cop turned bad. Needing an edge, he’d undoubtedly purchased, or had someone purchase, a police scanner. She’d given him the information he’d needed to ambush her by reporting in.

Hours passed, expanding into lifetimes. Silence settled over the land. She suspected she was alone now, but she still couldn’t venture out into the open. If she came out of the shadows, she’d be
completely vulnerable. It was important to remain close to her car. The vehicle and the boulder provided her only cover.

Ella stayed awake and alert all through the night. The hum of the insects seemed like a song that reverberated with promise to anyone who could survive the dangers hidden in the darkness. Although weary, her nerves were so taut it was easy to keep watch. As a law enforcement
officer she’d faced death and cheated it many times. Those narrow escapes had made her more attuned to life and appreciative of what it held. What didn’t kill you made you stronger, so a great philosopher had said. He must have had some Navajo in him.

It was close to sunrise when Ella heard vehicles in the distance. Darkness lingered only in the lengthy shadows that still hid from the predawn
light. Ella, still cautious, came out slowly. Peterson might have left someone behind to strike her down just as she began to feel safe. Catching a glimpse of red and blue lights in the distance and hearing the sirens speeding toward her, she breathed a sigh of relief.