Death Walker (46 page)

Ella felt her hatred for Peterson and everything he represented boiling inside her. He had thought to disable her with this piece of information. Yet all he’d done was turn her into an enemy who would not give up until she brought him to his knees. Her body trembled with anger, and the need for revenge filled her heart. Without thinking, she
took her pistol out of its holster and checked to verify the clip was full.

As she walked past the window, Ella caught a reflection of her face. Contorted with hatred and rage, it scarcely looked like her at all.

She had to bring her emotions under control. If she allowed hatred to rule her, it would cloud her thinking and give Yazzie the advantage he had planned upon. She had to fight him harder
than ever now, because the battleground he’d chosen was within herself.

*   *   *

A silent figure crawled along the arroyo, then stopped behind a clump of high desert grasses. Parting the stalks slightly, he angled his body, wanting a clearer view of the house below. Two cops were guarding the old woman. He’d seen the one at night on the mesa, and now this one, probably his brother. They were
never far, and their eyes were constantly watching.

He saw the woman’s son, the Singer, come out, and glance around as if he sensed the threat to her. Another would die soon. He would bring a new order once they were all dead, even the one who used powers he’d never dreamed existed. But the ultimate power was his. He chose who was to live and who was to die.

He’d learned from the others who
used superstition against the People. He had powers of his own, too, greater than theirs because tradition hadn’t shackled him. He would use the freedom his intellect gave him to bring in all the good things the modern world had to offer. No more lack, no more poverty, just power, as raw and vital as the land that surrounded them.

He knew that he was losing himself bit by bit, but it seemed such
a small price to pay now. He was being transformed, just like he would transform others in the time to come.

*   *   *

Ella drove home in Justine’s car. Justine would use an available patrol unit until Ella’s Jeep was repaired a second time.

Ella noticed her mother hanging laundry on the clothesline in the back as she pulled up. Clifford was with her, but his gaze moved constantly everywhere
else. The expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen in a long time. As Ella stepped out of the vehicle, she suddenly understood why. Something had got their attention. Perhaps a skinwalker, or even Furman, was close by.

She saw the police officer walking around the mesa above the house. His binoculars were on their surroundings, checking for trouble, though nothing seemed amiss.

Then Ella
noticed Dog. He was sitting a few feet to the side of Rose, his head up, sniffing the air. There was an alertness about him, as if he, too, were waiting for a threat he sensed, but couldn’t see.

TWENTY-FIVE

Ella spent a long time searching the area, then finally showered and slept for a while from sheer exhaustion. After a few hours, the phone woke her up. Ella picked up the receiver before the second ring and identified herself.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Justine said, “but I thought you’d want to know. I found the man who drove the fleet car used in Haske’s murder, and spoke to him
a few hours ago. He just returned from vacation. He said the car was intact when he left. He doesn’t know anything about its being damaged. Unfortunately he’s in the habit of leaving the car keys in the ignition. Thefts aren’t normally a problem on the Rez.”

“So Furman could have walked right up and driven it away, then returned the car to where we found it when he was finished. Disposing of
the keys with his prints, he also made sure he muddled up any trail that could lead us back to him.”

Ella paused thoughtfully. “It’s time we brought Furman in.”

“I’ve got bad news. No one’s been able to find him. I’ve got people out looking as we speak.”

“Let’s get a warrant to search his home,” Ella said.

“Find the judge. I’ll get the Farmington cops to stake out his home until we can get
there.”

Ella got up and dressed quickly. She had just put on her boots when Rose walked in her room.

“I thought I heard the phone ring. You haven’t had enough sleep!”

“I have to go to work.”

Rose nodded. “I know that. I can feel the danger pressing in on all of us now. It’s not as strong as it was before, but it’s still here.”

Ella looked at her mother and saw the worry on her face. “There’s
an officer outside, and Clifford is here with you. If
anything
at all happens, call the station. Other cops will get out here immediately. There’s a patrol unit in the neighborhood too.”

Rose said nothing.

Ella gave her mother a quick hug. “I have to go. I’ll check in with you often, though.”

“Good.”

Ella jumped into the car, switched frequencies as arranged, then had the dispatcher put her
through to Justine. “What’s the progress on that court order?”

“I got Judge Barelas to start putting the paperwork through. She understands the urgency. Someone from the Farmington police will meet you at Furman’s with the warrant. I figured it would save time rather than having to stop by the courthouse.”

“Good job! Meet me at Furman’s,” she added, knowing Justine needed to be in on this. Now
more than ever, Ella had to show her that one mistake in judgment did not mean she was any less of a cop—just human.

*   *   *

Ella and Justine parked behind the patrol car that had been watching Furman’s apartment. The officer reported there was still no sign of the owner. Justine left the tribal police vehicle and joined Ella in what had been Justine’s unmarked unit.

“The court order should
be here soon,” Justine said. “The cop bringing it to us must have decided to walk here. I checked in transit, and the paperwork was completed.”

“It hasn’t been as long as it seems,” Ella said, nevertheless feeling each second drag.

After what seemed to be an eternity, a patrol car finally pulled up and a young uniformed cop stepped out. Ella walked over to meet him. Taking the court order, she
motioned for Justine, and together they walked toward the apartment manager’s office.

*   *   *

Ella used the manager’s passkey to open the front door; then walked inside cautiously. More than one criminal had been known to booby-trap his home, or wait inside, undetected for hours. Justine stood just behind her to the right, ready in case of unexpected trouble, but the house was dark, quiet,
and cool.

Ella and Justine both slipped on medical latex gloves to preserve any evidence they might find as they studied the area around them. The two-bedroom furnished apartment was small, and there were only a few pieces of furniture.

“It looks like a simple search,” Ella said, “but don’t take anything for granted. We’ll go through each and every room with a fine-toothed comb. I want something
on this guy that I can use to put him behind bars.”

Ella started in the smaller bedroom used as a study, while Justine worked the living room. They searched each room methodically, but even after an hour, they’d found nothing.

Justine met Ella in the kitchen. Ella had emptied all the drawers and even checked beneath them, searching for anything that had been taped to the underneath or to the
sides.

“This was a waste of time. He must have hidden anything important or incriminating somewhere else.”

Ella shook her head. “No, it’s here. Think about it. This is where he
lives.
Everyone has things that would be considered private, but we haven’t found
anything
at all like that. This place has been sanitized, don’t you see? There must be a hiding place where he keeps whatever he values
and considers personal.”

“Where? We’ve searched everywhere! Even the freezer!”

Ella glanced around the room. “He’s probably fashioned something to serve as his vault.”

“It can’t be a light fixture; they all work. I checked that while I was searching. I’d read someplace that dope was often hidden in light fixtures.”

“A vent, then,” Ella said, staring thoughtfully at the heating and cooling
grates above the door where cool air was currently originating. “Look for one that doesn’t belong. There should be a vent above the door in each room, and a long one in the hall, below the furnace. Anything else is a phony.”

They began their search again, both eager to pursue this new possibility. After five minutes, Ella walked back to the living room. One look at Justine told her she’d found
nothing either.

Ella dropped down onto the couch. They’d have to abandon the search, yet something continued to nag at her. “There’s something here we’re not seeing. I just
feel
it.”

Justine gave her a guarded look. “There’s no place else to look. I even moved the few pieces of furniture in the bedrooms, and the appliances in the kitchen. And beneath this tile and carpeting is a concrete floor,
so it’s not buried here.”

Ella went to the doorway and glanced back into the room. “I guess it’s time to go,” she said wearily, ignoring the feeling that continued to nag at her. “Let’s turn out the lights— Wait a second.”

“I checked the light fixtures, remember?” Justine said.

“I know, but did you check the outlets?” She pointed directly ahead. Two were above the baseboard, about three feet
apart from each other. A desk lamp had been plugged into one; the other was empty.

“Wait, if you want to start messing with electrical outlets, I think—”

Ella was already crouched by the outlet, using her pocketknife blade on the center screw.

“Be careful!.” Justine protested. “You’ll electrocute yourself.”

Ella finished removing the white cover plate, then stared at the empty hole behind
it. “Bingo.”

“Don’t stick your hand in there until I get a flashlight,” Justine said. “I saw one in a kitchen drawer. I’ll be right back.”

Ella peered into the darkened crevice. She had no intention of sticking her hand anywhere she couldn’t see.

Justine returned a minute later. “Okay. I unscrewed the flashlight first to look inside. Just batteries.” She crouched behind Ella and aimed the beam
for her.

The opening in the wall was a little less than six inches deep, and a foot and a half or so wide. Inside were several loose pieces of newspaper and some other smaller items wedged between two boards used in the framing. Ella put her gloves back on, then reached in and carefully extracted the papers first.

Using the carpet below the phony outlet as backing, she flattened out newspaper
clippings about each of the murders. There were several, from local and state papers. Next came a piece of notebook paper. “This is the page that was missing from Kee Dodge’s lesson plans,” she said, reading the precisely written notations concerning Navajo historical events.

Reaching into the opening again, she brought out a piece of abalone shell and a small wooden crucifix. “The items missing
from two of the crime scenes.”

“His trophies, taken from Haske’s medicine bundle and from Sadie Morgan’s necklace,” Justine said in a hushed tone. “I guess we can eliminate Lewis and Begay as suspects on this case.”

Ella unfolded a small sheet of notebook paper that had been placed beneath the stolen items. “And this is even more than what we hoped for.”

Ella showed Justine a list of the murder
victims, their names checked off neatly with a red pen. First on the list, but not checked, was Naomi Zah. At the bottom, below Sadie Morgan’s name, was Rose Destea’s.

A chill crept over Ella, and she shuddered. Her mother had told her only hours before that she felt herself in danger. Rose’s feelings never lied.

*   *   *

As Ella raced back to the reservation, she picked up her cellular phone
and arranged for added security to be placed around her mother. She then contacted Big Ed, who insisted on a strategy meeting at her home, since he wanted to oversee security there at the same time. Officers had still failed to locate Brownhat or Yazzie.

Ella arrived home twenty-five minutes later. Big Ed and three more patrol cars were parked around the house. Ella went to greet the officers
stationed there. As she approached the porch, she passed two of the force’s best sharpshooters. She silently noted their extra clips of ammo, and the rifles they each carried. One rifle had a special starlight scope for use at night.

Big Ed came out of the house and went to meet her. “I’ve got the best here. No one is going to even get close to your family.”

“I’ve been thinking about this. I
feel like a sitting duck, waiting for Yazzie or Brownhat to make a move before we can act.”

“What choice do we have? We have no idea where they are.”

“We could set up a trap, one guaranteed to flush them out.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting we make your mother a target,” Big Ed said, looking at Ella through narrowed eyes.

“Of course not. But you are thinking along the same lines I am. If we
use the right bait, they’ll come out of hiding, and we’ll be right there to make them choke on it.”

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

*   *   *

It was nearly ten
P.M.
when Ella stood in the police station’s largest interview room, surrounded by press and TV cameras. Even the Albuquerque media would carry this story. Wherever Peterson and Furman were, they wouldn’t be likely to miss this. By
morning, it would hit every paper and radio and TV station in the state.

Ella briefed the reporters, using her carefully prepared statement. “A Navajo woman named Naomi Zah, one of our stargazers, was the first intended victim, but she really outsmarted her killer. Her cunning and bravery got him so rattled he couldn’t quite pull it off,” Ella said. “He has been incredibly lucky to pull off the
crimes he’s committed since then. In fact, from Naomi’s description of his behavior, we have reason to believe that he’s needed constant guidance from someone else. It’s the reason he’s been able to kill at all.”

“So you’re saying that the killer is acting under someone else’s direction?” a woman in the front asked.