Mourning Dove (9 page)

“This was the first incident where the victim was armed,” Ella replied. “Bad timing for the carjackers—unless there’s more to it than just a robbery.”

“That’s the thing, Ella, I think we’re dealing with a crime that’s getting more complex all the time. We have the carjackers
we haven’t been able to shut down, an armed ex-serviceman with part of a secret
message he wanted delivered to the best known cop in the area, and we have a code we can’t understand.”

“What we need to do next is find out if the story code reveals anything pertinent to our case—like the motive for the murder of a serviceman during a carjacking—or if it’s unrelated and involves some illegal activity the victim knew about or participated in while in the service.”

“
If
the motive
for his murder
is
linked to the story he sent you, then maybe the carjacking was just a convenient smokescreen for the killers.”

“We can’t make any assumptions either way right now. Keep at it. I’m going to go talk to Mom. She should be back home.”
If
she’ll talk to me, Ella added silently. Rose was very upset at the moment.

Ella drove home and saw Rose’s old pickup parked in its usual place
by the side of the house. Her mother had been in an accident several years ago and lost her first truck. The insurance settlement hadn’t amounted to much, so Ella had offered to buy her a new truck, but Rose had flat-out refused. Instead, she’d bought another ancient truck, almost as old as the one that had been wrecked, with money she’d saved on her own.

As she went inside and crossed the living
room, Ella saw her mother at the kitchen table, maps strewn around her. Rose had been documenting the locations of plants the
Dineh
used for medicinal and ceremonial purposes. The work was slow and painstaking, but her mother loved every minute of it. The initial report had been turned in to the tribe months ago, but Rose continued to update it periodically as new information came to light.

Ella realized she hadn’t really focused on her mother in a long time, but frankly, she’d never seen Rose looking so young and alive. Rose was tall and slender for a woman in her sixties, with long salt-and-pepper hair. Her eyes were a penetrating black and she had the cheekbones of a model. One of the best compliments
Ella had ever been given was that she looked just like her mother at that age.

As Ella came into the kitchen her mother glanced up, gave her a slight frown, then continued what she was doing without saying a word.

“Mom, my daughter really
does
understand that I can’t always be there. I’ve attended almost all of her school functions this year. That counts for something.”

Rose glared at her, then looked back down at what she was writing.

“Her father was there, and you were
there. That’s more than most kids get.”

“My granddaughter is not
most
kids. She’s special.”

Ella smiled. “I agree. That’s why after this case is closed she and I are taking off for a day on horseback.”

“An entire day on a horse?” Rose laughed. “When you come back you’ll have to be put in traction for a month. It’s been a long, long time since you rode more than an hour at one time, daughter.”

Ella chuckled softly. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Just an observation.”

“Mom, Dawn’s a lucky kid. She’s surrounded by love.”

“Yes, but she needs
you
most of all now. Just remember, that in a few years she won’t want you around at all. The minute they become teenagers . . . ”

Ella suppressed a shudder, remembering her own teen years. She’d fought her mother and father tooth and
nail on almost everything. If they zigged, she’d zag, and ultimately Ella left home and the Rez as soon as she got married, moving halfway across the country. “Dawn’s pretty levelheaded,” she said mostly for her own benefit.

Rose smiled. “Like you were?”

Annoyed, Ella turned the conversation back to business. “Mom, I need you to take a look at something connected to an investigation I’m working
on. Tell me whatever pops into your
head, keeping in mind that there’s supposed to be a secret message here.”

Rose read the pages Ella handed her, then finally looked up. “I don’t know what to make of it. There’s no ending and no obvious moral to this story other than the suggestion that the Dark Ones might end up paying for their betrayals of trust. Some of the animals, such as Trickster, we’ve
all heard about in Navajo stories, but I’ve never heard of Gray Wolf and Coyote engaged in bartering or any Dark Ones created in the shade.” She paused. “I can ask
Bizaadii
,” she said using the nickname she’d given Herman Cloud as a joke—the gabby one. Herman was a quiet man of few words. “I’ll see him tonight.”

“That makes it every single night for two weeks, Mom. It sounds like things are getting
hot between you two,” Ella teased, expecting a protest or dismissal.

“He means a great deal to me, daughter,” Rose replied without hesitating. “He and I may make permanent plans. . . .”

“You mean marriage?” Ella gave Rose a shaky smile. She hadn’t expected this day to come so soon.

“Maybe . . . I haven’t decided yet.”

Ella nodded slowly. This was another sign that time was marching on, and
the present was as fleeting as dust in the wind. “I’ll see you later, Mom.”

As she walked outside to her unit, Ella’s thoughts weighed her down. Rose had enjoyed two lasting, serious relationships that had shaped who she was and had helped define her. She, on the other hand, had yet to find one that could stand the test of time.

Driving down the dirt road, surrounded by a cloud of dust, she
continued to the main highway, then, once she reached the pavement and turned north, picked up speed. She’d traveled a few miles down the empty stretch of road, relatively straight at this point but with occasional low hills to climb and descend, when she spotted a vehicle keeping pace behind her.

Maybe it was because she was cruising at the speed limit and
the vehicle following her was satisfied
with that. Or maybe it was someone from Shiprock who’d recognized her unit as a tribal police vehicle despite its lack of department markings.

Yet faced with the reality that the carjackers were still out there, a murderer or two among them, Ella speeded up. The vehicle, an SUV, increased its velocity too and kept up—never narrowing the distance between them or allowing it to stretch out beyond
visual range.

Ella glanced down at the envelope beside her containing what might have been a dead man’s last written words. It was possible someone wanted to get their hands on those pages before she figured them out. Jimmy Blacksheep’s house had been carefully searched, after all, and the only things known to be missing were stories he’d written before he shipped out.

As she came down a long
hill just outside Shiprock, Ella turned at the last minute into a housing area that had grown around a middle school. The vehicle behind her turned as well, following. Ella slowed, as if looking for a house number among the inexpensive tribal development, and called for backup.

Going north, she headed down the street, noting that no children or people were outside in the streets and consequently
in danger. When she reached the next intersection, she sped to the left quickly. As she reached the school parking lot, she noted with relief that classes were still in session at this hour and nobody was hanging around outside.

Ella pulled up beside an empty bus, blocked from the street, and waited, her window down, listening. The vehicle that had been following her slowed slightly, then drove
on. Eyes still alert for children, she backed up, pulled out into the street, and saw the vehicle that had been following her now moving up the street slowly.

Switching on the sirens and emergency lights, she accelerated and narrowed the distance between them. If he tried to make it to the highway and turned south, she might have a race on her hands, but if he went north, he’d meet officers coming
from the
Shiprock station. As it was, the driver pulled over to the curb beside one of the area homes and got out of the car.

Seeing Samuel Blacksheep, Ella slammed her hand hard against the steering wheel in anger. Taking a moment to cancel backup, she climbed out of the car.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, going to meet him.

Samuel’s eyes flashed with anger, and his fists
were balled up. “Proving you’re
not
doing your job. You’ve got to find my brother’s killer before the trail goes cold. In murder cases each hour counts—every good cop knows that. Yet here you are on duty driving off to visit your brother and mother. Is that how the tribal PD works these days? Punch in, then go visit your relatives?”

Nothing was as guaranteed to make her lose her temper as having
someone outside the department criticize their operation—particularly so unjustly. “Listen to me very carefully, Officer Blacksheep,” she said, biting off the words. “I don’t have to explain how I investigate my cases to anyone outside my department. What you’ve done so far is interfere with my job and behave unprofessionally by working
outside
your jurisdiction on a case you’d be forbidden to
work on. This little stunt of yours has cost me time and manpower I can’t afford to waste. But what really pisses me off is that you’re following
me
in hopes of getting some leads
you
can follow up on your own. You’re obviously clueless, because if you knew where to begin you wouldn’t have to follow me, hoping I’d show you the way.”

His face turned red, then redder, but Samuel managed to keep
his temper—barely. “I’m working toward the same thing you are—solving my brother’s murder.”

“You’re too close to this case, and you’re going to end up muddying up the trail for me and my team. Back off
now
. If you bother any of my officers or get in my way, I
will
arrest you for obstruction of justice. I have no tolerance for this kind of garbage. You get me?”

“He was my
brother
. I’m not going
to just sit back.”

“You have to, and the very fact that you don’t see why that’s necessary, makes you a liability. Go back to your own department. Do the job you’ve been assigned. The carjackings seem to be at the heart of what’s going on and at least half of those have happened over in your jurisdiction. If you want to do something, see what you get on that.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can
do.”

As he drove away, Ella followed. With one road leading into Shiprock, she’d be behind him for a few miles. Still ticked off about the stunt Samuel had pulled, she stormed into the station a short time later and nearly ran into Big Ed as she went around a corner.

“Sorry, Chief, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Glad you weren’t on the highway. My office,” he said, then as soon as they
reached it, waved her to a chair. “What’s happening, Shorty?” He looked down at the report she’d left for him earlier.

Ella gave him the highlights. “If the victim wasn’t singled out and the carjackers are now escalating to murder when it’s expedient, then we have a huge problem on our hands. The thieves are well organized, and very tight-lipped. None of our usual sources seem to know anything
about them. So far the gang’s used an attractive woman who flags down a passing motorist—someone driving alone and always in a pickup. They strike in isolated areas, in the early morning hours. The carjackers leave behind the stolen, older sedan they used to lure in their victim and take the target vehicle. The leave-behind car, always an inexpensive sedan, is invariably wiped clean so we’ll have
nothing to go on. Intimidation and strong-arming have been part of their M.O., but there’ve been no deaths—until now.”

“From your written report I gather that some of the circumstances were different this last time. No vehicle was left behind, and guns came into play, for instance,” Big Ed said. “That leads me to believe that the murder wasn’t so much a precedent or an
indication of things to
come, but rather an isolated instance where the violence got out of hand.”

“You may be right,” she said, “but there’s also a possibility that Jimmy was their real target. Since I’m not sure, I’ve increased patrols in the areas the carjackers have worked in the past.
The Dineh Times
has also run a story cautioning people not to stop automatically. The Farmington paper ran a similar piece. But
the carjackers are targeting rural areas where people may or may not get the paper. There are fewer witnesses there, too, and pickups are almost a given.”

He nodded, lost in thought. “They’ve concentrated on trucks—so why a rental sedan this time?”

“That’s another discrepancy,” Ella said, “and I have no answer for you. Stealing an inexpensive sedan to set up as bait, but then stealing another
inexpensive sedan—admittedly a newer model—still doesn’t quite fit their established M.O. Since none of the stolen trucks have been found, we suspect that the ring takes them out of state—maybe even out of the country to Mexico where there’s a thriving market for hot pickups and SUVs, particularly those that can carry a heavy load.”

“And so far no informants?” Big Ed pressed.

She shook her head.
“The ring is staying very much under the radar. I’ll be meeting with Agent Blalock next. The FBI has been very interested in the carjackings because of the suspected south-of-the-border connection. That puts it into federal jurisdiction. But Blalock’s working alone again these days, so he’s swamped. None of the younger agents they send stick around for long. Look at the last one, what, six months?”

“Are you surprised? The Four Corners’ beat isn’t exactly a career-maker.”

“True enough,” she admitted. “When I first joined the Bureau I wanted to be on the fast track, too,” she said, then remembered her father’s death—the case that had brought her back for good. Sadness enveloped her as she recalled meeting up with his image
again so recently when she’d had her near-death experience. But she
pushed back the memory, knowing that the present, not the past, demanded her full attention now. The past couldn’t be changed, the future was yet to be determined—the present was the only place where she could make a difference.