Red Mesa (3 page)

Ella sat there in the dark, listening to Dawn breathe for a while, marveling at the contrast between the dead-to-the-world child of the moment and the fireball that could empty her toy box in seconds or find a new way to get into mischief in the blink of an eye.

After five minutes, Ella adjusted Dawn’s blanket, pecked her on the
cheek, took another whiff of baby scent, then left the room. It was on days like these, when she arrived too late to put her own child to bed, that she regretted having such a demanding job, but it was the career she was meant for, and nothing else would ever give her the satisfaction that came from being a cop.

Ella closed the door to her own bedroom, then switched on the computer. She was too
keyed up now to sleep, so she decided to check her electronic mailbox. Seeing a letter from Wilson Joe, she smiled. It was too bad she’d never been able to see him as anything more than a friend. Wilson would make some woman a great husband someday.

She was in the middle of replying to his invitation to meet for lunch when a tone sounded and an “instant message” flashed on the screen.

The message
was curt and simple.

Ella, keep that .22 Davis in your boot loaded. A conspiracy is growing on the Rez, and friends could become enemies. Don’t try to track me, I’m undercover. Tell no one. I’ll contact you when I can.

Coyote

When Ella tried to reply, Coyote had already logged off. She read the message over again, then quickly reached for the printer to make a copy.

Puzzled, she studied it
more closely. Many people used aliases on this computer network, so having no other name on the ‘from’ line except Coyote didn’t surprise her. But her curiosity was working overtime.

It was possible that someone was just messing with her mind, but somehow she didn’t think that was it. The mention of the .22 Davis derringer in her boot was the key. Only a friend would have known about that. It
wasn’t uncommon for officers to keep a backup weapon in their boot, but the make, model, and caliber of her weapon was something very few knew about. It was a weapon of last resort, and the few times she’d been forced to use it on an enemy, the criminal had not lived to tell the story.

Ella put the printout of the brief message in her wallet. If it really was from an undercover cop, and there
was some kind of conspiracy, all she could do was keep her eyes and ears open. But one thing worried her. The comment about friends turning into enemies made her stomach tighten until it ached. Justine had almost shot her earlier that night.

She forced the thought away. That had been an accident, nothing more, even though the circumstances of the armed robbery had been unusual, to say the least.
She wouldn’t get carried away with thoughts about conspiracies that could turn out to be nothing more than someone’s weird sense of humor, or the product of an overactive imagination.

Ella’s sleep was restless that night, but instead of waking, she just seemed to drift from dream to dream. She tossed and turned as the faces of her old enemies came back in a haunting procession of the evils that
had touched her life.

Thankfully her daughter brought her out of the last nightmare. Dawn’s first loud squeal of the morning woke her up just after sunrise. As Ella opened her eyes, she saw her mother standing by the door, trying to hold Dawn back. Rose, a slender but slightly shorter and older version of Ella, was still in her red flannel robe, her graying hair a bit disheveled, but her eyes
bright and wide awake.

Ella smiled at her daughter, who was by now wearing a fresh sleeveless cotton top and training pants, then held out her arms. Dawn ran toward her and, with a little help from Ella in front and Rose behind pushing, managed to haul her chunky twenty-five-pound body up onto the bed.

“Shimá,”
she said.

“My mother” was one of the first few Navajo words Dawn had learned from
Rose, her
shimasání,
maternal grandmother. Since Ella spent her days and evenings working, Dawn was being reared by Rose, but it wasn’t that unusual a situation on the Rez.

Many children on the reservation were traditionally raised by the mother’s sisters or by grandparents. The father normally only played a small role, if any, in the upbringing of a child. A mother’s brother often paid a larger
role than the biological father. It was his duty to instruct and to discipline, along with the grandparents and the mother. Yet, despite this, Ella felt a twinge of disappointment that she couldn’t be the one always home to instruct and take care of her own child.

Tickling Dawn and playing with her in the early morning hours, after she’d been to the potty, was one of the rituals Ella had established
with her daughter. They both enjoyed the game and looked forward to it each day.

Once Dawn had enough, Ella let her catch her breath. “She actually slept later than I expected,” Ella said, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, then back at Rose. “Did she get to bed on time?”

“On time,” Rose scoffed. “Babies know what’s best for them. She sleeps when she’s tired.”

Ella exhaled loudly. “Mom,
a kid needs a certain amount of sleep in order to grow up healthy.”

“That’s the Anglo thinking you can’t seem to leave behind, daughter. Children sleep and eat when their bodies tell them to.”

They’d had this argument frequently, and Rose was not going to budge. Rather than force a hopeless issue, Ella let it drop. As Dawn crawled off the bed and padded over to Rose, Ella climbed out of bed.

It was actually her day off, but despite that, she still had work to do this morning. She’d have to make out her report on the convenience-store robbery, and talk to Justine about the particulars to make sure their stories matched the facts and events. After that, she’d finally be off the clock.

Ella showered and dressed quickly. As she brushed her hair and tied it back in a ponytail at the base
of her neck, she could hear Dawn in the kitchen. Rose refused to use the high chair. Instead, she sat Dawn on her lap and allowed the little girl to eat whatever she pleased. Dawn liked her small cup, but more often than not, Ella would find her daughter drinking tea.

At least it was herbal tea, which wouldn’t harm her, but Ella still would have preferred for Dawn to drink milk. Unfortunately,
that was an Anglo practice that wasn’t followed by many traditionalists. They believed that cow’s milk was good—but only for calves.

Ella walked into the kitchen and picked up a tortilla her mother had just made. It was still warm to the touch.

“Wait until I can fill it with some beans for you, daughter.”

“No time,” she said, pouring honey on it and folding it in half. “I’ve got to go into
the office for a while.”

“It’s your day off. Why are you going to work? Didn’t you make another promise?” she reminded, looking at Dawn.

“I’ll be back in plenty of time to take her to play by the river,” Ella whispered.

Dawn clapped her hands. “Want to play!”

“I’ll be gone for a little while, then I’ll come back and we can go.”

Rose’s gaze was penetrating. “Something bad happened last night,
didn’t it?” Before Ella could even answer, she sighed loudly. “It’s starting again. There’s going to be another cycle of trouble for us.”

Her mother’s intuitions were not to be scoffed at. Many said it was a gift. Others claimed it was a curse. Only one thing was for sure. Her predictions were amazingly accurate.

“Some unusual things happened, but I don’t know what’s at the root of it yet,”
Ella said slowly. “I don’t think we’re dealing with any of our old enemies, though.”

“Be careful, daughter.”

Dawn wriggled out of Rose’s grasp and ran into the living room. Ella looked at her mother as she slowly got to her feet. “Mom, you’re still having problems moving around with your bad leg. Why don’t you let me hire someone to come in and at least help you with her,” she said, gesturing
toward Dawn.

Rose’s expression grew firm. “She’s my granddaughter. I don’t need help taking care of her.”

“But she’s constantly on the run, and these days she can go almost anywhere. It’s got to be exhausting for you.”

“I can handle an active child. I’m not a useless old woman.”

“I never said you were.” Ella knew that Rose was determined to see this through on her own. She’d turned it into
a matter of pride, though it was the last thing Ella had wanted.

“And I don’t want strangers in my home,” Rose added.

“We could pick someone you know. The daughter of one of your friends, for example.”

“No.”

Ella decided not to pursue the matter for now. Sooner or later Rose would have to see that it had nothing to do with admitting age, but rather accepting reality.

Glancing at her wristwatch,
Ella rolled up a second tortilla, then went to find Dawn and gave her a kiss. The little girl’s attention was now focused on the rag doll Rose had made for her, and she barely looked up.

Ella smiled, admiring her daughter for one last moment. Dawn was fiercely independent already, and was developing a mind of her own. Though she was still just a baby, Ella knew Dawn would be a leader, never a
follower. Dawn, like most children, feared nothing, but there was something special about her child. She wanted to learn about everything around her, and her intelligence allowed her to grasp things kids her age seldom could. But then again, maybe that was just the pride of motherhood talking.

“
Shimá
work too hard,” Dawn said.

Ella chuckled softly, recognizing Rose’s words despite the fact that
they were coming from her daughter.
“Shimá
is needed by the tribe.”

Dawn nodded solemnly, then turned her attention back to her doll.

Saying good-bye, Ella walked out, waving back at her mother. Unlike many of the non-Indian kids she’d seen, Dawn seldom cried or made a fuss when Ella or Rose had to leave. Dawn was always with a relative, and that support made for a very extended family. If anything,
she missed Dawn far more than Dawn ever missed her.

Ella had driven the route so many times, the trip was almost automatic. The closer she got to Shiprock, the more focused on work her thoughts became. One of her priorities for the next few weeks would be to find time to work with Justine on her shooting discipline. Justine’s training as a cop had conditioned her to respond to deadly threats
with an automatic response—deadly force—but her decision-making process in a shoot/don’t shoot situation needed work. Despite the danger inherent in hesitation, Justine had to relearn some skills she’d lost to ensure she’d always identify the threat and verify her target before pulling the trigger.

As she strode inside the building, Ella passed Joseph Neskahi in the hall. The stocky young sergeant,
with closely cropped hair and a round face, was one of her most trusted co-workers, and had played key roles in several cases.

“The chief wants you, Ella, and he’s not in a good mood.”

“Maybe I should go to his office right now,” Ella said.

“I’d give him a few more minutes. Justine is there now.”

Ella suppressed the disturbing sensation that rippled down her spine. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“No,” he said.

Ella knew from experience that Joseph hated to speculate without facts, but right now something told her that he could have made a very accurate guess had he chosen to do so.

On the way down the hall to her own office, Ella had to pass by Big Ed’s door. It surprised her to see the door was closed. Before she could pass by, the door flew open and a red-faced Justine stormed out.

Seeing Ella standing there, Justine’s eyes narrowed into a hateful-looking scowl.

“What the heck’s got you so upset?” Ella asked.

“You stabbed me in the back, Ella. How could you do it?”

Ella stared at her in shock, but Justine whirled around and walked away, disappearing into her small lab and slamming the door behind her.

Before Ella could gather her wits, she noticed Big Ed was now standing
in his doorway. The fifty-something-year-old police chief was a head shorter than Ella, but with his broad shoulders and barrel chest, was probably twice her weight.

“Good. You’re here. In my office, now. And close the door behind you.”

Big Ed sat behind his desk, rocking his chair back and forth, staring at her. He said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch.

If it was meant to unnerve her,
it was working well. Ella forced herself not to fidget, but it was taking all her energy to stay still.

“I read Justine’s report. She, unlike you, filed hers last night.”

“I was too exhausted to come back to the station, and since dispatch had the initial report, I decided to come and do the paperwork this morning,” she said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Tell me something. How were
you going to explain the communications problems and the gunfire?”

Ella couldn’t imagine Justine coming in here and telling the chief how close she’d come to shooting a fellow officer. Yet she knew from the look in his eyes that Big Ed knew precisely what had happened.

“There
was
a communications problem and a problem in identifying the perp,” Ella admitted, “but fortunately we resolved that
before anyone was injured.”

Big Ed stood up so suddenly his chair fell over with a crash. “I will not have my officers trying to BS me, especially ones in a high-profile unit like the Special Investigations team.
Is that clear?
”

Ella couldn’t figure out how Big Ed had learned all the details from last night, but this wasn’t the time to ask.

“Were you planning a con job? Did you think I wouldn’t
find out?” he roared.

“We reported the shooting incident from the very beginning. Dispatch has it on tape.”

“Your assistant almost shot you last night. Isn’t that right?”

“I was dressed like the perp, and in the dark, all she could confirm was that I was armed. I shouted a warning, and her shot wasn’t even close,” Ella said.

Big Ed glared at her.

“The incident was the direct result of a technical
problem. Something interfered with our radio communications. I suspect that we were deliberately being jammed so we wouldn’t know each other’s position.”