Turquoise Girl (18 page)

“And your niece’s name?”

The elderly Navajo woman crossed herself. “Barbara Henderson. She passed on many years ago. She was riding her horse one afternoon and it threw her. The horse came home alone and we all searched but, by the time we found
her, it was too late. Now my sister is also gone. But I remain.” She was quiet for several moments. “If you’re searching for the man I remember, then you should know that you have an advantage over him.”

“What’s that?” Ella asked her.

“Do you know the story of Coyote and Badger?”

Ella searched her mind, but there were as many stories about Coyote as there were stars in the night sky.

Lori’s
voice became soft and her eyes misty as she recalled stories she’d learned as a girl. “Coyote and Badger wanted the same woman, so they set out to compete for her. Whoever brought back the most rabbits would win her in marriage. Badger was ahead, so Coyote tricked him. He told Badger about a rabbit he’d seen going down into a hole. Badger went after the rabbit, but as soon as he was out of sight,
Coyote rolled a rock over the opening of the hole. Coyote returned with his kills first, but the people insisted on waiting for Badger. Badger finally dug his way out and told everyone what Coyote had done. People knew Coyote lied a lot, so they believed Badger. The next day while Badger and the people went hunting, Coyote tried to steal the woman. But it didn’t work so Coyote ended up going his
way alone.” She paused then continued with a smile. “You have the Badger fetish around your neck. Like him, you have a good heart and honesty on your side, and you’re willing to work for what you get, too. All Coyote has is lies. So, whether you know it or not, the advantage
is
yours,” Lori concluded.

Ella smiled. “Thank you for sharing that story with me,” she said.

Lori nodded once.

Ella
stood. “We have to be going now but if you remember the man’s name, send word to me.”

As they left, Ella remained silent. Nothing was coming together. Frustrated, she tried to mentally sort through all the information they’d gathered on the case so far, but before she could get far, her phone rang.

It was Dwayne Blalock. “We’ve found something interesting among the records, Ella. Apparently
your father kept a daily log of church-related business, and in the entries we found someone he called the heretic. That man betrayed your father, according to what your father wrote.”

“Any idea who he was or what he did to my dad?” Ella asked.

“We haven’t found any reference that identifies him by name but we’re still looking. As far as what he might have done to your father, that remains
unclear,” Blalock said, then added, “What we did find are some personal notes about you and your brother. His reaction to your Bureau career and how he felt about your brother becoming a medicine man, things like that. I thought you might like to read through those.”

Ella hesitated. To read her father’s personal notes in reference to the case was one thing, but to read through his personal journal
out of curiosity was another matter entirely. She wasn’t at all sure about that.

“Is Teeny still doing a search on the names?” she asked, temporarily changing the subject.

“Yeah, and the man is frightening. He gets quicker access to the databases than I do. But so far we haven’t had much luck on anything.”

“Look for a first name with a C…Calvin, Cain, anything on that order.”

“Last name?

“Don’t have one,” Ella replied.

“All right. We’ll see what we can do.”

“What about Stan Brewster? Was he a member of my father’s church?”

“We haven’t found his name listed, but what we have learned so far doesn’t clear him either,” Blalock added. “He had a job in California years back, but he came back here frequently to court Donna. When he married her, he took over her business operations
and they’ve been on solid financial ground ever since.”

“California…” she said. “So he’s still a viable suspect,” Ella said, lost in thought.

“One of many, Clah. We need to start narrowing things down.”

“Yeah, I get you.” Ella telephoned her brother next, but he didn’t answer. Loretta worked in town, and their son, Julian, would be in school, and they didn’t have an answering machine. When
it rang and rang, that usually meant he was out in his ceremonial hogan or with a patient. “I need to talk to Clifford. Let’s stop by his place and see if he’s around,” Ella told Justine.

Deep in thought, Ella allowed the silence between them to stretch out as they headed south down former Highway 666.

“You looked spaced out, cuz. Share?”

“I was looking over at Navajo Mountain, and remembered
a story about Monster Slayer. When his enemies made weapons out of spruce and juniper and fired them at him, Monster Slayer planted them, and that’s how the mountain became a place of protection for the
Diné
. Our people hid there when Kit Carson and the soldiers came looking for us. Now my brother goes up there to do Protectionways for our soldiers who go off to war,” she said thoughtfully. “His
link to the past and to our land is at the heart of everything he is and I think that makes him stronger, inside, than either my father or me.”

“Just because you don’t see Clifford bleed, doesn’t mean he can’t. Anyone can be hurt.”

Ella stared at Justine for a long moment, her words sinking in. She hadn’t been looking at this in the right light. Like her brother and her father, she took pride
in what she did because she knew she was good at it. A betrayal that had touched her father personally could have only been the result of his having trusted the person first. Lori had pointed her in the right direction, but, until now, Ella hadn’t realized how on the mark Lori had been.

“Stop and turn around. We need to go back to Blalock’s office. I need some information.”

They arrived at the
small office complex soon thereafter. They found Blalock in Teeny’s office, seated in front of what looked like a state-of-the-art computer.

“Anything?” she asked.

“No known felons on the lists—so far,” Blalock said.

“Did my father’s log mention anyone he was training—a deacon or preacher?”

“There are no names,” Blalock answered. “Just letters sometimes, or nicknames he uses,” Blalock said,
gesturing toward the side table.

Ella nodded. That had been the Navajo in her dad. Despite his religion, her father had hated using names. Ella picked up her dad’s daily log. The leather had cracked and the pages were wrinkled and weathered, but she knew her father’s writing.

“Your father
did
mention a person he was forced to ask to leave the congregation. He called him
biyooch’ídí
, if I’m pronouncing
it correctly.”

“Close enough. It means ‘liar,’” Ella said.

As she stared at an indeterminate spot across the room lost in thought, Ella’s skin began to prickle and the badger fetish at her neck became uncomfortably warm. Clifford had given her the badger fetish years ago. To date, she’d never managed to figure out how or what made it work, but the irrefutable fact was that the hotter the fetish
became, the closer and more elevated the danger was.

Ella stepped out into the hall and looked around. Nobody was there. As she came back into the office, she heard a truck revving up outside in the parking lot. Yet that was scarcely reason for alarm.

Teeny glanced over at her. “You okay?”

“No,” she replied in a taut voice. “Something’s not right.” The truck outside was racing now, getting
closer.

Suddenly the entire building shook violently. Ella was knocked off her feet as the outside wall gave way with an ear-shattering crunch. Debris flew everywhere as the front end of a truck smashed into the room. Choking dust filled the air. Something heavy had fallen onto her legs, and she groaned in pain. Loud pops like the sound of glass breaking followed, and she covered her eyes instinctively.

Dazed, Ella tried to sit up and realized that the object pinning her to the floor was Blalock, who was flat on his back. “Blalock, get off me!” she yelled at him.

“I’m trying, woman!” He rolled over, and she struggled painfully to her knees. The room was in shambles, with overturned tables, shattered monitors, and sparks flying around.

“Can everyone move?” Teeny yelled, reaching down and helping
Ella to her feet.

“Something’s burning!” Ella yelled, pointing to the debris around the smashed truck. Black smoke was rising rapidly and filling the room.

Blalock, bleeding from his forehead, looked around the littered floor, then stooped to pick up some papers. “No time, FB-Eyes,” Teeny yelled. “That truck’s loaded with fuel. Haul ass,
now
!”

Blalock jumped over a collapsed table, stepped
around a smashed computer, and lunged toward Justine, who’d managed to stand up. “Go!” He pushed her out into the hall.

Teeny reached for Ella, but she was already moving. As she stumbled through the doorway, he followed, close at her heels. Justine and Blalock were already at the far end of the hall, and Ella was sprinting to catch up when a clap of thunder and a wave of hot air swatted her
in the back like a giant hand. She flew horizontally for a dozen feet, then slid on her belly across the waxed tile floor. Teeny, who’d been a step behind her, slammed into her legs, spinning her around completely.

Teeny’s doorway—what was left of it—was a dragon’s breath of flames and oily smoke from top to bottom, and the high-pitched wail of smoke alarms seemed to come at them from everywhere.

Blalock and Justine poked their heads around the corner. “Get up,” Justine yelled, glancing back at them. “We have to get out of the building!”

Ella and Teeny untangled, and the four of them raced together to the entrance, and outside past the covered porch.

“Anyone else in there?” Ella asked, turning to Teeny, who was still trying to catch his breath.

He turned back toward the door, but Blalock
stopped him before he could even take a step.

“Stay put!” Blalock shouted, pointing to three other people who’d left the building after them. They were huddled together staring at the burning truck, half in and half out of Teeny’s office. “That’s the rest of the tenants.”

Ella studied the truck that had been used as a battering ram and realized it was an oil service truck. “Find cover!” she
yelled to the office workers. “The truck’s going to go!”

The trio ran, diving or ducking behind a van just as one of the fuel tanks on the back exploded. The tank arched across the blue sky like a rocket and landed in an open field a hundred yards from the highway, setting fire to some brush.

Ella groped for her cell phone, but Justine already had hers out, calling the fire department. Moving
even farther from the building, they decided to join the people who were using the van for cover. Behind them, the building rumbled and groaned as the fire spread from office to office, engulfing everything in its path.

“No sprinkler system?” Justine asked.

Blalock, a handkerchief pressed against the cut on his head, cursed softly.

Teeny shook his head. “This is a pile of crap. I just upgraded
every piece of hardware in my office. Now it’s nothing but slag.”

It was close to 6
P.M
. by the time the fire was finally put out. They were all battered and bruised and covered with soot, but Ella was determined to go back in as soon as they got the all-clear. They’d had irreplaceable evidence in there—the church records—and she needed to salvage whatever she could.

Teeny’s massive
fists curled and uncurled, his face contorted with rage. “When I catch the
shicho
who did this, I’m going to tear off his limbs and stick them where the sun don’t shine.”

Ella smiled. Like it was with most Navajo words, pronunciation was everything. By not accentuating the
o
or the last syllable, the meaning changed drastically. It went from the word “my” to the one for male genitalia. “He’s
ours, Teeny,” she said quietly. “I want him in prison.”

“You can have what’s left. I’m not greedy,” he answered.

Blalock joined them. The wound on his forehead had required stitches, but with the hospital not far away, he’d quickly been treated and released. “Think the tribal PD will let me set up temporary quarters at the station?”

“Sure,” Ella answered. “You won’t have an office to yourself,
but you’ll get a desk. Just ask Big Ed.”

Justine stood by Ella’s side. “Do you think we can salvage anything in there?”

“I doubt any of my hard drives survived that, and your paperwork is going to be toast,” Teeny said. “With the intense heat…But I have a good safe with backups of my business files, and I save data to an online site, so it’s not a total loss.”

“I’ve got backups of my case
files in my safe, too,” Blalock said, “and nearly everything is backed on a Bureau server.”

The fire marshal came up, interrupting Blalock. “I can let you all inside now, but watch your step and try to stay out of the way of my people. We’re both going to have to work the scene at the same time.”

Ella nodded, looking at his name tag. Thomas Denetsosie. He’d worked the fire with the crews, and
was looking at them through weary eyes. “We’ll be here till late sifting through everything. It looks like everyone got out in time, so hopefully we won’t find any bodies,” he said.

“It’s a weekend,” Blalock said. “I don’t think anyone else was around.”

“One person was. The custodian. We found…what was left of him,” Denetsosie said. “It looks like he’d been climbing into the truck, trying to
stop it, when it hit the wall.”

There was nothing Ella could say. Hopefully, the tribe would be able to take care of the man’s family. He’d died while trying to save lives and that made him a real hero in her eyes. “Let’s get started,” she said, heading back into the partially gutted building.

“Just keep your eyes open for anything that’s still smoldering. We think we caught most of it, but
you never know,” Denetsosie said.

A half hour later they were still searching Teeny’s gutted office using battery powered lanterns. Whatever was left of the papers or her father’s journal had disappeared in the two-inch-deep watery residue on the floor, or been pasted like confetti on the seared walls.

“I don’t think I can reconstruct any of the paperwork, Ella,” Justine said. “There’s just
not enough of it left. And we’d have to be real lucky for the right information to have survived intact.”

“The guy hot-wired the truck and jammed a board into the accelerator pedal,” Blalock said in a tight voice. “He did his job well.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to do ours even better,” Ella answered, determination weaving through every syllable.

“Count me in all the way on this one,” Teeny said.
“My services are on the house.”

She nodded, then looked at Justine. “I’m going to leave you to work this scene. With luck, the truck itself will give us some answers. Right now, there’s someone I need to see…after I get a clean change of clothes, that is.”

It was already dark by the time she arrived at Clifford’s home. As she switched off the engine, Clifford came out of the main house. “Don’t
come in,” he said, walking up as she climbed out of her vehicle. “You’ve been around a death.”

“How’d you know?” she asked, surprised. This had to be a new record.

“One of the firemen is from the same clan as my wife,” he answered. “So am I right in assuming that the fire—and the attack on our mother—is connected to your work?”

“That would be my guess. That’s why I’ve arranged for extra patrols
around
Bizaadii
’s house.”

“Good. The Fierce Ones have also offered their help. That’s partly out of embarrassment over what happened the other day when one of them almost shot you,” he said, then added, “I’ve heard that they’re already trying to figure out what happened to Mom’s sheep, too.”

Ella groaned. “Just what I need. Help from a group who acts without information…or patience.”

“Don’t
dismiss them so quickly. They might be able to restore harmony in ways your department never could.”

Ella glared at her brother. “Are you taking the side of Boot’s grandmother now, saying I’m just an arm of
bilagáana
law and what they do is somehow more justifiable?”

“That’s
not
what I said,” he answered. “There’s good and there’s harmony in what you do, but sometimes it isn’t enough. All I’m
telling you is that if you can find a way to work things out with them, you may discover they’re useful allies.”

“I choose allies I can count on, not ones who’re as changeable as the weather.”

He nodded slowly. “You have a point there.”

“I can’t give you any details, but I believe that the incident with Mom’s sheep is connected to the murder case we’re working on—the same one that led to that
incident with the Fierce Ones.”

“I’ve heard gossip that our father’s church is somehow involved in what’s happening, too.”

“Involved…” Ella repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t know if that’s the right word, but they do feature in it,” Ella said. “That’s all I can tell you at this point.”

Clifford insisted on doing a blessing over her, then gave her a new
jish
a medicine pouch, for her to carry.
Ella didn’t argue. She’d take any help she could get now.

After leaving her brother’s, Ella drove to Herman and her mother’s place over by Hogback, thirty minutes away by road. It was nearly nine now. Rose, who’d apparently heard her drive up, hurried out to meet her, a worried look on her face. “Are you okay?” she asked quickly, ushering Ella inside. “I heard all about what happened in Shiprock.”
She looked at the
jish
Ella had attached to her belt. “I’m glad you went to see your brother.”

“This
jish
will help set a lot of people at ease,” Ella explained, then took the cup of tea her mother offered. “Mom, I need you to think back. Did Dad ever try to train a successor? Another preacher to take over for him some day?”

“It’s strange that you should ask me that,” she said, wiping the kitchen
counter before joining Ella at the table. “That passage of Scripture left with the sheep started me thinking.”

Ella waited, knowing that the most important news often came while sitting around the kitchen table.

“Your father knew early on that his own son would never follow his ways. That’s when he made the decision to bring in another Navajo minister who understood The People. He said it would
be his legacy. But it wasn’t an easy process. It took years for him to find someone he trusted enough, someone he thought would care about that church as much as he did.”

“Who did he choose?”

“I haven’t been able to remember his Anglo name…something biblical. But I do remember the name some Navajos gave him. It was
ha’asídí.
It means ‘the watchman.’ He got that because he was always watching
people. That made
everyone
uncomfortable, even the Christians.
Ha’asídí
tried to explain it away saying that he liked to study people because there was always more to them than their words revealed. But I think he enjoyed making people uncomfortable. I told your father that once, but he said I was being too judgmental. I never said anything to him about it again.”

“This
ha’asídí
. Is he still
living around here?” Ella asked.

“I don’t think so. Your dad and he had a falling out. Stories got back to us that
Ha’asídí
was telling parishioners that your father had dishonored the Christian God by marrying a heathen. Your father had a long talk with him, but it didn’t do much good. Then the two began to disagree on almost every church issue. Not long after that,
Ha’asídí
started using Scripture
to justify whatever he wanted to do. Your father lived by his beliefs, and that was a great offense to him.”

“What happened?”

“Your father got the church elders together at a meeting and they voted
Ha’asídí
out of the church. I believe he left Shiprock soon afterward, but I’m not sure.”

“Did he misuse any particular passages? Something you might remember?”

Rose thought back. “This man claimed
that sinners had to be punished here and now in order to save their souls. Your father disagreed, saying it was anti-Christian. Then your father learned
Ha’asídí
had beaten up a boy he’d caught writing graffiti on the outside wall of his print shop. Your father was furious then, on top of that, he found out that the man had been going around quoting a Bible passage that said whoever killed a man
should be punished by man—or something like that. Your father just couldn’t let that go and accused him publicly of promoting violence and undermining the church’s reputation. He was stripped of his office and was never allowed to attend services again.”

“Think back, Mom. Do you know of anyone who might remember
Ha’asídí
’s Anglo name?”

She shrugged. “No. But do you think he’s returned, and is
making trouble? What’s here that he could possibly want?”

“That’s a very good question.” And an even better one was what all this had to do with Valerie Tso’s murder.

“Do you know if
Ha’asídí
ever dated your friend’s daughter?” Seeing the anger flash in Rose’s eyes, she added, “Make that your former friend’s daughter.” Ella had deliberately avoided using Valerie’s and Lena Clani’s name out of
respect for her mother’s ways.

Rose considered it, then sighed. “I wish I could remember, but I don’t. Talk to my former friend, if she’s come to her senses and allows you in the door. She’ll remember. Mothers do.”

Ella left shortly after nine. It would be late by the time she arrived at Lena’s, but Ella wasn’t worried. Lena would be happy to know Ella was working overtime to find her daughter’s
killer.

Ella had just reached the main highway near Hogback when her cell phone rang. It was Justine.

“I’ve confirmed that the truck was rigged to crash into the wall and that a lit flare was thrown between two of the fuel containers. The truck itself belonged to one of the construction companies working at the power plant site. They reported it missing hours earlier. Neskahi talked to their
security guard but, according to what he was told, no one saw anything. He’ll follow up on that tomorrow.”

“What about the truck itself? Any prints we can use?” Ella asked.

“It was scorched so badly there was no hope of finding any prints, but we got lucky anyway. The explosion blew the flare a hundred yards from the wreckage and I found some partial prints on that. We’re running what we got
now but we need at least eight identification points to really nail down any one individual and we don’t have them.”

“What about the church records? Did they survive?”

“No, but Teeny managed to remember some of the names on the list and he’s checking those out now. That’s the best we’ve got.”

“Anything with a
C
?”

“Not that I remember from the list he made. Hang on and I’ll take a look.” Justine
picked up the phone again a moment later. “No, nothing.”

“Where are you? At the station?”

“Yeah, in the lab. I wanted to start processing the evidence immediately and I also needed a change of clothes. I could handle both here.”

“How about I stop by and pick you up on the way to Lena Clani’s?” Ella asked. “Right now she’s unstable, so I’d like someone there as a witness in case things don’t
go as planned.”

“Good idea. Last time, you needed backup, remember? I’ll be in the lobby waiting.”

Ella stopped by the station—about midway to Lena’s—picked up Justine, and soon they were on their way again.

After Ella updated her, they drove in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally as they drew near Lena’s home, Justine spoke. “Let me make sure I’m on the same track as you, Ella. In
addition to this ‘ladies’ man’ we’ve been trying to ID, you’re adding your father’s apprentice to our suspect list. You’re now looking for a link between him and the victim that’ll lead to an evidence trail. Is that the way it stacks up?”

“Exactly. We’re missing a vital connection somewhere. Navajo ways say that everything in interrelated. I think that’s particularly true in this case. Once we
find that link we’ll have the answers we need to catch the killer, whether he turns out to be the ladies man, the apprentice, or somebody else entirely.”