Blackening Song (23 page)

“He also used some of the brush,” Ella answered. “I saw some marks where he hurried
too much.” She exhaled softly. “The question is, now what?”

“Nothing else to do, except talk to some of the people who live near here, when the time’s right.”

“The vicious way these animals were killed is meant to inspire fear. It makes me wonder if the butchers are trying to divert our attention from something else that’s going on. What do you think?”

“That you’ve been around the
bilagáanas
too long. You’re starting to sound like FB-Eyes.”

Ella shook her head. “No, listen. I’ve heard all about skinwalkers, but face it, this isn’t one of the things they normally do. Take a human life, rob the dead, and even commit bestiality, yes, but this stuff doesn’t fit—until you remember that our Way teaches that to look upon the body of a dead animal is hazardous. Someone is using these incidents
to create fear and divert attention. It’s a good plan, but not quite good enough.”

Peterson rubbed his jaw pensively. “You may have a point, cousin.”

Ella said good-bye to Peterson, watched as he and Officer Goodluck drove away. She looked for Eddie Buck, who had apparently managed to keep from being interviewed by Officer Goodluck.

If her mother’s gossip was current and accurate, Eddie had
had too many run-ins with the police lately. It was no secret in the community that he liked to tip the bottle with regularity.

Ella strolled over. She’d known Eddie practically all his life. They’d never been good friends, but Ella was sure she could get Eddie’s cooperation if she approached him in the right way. Years of training and field experience often enabled her to get the most reluctant
witnesses to open up to her.

Ella casually joined Eddie in the shade of the cottonwood. “Hi, Eddie. I didn’t know you were working construction here. Remember me? I’m Clifford’s sister, Ella.”

“Sure, I remember. The smartest student in the school is now a Fibby agent in L.A. People starting to call you L.A. Woman, have you heard?” Eddie smiled.

“Beats some of the nicknames you and I used to
hear. How’s the construction industry doing these days?”

“Good jobs have been hard to find—on or off the Rez,” Eddie commented.

“They say it’ll get better again,” Ella said. “Especially with the college coming. I don’t know if I would have the guts to work around here, though. There have been some strange stories about this place recently.”

“It’s been weird, all right. Sometimes when I hear
what’s going around, it really gives me the creeps. What about Charley Atcitty? You can’t tell me that was just coincidence.”

“What happened to Charley? I hadn’t heard.” Charley had been a classmate of theirs too.

“Well, only a few of the guys around here know, and they’re not likely to talk much about it.”

Ella knew that if she prodded now, she’d get nowhere. She forced herself to wait, grabbing
a paper cup and filling it with ice water from a nearby cooler. She sipped at the cool liquid. An eternity later, Eddie spoke again.

“Charley lived in that trailer.” He gestured at a small, white metal structure resting on cinder blocks. “He was hired to watch over the equipment and supplies. One morning he came out with a bandage on his arm. He told the guys he’d been shot the night before,
walking back from his girlfriend’s house. He figured someone had been out hunting, or shooting at some tins cans, and one of their bullets strayed and grazed his arm. He went to the public health clinic later that day. I don’t know what happened, but he came back in a panic, insisting he had to find a Singer right away. With your brother gone, the closest one is about a day’s drive from here.”

“Wait a minute; back up. Charley was in a panic
after
they treated him at the clinic?”

“Yeah. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t say a word. He was really scared. Then FB-Eyes came to talk to him. You know what that Anglo is like. Charley was really worried that he’d be locked up, and he wouldn’t be able to get to the Singer. I think Charley just clammed up, because when I saw FB-Eyes leave
Charley’s trailer, he was really pissed.”

“What do you think scared Charley? This place?”

“I think he saw something he wasn’t supposed to and that’s why he got shot at. Charley’s not too smart. He may not have realized what he saw until later. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Where’s Charley now?”

“I don’t know. The next day, he came and got his things and left. Someone said that
maybe he’d gone home, but not even his family has seen him.”

“I haven’t seen Charley in years. Was he the kind who’d normally go to a Singer?”

“Charley? You’ve got to be kidding! He thought all that traditional stuff was bullshit. That’s why he agreed to live in the trailer.”

“It was good talking to you,” Ella said. “You be careful out here,” she added, wadding up her empty paper cup and sticking
it into her pocket.

It was time to pay a little visit to the public health clinic. Gunshot wounds had to be reported, and the doctor’s name would be on the report.

*   *   *

By the time Ella arrived at the public health clinic, half an hour later, she’d decided to capitalize on Blalock’s unpopularity and take a chance that he wouldn’t find out that she’d come here today. Stepping up to the
main desk, Ella lowered her voice conspiratorially and produced her badge.

“I need to find out which doctor treated a gunshot victim recently.” Ella shrugged, then smiled sympathetically. “I figured it would be easier for everyone here to deal with me than with FB-Eyes,” she added in a conciliatory tone.

The Navajo woman at the desk nodded, and without saying a word pointed to a name on the
placard. Ella breathed a sigh of relief. The Navajo woman doctor had been a good friend of her family’s for years. She was also the medical examiner.

Ella walked down the brightly lit corridor. The small clinic was still familiar; it wasn’t hard to remember the location of Carolyn Roanhorse’s office. The office door was open, and Carolyn was behind the desk. The portly woman was engrossed in
reading a medical journal, but glanced up as Ella knocked lightly on the door.

“I was wondering if anyone would
ever
come around asking questions,” Carolyn said with a marked lack of surprise when Ella explained her purpose. “I suppose you read my M.E. report on your father. I’m sorry. It was very hard for me to do.”

Ella sat down in the chair across from Carolyn’s desk. “I did, and I appreciate
what you went through. But now I have to do my job—find the killer or killers.”

“Yes, I know. I’m relieved to see you. From what I’ve heard, I’d rather not have anything more to do with FB-Eyes than is absolutely necessary.”

“What can you tell me about Charley?”

“He came in with what he claimed was an accidental gunshot wound, but there were things about that injury that didn’t add up.” Carolyn
paused, then added softly, shaking her head, “And when I told him what I’d learned, that poor man became really frightened.”

“I’m not asking out of idle curiosity, you know,” Ella said, noting Carolyn’s hesitancy.

“You’re a professional, and I’ve known your family for years,” Carolyn said after a moment. “I’ll trust you with the whole story, providing you don’t tell anyone where you got the
information unless you clear it with me first. Agreed?”

“You’ve got it.” Ella nodded.

Carolyn got up and shut the door. “I found bone fragments in the wound. That really bothered me, because the bullet had only grazed muscle. So I sent him down to X ray, which confirmed that the bone was intact. Those bone fragments had nothing to do with his wound.”

“Bone ammunition?” Ella asked in a shocked
whisper. Whoever had shot Charley had done some homework. Bone was the weapon of choice for Navajo skinwalkers.

FOURTEEN

Ella drove to the police station. She had to find a way to make Blalock understand that a group of people using the tribe’s natural fear of skinwalkers was at the heart of the case. The pattern of events was starting to look more like a conspiracy than crimes committed by any single perpetrator acting on his own.

As Ella walked into the station, she heard Blalock’s voice booming from
the other end of the building. From what he was saying, it was clear he felt he wasn’t getting the correct amount of cooperation. Of course, if he kept this up, he wouldn’t be likely to get any at all.

Blalock glared at Ella as she entered the room. “What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too,” she answered.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?”

“I’ve got a lead for you.” Ella lowered her
voice while she recounted what she knew about Charley Atcitty’s wound, without giving Blalock details that would reveal her source.

“I’ve already heard about that. I hate to tell you, but it points to your brother more than ever. In my opinion this Navajo mumbo jumbo is just part of the smokescreen that cults usually throw up to make themselves seem less revolting than they are.”

“Listen to
me: this has nothing to do with cults. Navajo beliefs are just as valid as your Christian religions. Sometime, try walking into a Catholic church and calling the parishioners members of a cult and see if anybody is offended. What I am talking about is rooted in ancient Navajo beliefs. Check and see if any grave-robbing has recently been discovered in the Rez or the surrounding area.”

“Give me
a break; a psycho is a psycho. I’m here to find out who killed your father and bring the guy in. To do that, all I have to do is follow the trail of evidence, and that leads to your brother.”

“Then your evidence leads to the wrong man,” she insisted.

“Look,” Blalock said, clearly exasperated. “I checked out the names you gave me. Allison Begay hasn’t been around for years. She moved away from
the Rez in the early eighties. Wilson Joe is slightly more interesting, but not by much. Peterson Yazzie hauled him in for beating the crap out of someone in a parking lot, but charges were dropped. The two men were related. Wilson Joe has a violent temper, but not much else to make him a serious suspect.”

Ella made a mental note to ask Peterson about the fight. This was the second or third time
she’d heard about Wilson’s darker side, but she’d yet to see concrete evidence of it. “You’re too convinced it’s my brother, and that’s clouding your investigation.”

“Thanks for your opinion.” He stood by the door. “Now I’ve got work to do.”

“You sure you’re being objective about this?” Ella said challengingly. “I heard you may have personal reasons for wanting my brother locked up.” Her family
had certainly made things hard for Blalock. Had he found a way to get back at them? Rogue FBI agents were very rare, but they existed.

“I don’t care what you’ve heard about me. This is my case, lady. I’ll make the judgment calls.”

Ella strode out of the office. Blalock was going to continue getting nowhere if he wasn’t willing to keep an open mind. Unless he never intended to get anywhere in
the first place. The idea seemed far-fetched, and Ella decided to pursue a more likely direction.

Thinking of another way to follow up on what Carolyn Roanhorse had told her; Ella remembered Ernie Leighton. The Anglo man ran a gun shop just off the main highway. He’d know who in the area had the expertise and equipment to construct reliable bone “ammunition.”

It took her most of the afternoon—Ernie
liked to talk—but she finally was able to get three names. One of them, Eddie Buck, was the man who had given her the information about Charley Atcitty.

“Do you know where Eddie Buck is living these days?”

“The same trailer Charley Atcitty was using. Once Atcitty moved out, Eddie asked for his job. The company said yes right away. I think they were very relieved to have someone else volunteer
to stay on the site.”

“And Eddie’s a hunter?”

“All his life. He’s good too. He wins the turkey shoot every November.”

As she drove to the college construction site, speculations crowded Ella’s mind. Eddie was a crack shot, but also a friend of Charley’s. If Eddie was responsible for shooting Charlie, it fit her theory that the immediate goal of those pretending to be skinwalkers was to create
fear.

A stakeout was called for, and with a depressing lack of clues to run down, Ella had time on her hands. There was no reason why she couldn’t shadow Eddie for the next few days and see what he was up to.

Ella stopped by the pay phone and dialed home. She gave her mother only a vague idea of what she intended to do, but Rose was perceptive. By the time Ella replaced the receiver, she was
certain her mother had understood precisely.

*   *   *

Ella hated stakeout duty with its long, boring hours of fighting to stay alert. Pulling it without a partner was twice as dangerous. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down for even a moment.

As darkness enveloped the desert, Ella maintained a sharp lookout. All was quiet, except for the usual sounds: night crickets, mosquitoes, rustling
leaves. She was seated behind some brush on a hillside that offered a perfect, unobstructed view of Eddie’s trailer. Infrared scope in hand, she forced herself to be patient. If Eddie was involved with skinwalkers, real or fake, it was possible he’d be leaving soon. Night was their time.

The minutes dragged on, turning into hours. It was nearly midnight before there were signs of activity below.
The single light in the trailer went dark. Five minutes later, Eddie emerged, glanced around, then walked to his truck.

Ella ran to her vehicle and within seconds was following Eddie, making sure to give him plenty of room. The task was harder than she’d expected. It wasn’t like tailing someone during the daytime, or in the city, where streetlights and traffic helped you keep track of a suspect.
Only brief glimpses of red brake lights cut through the darkness as they both traveled without headlights. Ella used the night-scope to guide herself, but even so, within five minutes she had lost Eddie completely. She stopped on a hill and scanned the vicinity but was unable to pick up his trail.