Coyote's Wife (13 page)

Ella didn’t respond. She knew all she needed now.

“So what else is going on back home? You still dating that preacher?” he asked, attempting to sound casual, but not quite succeeding.

“Yeah, but not so much when I’m bogged down on a tough case like I am now,” she answered honestly.

He laughed. “How’s he like being put off?”

“I don’t think he even notices. He’s busy with his own church work anyway.”

“Maybe that’s the kind of man you need,” he said after a long pause. “But you’ll always come in second to his calling. You’re aware of that, right?”

“We both have other responsibilities.
That’s why it works,” Ella answered. She’d thought that she was past history as far as Kevin was concerned, but judging from the tone of his voice now, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“What about you? Dating anyone new?” she asked.

There was a pause. “There are lots of women here who find a Native American interesting, and I’m dating a few. But no one special.”

Ella said nothing, wondering if maybe
the real reason Kevin had left for D.C. was to get away from her. Perhaps it had been his way of moving on—physically and figuratively. Unfortunately, that had also meant that Dawn wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with her father. Used to finding answers, Ella thought about the situation but, as she did, realized that some things just couldn’t be fixed.

After Ella hung up, Rose came into the kitchen and went to the stove, turning on the gas under the teakettle.

“That woman from her father’s past may become a problem for your daughter. With that in mind, the last thing you should be considering is sending her away from home.”

“Or maybe it’s the first thing,” Ella whispered. “You’ve got your own responsibilities
these days, and Boots isn’t always available to babysit at the house. The last few times, she took my daughter to her home because she had to work on her computer and finish some papers for school. A weekday boarding school would ensure that my kid’s kept safe.”

Rose stared at her. “How could some stranger possibly guarantee she’d be safe?”

“They have
very
good security there. The daughter of
a senator goes to that school, as well as the daughters of several of the state’s wealthiest businessmen. They can’t afford to slop around.”

Rose took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “I can stay at home more to be with your daughter,” she said. “You can’t, so that leaves me.”

“This isn’t just up to you or me, Mom. My daughter will have a say in this, too.”

Rose sat down heavily across
the table from her. “It’s difficult to know what the right thing to do is in a case like this. All I can tell you is that my heart wants her here. I’d hoped that you would settle down with Reverend Tome and start a new life. But the more time goes by, the less I think that’s ever going to happen.”

“The reason things work between us, Mom, is because neither one of us makes demands the other can’t
meet.”

Rose nodded slowly. “His God will always be there, inside, to comfort him. It was that way with your father, too. But the law won’t be there for you forever. Your daughter will also grow up sooner than you realize and leave to start her own life. Then you’ll wake up one day to find yourself alone and looking back at what might have been.”

Ella nodded slowly, realizing the truth of what
Rose had said. “That might be so, but I can’t rush into a relationship just so I won’t end up alone someday.”

Rose sighed. “Maybe that’s just as well. Right now nothing should be more important to you than your daughter. You should try to do more things with her, like this trail ride you have scheduled. Memories like those will last a lifetime.”

“I’m looking forward to our trail ride, too, even
though we’ll have to leave really early.”

“Enjoy her now. There’ll come a time when she’ll want to be on her own and won’t want you around. When she’s a teenager …”

Ella’s phone rang, and holding up one hand, she signaled her mother to wait, and answered the call.

“Ella, I’ve got some very interesting news,” Justine said. “I’m on my way to your house to talk about it. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure. Come on over. But don’t keep me guessing. What’s up?”

“After I checked the area where you got jumped, I decided to call Del, the mechanic, and have him with me while I checked the impound area vehicles. When we got around to the Dodge George Charley was driving we discovered why George ran off the road and into the brush and trees. The brakes failed and it was the only way he had to keep
the truck from flying off the side of the mountain. Even if he could have avoided the chain saw accident, with no brakes and a load of firewood, he would have crashed the truck coming down the mountain.”

“And the same fate would have extended to anyone riding with him, like Ervin Benally,” Ella said. “Were the brakes definitely tampered with, or could it have been a mechanical problem?”

“It
was no accident. Apparently, while George was distracted cutting wood, someone popped the hood and removed nearly all the fluid from the brake reservoir. There were smudges where the perp had lifted the hood up, but no prints, so he must have had gloves on. Del said the suspect probably used some kind of suction device, like a turkey baster, to empty the reservoir of fluid. There were no leaks in
the brake lines or system at all—Del inspected everything and took photos with my little digital camera. He even did a pressure test. The cap to the brake fluid reservoir was in place, screwed on. No fingerprints were there either, just smudges again where the surface dust and oils were rubbed away.”

“Wouldn’t there have been enough fluid already in the system to allow George to slow the vehicle?”
Ella asked.

“I asked Del, and he said there would have been a little braking power at first, but not nearly enough. With the weight of the truck, the firewood, a downhill road, and a
panic-stricken driver bleeding like a stuck pig, George was lucky he didn’t go over the edge.”

“Now that can of brake fluid is starting to make sense. Was it empty or full?” Ella asked.

“Full, with the seal under
the cap still in place. So you think the guy tonight was planning on topping off the brake fluid to cover up the tampering?” Justine asked.

“That would be my guess. We got lucky tonight, or we’d never have known the truth about those brakes.”

Ella thought about it for a moment, then continued. “This puts a whole new spin on George Charley’s death. The connection between that incident and what’s
happening with Ervin seems to be getting stronger. You’ve gotten all this down, on the record, right?” Ella added.

“Documented it all. The physical evidence is pretty cut and dried, except I didn’t get anything but smudges on that can. Either way, I guess we can’t release the truck back to the Benallys.”

“Nope. You’ve done a great job, Justine, shining a whole new light on all this. And this
means we’ve got to focus on the people at StarTalk.”

Just then, Ella’s phone beeped, signaling another call coming in. “Hang on, Justine, call-waiting just kicked in.”

It was the station. “If you’re up to it, the watch commander wants you to handle a ten-sixty-five,” the operator said, giving Ella the address.

Recognizing the code for a hostage/kidnapping, Ella immediately notified Justine,
who was almost at the house, and got ready to roll.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go. Sorry.” She turned around, not seeing Dawn. She shouted, “I’ve got a call, daughter. I’ll see you later. Love you. You too, Mom.”

Rose managed a smile, and Ella heard a faint “bye” from the back of the house. Grabbing her pistol and holster
from the top of the bookcase, Ella rushed out as Justine pulled up.

Justine was
on the radio, getting details on the same call, as Ella slipped inside the SUV. “That address, out near Long Lake, it’s George Charley’s home, right?” Ella asked, fastening her seat belt.

“Yeah. According to the dispatcher, there was fighting going on in the background. Dispatch heard the sound of something crashing and a woman screaming. The caller said they were under attack, then the call
ended abruptly. Dispatch tried to reach the caller again, but couldn’t get through.”

“Who called it in?”

“They never got a name, but it was a man.”

“Maybe George Charley
was
murdered, and now someone’s after his wife,” Ella said. “The failed attempt to cover up the brake tampering might have forced them into action.”

“But if that’s the case, who phoned in for help?”

“Relatives, or maybe her
neighbor, the guy whose truck was there when we dropped off Marilyn. We considered the possibility that the pair was having an affair, remember?”

Ella called the station, verified that there was more backup on the way, then glanced at the speedometer. Justine was flying south down the nearly deserted highway.

Less than three minutes later, around eight-thirty, Dispatch contacted them again.
“We traced the number and it belongs to Wallace Curtis. He’s the Charleys’ closest neighbor.”

Turning off the main highway, Justine headed west, raising clouds of dust, visible despite the darkness, in the side mirrors with the emergency lights running. Knowing the route, she made good time.

Justine slowed as she approached a junction where two secondary roads fed into the one they were traveling.
Lights of any kind were few out here. That was why their unit had
been equipped with a set of new, expensive headlights that had great range.

Justine had slowed to make the turn when suddenly a vehicle popped over the ridge in front of them. It came straight at them, right down the center of the road. Its high beams were blinding them as it closed in fast.

“Hang on!” Justine inched to the right,
honked the horn, and hit the brakes.

Ella gripped the door handle hard, instinctively ducking down. Their SUV slipped down on the right as the passenger side tires dropped into the low drainage ditch.

“Gotta keep straight…” Justine mumbled, fighting to keep the vehicle from swinging to the right. The SUV fish-tailed, but she managed to keep the rear end from swinging all the way around.

A mental
image of them rolling flashed in Ella’s mind. She managed a one word curse as the pickup rattled by, barely missing them. The glare ended, then flashed on again almost instantly.

“Oh crap, not again!” Justine yelled as a second set of headlights raced around a curve in the road and bore down on them. This time, however, the vehicle stayed to the left. As it whipped by, Ella saw it was another
pickup, only this one had a wooden stock rack.

“Those idiots!” Justine yelled, easing completely back onto the road now. “You okay?” She looked over at Ella.

Ella sat back up. “Now I am. Good driving, partner.” She looked in the side mirror at the fading taillights behind them. “Wish we could nail their butts for hot-rodding, but we’ve got other priorities right now.”

While Justine drove, Ella
used the unit’s radio to report the two pickups racing down the mountain, but all she’d had was a brief look. Other than the relative age of each
truck, the only detail she could give Dispatch was that the second one had a wooden stock rack.

They were almost at Marilyn Charley’s home when Dispatch contacted them again. “Go to the Sheep Springs Clinic instead. Wallace Curtis and Marilyn Charley
are there now, being treated for wounds sustained during a home invasion.”

Ella looked at Justine. “We must have missed them at that last junction. Have you heard of any related crimes? I can’t recall any reports of a home invasion, not in the recent past,” Ella asked. “Are any of the gangs active again?”

Justine shook her head, braked quickly to a stop, then reversed directions with a three-point
turn and headed back down the road. “None of the local gangs have been active for the past six months or so. The Fierce Ones have been keeping them on a tight leash,” she said, referring to a vigilante group made up of traditionalists and new traditionalists. The latter group was made up of Navajos who followed the old traditional customs, but enjoyed modern amenities like satellite dishes
and air-conditioning.

“I have a feeling this is tied to George Charley’s death, so stay sharp,” Ella said. “We haven’t connected all the dots yet, and what we don’t know
can
hurt us.”

A short time later they arrived at the tiny clinic, located in relatively flat terrain east of the foothills. Despite the fact that it was close to ten at night, the facility was still open—a good thing considering
the next medical facility was many miles away. The door was unlocked, so Ella walked directly to the front counter and pulled out her badge.

The young-looking medical technician in colorful scrub top and pants looked at Ella’s ID, then gestured toward one of three small rooms behind her. “Mrs. Charley’s being treated by the doctor in the room on the left. She’s in serious condition from head
injuries apparently sustained during a beating. An ambulance is on its way from Shiprock. She’ll
have to be transported to the hospital there for treatment once she’s stabilized.”