Shooting Chant (32 page)

“You think they’ll believe my teacher friend is the baby’s father?” She said, referring to Wilson Joe. “With his connection to the evil ones, I can see how that might create a stir.”

“There’s
that possibility, of course, but there’s another that worries me even more. Remember that Mist Eagle’s legacy started when two from the same clan shared a blanket. They may already know that your brother can’t have more children since his wife is infertile, so their minds may turn to the unthinkable.”

“You mean they’ll think Clifford and I…” She shuddered. “That’s disgusting.”

“Eventually, they’ll
figure out it’s not true, but until they’re certain it could create some very big problems.”

“There’s DNA testing, Mom.”

“That means nothing to them.”

“So, you’re saying that the key to my keeping my baby safe is convincing them that Kevin is the father?”

“I think so. But you have no intention of meeting with his clan and trying to reason with them, do you?”

“Absolutely not. And if they come
after my family I’ll throw the lot of them in jail. I don’t care if they’re the same clan as the tribal president. I’ll take them down, Mom. Don’t doubt that for a minute.”

Anger filled Ella until she began to shake. Superstition was nearly impossible to fight. It was rooted in fear, and nothing good ever came from that emotion. “I’m guilty of nothing and I won’t be put on trial by anyone, particularly
Kevin’s family. If any of them come near this house, I’ll arrest them.”

“That won’t help.”

“Maybe, but it’ll make me feel a lot better, and I’ll guarantee that their night in jail will be as uncomfortable as possible.”

Rose looked at her daughter. “New meets old. This is going to be some battle you’ll wage.”

“I’ll win, too. You’ll see,” Ella said, struggling to keep her temper. “Do you suppose
Kevin knows about all this yet?”

“Why don’t you ask him, Daughter?” Rose’s tone suggested she already knew the answer.

“I’ll do that, all right, next time I see him. And, if the old snoop gets any closer, let me know.”

Ella walked over to the refrigerator. “Want breakfast now?”

*   *   *

It was still early when Ella arrived at the police station. Despite the hour, there were messages waiting
for her. Two were requests for interviews from a local newspaper and an Albuquerque television station, and the third was a “see me as soon as you get here” request from Big Ed.

Ella walked down the hall toward the chief’s office. As usual, Big Ed was in. “Good morning,” Ella announced at her chief’s door.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Shorty. That crank on the radio has an agenda against us,
and he’s spreading his half-truths and redneck politics over parts of four states. Now that you’ve had a chance to think about it, how do you think he found out about you being assaulted by the river?”

Ella thought about it as she eyed a box of doughnuts on the chief’s desk. She’d brought along some granola bars and an apple for snacks, but they were in the Jeep. Besides, doughnuts always looked
better than granola.

“You can have one, but not until I get your answer,” Big Ed leaned back and started rocking in his chair. “Skip breakfast, did you?”

“Not really,” Ella shrugged absently, still wracking her brain about the leak. There were only two possible answers she could think of. “Chief, either one of our officers leaked the news to Branch, maybe inadvertently via a relative or friend,
or he’s getting information from the other side.”

“The perps? Why would they contact him?”

“Publicity. It helps generate fear and lack of confidence in the PD and strengthens their own position.”

“Okay. Let’s take a closer look at our findings. What do we have so far?”

Before Ella could speak, Justine popped her head around the door jamb. “I got your note, Big Ed, and I’m here.”

Big Ed waved
the young officer in as he looked to Ella for an answer.

“We’ve got two murders, a break-in at a clinic, and two kidnappings.”

“Don’t forget those incidents involving the modernists and traditionalists and their animals. People have lost some prize livestock recently,” Justine pointed out.

“Tell me about it. My wife’s still upset.” Big Ed sat up and offered a doughnut to Ella, then Justine.
Neither declined the offer.

“So many things are happening back-to-back, instinct tells me to look for common ground,” Ella said, “but I haven’t been able to find any.”

“What course of action will you follow?” Big Ed started rocking in his chair again, this time with a doughnut in one of his hands.

“I’m going to start by having a serious talk with George Branch. I’m anxious to see how he explains
knowing things he shouldn’t.” Ella glanced at Justine. “While I’m there, I want you to call the lab about those samples and see if they can fax you the results as soon as they’re available. We need to start ruling out possibilities as well as suspects.”

“Get on that now,” Big Ed said. “Time’s wasting.”

“I’m on it.” Justine said, and left the room.

“I’m also going to need additional officers
to help us do the legwork on these kidnappings, Chief,” Ella said. “Is there anyone you can spare?”

“I figured you’d be asking, so I started checking. To be perfectly honest, I’d rather have our people talking to Navajo cops than ask Blalock to bring in extra agents. Unfortunately, so far, I’ve only got one man available, but I’m still trying to switch other schedules around, so I may have more
soon.”

“Who’s the officer?” She asked.

“Sergeant Manuelito.”

He was the officer who’d pressured her into arresting her brother. One look at the chief’s face told her he was aware of it, too.

“It’s your call. Do you want him?”

Ella hesitated. She needed the help, but she wasn’t sure the sergeant was the right choice. “I know Sergeant Manuelito has a lot of experience, but I wonder if he’s
the right man to be dealing with the traditionalists. He’s new to this part of the Rez, and is really gung ho.”

“What do you expect from an ex-marine? But he’s a good cop to have on your side when the going gets tough.”

Ella nodded at last. “I’ll have him follow up on any leads we get on that white SUV, and have him help check with the dealerships. That should keep him from tangling with the
Fierce Ones. I know he’d like to bust a few heads, but we don’t need that right now.” Ella stood. “If that’s all, I’ll get to work.”

“Keep me up to speed, Shorty,” Big Ed said.

Ten minutes later, Ella was on the road toward Farmington. She’d checked George Branch’s address and found he lived in an old farmhouse near Waterflow.

As she sped down the highway, she watched farmers picking up bales
of alfalfa from the fields. With cooler weather coming on, this was probably the last cutting, and they had to get the bales stacked and covered before the next rain.

Arriving a short time later, Ella found that Branch’s property included an old, neglected apple orchard, and a large lawn, probably impressive in times past, but now overgrown and full of weeds.

In the gravel driveway was a gas-guzzling
bus of an SUV with a custom paint job, heavy bumpers, and fog lamps. She hadn’t seen a foggy day here in the San Juan River Valley in years. Branch either was making good money, or had a second job.

Ella walked up the flagstone path and knocked on the screen door loudly. She’d decided not to call ahead, hoping to wake Branch up, suspecting he slept late after working past ten
P.M.
five nights
a week. When no one responded, Ella opened the screen and knocked on the front door even louder than before. She then heard a curse and the sound of footsteps.

Moments later, the door opened and Branch stood there in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He was barefooted on the hardwood floor. “Oh, it’s you, Clah. Check out my program last night?”

“I need to ask you a few questions regarding a criminal
investigation, Mr. Branch. Can I come in, or would you prefer coming with me to the police station?”

“The Navajo Nation stops on the other side of the river, and so does your jurisdiction. I don’t have to go anywhere with you, and I don’t have to let you in my home, either.” Branch stood up straight, and brushed his unruly reddish brown hair back. His expression was one of arrogance.

“Okay,
it was just a request. I’ll ask one of the cooperating agencies in this investigation to make it happen. You’ve met Special Agent Blalock and, as I’m sure you can imagine, he’s looking forward to interviewing you again. He’ll probably have to detain you for, say, three or four hours while we discuss your connection to a kidnapping. And, don’t worry if you’re late for work, we’ll call and explain to
your employers. I’m sure they can find someone to take over your show if our bureaucracy at the station makes you late.”

Branch’s face grew cold. “Come in.”

Ella had placed a tape recorder in her pocket, and now, unobtrusively, she turned it on with her thumb. There was no way Branch was going to distort this interview so he could use her or the interview as material for his show.

Ella took
a seat on the couch. “I want to know who is leaking information to you.”

“My source is anonymous. I can’t give you a name.”

“Are you aware that your informant must either be one of the criminals or someone in contact with them?”

“Or a friendly cop,” Branch said.

Ella didn’t ease up on him. “Or all three. I wonder what your listeners would think of your credibility if I let word get out that
we have reason to believe you’re in contact with the perps and are withholding evidence in a kidnapping case.”

“Chill out, Clah. All I know is that someone called me at the station with the information. The guy never identified himself. I tried later on to get the Navajo PD to confirm what I was told, but the officer on watch hung up on me after I identified myself.”

“Does the station have caller
ID installed?”

“No. We have a policy of not trying to confirm the identity of our callers. It could damage my show’s free speech, no government snooping policy.”

When he began to preach about free speech, law and order, and liberals ruining the country, Ella gave up. This was all she was getting out of Branch today. “Call me if your informant contacts either you or the station again.”

“I’ll
think about it.”

“Do you understand the words ‘obstruction of justice’?”

He took her business card. “Always happy to cooperate with the police.”

Ella was driving past Hogback ten minutes later when her cell phone rang. It was Justine.

“I just starting getting faxes from the lab in Albuquerque on those samples we took,” she said. “It looks like good news for the town, but bad news for the investigation.”

“You mean there are no contaminants present?” Ella asked, surprised.

“Nothing except normal background radiation, which is a little high because of our geology and the old uranium mill. There are no unusual levels of toxic metals, organic poisons, or even sewage,” Justine said, sounding disappointed.

Ella understood how she felt but, admittedly, Justine always took things like this harder than
anyone else. Her young cousin had been put on the special investigator’s team primarily to serve as a lab tech and conduct basic forensic work. Whenever lab work failed to provide leads, even if she hadn’t done the tests herself, Justine always took it personally.

“Are there any other tests pending, or is that it?” Ella asked.

“They’re doing microbial cultures, too, which can take several days,
but I really doubt a bacterial agent or virus could be responsible for killing the insects and birds we saw at the site. I believe most pathogens are more species specific, but I’ll check with Dr. Roanhorse, just to be sure.”

“Do that. And find out how many more days it’ll take for the autopsy and toxicology reports to come back on Elisa Brownhat. In the meantime, we’ll just have to keep focused
on the kidnappings. Human lives are at stake.”

Just as Ella said good-bye to her assistant, she heard an emergency call come in on her unit radio asking for any available units. “This is Sergeant Manuelito at the Bitsillie residence, just west of Hogback at the windmill. I need backup. I have a suspect resisting arrest.”

“10–4 Sergeant,” Ella said, answering the call. “I’m less than five minutes
from your location.” Ella called the dispatcher, informing her she would respond.

Activating her emergency equipment, Ella accelerated and reached the dirt road turnoff quickly. As she entered the private road with a controlled skid, Ella looked ahead at the small gray stucco Bitsillie residence.

The Bitsillie’s were traditionalists, and had a log hogan behind their more modern winter house.
A rough-cut log corral held several goats, and a white pickup was parked beside the corral. Manuelito’s police unit was at the end of the road, fifty feet from the hogan. Beneath a cottonwood branch arbor she could see a uniformed officer pushing a man with his baton. An old woman and man stood nearby, waving their arms.

Then something about the white pickup suddenly became familiar. In a heartbeat,
Ella knew why. The truck belonged to her brother, Clifford.

Ella jumped out and ran over to the arbor, where Clifford and Sergeant Manuelito were circling each other. “What’s going on Sergeant? Why do you want to arrest my brother? And what are you doing here anyway? You’re supposed to be tracking down a white SUV.”

Ella caught Clifford’s eye. He was watching Manuelito with a look she recognized
from their teenage years as his “do you believe this idiot?” glare.

“Are you going to back me up or not, Investigator Clah? Your brother is resisting arrest.” Manuelito’s face was red, and he was obviously angry and frustrated.

“Resisting getting pushed around is more like it,” Mrs. Bitsillie shouted angrily. “The
hataalii
was here treating my husband for a sore shoulder when this wild Navajo
came speeding up in his car, getting dust in everyone’s eyes. He was rude to me and my husband, and especially to the medicine man.”

Mrs. Bitsillie continued, shaking her finger at Sergeant Manuelito, “I don’t get angry very often, but if you’d have tried to grab me like you grabbed the
hataalii,
I would have socked you right in the nose, even if I am an old woman.”