Blackening Song (16 page)

“So tell me what you know.”

“Not out here. They’ve obviously made this place theirs. Come over to my place after you finish your other business. I’ll make lunch and we can talk.”
Ella agreed, and Wilson climbed into his truck and drove away.

Once he was gone, Ella retrieved the skeletal hand, using a couple of sticks to pick it up and place it in the paper bag. Setting the bag on the passenger-side floorboards of her pickup, she drove to the police station. Peterson’s squad car wasn’t there, nor Blalock’s. Ella continued down the road to check the closest diner, and sure
enough, Peterson was there.

Ella walked into the lobby and bought a newspaper, making sure Peterson saw her. Returning to the pickup, she started reading. Five minutes later, Peterson wandered by.

“Hi, Ella. You wanted to see me?” he said cheerfully.

“Yes. Have a seat, but watch out for the bag on the floor, okay?” Ella gestured. “I need some info on these people.” She handed him the list of
four names, which she’d recopied.

Peterson glanced at it. “Reverend Williamson we both know is a pain, but harmless as far as I can tell. Gene Sorrelhorse is trouble. He’s a self-styled vigilante who has a tendency to solve problems with his fists, kind of like Wilson Joe. Willy Ute is an old friend of your father’s, one of his converts too—in fact, I think he’s taken over the earlier service
at the church. There’s nothing particularly noteworthy about Charley Atcitty. He works construction, that’s all I know. What makes you suspect these particular people?”

“I didn’t say I did. Their names have come up as I spoke to others, and I wanted to know more about them.”

“I’ll do background checks if you want, see if anything turns up.”

“Please.”

“Anything else? I’ve got to be going before
one of our units drives by.”

“You could have one of the forensic people write up a report on what’s in the bag by your foot.”

“Jeez, it smells,” Peterson complained, looking down at it. A big blue fly clung to the side of the bag. “What’s in there?”

“Somebody’s hand.” Ella shrugged. Before she could explain, Peterson jumped out of the pickup as if his pants were on fire.

“Dammit! Why didn’t
you tell me before I sat right next to it?”

Ella told him about meeting a skinwalker, but left out Wilson and the other details.

Peterson looked at her skeptically. Finally he took the bag, gingerly, and agreed to see what he could find out about recent grave-robbings.

He drove off quickly when a police car appeared. Ella waited until the unit drove by, then left herself.

NINE

Ella spent a nervous hour driving to Wilson’s home—a lonely trek southeast, toward Gallup. She tried to both dismiss her unease as a by-product of her nearly sleepless night and remain alert to any possible ambush. Soon, however, the natural serenity around her began to weave a comforting spell. Sage and purple asters bloomed as far as the eye could see, lining the valleys that stretched
between flat-topped ridges and isolated sandstone mesas. The desert, renewed by the summer rains, was flecked in yellows and blue-grays that reached all the way to the horizon.

“I never figured you’d live so far from the community,” Ella said after greeting Wilson. “I pictured you nearer the college.”

Wilson shook his head. “I deal with people and students all the day long. After I finish my
workday, I need a retreat of sorts. Time alone is at a premium when you’re teaching.”

“Do you like it?”

“Teaching, or living alone?”

“Both,” Ella answered.

“I really enjoy teaching. The sense of satisfaction in the job is very rewarding. I’m helping people learn how to learn and how to make their thoughts clear to themselves and others. That, in turn, shapes lives.”

Relaxing inside the adobe
one-story home, nestled near the base of a mesa, Ella understood why he’d chosen to live there. The soothing quiet was interrupted only by the occasional cry of a bird and the soft sounds of the breeze rustling through the piñons. “I’ve grown so accustomed to hearing traffic outside, I’d forgotten there were places like this,” she commented.

“I remember hearing you complain, back in high school,
that your parents lived too close to the highway. You loved to go off by yourself and hike in the desert.”

She smiled, surprised he remembered. “I’d spend hours dreaming of what I’d be, or what I’d do with my life.” Ella had also gained experience in orienting herself outdoors, a skill she had used the day before, when Wilson had tried to confuse her by driving in circles.

Ella glanced around
the living room. Care had been taken to make this home special. Each piece of furniture had a distinctive touch. The leather sofa had intricately carved oak sides. The design was repeated on the armoire, and on the legs and arms of a nearby easy chair.

“These must be antiques,” Ella commented. “They just don’t make furniture like this anymore. How long have you been a collector?”

“I made most
of the furniture here. It took me the better part of a year to carve the Navajo designs into the wood.”

Standing beside Wilson, Ella studied the carvings on the doors of the armoire. She recognized the beings that represented the cardinal points within the Sacred Mountains. “I remember these. Darkness Woman, Evening Twilight Woman, Dawn Man, and Horizontal Blue Man.”

“Some paint in colors. I
create in wood.” Wilson waved a hand, indicating his work.

“This place really has your mark on it,” Ella observed with undisguised admiration. The whitewashed walls and the openness of the living room created a sense of freedom. “You’ve made a good home for yourself.”

“Tell me about your home in the city.”

“It’s just an apartment, a place I use mostly to sleep and shower. I don’t even own the
furniture. I found my center in my work.”

Wilson had started to say something when his stomach growled. “Oops.” He laughed. “My stomach’s never been much for silent suffering. Let’s see if there’s anything in the kitchen that will make a decent sandwich.”

Ella helped him assemble thick sandwiches of cold cuts, lettuce, and tomato. The kitchen was fully equipped with modern conveniences, and
Ella knew that his gas appliances depended upon a propane tank in the back. That’s the way it always was in outer areas of the Rez.

“Tell me about your life,” Wilson urged. “Is working for the FBI all you thought it would be when you joined?”

“In a way, it’s more. I’ve enjoyed traveling, seeing new places, learning new things.” Ella grew pensive. “That’s what I had thought my life would be like
when I got married, but fate stepped in.”

“I heard about the accident. It must have been very hard on you,” he said sympathetically. “I really admired the way you got yourself together afterward.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” She reminded herself not to use her deceased husband’s name to avoid worrying or offending Wilson. “I’d found my identity through being his wife. When that was abruptly taken
away from me, I had no idea what to do with myself. I came home for a while, to sort out my thoughts and my life.”

“I remember. I tried to visit, but Clifford said you weren’t seeing anyone.”

“I needed to figure things out in my own head, and I didn’t want anyone’s help. For once I was determined to find my own answers.”

“But you’d always done that,” Wilson protested.

“No, not really,” Ella
answered with a sad smile. “I reacted to what was going on around me, that’s all. I knew I was different from Clifford, and not in total agreement with either my mother or my father on the issues that affected our family most. So I avoided any decisions that might have restricted my options.”

“How did you finally settle on law enforcement?”

“It seemed to suit me perfectly. Right and wrong are
clearly marked. There are rules, and the opportunity to restore order. I decided to go to college and earn my degree, then apply to the bureau under a minority recruitment program. The bureau taught me to stand on my own, and gave me confidence I never had before. I realized I was capable of accomplishing anything I set my mind to. I made a place for myself, and I made a difference there.” Ella
carried the plates of sandwiches and potato chips to a small circular table.

Wilson set down two tall glasses of cold lemonade. “I’ve always known I belonged on the Rez, and I always wanted to teach. I went to college and graduate school in Albuquerque, but came home as soon as I could. A few months ago I was finally offered a full professorship at the new community college and I jumped at the
chance.”

“So you
are
in favor of the college,” Ella commented.

Wilson hesitated. “The college itself is a very good idea, though I do agree with Clifford that the choice of location is a poor one. I also wish your father had never insisted on building a church there.”

Ella finished her sandwich, then sat back and regarded Wilson speculatively. The openness of their discussion had done a lot
to dull her suspicions. “Do you realize we’ve talked all around the one subject I came here to discuss?”

“Yes,” he admitted, the smile in his eyes never quite reaching his lips.

“We can’t avoid it,” she said quietly. “I need to know more about the ones I’m fighting.”

Wilson leaned on the table, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Didn’t your brother ever talk to you about this?”

“Only
once, and in very general terms. At least that’s all I remember.”

Wilson looked past her and out the window that faced the rugged side of the mesa. “Do you think you could stand a long drive, then a little hike? There’s something I’d like to show you, but there’s no way I’m going to that place after nightfall.”

“Where do you have in mind?”

“A site skinwalkers used at one time. Though they abandoned
it years back, you might still be able to learn something from it. We’ll take my truck.”

“I’m ready whenever you are.” She picked up the last few potato chip crumbs on her plate. “But how sure are you that they’re not meeting there anymore?” Ella wondered why he would agree to take her to such a place, yet still speak of skinwalkers in a such a roundabout way. What was he really up to?

“Your
brother did a special ceremony to make sure they wouldn’t return.”

Questions filled her mind, like how and when had they found it, and what had they found there. Still, she remained quiet, knowing Wilson would tell her at his own pace.

The drive, cross-country over rough terrain, took nearly an hour. Wilson’s grip on the wheel was firm but not white-knuckled, as it had been the day before. Still,
when Wilson at last braked the truck to a stop, the muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched nervously, matching the accelerated rate of Ella’s pulse. “Come on. It’s not far from here, but we’ll have to walk.” He pulled out a flashlight from the glove compartment.

“Tell me about this place.”

“Your brother, brother-in-law Paul, and I encountered something here during spring break our senior
year in high school. We’d gone on a hike, and Clifford and I were bragging to Paul how we knew this country like the back of our hands. He laughed and asked if we’d like to put that to a test. We foolishly agreed, so he had us tie handkerchiefs over our eyes. Then he led us around blindfolded for half an hour. When he took the blindfolds off, we walked in circles for a long time, trying to find
our camp. Paul just grinned, telling us to use our skills to find the way. Finally we decided to take a break.” Wilson looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Ella prompted him.

“We heard several people talking nearby. Clifford was curious. He insisted on sneaking up to find out what was going on. I just wanted to get the heck out of there, but I couldn’t leave him behind. Paul
was with your brother, so I did what they wanted.”

“Clifford always had a knack for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong,” she commented.

Wilson led her around a deep, narrow arroyo, then up a small slope littered with jagged boulders and sage. The uneven ground made walking difficult, and Ella had to concentrate to keep her balance. Thankfully it was much too hot for rattlesnakes to be
roving about. Her boots were comfortable for walking, but definitely not thick enough to ward off a bite.

“It’s just up ahead.”

Looking where he gestured, Ella saw a narrow opening covered with spiderwebs, leading into the earth. Traces of pollen were visible on the ground, and four weather-worn prayer sticks were placed around the hole. “We’ll go in there,” Wilson said.

“Inside that hole?”
The thought revolted her. She’d never much liked confined spaces, and even thinking of climbing into that narrow pit made her feel slightly nauseated.

“It’s a tunnel, not a hole. Once you’re in, it’s about four feet wide—plenty of room.”

She considered asking him to describe the site to her, but she’d been pushing him for concrete information. This was no time to back down out of groundless
squeamishness. “Is it safe? I mean, it won’t collapse or anything, right?”

“No, it’s sturdy.”

“How do you know?”

“Your brother came here right before he went into hiding, to help himself start thinking like his enemies. He blessed it again; I suppose you noticed the pollen.”

Ella was pleased, Wilson was trusting her with information about Clifford’s movements. But she still didn’t care for
heading underground.

As they descended, she could feel the dampness of the cool, subsurface earth. Wilson led the way, lighting their path with his flashlight. The tunnel had been plastered with clay and dug well. They proceeded slowly, on their hands and knees. Unexpectedly, Ella saw a tattered white cotton curtain ahead. “Is that where we’re going?”

“We’ll go past two curtains like that,”
he answered, “before we reach the place I want you to see.”

The sound of his voice reverberated inside the earthen tunnel, becoming distorted. She fought a sudden, sharp fear that they might be buried alive. The air was stale and filled with a strange smell like rotting leaves, but there were no plants around. She tried hard not to speculate on what else might be rotting nearby.