Coyote's Wife (40 page)

“Get cracking then,” Big Ed said. “Or hacking.
Maybe one of Abigail’s files will shed some light on all this—or rule her out.”

Once their meeting ended, Teeny walked with Ella to her office. Taking the hard drive she’d salvaged, he connected it via cables to ports on his own laptop computer. Teeny was deep in concentration when Ella saw Ralph Tache come to her door.

“Do you need me, Ralph?” Seeing him nod, she stepped
out into the hall with
him, not wanting to disturb Teeny. “What’s up?”

“We have no hits on that dead guy yet, but we’re working on it. Also the late senator’s grave hasn’t been disturbed,” he said.

“Have you spoken to Jesse?” Ella pressed.

He nodded. “The Fierce Ones were just told by their informant that a small group of skinwalkers is behind the recent attacks on Ervin and his family.”

“That did
not
come from
this P.D.,” Ella said flatly. Although she’d suspected that already, she hadn’t discussed it with anyone in Big Ed’s office, and all the vital conversations she’d had with Big Ed had been away from his desk.

“There’s more. The Fierce Ones are planning to hunt down the Navajo witches. They think that the skinwalkers are behind the problems they’ve been having. They’re armed and already on the
move.”

“How are they going to find the skinwalkers?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like a search grid would work.”

“Go back to Jesse and get us more on that. We need to know exactly what they have in mind.”

Tache nodded once and strode down the hall.

Going back into her office, Ella watched Teeny for a minute. He was totally focused. She wouldn’t disturb him. Sitting back in her chair, she tried
to sort out her own thoughts.

If she was right, and Ervin was being targeted by one of the two most prominent women in his life, he was in even more danger than any of them realized. The yellow jacket from the pickup, and the bolo tie Ervin had found outside his home could have been given to the skinwalkers by either of them. But the question still remained—which one had contacted the people
that had been hired to do the dirty work, and would they be able to find that link? If no e-mails
showed up in the recovered files, Ella had no idea how or where to look next.

“I’ve got a bunch of files restored,” Teeny said. “There’s some tax information, like a list of donated clothing and other miscellaneous items that had belonged to her late husband. There’s also a schedule of launch dates
for the different phases of StarTalk’s plan. But there’s one file I found particularly interesting. It looks to be a speech Barbara was writing.”

“On Abigail’s computer?” Ella asked.

“That’s the way it appears. Come take a look.”

Ella leaned over Teeny’s massive shoulder. “That’s the kind of speech Barbara would have to deliver if she took over for Ervin at StarTalk. I wonder if Abigail was
writing it for her …”

“Maybe Barbara was running what she had past her mother. We don’t know if this was downloaded from elsewhere,” Teeny said, turning away from the keyboard.

Ella stared at it thoughtfully. “Up to now, I’ve suspected Abigail Yellowhair, but maybe Barbara’s been pulling our strings all along.”

“It could be either … or both,” Teeny said.

Ella tried to wrap her mind around
it. “Barbara might have resented the way Ervin was running things. He got all the credit and recognition while she stayed behind doing all the paperwork and planning.”

“She would have had access to everything she needed to set up her husband,” Teeny answered. “And his PDA could have been bugged as well. So who’s responsible—mother or daughter?” Teeny asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Ella
said with a long sigh. “Check that file you found on the donated items, the ones that used to belong to James Yellowhair,” Ella said, a new thought forming in her mind.

“Okay. What should I look for?” Teeny turned back to
the keyboard. Several keystrokes later, she saw the listing of clothing and other personal items donated to a secondhand store in Farmington, off the Rez.

“There—two yellow
blazers,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “And scroll down. Three turquoise and silver bolo ties valued at seventy-five dollars each,” Ella said, pointing.

“Those have special meaning to you?”

She told him about the yellow blazer found in the dead man’s pickup, and the bolo tie that Ervin had seen outside his home.

“So Abigail—or Barbara—could have bought those items back and used them
as payment to the skinwalkers.”

“I know exactly how to use this information. Thanks, Teeny.” Ella walked out her door, dialing Blalock’s office as she went. “I really need your help. Will you be in your office, say, in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, come on over. Lucas is here too. Turns out he was on vacation, but decided to come back and work with us on his own time.”

“Fabulous news! I’ll be there
shortly.”

Ella sat across from Blalock and the Hopi agent, Lucas Payestewa, who’d been assigned to the reservation years ago. Lucas’ hair was cut regulation short now and he seemed to have been working out. He was more muscular than Ella remembered, and had lost the baby face.

Ella filled them in, gave Lucas her phone numbers, then continued explaining her strategy. “I’d like Lucas to start
by tailing Barbara Benally. She won’t know you, right?”

“I never dealt with her when I was assigned to this office,” the young Hopi agent replied. “And from what Agent Blalock’s told me about her, I doubt she’s ever given me a second look.”

“Stay with her first, then switch to Abigail,” Ella said.

One of the things that made Lucas an asset is that he blended in no matter where he went in the
southwest. Outside the Navajo Rez he could have passed for Chicano. Here, wearing western clothes common to The People, he wouldn’t even rate a passing glance.

“I checked on the way over and Barbara’s working late at the StarTalk offices tonight,” Ella continued. “You might be able to pick her up there once she leaves. You have that address, her home address, and the Benally residence, right?”
Ella asked.

Lucas nodded.

“Good. Once you’ve got her in your sights, stick with her, and don’t make the mistake of underestimating her.”

“Ella, you said that the Fierce Ones were planning to make a move on the supposed skinwalkers,” Blalock said. “What are you going to do about that and where do I fit in?”

“Tache will be meeting with his brother-in-law so we’ll know more later,” she said standing
up. “Just be ready to roll.”

“Where are you off to now?” Blalock asked.

“I’m going to go rattle a few cages,” she said with a grin. “If anything comes up I’ll be available.”

Ella was soon driving down the highway to Ervin’s. Maybe the news that they were getting closer to finding answers would help boost his courage. More importantly, it might also make Barbara nervous enough to make a mistake.
Or maybe she’d pass the news on to her mother and spur Abigail into action.

Before she’d even finished the thought, Ella received a call from Dispatch. “There’s an altercation in progress,” the radio operator said, giving her Ervin’s address. “A woman made the call, but didn’t leave her name.”

“I’ll handle it,” Ella said instantly. Switching on her sirens, she raced toward the Benally home.

As Ella approached the Benally home from the south, she could see an old sedan she didn’t recognize parked outside near the lights. Just as Ella pulled up beside it, a young Navajo woman in her late twenties threw open the front door and ran toward her. The woman was unarmed and frightened.

“I’m Dolores Pioche, the new housekeeper,” she said, coming up
to Ella’s open driver’s side window. “Mr. Benally saw some men trying to vandalize his new truck. When he yelled, they jumped into an old black pickup and took off. Mr. Benally raced off after them with his rifle. I couldn’t stop him, he was acting crazy.”

“How long ago?” Ella asked.

“Five minutes, maybe a little more.”

“No vehicles passed me on my way here. Which direction did they go?”

Dolores pointed and Ella took off, racing north. The full moon was out and she could see quite well despite the late hour. A few minutes later Ella approached an unpaved road to her right. Dust illuminated by her headlights and deep furrows in the dirt told her that somebody had made a
sharp, high speed turn here. The road went north for a hundred yards, then crossed a wide arroyo.

Ella followed
the side road and had just driven down into the wash when she heard the rapid cracks of gunfire echoing down the steep walls of the water-carved arroyo. Coming to a stop, she saw vehicle tracks leading to her right, off the road and down the channel. A firefight was underway up ahead, and from the sounds and the number of shots several weapons were in play. Ella turned off her headlights and followed
the tracks, moving slow enough to keep from smashing her mouth against the radio as she called for backup.

Seconds later, she spotted two vehicles ahead in a low spot where a second channel had eroded the arroyo floor even deeper. Stopping at an angle so the engine compartment gave her some cover, Ella slipped out of her vehicle, crouching low, and peering over the hood. Ervin’s pickup was smashed
against the side of the arroyo, upside down. He’d gone over the edge, apparently in a skid. The cab looked crushed and there was a mangled body dangling halfway out the shattered windshield. At this distance it looked like Ervin, and if it was, there wasn’t much hope he’d still be alive.

The second vehicle, a black pickup, was motionless in the lower part of the arroyo not twenty feet away from
the wreck. Just as Ella reached for her handheld radio, more gunfire erupted. Pulling out her handgun and moving over by the front bumper, she spotted a figure coming around the rear of the black pickup. He turned and fired his rifle at someone on the upper rim of the arroyo.

From her angle, and the fact that he was against the night sky, Ella couldn’t see the person on the high ground. Looking
back toward the black truck, she noticed a figure facedown
on the ground about ten feet from Ervin’s pickup. The dark spots on his light-colored shirt were probably blood. From the amount spilled he was either dead already or dying.

Ella took careful aim at the man with the rifle. “Police!” she yelled. “Drop your weapon!”

Three more shots rang out from somewhere above. The man beside the pickup
door turned to look at her, then collapsed as a dark spot appeared on his upper chest.

Ella gripped her pistol, wishing she carried an automatic rifle in the car instead of the short range shotgun. There were at least three shooters up on the rim of the arroyo network firing down at the black truck. At the moment, they were in control of the situation.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ella caught
the shine of chrome from another vehicle to her right in the side channel. Perhaps it belonged to the shooters who’d taken out the guy or guys in the black truck.

The shooters on the bluff had stopped firing, so Ella grabbed her department shotgun and ran toward the third vehicle, which turned out to be a white SUV. When she got close, Ella crouched down, waiting and listening.

Soon she heard
running footsteps and harsh whispers. Two Navajo men came into view, both carrying rifles. One took a quick look around, tossed his rifle onto the backseat through the open window, then jumped inside the front passenger’s side. The light came on. The second man, carrying his rifle with his left hand, reached for the driver’s side door handle.

Ella knew she had to make her move. She jumped out
from behind cover, aiming her shotgun at the two men. “Police officer! Stay where you are!”

The one by the driver’s side, Delbert John, cursed in Navajo, then turned his head and yelled. “Run!”

Ella glanced to her left, and saw a third man farther up the arroyo. He disappeared almost instantly around a curve in the channel.

Ella turned her attention back to the men at the truck. The guy inside
the cab—whom she recognized as Arthur Brownhat—was trapped. Delbert hadn’t moved a muscle since his shout, which was the main reason he was still breathing.

“Smart man,” she said, stepping closer. “Lay the rifle on the ground … slowly and by the barrel. And you, Arthur Brownhat, place both hands on the dashboard. Now!”

Two minutes later, both men were handcuffed to the SUV, and Ella, having
unloaded the rifles and jammed them barrel first into the sand out of reach of the two, was running back to the black pickup, shotgun ready.

Even as she jumped down six feet into the lower level of the main arroyo, she didn’t have much hope of finding anyone still alive. She first went to where Ervin lay, half in and half out of the windshield. His neck had been torn apart by the accident, almost
decapitating him. She didn’t have to check to know he was dead. The man not far from Ervin’s truck was also dead. She was surprised to see that it was Darrell Waybenais, Virgil’s neighbor. A hunting rifle with a scope lay in the sand beside him.

Ella checked the other figure beside the bed of the old black pickup and stared at the man’s face in stunned silence. It was the twin brother of the
man killed in the attack on Clifford’s hogan. Only this man, though he’d been gut shot, was still alive.