Ghost Medicine (6 page)

As Ella sat in front of her computer, she pushed Selina Ute from her mind. It was time for her to get to work.

*   *   *

The paperwork
was overwhelming and it was nearly midnight by the time Ella got home. As she climbed out of the truck, she saw a light on in the kitchen and a familiar dark shape close to the ground, waiting for her on the porch.

“Hey, Two,” Ella whispered, greeting the sixty-pound mutt. The dog came up, tail wagging, and Ella gave him a hug. The elderly stray was protective of all of them, and he usually didn’t
go to sleep until she was home safe.

Two followed her inside, then went to his own bed in the kitchen.

As Ella opened the fridge door, Rose came in.

“I was wondering if you’d make it back tonight at all, daughter,” she said, braiding her silver hair. “I stayed up, thinking you might need someone to talk to.” Rose tried to tie a rubber band around her hair, but her rheumatoid arthritis was making
the motion painful.

“Let me help, Mom,” Ella said, then fastened the band for her. “You don’t braid your hair much anymore. When was the last time?”

“I can’t remember, but it got pretty hot this evening and I need some way of cooling off,” Rose answered. “You want some herbal tea?”

Seeing Ella nod, she walked to the refrigerator and brought out a gallon jar half full of her special blend.

Ella found two glasses in the drain rack, and her mom poured.

They sat down at the table and sipped their tea for a full five minutes before either of them spoke.

“Your daughter spent hours talking to her friends on the phone. They all seemed to know what was going on,” Rose said. “I made her hang up and go to bed around ten.”

“Then you probably already know what kept me,” Ella said, avoiding
mentioning Harry specifically. Rose was a Traditionalist, and they all respected Navajo ways in the house in deference to her.

“You lost an old friend today. I’m sorry about that,” Rose said, looking into her eyes.

“I seem to have a problem with men, don’t I?” Ella said with a thin smile.

“To Anglos, romantic love is everything, but we’re Navajos. We’re taught to value lasting things like compatibility
and shared goals. Romantic love is all too often a cheat.”

Ella smiled. “Maybe so, but I’d rather keep looking than settle.”

Rose sighed. “What happened to that county detective? I’ve seen the way you look at him when he isn’t watching, but it’s been a while since you had him over for dinner. Did you two have a fight?”

“No, it’s nothing like that, Mom. I like him, and he likes me, too, and
we’ve been dating. I just want to take things slow, and he supports me on that.”

“The Navajo Way teaches that a man and a woman need each other to be complete,” Rose said. “Don’t keep finding excuses until it’s too late—for you and for him.”

“I’ll be seeing him again soon, Mom. The county will be helping me investigate my old friend’s death.” Detective Dan Nez, who spoke Navajo as well as he
did English, usually acted as liaison between tribal and county operations.

Rose finished the last of her tea, walked to the sink, washed out her glass, then put it in the drain rack.

“You know you don’t have to wait up for me, Mom,” Ella said, joining her at the sink.

“I sleep better once I know you’re home safe,” she said, and gave Ella a worried glance. “I’ve heard what you’re up against.
Make sure you have protection at all times.”

Though she hadn’t mentioned it specifically, Ella knew Rose had somehow found out about the skinwalkers. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Her mother had more connections than anyone else she knew.

“Good night, daughter,” she said, and walked down the hallway that separated the new and old wings of the house. They’d added on several years ago to accommodate
Rose and her husband, Herman.

A few minutes later, with only the hall night-light to show her the way, Ella silently opened Dawn’s door and looked inside.

Her daughter’s eyes were closed, her breathing deep, but she still had the earphone of her smartphone attached. The expensive phone, with dozens of apps, had been Kevin’s birthday gift, something Ella would never have been able to afford.
As an attorney working for the tribe, Kevin was very well compensated.

Wondering if there was a sleep mode app on the device, Ella shook her head and closed the door. Kids could sleep through anything, especially fourteen-year-olds. At least it was summer, so Dawn didn’t have to be up every day at six thirty.

Thankful for the peace that encircled her family, Ella continued down the hall to her
room.

*   *   *

She was up early and out of the shower before seven. When she walked into the kitchen, Herman and Rose were making breakfast together. As usual, her mom was wearing a shapeless flowerprint housedress with big pockets and her fluffy green slippers. Her freshly brushed silver hair hung down loosely around her shoulders.

Herman had on a long-sleeved, plaid flannel shirt, faded
jeans, and his blue suspenders. His cowboy boots were so old and scuffed, they looked like tan velvet, but he bragged that they were as soft as gloves. For years he’d worn his gray hair long, with a headband, but for the past several months he’d adapted the buzz cut of a soldier. That alone had made him look years younger, which seemed to please him much more than it did Rose.

“Good morning,
you two,” Ella said, holding back the impulse to ask if hell had frozen over. Having married in their seventies, Herman and Rose had very different habits, particularly when it came to breakfast. It was rare to see them together this time of day.

“Oatmeal?” Herman asked Ella.

“No thanks, just coffee,” Ella said.

Herman had slowed a step or two the last few years, fighting a heart ailment that
still worried her mom. Rose had read up on it, and after learning about oatmeal’s supposedly beneficial effects, she insisted Herman have a serving each morning.

“Mom!” Dawn came into the kitchen, still brushing her long black hair.

Ella smiled. Her daughter was already taller than Herman and Rose, and would probably exceed Ella’s five-foot-ten-inch frame by the time she graduated high school.

Dawn gave Ella a big hug—a welcome contrast from the usual mumbles and groans that went with the school months. Nothing made her child happier than a carefree summer and lots of time to spend with their horses.

“I love you, Mom. Make sure you wear your vest today, okay?” she said, tightening the hug before releasing her. “I know it’s hot, but it’s better to be safe.”

“Of course, dear. It’s with
my handgun, and I usually put it on before I get in the pickup,” Ella said, squeezing Dawn’s hand and noting that her daughter wasn’t making eye contact.

“Okay, well, gotta go check on the horses,” Dawn said, heading for the kitchen door.

“Where did that come from?” Ella asked, watching her daughter walking across the yard.

“We’re all worried, after yesterday,” Rose said, “but she’s at an age
when admitting something like that to you isn’t … cool?”

Ella looked over at Herman, who nodded. “Listen to your daughter. Stay safe.”

*   *   *

It was seven thirty by the time Ella arrived at the station. She parked her Ford 150 pickup beside the main entrance and went inside. These days, with budgetary considerations, few of them ever got to take the tribal SUVs home.

At her desk minutes
later, Ella checked her in-basket first. Nothing new had come in since last night, and several residents in the general area of the murder scene had yet to be interviewed.

As she skimmed through her team’s reports, Ella found a Post-it note on Sergeant Neskahi’s report. His message, “Call me,” got her immediate attention.

She picked up the phone, dialed his cell number, and got him on the first
ring. “What’s going on, Joe?”

“I’m on my way to the station right now. Could you assemble our team? I ran into a problem, and I’d like everyone to hear this firsthand.”

“You’ve got it.”

Ella left voice mail for FBI Agent Blalock, then word at the front for Benny and Ralph to come to her office as soon as they reported in. After that, she went to the lab to touch base with Justine.

The improvised
facility wasn’t much bigger than a storeroom, with work counters around the perimeter and a big island in the middle that usually held the instruments needed for a rudimentary examination of evidence.

Justine was measuring the recovered slug when Ella came in.

“Morning, boss,” Justine said without looking up. “New perfume?”

Ella shook her head. “Dawn found this cucumber herbal shampoo and I
tried it this morning. Supposed to be great for my hair, but I smell like a salad, don’t I?”

“Nah, more like a bushel of cucumbers. Nice, but if you want to attract a man, try Coors.”

Ella smiled. “How much longer you going to be with that slug?”

“Pretty much done. I’ve identified the manufacturer and caliber, it’s a .308 Hornady 165-grain Spire Point, Boat Tail, I think. The brand and boat
tail are for sure, but there was so much damage, I can’t be sure about the weight. I’m sending it to the FBI lab in Albuquerque via Agent Blalock. They’ve got all the instruments and technology needed to confirm.”

“No rifling marks you can use?”

“Not enough to get a match in court, but at least we have a rifle caliber and manufacturer,” Justine said, then looked at her. “What’s going on? Are
you calling a meeting this morning?”

She nodded. “Joe wanted to share something he didn’t want to put in his report for some reason. I’d planned on us going over to finish up the interviews—to talk to people who weren’t around when Benny and Joe were working the area—but let’s wait and see what Joe has to say first.”

“Do I have time to pick up another coffee?” Justine asked, holding up her empty
cup.

“Yeah, and grab one for me, too. I need to get back. Joe should be here by now.” Ella reached into her pocket and brought out a couple of dollars. “I’m buying.”

As Ella went around the corner of the hall, she saw Sergeant Neskahi standing outside her office door, talking to Agent Dwayne Blalock.

FB-Eyes, the nickname he’d been given by local Navajos because he had one blue eye and one
brown, was close to the Bureau’s mandatory retirement age of fifty-seven now. Despite that, the six-foot-plus agent looked as fit as any of the younger men in the department. He had a barely detectable limp due to a bullet he’d taken while working with her in the field years back, but it hadn’t slowed him down.

A pain in the butt at first, Blalock had mellowed over time, and these days received
more respect than disdain in their community.

Blalock turned as she walked up, and gave her a nod. “My condolences, Ella.”

“Thanks, Dwayne,” she said, motioning both men to her office. “So fill us in, Joe. What’s going on?”

“If it’s okay, I’d like to wait until we’re all behind closed doors,” he said.

Hearing footsteps, Ella saw Ralph Tache walking down the hall just ahead of Benny Pete and
Justine.

“Pull up a chair, guys,” she said, waving her hand. The office wasn’t the smallest one she’d had, but with all these officers, they were cramped for space. Justine, the last one in, closed the door behind her and handed Ella her coffee.

“Before we get started, let me say that we all lost a friend, and although it hurts, we have to stay focused on the job at hand. Until his killer is
caught, consider this case top priority,” Ella said, noting the heads nodding in approval.

“Joe? You had something you wanted to share with us?” Ella added.

Neskahi stood. “When I went to speak with Sarah Willie, aka Bitsy, the teen who discovered the body, I picked up some strange vibes. They’re Modernists, but the father was on the phone, making arrangements for a local
hataalii
to come do
a Sing over his kid. That surprised me, so I asked Mr. Willie about it. He told me that he knew the murder was the work of skinwalkers. Exactly how word got out, I don’t know, but it’s no longer a secret. The only question is how far it’s spread.”

“What made him so sure it was skinwalkers? Did he go back to the site and take a look after his kid told him about it? Bitsy didn’t get that close
a look,” Ella said. The very situation they’d hoped to avoid was now a reality.

“I wanted to know that, too,” Joe said. “When I asked, he said that he’d been hearing strange howling sounds at night—nothing that came from any animal he recognized. Something had also been scaring his horses all week. He hadn’t personally seen anything, but he said that most of his neighbors were convinced that
skinwalkers were active in the area, especially after sundown, out to make trouble.”

“Crap,” Ella said, rubbing her neck with one hand. “That means people will shoot first and ask questions later. If accusations begin flying around about who’s responsible, we may end up with more than one body.”

“Fear, murder, and a gun in every home. A recipe for disaster if I ever heard one,” Blalock said.

Seeing the others nod, Ella continued the briefing. To emphasize the point that they were all law enforcement professionals with a clear job ahead, she used the deceased’s name. “Harry was working for Bruce Little, but his death may not have been linked to his current case. We need to dig hard without tipping our hand, and see why a skinwalker went after him.”

“Maybe he saw something he wasn’t
supposed to,” Benny said.

“That’s one possibility,” Ella said.

“What about Harry’s laptop and notebook?” Tache said. “Have those been found?”

“No, they’re still missing. The killer undoubtedly used the key to Harry’s home, let himself in, and took the laptop along with any flash drives and hard drive backup systems.”

“What about the woman he brought home with him? Could she have taken his
laptop?” Benny asked.

“No way. Harry would have noticed. It was sitting in plain sight on his desk,” Ella said.

“So, bottom line. Ute may have been killed for what he knew or was about to find out, which may explain why the killer took the laptop later after the shooting. Also, any answer has to include the apparent skinwalker connection,” Blalock said, recapping.