Looking Through Darkness (26 page)

He eased his hold reluctantly. “Is that Rachel's ring tone? Maybe she canceled her trip.”

“No, that's not hers. It's similar though, and that means it's my cousin,” she said, wishing Dale's timing had been better.

She took her cell phone from her purse. “Hey, Dale, what's going on?”

“I heard about the break-in at your place and what happened afterwards with those men who ambushed you. Good thing you were carrying that .38.”

“Yeah, for sure. Now tell me, do the detectives think we made all that up?”

“No, in fact, it looks like they're finally starting to take your story seriously. They've decided to try and locate the employee who was at the storage place the day Kurt's locker was emptied. Detective McGraw will probably pay you another visit tomorrow.”

“I've already had my fill of Detective McGraw,” Leigh Ann replied.

“He's a tough cop, Leigh Ann, but he's fair.”

“I hope you're right. Thanks for the heads-up,” she said, then quickly added, “Dale, while I've got you on the line, I need a favor.”

A few minutes later she hung up. Finding Melvin in the kitchen, she told him what Dale had said.

“That's all good news. It's about time they started believing you.”

“Yeah, I think so, too.” Looking at the can of soup he'd brought out, she continued, “Since I'm staying here, why don't you let me earn my keep by fixing the meals?”

“There's not much for you to work with,” he warned. “I've got soup, some ready-to-eat meals in the freezer, and hot dogs.”

She opened the freezer. “There are little markers on the frozen dinners. Is that Braille?”

“More like my own shorthand—like with the bills in my wallet.”

She looked in the cupboards, found some spaghetti and a jar of spaghetti sauce. “I can fix what Rache and I call ‘cowboy Italian.' I'll make spaghetti, put little chunks of boiled hot dogs in it, then add just a touch of green chile,” she said, taking the lid off the jar of flame-roasted green chiles and sniffing it to make sure it was okay.

“That sounds … interesting.”

“It's pretty decent—half comfort food, half adventure,” she said, laughing.

“Let me turn on the evening news while we get stuff ready,” he said, then joined her at the counter. “What can I do to help?”

“Just sit down and keep me company. I think the fewer cooks the better the results, especially when knives and fire are involved.”

“All right then,” he said, chuckling, and sat down at the table to listen to the broadcast.

“The litany of misery, that's what my uncle used to call the news,” she said, making conversation.

He laughed. “Yeah, but it's good to be informed. Weather, traffic, medicine, contaminated food…”

“Yeah, I hear you. It's not what you know that can hurt you. It's what you don't know.”

The top local news came from the station's lead investigative reporter, who was interviewing a high-profile Navajo department head.

As the man spoke, Melvin sat up straighter. “That man—who is he?” he asked, listening closely.

Leigh Ann finished chopping the hot dogs and looked at the television. “The caption says he's Lewis Sorrelhorse, director of Range and Livestock Management.”

He listened for a moment longer. “I heard his voice today at the tribal office, asking how much a contract was worth. He might also be the guy who attacked me with the knife.”

“I saw Wayne as we were leaving the tribal government building today. Remember when the engine died at the stoplight?”

“Yeah. Was he just driving by?”

“No, he was the guy behind us who honked. He saw me, too, 'cause when I looked back at him, he waved,” she said. “Maybe he went there to meet Sorrelhorse.”

“Sorrelhorse is a big gun. He's been employed by the tribe for years.”

“I've heard or seen that name somewhere else recently, too,” Leigh Ann said as she finished preparations for dinner.

“On the news?”

“I can't remember offhand, but the name rings a bell,” she said. “Hm. Let me think.”

Silence stretched out as she concentrated, trying to remember.

They ate dinner quietly and as Leigh Ann began clearing the table, she smiled. “I've got it. I know where I saw that name. It was in the little notebook I found with Kurt's things. I turned it over to the detectives.”

“You think you'll be asked about it tomorrow, when the one in charge of the case comes to talk to you? McGraw, was it?”

“Yeah, but I'm not going to volunteer any more information. I'll answer his questions and that's it.”

“Good plan,” he said. “Once we're done cleaning up here, I'd like to go back and work on the sculpture some more. Are you up to it?”

“Sure,” she said. “I'm so curious! I won't ask you about it directly, but tell me this much: Are you happy with the way it's turning out so far?”

“No, something's missing, but I don't know what that is yet. I need to spend more time with the figures. It'll come to me.”

“Before we get started,” she said, looking through the doorway at her overnight bag, “where do you want me to sleep tonight?”

“In my arms,” he said without skipping a beat.

She felt a shiver touch her spine, but refused to react in any way he'd detect. “Neither one of us is ready for that.”

“If one of us isn't, then we can't,” he said with a nod. “So take the spare room. Come on, I'll show you the way.”

He walked with her down the hall and motioned to his left. “In there. I keep fresh sheets on the bed for the times John shows up late at night unannounced.”

She brought her bags inside and looked around. The room was simply furnished, with a bed, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. The bed was covered with a plain white bedspread, but a vivid color just below piqued her curiosity and she pulled the spread back. “The sheets are hot pink!” she said. “Is there something I don't know about John?”

He laughed. “Only that he can be a pain in the butt when he shows up after having one too many. I put those there because pink was his ex-wife's favorite color. Since then I've noticed he doesn't drop by here in the evening as often anymore,” he added with a grin.

“Fortunately for you, I love the color,” she said. “Actually it's one of my favorites.” She looked back at him. “Is it time to work on your sculpture?”

“If you're ready, I am.”

“Lead the way,” she said, knowing that he was the master of his domain.

 

— SIXTEEN —

Jo sat alone in her office. Ambrose had moved in last night and after hearing him snore like a freight train for hours, she'd seriously considered taking her rifle and blanket and going out to sleep in the medicine hogan.

Common sense prevailed, however. Instead, she'd turned on her MP3 player, put in her earbuds, and kept it playing the rest of the night. Today, she'd make a point of finding more relaxing music that would allow her to drift off to sleep a little easier. All she'd had on the player now were fast-moving songs that helped her keep pace when she went for runs in the mornings.

Jo sipped yesterday's leftover coffee and stared at the computer. There was still no word from Ben or the U.S. Army via the local National Guard unit, and the waiting was tearing her apart. She was afraid to even glance at news reports from Afghanistan.

Hearing a knock at the back door, she went to answer it. She'd kept all the doors locked since it wasn't business hours and she'd wanted time alone to think.

“Who's there?” Jo called out, looking through the peephole.

“It's me,” Ambrose answered. “I heard you leave, but I wasn't quite ready to get up,” he said, smiling as she let him in. “Now that I'm here, I thought you could treat me to a good cup of coffee and maybe a bear claw, the ones that you get from Mrs. Yazzie?”

She smiled. “Good choice. Unfortunately she won't deliver for another hour, but I think there's a day-old one still in the cooler. I saved it for Leigh Ann and then forgot to give it to her.”

“Thanks. I'll find what I need, then brew up some fresh coffee in the break room,” he said.

Five minutes later, she heard another knock at the back door and rolled her eyes. “It's not even seven!”

Ambrose went with her. It was Sam, holding two breakfast sacks from a fast-food restaurant in Shiprock. “My grandmother's coming in early, too, and she asked me to pick up breakfast.” She looked at Ambrose and smiled. “There's plenty for everyone, I bought extra.”

Jo smiled. “What's this all about?”

“My grandmother knows things have been tough for you lately, so she suggested we all get together for breakfast just to remind ourselves that we're not alone. We can't help the military find Ben, but we can take care of things here.”

Jo nodded. “I like that. Thanks for the support.”

Ambrose answered the door after that, greeting Leigh Ann, Esther, and finally Regina.

As Regina joined them in the break room, Jo noted how tired she looked. “Is everything okay?” Jo asked softly as they met by the coffeepot.

“Yes—and no. Pete's been making noises about wanting to play a bigger role in the baby's life. He doesn't really—the baby drove Pete crazy when he was home—but he's using that against me. He wants me to worry about him trying to get custody or worse, maybe just take her when I'm here at work.”

She took a deep breath. “So my uncle's living with us now—Mom's brother. Leroy's a former marine and Pete's afraid of him. They've had a few run-ins in the past.”

“I'm glad your family's there for you,” Jo said. “Looks like we all need a little extra help.”

When they returned to the table, Jo decided to tell everyone her new plans for the trading post. “Leigh Ann gave me an idea, via Rachel, and I've been doing a lot of thinking about adding a coffee counter with Wi-Fi. Yesterday, after seeing an ad in the online
Daily Times,
I called a coffee house in Farmington that's remodeling and bought last year's espresso machine model, the sink and counter that supports it, and some bistro tables and chairs. I also arranged for them to deliver everything to our door. The owner is going to call and let me know when they're on their way so I can coordinate things with the plumber.”

“How are we going to move that counter and sink over by the water fountain?” Esther asked. “I'm a clerk, not a dockworker.”

Jo laughed. “We can have the delivery people set it on one of those wheeled dollies from the storeroom, then just roll it to where it's going to go. It only weighs about a hundred pounds, at least the counter and sink, but it's bulky, of course. The plumber will take care of disconnecting the fountain and installing everything.”

“That'll do,” Esther replied.

“Sam, now the ball's in your court,” Jo said, turning to her. “We need an Internet connection for our customers. How complicated is that going to be?”

“We already have Wi-Fi, so getting things up and running won't be a problem. I'll call the IT guy if I need help,” Sam responded.

“Good,” Jo said.

“We also need to figure out what we'll be serving,” Regina said. “To cater both to locals and passing tourists, we'll need great fresh-brewed regular coffee in addition to espresso, cappuccinos, and so on. It would be great if we could come up with something that's unique to us—a hook.”

“Just remember that the coffee bar's main function is to generate interest in the merchandise the trading post offers,” Jo said.

“Well, with the coffee bar in the back and the seating up front by the windows, our customers will get a clear look at the interior going back and forth,” Leigh Ann added.

“So maybe some of the high-end displays need to be relocated toward the front,” Jo said. “No better way to show the drop-in customers, especially tourists, the best of what we have to offer while they're seated at the tables.”

Hearing another knock on the back door, Jo glanced around the room. “We're all here, so who's that?”

“Jack?” Sam said hopefully, garnering curious stares and a couple of smiles.

“I'll get it,” Ambrose said.

A moment later, Jo heard a familiar voice and Rudy Brownhat stepped into the break room.

“I came by, hoping we could talk before your people started your workday,” he said, addressing Jo, “but I see I'm already too late.”

“No, it's all right, uncle, we're just finishing up a staff breakfast. Let's go into my office. We can talk there,” she said just as another knock sounded.

Jo rolled her eyes and looked at her teacher. “Go ahead and I'll join you in a moment.”

Ambrose returned with Detective McGraw, who immediately focused on Leigh Ann.

“Mrs. Vance, I'd like a few minutes of your time,” he said. “In private.”

“We'll leave so you can talk in here,” Jo said, giving Leigh Ann a nod. Glancing at the others, she added, “We'll try meeting later today, or maybe tomorrow, depending on how things go.”

As everyone left the break room to Leigh Ann and the detective, Jo filled an empty mug with coffee and stepped into her office. Rudy's expression was somber and that worried her. “Is everything all right, uncle?”

“Yes, I'm just tired. The effects of the poison will linger for another week,” he said.

“Would you like some coffee?” she said, holding out the mug.

He nodded, taking the cup. “Is there any sugar? I need an energy boost right now.”

Jo reached into her desk drawer, searched for a second, then brought out two packets of sugar. “I keep a stash in here,” she said, handing him the packets and a stirrer still wrapped in plastic. “Are you sure you're okay?”