Wind Spirit [Ella Clah 10] (15 page)

The reporter glared at Blalock, took a step back from Lucas,
who was reaching for her halfheartedly, then stomped back toward the van where the press had been detained. A county deputy followed her, making sure she didn’t circle back.

“I don’t know what Smiley told those reporters over the phone before we moved in, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be under attack on this one,” Blalock said. “No comments until we debrief,” he told them.

“Good idea,” Ella said, wondering if her hearing would ever be the same again. The fire department was coming up the road, and their sirens made her head hurt.

An hour later, after receiving first aid for small cuts and bruises, Ella left Justine and her crime-scene unit on-site with Lucas Payestewa to gather evidence. She, Blalock, and Big Ed met back at the police station.

“Give me your Cliffs Notes version of what went down,” Big Ed said once they were all seated.

“I think Smiley wanted to go out like a hero. He hoped that once he was dead and his home destroyed, we’d never be able to find enough evidence to link him conclusively to the fire and Mrs. Hunt’s death. That would have left the element of doubt in people’s minds as to whether he was really guilty. He could be remembered as a martyr and patriot who’d stood up for a cause he believed in.”

“Do we have proof that he was the arsonist?” Big Ed asked.

“We have witnesses that’ll attest to suspicious behavior, but that’s all circumstantial. The glass bottles that held gasoline used to torch the place shattered, and according to Justine’s report there were no prints on the fragments and shards. Without finding evidence in his home that linked him to the crime, we would have had a tough time making a case against him. He admitted to me over the phone that he’d set
the fire, but that’s not a signed confession—all we have there is my word,” Ella explained.

“We’ll also never be able to prove to the press that our actions didn’t precipitate the incident that led to the man’s death and the explosion,” Blalock said. “No matter how you slice it, we’re going to be screwed on this one.”

“It goes that way sometimes,” Ella said, standing up. “If we’re done for now, I’d like to go jot down some notes for my report.”

Blalock remained seated. “I’ve got a few other things to discuss with your chief. I’ll catch you later.”

Ella returned to her office. At the end of a good day she was always filled with an incredible feeling of accomplishment, but today all she felt was a sense of futility and the weariness that came from swimming against the current. She’d lost a battle today and the cost had been a human life.

Ella went directly to her desk but as she passed the fax machine she saw that someone had sent her a copy of the statement Smiley had sent the media and press before she’d arrived at his home. From the telephone number printed at the top that identified the sender, she realized that this copy of the original had come from Jaime Beyale, the editor of the
Dineh Times
.

As she retrieved the fax, her phone rang and she reached for it with her free hand.

“Did you get the fax I just sent you?” Jaime asked.

“Yeah, I have it now.”

“I thought you might want to see it. According to Peter Finch of the Albuquerque paper, Smiley sent this letter to a targeted few. All I have is a fax of his fax, but basically it’s Smiley’s rant on the rights of gun owners and his unqualified support of George Branch. But what’s most interesting is the last paragraph. He calls Lewis Hunt an enemy to anyone who believes in the Bill of Rights.

“He wanted to be remembered as a martyr in the fight to preserve The People’s rights to bear arms.”

Minutes later, Ella took the letter into Big Ed’s office. Bla-lock was still there. “Just to make a bad day worse,” she said, handing the papers to the chief, who read them over quickly, then passed them to Blalock.

“We’re going to have a tough time with Councilman Hunt unless the crime-scene team finds something that ties Smiley to the arson,” Chief Atcitty said. “The man lost his wife and will want definitive closure.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ella said.

An hour later, after her team came in, Ella learned that they’d found evidence in the outbuilding near the propane tank and gas generator. One metal can that had fallen behind some old trash cans held traces of gasoline and several blades of bluegrass were stuck to the bottom where a store label had been peeled off. The Hunts had such a lawn around their home but Smiley didn’t.

“It’s the best we’re going to get, Ella,” Justine said.

Ella nodded. “Finish making out your report and leave one copy on my desk and another for the chief. It’s almost eight now. I’m going home.”

As she drove home Ella felt the same peculiar sense of restlessness that always followed her after a bad day. Glancing at her watch, she wondered if Rose had waited to make dinner for both of them tonight. She did that every so often.

Ella called home. “Mom, have you eaten yet?”

“No, not yet. Your daughter just went to bed, and I was going to give you some time to get home.”

“Great. Don’t cook dinner.”

“You’re picking up something?”

“No, Ma, I’m cooking tonight. I’ll come up with a decent meal using whatever we have on hand. And don’t worry. I can follow cookbook instructions.”

“I don’t have a cookbook.”

“Then I’ll make up my own recipe.”

“Daughter, I don’t think we’re ready for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make something easy. Maybe Texas chili. It’s hard to kill beans.”

Even with a pressure cooker, the beans had refused to soften for some reason. It was ten o’clock and neither of them had eaten anything yet.

“How long can it take beans to cook?” Ella said, exasperated after tasting one.

“I usually soak them overnight,” Rose said, then took one bean from the pot. Sampling it, she added, “I think we’ve got a shot at refritos.”

By eleven, they finally had a meal on the table. The burritos, stuffed with chili, refritos, and sausages, were wonderful.

“It’s not bad at all, Daughter.”

“I’m a Renaissance woman, Mom. I just have to apply myself.”

Rose gave her a long, thoughtful look. “You were on the news tonight—the national news. Did you know that?”

“Really? Must have been a slow news day for them to focus on a Navajo. What was the story about?” Ella hoped it wasn’t about the incident with Bruce Smiley. She reached up and touched one of the scratches on her forehead, then noticed Rose watching her closely.

“They talked about you saving your nephew, then being buried alive. The reporter called it a miracle. They showed film from some old mine, not the right one, of course, then you in front of the police station being interviewed by that local reporter. But you didn’t have that scratch on your forehead this morning, Daughter. Is there something I don’t know about yet that may be in tomorrow’s news?” Rose asked nonchalantly as she took a bite of burrito. “You also have some new bruises.”

“You don’t miss much, do you, Mom?” Ella recounted the events and the explosion. “Everyone believes it’s all over now, and the evidence seems to support that, but I have a real bad feeling about this.”

Rose began clearing the table. “I don’t know how you stand your work. From what I see, it’s a never-ending job with few real victories.”

“This is what I was meant to do. It suits me,” Ella replied honestly. “But I haven’t been paying enough attention to the details of my personal life. I should have seen to it that I had life insurance, and a will. Nearly getting blown up today brought the urgency of it home to me again.”

“That reminds me, you got a letter from a life insurance company.” She reached up to a wooden shelf above the counter and handed Ella the thick packet.

Ella immediately recognized the name of the company. As she glanced at the forms, she realized that she’d need to do more than fill out the questionnaire. She’d have to go see Carolyn and get a physical. But that wouldn’t be a problem.

“I can understand why you’d want to leave your daughter a cash settlement,” Rose said in a heavy voice. “These days everything revolves around cash, check, or credit cards. There was a time when having lots of sheep in the corral was the same as being rich. You could always trade for whatever you needed.” Rose stood up wearily and rubbed her eyes. “You can leave the dishes to soak in the sink tonight if you want. Good night, Daughter.”

As Rose left, Ella thought about how different her mother’s generation was from her own. She couldn’t help but wonder what the world would be like when her daughter grew up.

Ella cleared the table and washed the dishes and pans, placing everything in the drain rack to dry overnight. After wiping the table and counter, she hung the dishcloths up to
dry and walked wearily out of the kitchen, turning off the light.

Stopping by Dawn’s room, she slipped inside and brushed a light kiss on her daughter’s forehead. Dawn had grown a lot this past year and become very independent. Her baby was gone forever and now in her stead was this little person. The realization was bittersweet. She wished that Dawn could stay just as she was forever.

Ella slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d come in. Her job now was to safeguard her daughter’s future and make sure Dawn was protected until she was strong enough to face life on her own terms.

The following morning Dawn dressed for school while Ella made the oatmeal. After one taste, Dawn put the spoon down and made a face. “Yuck. This tastes like glue with sugar,
Shimá
.”

Ella tasted the oatmeal herself, then grimaced. “You’re right.”

“See? You don’t want to eat it either.” Dawn shook her head, then looked through the entryway toward the front door as someone walked inside. “Boots, help!”

Ella smiled at Dawn’s sitter. “You heard my daughter’s cry,” she said as Boots stopped to pet Two, who’d greeted her at the door. “Breakfast is in your hands.”

Boots was still laughing when the phone rang and Ella went to answer it. Whenever they got a call this early in the morning it was invariably work-related and it was no different today. Even before he identified himself, she recognized Sheriff Taylor’s voice. From the sound of the connection and background noise, he was speaking from a cell phone.

“I thought I’d better give you a heads-up, Ella,” he said. “Someone drove a car right into George Branch’s living room via the picture window. That started a huge fire. The fire department is out here now.”

“The car—did it belong to someone from the Rez? Or was it stolen?”

“Can’t say yet.”

“Where’s the big guy?” she asked.

“Branch is sitting inside his Mercedes in his pajamas. He’s fine. He got out okay.”

“Pajamas, huh? Be thankful he doesn’t sleep in the buff.”

“Now there’s an image I could do without,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’ll be there shortly,” she said.

Ella gave Dawn a quick hug and a kiss, then smiled at Boots. “You take good care of her. Thank you.” Ella glanced over at Rose, who’d just come inside after putting a soaker hose in her garden. “I may be late again tonight, Mom.”

“Take care of yourself, Daughter. Remember, you’re famous now. I’ll keep checking the news to see if any other stations are doing your story. Want me to record it for you if they do?”

Ella scowled, then noticed her mother was trying to avoid cracking a smile. “Yes, Mother, definitely. Check
every
station to make sure.”

Ella drove directly to Branch’s house, located outside the reservation boundaries and northeast of where the Hunts had lived. If the car’s owner lived on the Rez, then this incident would be a jurisdictional nightmare.

The smoke from Branch’s house could be seen for miles, a bit reminiscent of the plume from the coal power plant, which had polluted the area for years before filters had been added. But this smoke was black and oily-looking, not the white, feathery plume she remembered. As she got closer she could see the frame of a sedan protruding from the front of the old farmhouse, which faced the road. Bright orange and yellow flames enveloped the pitched roof and shot out the window openings. The glass had already been blown out.

Several vehicles were beside the road, the drivers watching the action. Another vehicle, a Mercedes, was on the property but well back from the house beside an old apple orchard that had seen better days.

As Ella pulled up beside two county sheriffs’ cars, she saw Sheriff Taylor standing behind the fire truck with several firemen. It was the same station that had responded to the fire at the Hunts’ and she recognized some of the men immediately.

Ella climbed out of her vehicle and walked toward them, curious to find out why they were standing there instead of fighting the fire. Taylor saw her and motioned for her to stay low.

She’d only gone another step when she realized what Taylor was signaling to her. A series of loud pops and whistling sounds like bottle rockets sent her crouching low to the ground. Then she remembered Branch’s gun collection. He’d had several wooden gun cabinets in his living room, she recalled from a previous visit, and even more in what Branch called his gun room. He’d never let her really see them, mostly because she’d never had a warrant to check. Now ammo stored in the house was going off, but fortunately it didn’t seem like Branch had any explosives on hand. Ella ran back and ducked behind her SUV.