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Authors: Aimée & David Thurlo

BOOK: Death Walker
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When Ella arrived, several vehicles were already parked on both sides of the road. Jimmy Frank, a young but experienced patrolman, was questioning one student. Her gaze then shifted to the half-dozen young adults some distance away, silently awaiting their turn to be questioned. They were
dressed casually in jeans, like college students anywhere. Jimmy was going with established procedures, not letting the words of one witness shape another’s.

She studied the officer for a moment. Jimmy was in his early thirties, yet he looked so different from the way he had at sixteen, except for the slight belly that pushed against his shirt, hinting at what would come with middle age.

As
Ella approached the crime scene, she noted the body was facedown next to the driver’s side of a pickup parked about fifteen feet off the road. The students and patrolman were staying as far away from it as possible, although Officer Frank had positioned himself facing the scene so he could ask relevant questions while keeping the crime scene under observation. Logic and cultural beliefs were destined
to continue clashing inside them for another generation at least. Ella knew that she would not be the last to have to try and live in two overlapping worlds. Even among the new generation of Navajos, fear of the
chindi
remained, though most would outwardly deny it.

Ella nodded to Jimmy, who continued his interview, keeping the witnesses away from the scene. Walking in a slow, inward spiral around
the pickup, Ella studied the ground around the crime scene, making a visual search for evidence. Carefully selecting where she stepped, she finally arrived at the body. There were no recognizable tracks here on the hard ground so close to the road.

As Ella got her first close-up look at the corpse, bile rose to the back of her throat. Blood had begun to cake the gravelly earth beneath the head
and neck of the body. The victim’s skull had been bludgeoned, and the soft, pulpy matter from within the wound mingled with sharp pieces of bone, giving it the appearance of carelessly ground beef.

Ella forced herself to gulp several deep lungfuls of air, grateful that her sense of smell was the least stimulated by what she saw. She crouched next to the body, forcing herself to think clearly
and calmly, relying on her training and the memory that this was not the worst corpse she’d ever seen. Kee lay chest down. From what she could see, he’d been strangled with leather shoelaces, probably after being hit on the head with some kind of tool or club. From the look of the head wound, the strangling had probably been a waste of time.

Although Dodge’s back was to her, his face was turned
to the right. She noted that his right eye was being held open by an object that had been imbedded in it. It was a piece of something hard and white, discolored at the entry point by blood and aqueous fluid. She leaned closer, trying to figure out what it was, suppressing a shudder.

Ella stared at the object, moving to within a foot of the face. Though she heard the gasp that came from the students
who had turned to watch her, she never looked up. Her gaze was fastened on the object she was now certain was a piece of bone. That was a trademark of skinwalkers, yet something didn’t feel right about this. Bone ammunition was their signature, true, but this was too garish. It was almost too flagrant a warning sign.

Relying instinctively on her training to make sense of what she was seeing,
Ella mentally categorized the crime as “staged.” The killer had spent time trying to leave an obvious impression in the mind of the investigator. The killer could have continued to bash his victim’s skull to a pulp, but instead he’d chosen to deliver a coup de grâce through strangulation. Speculating about the object imbedded in the victim’s eye, she wondered if perhaps he’d needed to preserve the
face to complete the gruesome picture. This crime had definitely been planned in detail.

Next Ella shifted her attention a few feet to her right and carefully studied the pattern drawn on the ground with ashes. It was approximately two feet wide. The ashes appeared to have been trickled through someone’s fingers in the manner used for a dry or sand painting. She could make out some figures in
the center, but she didn’t recognize any of them.

Hearing another vehicle approaching, Ella stood and walked carefully around the truck. As she watched, the medical examiner’s wagon pulled up and a middle-aged Navajo woman of ample proportions emerged. Dr. Carolyn Roanhorse slid her large black briefcase off the front seat, then strode briskly toward Ella.

Ella watched Carolyn approach. The
woman was in her mid-fifties and had a cool, businesslike demeanor that Ella liked, although Ella had always suspected it was more a defense than anything else. Carolyn’s job as medical examiner had made her a near pariah within the tribe. Few Navajos wished to be around someone who might carry ghost sickness.

Carolyn nodded to Ella in greeting, then followed her to crouch low beside the corpse.
She gave the body a quick once-over. “Nasty way to die. Probably took a while.”

The statement, typical of Carolyn, also met her official obligation to pronounce the obvious. “What do you make of that object in the victim’s eye?” Ella decided to ask.

Carolyn studied it, then glanced up. “The same thing you did, I’ll bet.”

Ella met Carolyn’s gaze. “Okay. Before you get too involved over here,
would you mind glancing at this?” Ella pointed to the dry painting.

Carolyn stood up reluctantly and stepped over for a closer look. “That’s out of my area of expertise, but I do know only skinwalkers do dry paintings in ashes. Whoever did those figures, however, must be a real beginner,” she said bluntly. “I can’t even guess what they’re supposed to be.”

“Yeah,” Ella agreed with a wry smile.

Carolyn moved back to the body. “You think this has something to do with the skinwalkers who were involved in your father’s murder?”

“Some of them are still at large, so I suppose it’s possible, but I’d have to have more proof before I’d reach that conclusion.” Ella ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair, pushing it away from her face. “Personally, I’m hoping this crime has a conventional
motivation behind it, like revenge or jealousy. Because if it is skinwalkers, then this is just the beginning.”

Carolyn retrieved her tape recorder from the bag. “I’ll do my best to get you some answers soon.”

Ella’s thoughts were racing. She had no wish to battle a resurgence of skinwalkers, Navajo witches. Her mind flashed to the morning she’d seen her father’s mutilated body, then on to the
final battle she’d barely survived.

A group of skinwalkers, including her police chief father-in-law, had killed him to gain power and protect their interests. In the end, her father-in-law also died, and her cousin Peterson Yazzie, a powerful skinwalker, had been captured and jailed.

She’d learned a lot about herself back then—like the utter reliability of the sense that was now telling her
that other crimes would follow this one. Her search for answers would take her down many unexpected roads before the truth was revealed. But, if it was in Ella’s power, the human animal responsible for this brutality would be brought to justice.

Ella stepped carefully over to the graveled road, then walked to the small group of students. Officer Frank had them all together now, so he must have
finished taking their statements. Ella could see the open distrust in their faces. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been near the body, or because many in the area still considered her an outsider because of her long absence from the Rez.

Jimmy Frank glanced up, then walked over to meet her halfway. “I’ve already questioned them, one at a time. Their stories are pretty much the same. They
all arrived within ten minutes of the scheduled class time. The victim held his lectures at different sites around the Rez in keeping with each day’s subject. Although his knowledge of tribal history wasn’t based on formal education, the consensus is that no one knew more about Navajo history than D—the victim. His family had protected and preserved the stories handed down for generations. The
Navajo People have lost a great treasure with his death.”

“Did anyone witness the crime, see anyone who could have been the perpetrator, or see anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here?”

“No, Regina Henderson and Norma Pete were the first to get here. They claim everything was just as we see it now. No cars came their way as they arrived, or passed by since then. The perp must have gone down the
other side of the mountain, or left on foot. By the time they discovered the body and backed off, Travis Charley arrived. He stayed here to meet the other students while the girls drove back to Sonostee to call us in.”

Ella decided to speak to Regina and Norma while Officer Frank marked off the crime scene with yellow tape. Norma, the smaller and younger of the two girls in their late teens,
was crying into a soggy handkerchief. Ella noted that Norma reeked of dime-store perfume. It was better than most smells at a crime scene, however. “I’m sorry that you two had to see this,” Ella said sympathetically.

Norma looked up out of red, tear-filled eyes. “It was awful. Now I’m going to have to go to a
hataalii.
I know I’m going to have dreams about this. I just know it! And what about
his”—she dropped her voice—“you know—
chindi,
” she mouthed. “I don’t believe in ghost sickness, but you just never know. I mean I’ve heard the stories—”

“Stop it, Norma,” Regina said sharply. Nervously she toyed with the single strand of heishi beads she wore over her denim blouse. “You’re scaring yourself silly. Don’t talk about it anymore.” She looked up at Ella. “We already told the officer
everything we know or saw. Can we go?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw the white crime-scene unit’s van pulling up. Unlike the resources she’d gotten used to during her days in the FBI, the tribe’s resident crime-scene unit was composed of only two people and very limited equipment. Round-faced Sergeant Ralph Tache was the photographer and assistant investigator, and Detective Harry Ute,
a cadaverously thin Navajo with a perpetual glum expression, was the crime-scene investigator who’d collect most of the evidence.

Ella’s gaze shifted back to the students, who all seemed eager to leave. One of the girls reached down to pick up her bookbag, set on the ground just outside the yellow tape boundary. Ella saw her waist-length black hair drape around her, shielding her tear-streaked
face. They were all scared, and so was she, truth be told. This death would have implications that would carry far beyond the murder itself. All things were interconnected. That Navajo belief was part of all of them. Evil had surfaced, but now balance needed to be restored. And that was her job, and her contribution to the tribe.

As Ella saw the young woman crouch by the bookbag, she noticed
a piece of freshly chewed gum on the ground. Someone had obviously spat it out. “Does that belong to anyone here?” she asked the group, pointing to the gum.

The students all shook their heads, then glanced at each other curiously. Finally Ella looked at Officer Frank. The officer pointed to his mouth. “Still got mine. You can have it.” He gave her a weak smile.

“Make sure one of the team preserves
that discarded gum as evidence,” she instructed Jimmy softly, refusing to smile back. “It may have belonged to the victim, but if it didn’t…”

Ella allowed her gaze to drift over the students. They shifted nervously and stepped down onto the road, farther away from the yellow tape “fence.” Obviously none of them wanted to stay a second longer than was necessary. She couldn’t blame them. Ella had
learned to shield herself mentally from the horrors of police work but, to them, this was a nightmare or worse.

Ella glanced at Jimmy, who was placing one of the crime team’s wire and plastic “flags” near the lump of gum. “You’ve got a way to contact each of them if needed?” she asked.

Officer Frank nodded. “I know where to find them, and I’ve taken their statements.”

On the outside, she would
have asked if he’d recorded all their addresses. But here on the Rez, street addresses weren’t always practical. Some of these kids probably lived in areas where the closest mesa was the only identifiable landmark.

“We may need to talk to some of you again later,” she told them calmly, “but for now you can go.”

The students hurried back to their vehicles, but one of the boys approached Ella.
“I saw the ashes on the ground,” he said softly. “Is that business starting again? I’d hoped you’d gotten them all last year.”

Ella saw the touch of fear in his eyes and knew that whatever she answered now would be carried via gossip all around the Rez. She measured her words carefully. “It’s too early to know, but this killer definitely wants to manipulate our conclusions. That’s one reason
to distrust all these signs he’s left behind. We can’t take the word of a killer, can we?”

The boy seemed to consider her statement, then finally nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.”

“Don’t play into his hands by allowing him to use fear against us.”

“That’s already happened,” he said with a shrug. “People will talk about this. That’s just the way it is. But they’ll only talk in whispers, so maybe
gossip won’t spread as quickly.”

Ella realized he was right. “Will you let the other students know what’s going on? Tell them not to give the killer any more publicity or credibility than he’s already managed to get.”

“I can try,” he said doubtfully, then went to his truck.

Ella watched the young man for a moment as he walked away. Maybe he’d be able to influence the others and stop the gossip
from spreading like wildfire. At the very least, it had been worth a try.

She shifted her attention to the job at hand and watched Sergeant Tache collect the freshly chewed gum with tweezers. His face was masked in neutrality as if he was trying hard to keep anyone from reading his thoughts. In Tache’s case, however, that normally meant he was totally focused on his work. “Get lots of close-ups
of that dry painting done in ashes over there. I’m going to need to do some research to figure out what it’s supposed to mean, if anything,” Ella directed him.

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