Death Walker (29 page)

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Ella woke up early the next morning. She’d been exhausted, and had slept almost from the moment her head hit the
pillow. Yet after more than eight hours, she still felt weary. Her muscles were sore from yesterday’s exertion, but the scratches from the brush had scabbed over. She pulled back the curtains and peered outside. The sun would be up soon. The skies in the east were washed in vivid lavenders and crimsons brought out by the thin layer of atmospheric dust always present in the Southwest.

She dressed
slowly, mentally sorting out how she would handle the investigation today, and what she would tell Big Ed.

The roadblocks hadn’t resulted in the arrest of a suspect yet. If anyone had been detained, she would have received a call by now. Roadblocks, in Ella’s experience, produced results only when the people manning them knew exactly who they were looking for. In this case, her assailant could
be waiting somewhere on one of the back roads until the police left. Or it was possible he lived close enough to Naomi’s not to have encountered a roadblock at all. By this morning, the roadblocks would be down, and all she’d have would be a list of names to check.

If only she could force the killer into revealing more about himself. Well, maybe the microscope would be able to tell them something
about the man’s clothing, if the fibers she’d collected belonged to him. So far all she’d confirmed was that the killer and the man who pushed Ella off the ledge both preferred Nike cross-trainers and could be the same person.

By the time she walked into the kitchen, Ella could see her mother outside, offering prayers to the dawn. Releasing a pinch of pollen into the air, she remained still for
a moment before returning to the house.

“Good morning,” Rose greeted her daughter pleasantly. “I’m glad to see that you’re not rushing off today. I wanted to tell you that I invited Wilson Joe to have dinner with us. So what night can I count on your being home?”

“Oh, Mother!” Ella looked away, trying to keep from revealing her impatience. “Wilson and I are good friends. If anything more is
going to happen between us, it’ll happen naturally. You’ve got to stop pushing this!”

“He likes you, you like him. You’re both Navajo, you’re both single. You just don’t see each other enough to let nature take its course. You’re always too busy with your work. That’s why I figured Sunday dinner, if nothing else.”

“You know that I’m right in the middle of a case! It’s impossible for me to predict
when or if I’ll be home,” Ella protested.

Rose’s face was set. “You may pick the day, but I
am
having him over, and you
will
enjoy yourselves.”

Ella had heard that tone before. No amount of arguing would do her any good, “I’ll see.”

Rose went to the stove. “Eggs?”

Ella nodded. “Sure. That’ll be fine.”

“How are things going with you? Everyone’s talking about this killer running around loose.”

“I’m getting closer, Mom, but so far luck’s been on his side. Sooner or later, though, he’ll trip up, and I’m going to be there to catch him.”

“You probably know that people are starting to gossip about us again. All the talk about our family bringing trouble.”

“Does that bother you? I think there’s no way to stop it. The only thing we can do is ride it out, like we did before.”

“I’m not worried
about myself—”

As the phone began ringing, Ella stood and went to answer it. It was Leroy Johnson at the post office. “What can I do for you, Uncle?”

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m calling you at home, but I thought you’d want to know right away. Peterson Yazzie has mailed you a letter. I’m holding it in my hands now. His name and return address are marked clearly on the envelope. That’s why
I know it’s from him. You want it to go out with the regular carrier, or shall I hold on to it?”

“Keep it right there. I’ll pick it up in about forty minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Ella glanced at the eggs her mother was scrambling as she hung up the telephone. Peterson was getting bolder. He didn’t care who on the Rez saw his name on the envelope now. “I have to go.”

“You’ll eat first,”
Rose said staunchly, adding grated cheese and green chiles to the eggs.

“On the way, then. Just put them in a bowl instead of a plate, and I’ll eat in the car.”

Rose sighed loudly. “You are an exasperating daughter.”

Ella kissed her mother on the cheek. “I know, Mom. I know. What did you expect from a cop?”

Ella picked up the laundry bag she’d put her own work shirt in for fiber and blood
comparison. Justine could exclude them that way when she analyzed the evidence. A moment later she was under way. The highway was nearly deserted so there was no need for her to use the siren or the emergency flasher. The roadblocks she had arranged last night were farther down the highway, so she didn’t encounter the one at her end.

Once again, Bruce Cohen hadn’t phoned her as they had agreed.
She made a mental note to call him later and ask him to explain. She had credited the lawyer with more sense; maybe Peterson had found a way to keep him in line. Either way, she’d call him.

Ella arrived at the post office just as Leroy Johnson was unlocking the lobby doors. He waved as she approached.

“I’ve got what you came for on my desk in the back. Why don’t you come with me?”

Ella followed
him inside, then saw he’d placed the letter in one of the sealed plastic bags the post office used for mail that had been damaged in transit.

“Was there a problem with this?” Ella asked, unable to see any damage to the envelope.

“No, but that’s what the cops always do on TV when they need to check for fingerprints. I figured I’d help you out.”

Ella smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the effort.”
There really wasn’t much of a worry about fingerprints. She knew who’d written it from the handwriting, and how he’d got it past the staff at the psychiatric facility. But it had been a nice thought on Leroy’s part.

“If anything else comes in, I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.”

Ella took the small bag to her car, opened it, and held the envelope up to the light. Assured there was only a note
inside and it was safe to open, she tore the envelope carefully.

Ella pulled out Peterson’s letter and as she began reading, rage filled her.

You’re not aware of how badly you’ve botched things. Trust me when I tell you that you see only the surface, and it’s what lies beneath that will eventually destroy you. Long ago, I offered you the chance to join me and make your dreams come true. Instead
of accepting you’ve turned me into your worst enemy. Sorry I missed you with the bomb in my old T-Bird. But don’t get cocky. Eventually, I’ll destroy you. I’ve had a hand in your destiny all along. It’s thanks to us that you are who you are today. I know you’ll doubt this, so I’ll tell you something you don’t know. Your husband was killed by a skinwalker. Yes, it’s true. How else do you think
your father-in-law got his powers?

Ella stared at the words until they seemed to leap out at her. Pain cut through her as she remembered her husband’s death. Of course it was just another one of Peterson’s lies. Her husband had been killed in an auto accident.

As she turned the letter over, she realized her hands were trembling.

If you still doubt me, why don’t you check on your father-in-law’s
whereabouts the day of the accident? Look at Southern Airways’ records, and check for a passenger by the name of Charlie Randall. Your father-in-law was never very imaginative.

Charlie Randall—Randall Clah. It made sense, but it couldn’t be. She sat back and slammed her hand against the steering wheel.

No matter how improbable, she’d now have to take the time to follow it up. There was no way
she could let this slide. The thought that Peterson had influenced another of the major events in her life made her sick to her stomach.

Ella forced the thought aside. That was precisely what he was trying to do, influence her. He wanted to shatter her concentration on the case and prove her incompetent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Hearing her call number on the radio, Ella picked
up the mike. Justine was patched through a moment later. “What’s going on?” Ella asked.

“Doctor Kring called. Guess what—it seems Yazzie had a visitor, one of the students from the college.”

“Who?”

“Betty Lott.”

It took her a moment to remember. “Her mother’s a nurse at our hospital?”

“Yes, that’s the one. It seems that as much as Anna hates traditionalists, Betty is determined to learn all
about them.”

“Give me an address on her. I want to talk to Betty.”

Ella drove directly to a housing community in Shiprock, just on the other side of the new shopping center. Finding the modern tract home, she parked, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. If there was one place she was certain the old ways didn’t apply, it was here.

A thin woman in her late forties answered the door.
She was wearing jeans and a cotton oxford shirt. “Can I help you?” the woman asked, wiping her hands on a dishtowel that had drawings of ducks all over it.

Ella flashed her badge. “I need to speak with Betty. Is she at home?”

The woman’s eyes grew wide. “I’m Anna Lott, her mother. What has she done?”

“She hasn’t broken the law,” Ella assured the woman quickly. “I just need to get some information
from her.”

Anna stared at her hard. “What kind of information?”

“I’d rather speak to your daughter first. Is she here?”

A young woman wearing a long, full skirt, a short-sleeved crimson blouse, and fashionable, colorful sandals emerged from the back of the house. A squash blossom necklace hung around her neck. “I’m Betty. Who are you?”

Ella studied the young woman. From her attire, she was
neither as traditionalistic as she viewed herself, nor modern. If anything, like so many of their young people, she fell somewhere in the middle. “Can we talk privately?”

“There’s nothing you have to say to my daughter that you can’t say in front of me,” Anna maintained.

Betty turned her head. “I can handle this, Mom. She came to talk to me.” Betty pointed to the hallway. “We can talk in my
room.”

Ella followed the young woman. The tension between mother and daughter was obvious. Justine had been correct in her estimation that the two were at odds over something.

Betty shut the door. “Okay. What do you want?” she asked directly.

“I understand that you’ve been to see Peterson Yazzie.”

She gave Ella a thin smile. “He warned me that you’d find out and come by to hassle me.”

“I’m
not here to hassle you, just to talk to you. Peterson was at the heart of the trouble that rocked this reservation about a year ago. Now we’re facing new problems. I don’t want old enemies of the People using this current situation to create even more fear and distrust.”

Betty bit her bottom lip. “All I did was go up there to talk to him. I’m doing a psych paper, and they let me talk to him through
the door. I wouldn’t have been allowed to do
that
if the head nurse hadn’t known my mom. Yazzie has already admitted being a killer
and
a skinwalker. I figured he’d make an interesting subject.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, sure, what did you expect?” Betty shrugged.

“I’m not sure. What did you talk about?”

“Well, before he would answer any questions, he wanted to know more about me. He knew my mom,
but not me. So we talked about my interest in the
Dineh
’s history and our culture. He’s a fascinating man.”

“He’s a killer too—you admitted that yourself,” Ella said flatly.

Betty looked hesitant. “He explained that. Yazzie believes that our people need power, and to attain that certain sacrifices have to be made. He said he was trying to help everyone.”

“Lives aren’t an acceptable sacrifice
to gain control over others, and that’s what it’s all about. It’s self-serving, not altruistic.”

She shook her head. “I understand what you’re saying, but to hear him talk—well, everything sounds so reasonable.” She looked down at her hands. “He’s intriguing, and is very powerful, in a way.”

“He’s also evil,” Ella said gently. “Be careful.”

“He said he only acted in self-defense. He claimed
that medicine men attacked him because they didn’t understand what he was trying to do. He had to defend himself.”

“That wasn’t the way it really was. Go to the library and read the newspaper accounts of that time,” Ella insisted calmly.

“He said you’d say that. But those accounts aren’t necessarily accurate, no more than what they sometimes say about you and your brother. Didn’t you see that
editorial page the other day?”

Ella looked at the girl, surprised to see that she had discounted the allegations in that. Betty prided herself on logic, it seemed, and that was exactly how Peterson would manipulate her. He would twist arguments to fit whatever point he wanted to make.

“Are you going back to see him again?” Ella asked.

“If I need to for my paper. You can’t legally stop me.”

“He said that too?”

Betty nodded. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You can read my paper when it comes out if you want.”

“Be warned, then. He’s a danger to you, no matter how harmless he seems. He’s spent so much time manipulating people, he’s a master at it. Worst of all, in some ways, he’s come to depend on it.”

“He’s not manipulating me. I can think for myself. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re
interested in our past, and in things that speak of power. Do something for your paper, and for yourself. Talk to Clifford, my brother. He’s the counterpoise to Peterson Yazzie. He also has power, but it hasn’t been corrupted.”

“He’s the Singer, right?”

“Yes, and Clifford helped put Peterson in jail, where he belongs. That, no matter how you look at it, speaks of a power that’s greater than
any Peterson possesses.”

“Peterson said that your family used trickery, but not real power.”

Ella felt anger welling inside her. How dare Peterson accuse her family of what he was guilty of himself! “You must be awfully naive,” Ella baited her.