Death Walker (30 page)

Betty’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m
not
naive. I research things before I decide what to believe.”

“That’s all I was trying to get you to do.”

Betty sat back. “What is that, reverse psychology?”

“No, just the truth,” Ella answered, feeling a twinge of guilt. “To take
one
person’s word for anything is to shortchange yourself. You know that. I’m asking you to do what you would have done anyway. Confirm your information.”

Betty nodded. “Okay, I’ll go see the Singer, just as soon as I have time.”

Ella stood up, knowing that was the best
she was going to get. To push any harder would yield only negative results. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Ella opened the bedroom door and practically ran into Betty’s mother. Anna’s eyes were wide with fear. “What have you done?” she whispered as she walked Ella to the door.

“Tried to get your daughter to start thinking again. She’s being brainwashed,” Ella answered softly. “The problem started
when she went to visit Yazzie.”

Anna stepped outside with Ella. “I don’t understand this. To even go talk to a man who took so many lives and did incalculable harm to the tribe is just crazy! I can’t figure out what Betty is trying to accomplish with this.”

“I think she’s testing herself, but if you stand in her way now, you may push her in precisely the direction you don’t want her to go.”

Lines of tension framed Anna’s face. “And if I do nothing, that may happen anyway.”

“Yes,” Ella admitted. “But there’s a time when you have to let go and trust that grown children will choose the right paths. There’s nothing much you can do to influence her now. Anything you do might backfire.”

“Will your brother help her see that man for what he really is?”

“I hope so.” Ella forced a thin smile.
“I’ve done all I can. If you need me, or just want to talk, call me. The dispatcher will find me, day or night.”

As Ella drove to the station, she tried to figure out a way to keep Peterson from influencing anyone else the way he had Betty. If more kids were allowed to interview him, there was no telling the problems he’d create. She had to put a stop to that even if it took a court order to
do it.

As Ella walked through the side doors, Justine came out of her lab and greeted her. “Dispatch got a call from Officer Neskahi. He met Naomi Zah and her husband on the highway. They’re going to be at her sister’s for a while. And I checked for blood on the brush you collected. Sorry to say that if it was ever there, it isn’t anymore. I found several threads, however. They’re from a blue
cotton chambray work shirt, but any closer analysis will have to wait for the state lab. I don’t have the equipment here.”

Ella winced. “Chambray shirt? I was wearing that. I meant to bring in a sample sooner. Sorry. I’ll get it right now. It’s still behind the driver’s seat of my car.”

“I’ll go get it. Then I’ll see if it’s a match using my own equipment here. It won’t be one hundred percent
accurate but it’ll give us a high degree of probability.”

“Okay.” Ella handed her the car keys. “I’ll be in my office,” she said, continuing down the hall.

Ella fished the office keys from the bottom of her purse, unlocked the door, and walked to her desk. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the case, her mind continually drifted to that other matter. She needed to check out what
Peterson had told her about her father-in-law. She had to prove, if only to herself, that this time Peterson was lying.

Ella picked up the telephone and checked with the airline. As she waited, the thought occurred to her that she was being manipulated just like Betty. Peterson had found her Achilles heel. Eugene’s death had devastated her. Since that time, she’d needed to feel in control of
herself and her life. By taunting her with this information, Peterson was trying to strip her of that control, which she’d worked so hard to achieve. Clifford had been right in warning her of Yazzie’s strategy.

After transferring her repeatedly, the airline finally promised Ella a quick callback. In the meantime, she accessed old records and checked on Randall Clah’s whereabouts for that day.
The data made her stomach hurt. He’d been away for two days, using some accumulated time off.

Ella paced in her office, hoping the telephone would ring soon. Eugene had been a good man. He’d tried his best to please her, and he’d idolized his father. Surely Peterson couldn’t be right.

Fifteen minutes later, the telephone rang. “We did have a passenger by that name registered on the day you requested.
He flew from Albuquerque to Columbus, Georgia, with several connecting flights. He returned the following day.”

Ella’s hands began to shake. Had the skinwalkers truly held the power of life and death over the man closest to her? The implications sent a bolt of fear slamming into her. How much influence could they still exert over those in her life? Fear for her mother and her brother shattered
her confidence.

Ella walked directly to Big Ed’s office and placed the letter she’d received before him. “I got this a few hours ago.”

Big Ed glanced at it, then up at her. “This has nothing to do with the case you’re working on.”

“It might. There are other players in this who are still at large. If Yazzie wants me to know this now, he must have a reason.”

“Yes, he wants to distract you from
the investigation. Deep down you know that. You’re getting so close now—yesterday you almost got yourself killed.”

Ella ran a hand through her hair. “I know what you’re saying, and we will catch the killer soon, I hope. But if it’s true what Peterson says about my husband’s death, they’ve affected my entire destiny. I have to know.”

“And if it
is
true, what then?”

“I’ll find a way to deal with
it, but not knowing will gnaw at me until it drives me crazy.”

“I can’t afford to use department money to send you on a wild-goose chase all the way to Columbus, Georgia.”

“I’ll pay for the trip myself.”

“You’ve got two days. Try to take less. We need to catch a killer here. I’ll call the department in Columbus and ask them to cooperate. I have no official jurisdiction, but it’s a courtesy
that I think they’ll observe.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate this.”

Big Ed tossed her a set of keys. “Your Jeep’s ready, parked behind the station. It’s had the tires, windshield, and several body panels replaced, along with a host of mechanical repairs. Try not to destroy it again soon.”

Ella caught the keys in midair. “Thanks. Justine has the keys to the car I’ve been using. I’ll get them
from her and turn them in.”

Ella went down the hall. Hearing footsteps, Justine came out. “I think the threads came from your shirt, but the state lab will have to tell us for sure.”

“The way my luck’s running on this, you’re probably right.” Ella motioned for Justine to follow her. “I need to fill you in.”

Pausing to drop off the keys to the loaner unit, Ella continued to her office. Behind
closed doors, Ella explained about Betty Lott. “See if there’s any legal way to prevent Yazzie from having visitors, except relatives and lawyers.”

Justine nodded. “That shouldn’t be hard, not when he’s claimed responsibility for the murders and the bomb in the trunk.”

“I’ve got to go out of town for a couple of days, so I’m counting on you to take care of that. Go to Big Ed for his influence
if you have to.”

“But how can you go away at a time like this?”

Seeing the puzzled look on Justine’s face, Ella explained.

“
Now
he’s manipulating you,” Justine concluded.

“I’m aware of that, but I’ve still got to know.”

Justine nodded, accepting Ella’s decision. “I would feel the same way in your shoes. Do you want me to get you a seat on the next flight?”

“Yes. Make the arrangements through
your computer terminal. That would save me time. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I can return.” Ella gave Justine her credit card information.

“I’ll call you at home to let you know your itinerary. I assume you’re on the way back there to pack?”

“You bet. Thanks, Justine.”

SEVENTEEN

Ella packed her weapon inside her small suitcase. She wasn’t traveling in an official capacity, so there was no need to go through the paperwork needed to carry it onboard. She then placed her .22 backup derringer and its holster in a drawer for when she returned.

Rose watched her daughter. “This is a very bad idea. The past is over and done with. Your husband, like mine, is gone.
Nothing will bring either of them back.”

“If Peterson’s claim is true, do you realize how much control the skinwalkers have had over my life? Eugene’s death led to my becoming a federal cop, and I’m back on the Rez now because of what the skinwalkers did to my father. It may turn out that they’ve been manipulating me all my adult life.”

“And now you’re allowing it to continue. Forget what Peterson
said. Go on with what you have to do.”

“I can’t, Mom. I won’t be able to concentrate on this case with this hanging over my head. It’ll stay right there in the back of my mind, and keep coming up when I need to think about other things.”

“I know you loved your husband, but whatever changes his death made in your life have only been for the good. You found yourself and your strengths after his
wind breath left his body.”

“Yes, and I’ll hold on to that if it does turn out that the Navajo witches were responsible. It’s ironic, really. Should this prove to be true, all they’ve done is create an enemy who has the skill to fight and destroy them.” Ella glanced at the hunting fetish her brother had given her and set it next to the blazer she’d wear on the flight. She’d need it now more than
ever. “Do you understand why I have to go and find the truth?”

Rose nodded. She was about to say more when the telephone rang. Ella picked it up, thinking it would be Justine with her flight information. Instead a man’s voice came over the wire.

“Yes, this is Detective Clah,” Ella answered.

“This is James Anderson. I’m an attorney. At this hour, FBI headquarters in Los Angeles is being served
with a lawsuit. It’s my duty to inform you that you, as an individual, are being sued for Wrongful Death. Copies of the documents will be delivered to your office via courier. My clients, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Campbell, are the parents of the boy you shot to death in the diner in Los Angeles last August.”

“Wrongful death? What are you talking about? That case was investigated by both the local
police and the FBI. It was judged to be a righteous shooting. The man had taken hostages, and was methodically shooting them. He even had a bomb, for god’s sake!”

“My clients’ son was mentally ill, and you lost control of the situation.”

The accusation, though from a total stranger, came too close to the reality of the hostage incident in Farmington. The chord it struck made Ella’s throat tighten,
and for a moment she could scarcely breathe. “The bureau’s attorney and a tribal attorney will contact you,” she said in clipped tones, then took down his name, address, and number.

“Do it soon, Special Investigator Clah.”

Ella slammed the phone down. No law enforcement person ever walked away from a shooting unscathed. There was always a lot of second-guessing and sorrow. But she’d done her
best and saved lives in every instance. There was no way anyone could blame her for the psycho’s death in Los Angeles, even if she did fire the bullets that took him down. How many more people would he have shot if she hadn’t stopped him? Her friend Jeremy had been badly wounded, along with several of the customers at the diner. Campbell had planned to finish them all off; he’d said so at the time.
His family had no case at all.

The telephone rang again the moment she set it down. She picked it up wondering if it would be Anderson again, but this time it was Justine. Ella jotted down the flight information. “Thanks, Justine. I need you to do something else for me while I’m gone.” She explained the call she’d just received. “Get one of the tribal attorneys to call the L.A. FBI office and
find out about this lawsuit. They have no case, trust me.” Yet even as she said it, she knew many cops sued by the public had lost to smart lawyers playing on the court’s sympathy.

“I’ll take care of it,” Justine said. “You better get going, or you’ll miss your connecting flight to Albuquerque.”

Ella was reaching for her suitcase when a strong gust of wind slammed against the side of the house,
spiraling in through her open window. “Dust devil,” Ella said as the curtains fluttered everywhere, brushing papers and a silk flower arrangement onto the floor.

“Ssssuu!”
Rose whispered the sound used to tell the ill wind it wasn’t welcome.

As Ella started to gather up what had been blown to the floor, her mother crouched next to her. “Go. I’ll take care of this.”

Ella zipped up her small
traveling bag, then put on her pressed blazer. “I’ll be back in two days,” she said, and rushed out the door.

*   *   *

The flight back east took most of the night, with stops and layovers in Albuquerque, Dallas, and Atlanta. It was close to one in the morning when Ella finally arrived at her destination. Tired, she checked into the Columbus airport hotel and asked for a seven o’clock wake-up
call.

Morning came quickly, and Ella woke up disoriented, looking curiously around for a few seconds before she remembered where she was. Away from home, even in a southern city that moved at a pace close to that of the reservation, she felt curiously homesick. The emotion surprised her. She’d spent years away, with not even a twinge of desire to return. She’d obviously changed a lot in the past
few months, more than she’d been aware.

Ella reached into the pocket of the jacket she’d worn on the flight, searching for her fetish. That touch of home would soothe her spirit now. Finding the pocket empty, Ella suddenly remembered the dust devil that had cleared everything from her dresser. In the confusion, she’d mislaid the small carving and left it behind. Regretting the oversight, she
reluctantly prepared to begin her day.