Black Thunder (12 page)

“I know. You have to spend a lot of time there to get used to it, and that’s a level of conditioning I hope I never reach.”

“How do you think she does it—Dr. Roanhorse, that is? She’s Navajo.”

“Carolyn is one of the strongest women I know. She’s there because the tribe needs her to be, and she knows it,” Ella said. “In that way, she’s no different from you and me. Our jobs are different from
hers, sure, but we each do what needs to be done.”

NINE

As Ella reached the basement and got out of the elevator, the funky odor of an old butcher shop hit her. She tried to take shallow breaths as she walked across the hall and entered the autopsy room where Carolyn was working. On the table before the white-clad M.E. was one of the skeletal remains they’d found at the Hogback. Ella was reminded of dried beef and leather, and that helped with
the disassociation process that allowed her to cope with the demands of her job.

At the moment, Carolyn was measuring the entry wound on one of the skulls and comparing it to an x-ray attached to a screen on the north wall.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Carolyn said, glancing over at her. “I’ve got some interesting findings, and I thought you’d want a rundown as soon as possible.”

“Sure do,” Ella
said, joining her. “Has Blalock come by yet?”

“Here I am,” a familiar voice said as the tall agent in the light tan sports jacket joined them. “Sorry. My meeting with Big Ed took longer than expected.”

“Shall we get started?” Carolyn asked. Then, seeing them nod, she continued. “You see these two entrance wounds?” she said, pointing to the skull. “They’re nearly an exact duplicate of what I
found on the other victims. What it tells me is that both shots weren’t fired in rapid succession. The angles are different, and I estimate that the position of the weapon shifted at least four or five feet between shots. Either wound would have been fatal. There was no need for the second.”

“Maybe he wanted to make sure,” Blalock said.

“Or you’ve got two shooters taking turns, or one shooter
expressing cold, calculated anger,” Ella said.

“I suspect all were Native American, probably Navajo, but I’m still waiting for the DNA markers to confirm race,” Carolyn said. “Two of these victims suffered broken bones while alive. Those were set and healed normally. I’m in the process of running that detail through tribal databases and trying to find dental and medical records that match.”

Ella nodded. “If the broken bones were set, that means they got medical care. That should help. Many of our people don’t visit a doctor. Sometimes it’s a matter of choice or access, but, either way, the fact remains.”

“I’m also going to check off-Rez medical facilities within fifty miles, starting with the regional medical center in Farmington, but that’ll take time. The DNA is taking forever,
though. Any way either of you can speed it up?”

“I can get the Bureau lab in Albuquerque involved and push that a bit,” Blalock said. “Give me about a half hour to make the call.”

“Good. I’ve got samples of hair, skin, dried tissue, and bone marrow ready to be sent in.” Carolyn gestured to the table. “I’ve also recorded the height, approximate weight, and sex of each victim, and made a printout
for you. In there you’ll also find an estimate of how long each has been dead. I’ll have the official report, minus toxicology, ready by the end of tomorrow—maybe.”

Ella took a deep breath. Death and police work went hand in hand. Yet deep inside her, the little Navajo girl who’d been taught never to wish anyone dead out loud because that could have the power to kill, and not to put her shoes
on the wrong feet because it could call death, still respected the old beliefs. They whispered a different set of truths, but ones that were as much a part of her as the badge she wore. For years she’d fought against that duality, but she was a product of two cultures and both deserved respect.

Blalock made his call and got confirmation before they left the hospital.

As they walked to the parking
lot, Ella glanced at FB-Eyes—his nickname among some Navajos because he had one blue eye, one brown. “Since all the vics were Native American, the Bureau can claim jurisdiction,” she said.

“Yeah, but it’s better if we continue to work together on this and use local officers. Between county, the tribal P.D., and the Bureau, we’re bound to get answers faster.”

Halfway back to the station, Blalock
glanced over at her. “Spill it, Clah. You’re too quiet, which means something’s eating you. What is it?”

“The details of this case don’t make a lot of sense. For example, these were execution-style killings, but why two shots, when either one would have been a guaranteed kill, even with AP rounds, which are less lethal? And there’s no obvious sexual link—victims were male and female. There’s
also another oddity about our serial killer: Why so long between victims—a year each time? And did he show up the other night to prepare the site for the next victim, or was the body already in the car, ready to bury?”

“Del Bitsillie may have thrown off his plans,” Blalock said.

“I also keep thinking of what Mr. Pete told me about the person he saw in the area. I can’t figure out if we have
someone trying to impersonate a skinwalker, or if that’s just Mr. Pete’s interpretation of what he saw.”

“That’s why we need a Navajo officer leading the chase. Issues like those need to be put in the right perspective. Obviously, there’s still a lot we don’t know, but we’re barely out the starting gate, Ella,” Blalock said. “I’ll get the lab to push through the DNA results while you stay focused
on what’s happening out in the field.”

Ella’s phone beeped, signaling a text message, and she flipped it open with one hand. Her hand tightened as she read what was on the screen. “I’ve got a comedian-stalker,” she commented, shaking her head.

“What’s it say?”

“‘You see dead people,’” she read aloud. “Looks like I was followed to the morgue.” She looked back in the side mirror and checked the
vehicles behind Blalock’s car. “He’s probably not there now, not after having made his point,” she muttered, then tried to click on the options to find out who’d sent her the text message.

Ella told Blalock about the previous one as soon as she saw that the sender’s number had been blocked. “I’m going to have to get a court order to find out who this guy is, but that’s going to take time.”

“Keep me updated on that,” Blalock asked as he dropped her off at the station.

Halfway to the side entrance, Ella’s phone rang and the display revealed an incoming call from Kevin Tolino, Dawn’s father. She and Kevin had remained friends over the years, but their relationship wasn’t without its rocky moments.

“I just spoke to our daughter,” Kevin said, his words clipped and abrupt. “She said
that you and she had talked about letting her have a NT4SKOOL account, but that she had to have my permission, too.”

Ella paused for a moment. “Our daughter is starting to sound like a politician. She’s cutting and pasting different parts of our conversation, trying to play us off each other. Or maybe she was just trying to change the subject. What were you talking about before she brought that
up?”

“School and grades. I wanted to know how she’d done on her science quiz. She told me that you hadn’t been able to help her study like you promised because you had to rush off. Then she went into the thing about NT4SKOOL.”

“She’s playing you, Kev. She’s been slacking off in school these past few weeks and didn’t want you to know. The fact is, she put off studying until late the night before.
I sent her to bed, but when I had to leave early the next morning, it all became my fault.”

“She’s a smart kid, and has always worked hard at school. What’s going on?” he said.

“She’s growing up and deliberately breaking rules—testing us. We’ll have to find a way to rein her in and demand she meet her responsibilities.”

“At our last teacher conference, we talked about Dawn’s study habits and
class work. She was doing B-level work and Mr. Andrews thought she wasn’t applying herself. I remember we talked to her about that. Has she dropped to a C? Is that why she switched the subject so quickly?”

“No, not yet, but her grades are slipping. She’s pretending to be studying, that’s my guess.”

“How should we handle this? Any ideas?” he asked.

“She loves playing online. Let’s take away
that Internet privilege and make her earn it back in increments. If she meets her responsibilities, then that’ll be her reward. If not, then she faces a consequence—no computer playtime. And her cell phone goes, too.”

“I like it.”

“And by the way, I’m definitely against the NT4SKOOL thing. It’s an adult forum—or at least for much older teens. I’ll try to find out if there’s another site more
suitable for someone Dawn’s age. Having our daughter approached by an online predator is the stuff of nightmares for me.”

“She’s beautiful, and already turning heads,” Kevin said softly. “I’m dreading the time when she starts dating—or wants to go on Facebook.”

Ella sighed. Dawn, with her long black hair and dark expressive eyes, was a stunner. She was tall and slender, and although only twelve,
had a head start on physical maturity and looked more like a sixteen-year-old.

“I wish I could hold back the hands of time, Kev, but things are bound to get worse before they get better. High school’s just around the corner.”

“Just shoot me now,” came the strangled response.

Ella smiled and put her phone away. As she walked through the front door, she saw Neskahi talking to Justine.

“What’s
the situation?” she asked, joining them.

“I remembered that my uncle and cousin had a friend by the last name of Kelewood, so I drove to Two Grey Hills to talk to them in person,” Neskahi said. “My uncle’s a Traditionalist, but my cousin’s a Modernist, so I figured I’d talk mostly to him. But my uncle overheard me and burst into the room we were in. He said I’d come to talk about the dead and
was inviting the
chindi
into his home. My cousin tried to calm him down, and I explained that all we really knew for sure was that Kelewood was missing, but I still got kicked out. I wasted an hour getting there, and got nothing.”

Justine looked at Ella and filled in the gaps. “Word’s out that Kelewood’s dead because Curley got caught with his wallet and checkbook.”

“But there’s no shred of
evidence that indicates anything more than the obvious—he’s missing,” Ella protested. “We haven’t identified those four bodies.”

“I know, but gossip on the Rez runs wild, particularly when someone finds a body, much less four at the same time.”

Ella knew Justine was right. “I’ve got some additional information on the victims that’ll help us narrow the possibilities. We need everyone working
on this. Maybe we can make some progress today and start pairing up names with bodies. Then we can focus on those names.”

“We’re down a man. Tache had an emergency dental visit,” Justine said.

“What happened?”

“He broke a tooth cracking piñon nuts,” she answered.

“So he’ll be out for the rest of today,” Ella said, knowing how dental visits often worked. “We’ll have to double up.” Yet even
as she said it, she knew that the interviews they had to conduct couldn’t be rushed. Being one person short would set them back a day or more.

Justine plugged the information Carolyn had given them into the computer. By the time comparisons were made, they had a three-page, single-spaced list with the best matches underlined.

“Here one missing person with a time frame and body type that fits.
Betty Eltsosie reported her dad missing about three years ago,” Justine said, starting at the top. “She apparently found out weeks after the fact, but phoned us as soon as she knew. She’d been deployed overseas so her mom hadn’t wanted to upset her. She waited until Betty was stateside to tell her.”

“Her mother never called the police?” Ella asked, trying to understand.

Justine nodded. “Ronald
Eltsosie had been sick for months—cancer—and then one January morning, he walked away. Although an extensive search was conducted as soon as Betty called the department, the body was never found.”

“Her mother just assumed that Ronald went into the desert to die and respected his decision,” Ella said with a nod. “It’s the way of The People,” she added, though she didn’t agree with that method
at all.

They e-mailed Joe and Benny a revised copy of the list with their share of names to pursue based on particular communities. Once that was done, Ella and Justine left to track down either Betty Eltsosie or her mother.

As they drove down the highway, heading south on Highway 491 toward Gallup, Ella’s phone rang. Seeing it was Rose, she picked it up immediately.

“Would you like to bring
your cousin and partner home for dinner tonight?” her mother asked. “I’m making a new recipe, but as I experimented with different ingredients I realized I’d made too much. It all started as a special treat for your daughter, who has now decided she loves red but not green chile.”

Ella bit back a sigh. “I’ll ask her, Mom. Hang on.” Ella glanced at Justine and repeated the invitation.

“Absolutely,”
Justine said with a happy smile. “And if there are leftovers, I could take some to my roommate,” she said, loud enough for Rose to hear.

Ella closed up the phone moments later. “There’ll be lots of leftovers, so bring a large container.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you upset? If Rose wants to cook all day long, and it makes her happy, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s not her cooking. It’s the reason
for this new hobby of hers and its frantic pace that worries me, partner.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“I brought it up a few times, but she doesn’t want to discuss it.”

“I remember when my aunt retired after thirty years at the post office,” Justine said after a moment. “She thought she’d love having all that free time, but after a while she nearly went nuts. It took her a while to finally
find a hobby she enjoyed. Do you think your mom’s just missing her work as a consultant for the tribe and trying to stay busy?”