Coyote's Wife (24 page)

“I didn’t say it was the Fierce Ones, and I never saw any faces. If that’s why you came, you might as well leave now.”

“Okay, let’s skip ahead. Why did they target you? Who gave them your name?” Ella pressed.

“Maybe my husband’s uncle. He probably thinks I had something to do with my husband’s death. But I didn’t.”

“So help me get the ones who did this to you. Don’t let them bully you.”

“What other choice do I have? I could hide, but they’d find me again sooner or later as long as I stay on the Rez. That’s why I’m leaving. It’s what they wanted me to do anyway.”

“You weren’t the only person who was a victim of this attack and you’re part of an ongoing investigation. You can’t leave,” Ella said.

“You can’t
force me to stay. You just can’t do that to me.”

“I’m trying to catch the ones who put you in here—the ones who invaded your home and assaulted you. Help me and I’ll help you.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said, practically screaming the words.

“Then answer some easier questions for me,” Ella insisted. “Your husband was drinking the day he died. Where did he get the beer?”

“He took a six-pack
from the fridge before he left that day. When he wasn’t at work, he always had a beer in his hand. Was he drunk, is that why he had the accident?”

Ella didn’t answer her, but continued to press her for information. “Did your husband use a chain saw often?”

“No. We don’t own one. He’d always wanted one of those, but they’re expensive. Did the one he was using break or something?”

“That doesn’t
appear to be the case.” Ella answered her this time, then continued to press. “How was he around tools and machinery? Was he accident-prone?”

“No, no more than anyone else.”

“Was there anything in particular bothering him lately?”

“Who knows what was going on at his work? All I can tell you is that he’d been drinking more. Maybe it was because we hadn’t been getting along. We were going to
split up.”

“Did your assailants know you two were going to call it quits? Did they say anything to that effect?”

“Not that I recall,” she said slowly, thinking back. “What they wanted was for me to admit I’d killed my husband. They just wouldn’t listen to anything else.”

“Who do you think did this to you?” Ella insisted. “I won’t let them know it came from you.”

“They’ll know. I’ve already
told you more than I should have. You can’t protect me, not forever, and you’ve already said I can’t leave the area.”

Ella met Justine at the nurses’ station and they left a short time later. Ella was quiet until they got into the tribal vehicle. After filling her partner in, she added, “Did you get anything from the nurses?”

“No. Apparently, Marilyn’s not saying much to anyone.”

“The Fierce
Ones are flaunting themselves right under our noses and we can’t get anything on them. This just ticks me off.”

“So what’s next?”

“We’ve got a few names, let’s go rattle their cages,” Ella said. “Go in the direction of George and Marilyn’s home. They had a neighbor to the east if I recall right—the opposite direction of Wallace’s home.”

“I checked the place you’re talking about. It belongs
to Virgil Pete. My guess is that nobody gives him any garbage.”

Ella’s eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out why the name was so familiar to her. Finally she shook her head. “I recognize the name, but I can’t place him.”

“A lot of people believe Virgil’s a skinwalker.”

Ella exhaled softly, nodding.
“Now
I remember. He’s in his eighties. And, no, he’s not a skinwalker. I’d say he’s more of
a survivor. Years ago he had a problem with some of the gangs after he interrupted some punks beating up a kid. He drove his truck right at them, forcing them to scatter. They found out who he was, and after that, they kept coming after him.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Justine said.

“Virgil got tired of being victimized so he came up with a plan, and asked my brother for his help. He wanted
to know about skinwalkers so he could pretend to be one. My brother didn’t really approve, but he helped him out anyway. Once he was ready, Virgil made his move and left a few calling cards at the gang members’ homes—skinwalker stuff, like bones. They actually belonged to a slaughtered cow, but the kids didn’t know that. One of the kids got really sick—no connection—but it was a fortunate coincidence.
Word got around that Virgil was responsible, so they left him alone after that.”

“But word got around to everyone else as well. No one deals with him anymore, not unless they have to. Didn’t he realize something like that could happen?” Justine asked.

“Clifford warned him about that, but Virgil said he didn’t care. He just wanted to be left alone. The Christians among the
Diné
still go visit
him, mostly trying to save his soul, but the bottom line is
nobody
messes with Virgil anymore. He certainly has nothing to fear from the Fierce Ones
because most of them are traditionalists. So let’s go see if he knows anything about what’s been going on.”

They arrived less than a half hour later at a square stucco home with a metal roof and a stovepipe emitting a thin wisp of gray smoke. Justine
parked beside the old white pickup, not far from the front door. There were thin curtains on the two windows facing them, and Ella could see someone inside. She got out and leaned against the vehicle, letting Virgil see her. He’d recognize her, she was sure of that.

They didn’t have to wait long before he came outside and waved for them to approach.

Ella and Justine joined him inside moments
later. The small three-room home was warm and cozy, with the scent of tobacco in the air. The solitary end table beside the worn sofa held a big ashtray full of cigarette butts.

Virgil motioned them toward the sofa, then stepped over to get an old olive drab wool blanket out of their way, tossing it expertly onto a coat hook on the wall. “I was wondering if you’d come by. I heard what happened
to my neighbors.”

“We need to know if you saw anything at all that might help us catch the ones responsible.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t here when she got beat up. I was visiting my daughter in Albuquerque. I heard about all that after I came back and went to pick up my mail at the post office.”

Ella tried to hide her disappointment, then he continued speaking.

“It’s odd how things connect and come
around. Barbara Yellowhair owns the company my neighbor worked for, and like my neighbor’s wife, she had her wild days, too. Now she’s a valued member of the tribe, like her mother.”

“Tell me about Barbara,” Ella asked.

“I remember when she was in college. She went around, wanting to talk to anyone who might be a skinwalker. She
had a real interest in dark things like that.” He paused. “But
she was just a kid back then with no sense at all. Now she’s a businesswoman with important things on her mind.”

Intrigued by this new bit of information, Ella filed it away in her mind. “Even though you live alone, you’ve developed your own sources, and keep in touch with what’s happening around you,” Ella said, playing a hunch. “Do you know any of the newer members of the Fierce Ones?”

He
shook his head. “They stay away from me, I stay away from them. It works better that way. But if you go down the road a little more and turn by the crooked piñon, my neighbor there may know more about what happened the other night.”

“What makes you think that?” Justine asked.

He shrugged.

Realizing Virgil had given her all he was going to for now, Ella signaled her partner and didn’t press
him. They returned to the tribal car and continued down the road.

“What do you think? Should we be taking a closer look at Barbara?” Justine asked.

“Kids in college do some strange things, particularly when they first get away from home. For now, let’s just file it under interesting trivia.”

“So what strange things did
you
do, cuz?” Justine asked, then grinned.

“I’ll never tell,” Ella said.

While Justine drove, Ella got the name of Virgil’s neighbor from the department. “His name is Darrell Waybenais,” Ella told her partner. “I’ve never heard that name associated with the Fierce Ones.”

“Me, neither,” Justine said. “We tried to talk to him before, but we were never able to make contact with anyone there. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

Soon they arrived at a run-down gray cinder
block house.
The roof was pitched, covered with red fiberglass sheeting. There were only two aluminum-framed sliding windows, one on each side of the weathered wooden door. A gaunt-looking man in his late fifties was working outside, splitting firewood on a big pine stump. Seeing them, he put down his axe, and came over to meet them just as they stepped out of the tribal unit.

When Ella identified
herself, there was no reaction in his gaze. He simply wiped the sweat and wood chips from his face with a blue handkerchief pulled from his torn shirt pocket.

“We’re hoping you can tell us a bit about your neighbors, the woman in particular,” Ella said, not identifying them by name since there was no need.

He thought about the question for a long time, looking pensively at his hands, gnarled
and callused from hard physical labor, then finally looked up. “I heard what happened. The man and I were friends. His old truck was always giving him fits, so I gave him a ride into town a few times so he could get parts. Every now and then he and I would go get firewood together, splitting the load. We took my truck, usually, and he brought the beer. This … last time, he was driving his boss’s
truck, so I’ve heard.”

“Going back to what happened to his wife the next day…,” Ella said.

“I can’t help you there,” he answered flatly. “That’s the Fierce Ones’ business and I don’t mess with them. They’re too dangerous, particularly these days. They used to stand for what’s right, but now they just like pushing their weight around, giving people a reason to be afraid.”

“Withholding evidence
is a crime. Did you see anything at all that might help us, like maybe the pickups they were driving? One with a stock rack?” Ella prodded, looking down and noting he wore old leather boots.

“I was watching TV like I always do and didn’t hear what happened until the next day. That’s when the rumors started. Like everyone else, I’ve heard plenty since then,” he added with a shrug.

“Tell me what
you’ve heard. I’ll keep your name out of it,” Ella pressed.

“The Fierce Ones are now being run by the younger people. For the most part they’re angry Navajos who actually expected the tribal council to deliver on their promises. Like me, they’re fed up with the poverty they see here day in and day out.” He shook his head slowly. “But they’re fighting the wind …trying to change what can’t be changed.”

Ella could hear the sense of defeat in his words. From what she could see, Darrell Waybenais was just getting by. Poverty was like a vicious disease that showed no mercy and, ultimately, choked the spirit.

“Do you know the names of some of these younger members you mentioned?” Ella pressed.

He shook his head. “No names. I have my own problems just putting food on the table. But I can tell you
this. Those of us who joined the Fierce Ones when they first came to be, and then left, know more than we should. Go talk to your brother. What has reached my ears has undoubtedly reached his, too.”

“If your neighbors are victimized and you do nothing, who’ll be left to speak up when they come for you? Somebody has got to take a stand,” Ella insisted.

“I’ve said all I’m going to. You figure
things out from here.”

Ella and Justine returned to the truck. “I have a real bad feeling about all of this,” Justine said.

“The Fierce Ones think of themselves as above the law, and we have to put a stop to that. Head to my brother’s,” Ella said. “He doesn’t take crap from anyone.”

Driving farther west down the road, which led past her and her mother’s home south of Shiprock, Ella and Justine
soon arrived at Clifford’s. Noting that her brother had a patient in his medicine hogan, Ella asked Justine to park beside the house and they waited inside the SUV.

Justine studied the vehicle parked to the right side of the hogan. “I think that pickup belongs to Jimmy Levaldo. Want me to run the plate?”

Before Ella could answer, Jimmy stormed out, got into his truck, and drove away in a cloud
of dust, passing by them without as much as a glance.

Clifford came out a few moments later. Seeing Ella, he waved, signaling them to come into the hogan.

Ella led the way, and Justine and she sat down on the blankets placed on the north side of the hogan, as was customary for women.

“What brings you here?” Clifford asked them in a weary voice. “It was perfect timing.”

Having seen the anger
on Jimmy’s face, Ella quickly asked, “You all right?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve been given a message to pass on to you,” he said, then fell silent.

Ella waited for her brother to gather his thoughts. She could see something was eating at him. Knowing that Clifford didn’t let anything get to him made this even more intriguing.

“I’m guessing that your visit is related to what I’m about to say,
and you’re going to know its source, having arrived when you did,” he said slowly.

Ella nodded and he continued.

“The attacks on you and your team—even the one that included your daughter—
may
have been conducted by a relatively new faction within the Fierce Ones. Those men know
you’re actively investigating them and they might have been warning you off.”

“They obviously don’t know me or my
team very well. If this was their doing, they’re in for a surprise. They’re way out of their league.”

He shook his head. “I was specifically told to warn you not to underestimate them. They aren’t hampered by the laws and rules you and your officers have to follow. In other words, it’s not a level playing field, sister.”

“Rules moderate what we can and can’t do, that’s true. But boundaries like
those make us stronger. That’s how the good guys remain the good guys. When there are no lines, you end up with things like vigilantes. The People will see what they’ve become soon enough, and their credibility and influence will drop to zero.”