Ghost Medicine (16 page)

“Did it work?” she asked, curious.

“He succeeded in scaring his neighbor,” Clifford said, “but
things didn’t work out the way he’d planned. The people who lived in that area got real scared, so one night they all got together and killed him.” He paused. “Officially, the man just disappeared. The truth never came out.”

“I never heard of the case,” she said.

“It was before you returned to the Rez. There was no official report—nobody would talk to the police. It just happened.”

She nodded
thoughtfully. Strange things happened deep on the reservation, incidents that never reached the files of law enforcement agencies.

“What made you think of that now? Do you think someone’s just pretending to be a witch?”

“Anything’s possible. The person wants to scare others, but what remains unclear to me is who his target is and why he’s doing this. My advice is be very careful who you trust.”

“Thanks.”

Ella was on her way to the station when her cell phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, she put Justine on speaker. “What’s up, partner?”

“Good news, bad news. I found a print on Harry’s belt buckle. The bad news is that there’s no match in the system,” Justine said. “If the woman with him had ever been arrested for prostitution, we’d have gotten a hit.”

“It’s something. Take
it as a win. Once we find Harry’s date, we’ll have a way to confirm her ID,” Ella said. “Will you be spending most of today in the lab, or are you almost done?”

“I have a lot of pressing work to complete, so I was planning to stay here, but there’s that nonlethal-weapon seminar this morning. If I don’t go, I’m off payroll.”

“What? That’s crazy. We’re in the middle of a homicide investigation.
That takes priority over a training workshop.”

“Not these days. Big Ed said that I have to go. Nelson Natani will conduct it and he’s at the station now.”

“Good thing I’m not coming in for a while,” Ella said, instantly changing her plans.

“Lucky you. Where will you be?”

“I’m meeting Dan. He’s on the county pistol team and practices at the shooting range every Saturday morning. I need to talk
to him about the case.”

“Ella, I know it’s the last thing you want, but you really should consider attending this session. It’s nonlethal-weapons training. There’s nothing new about it, according to Benny, who already took the class, but you might want to have it in your personnel file. Natani’s got you in his crosshairs now.”

“It’s to be expected. Selina Ute said she’d be putting on the pressure,
and Natani’s her cousin. But thanks for the heads-up.”

“I’ll tell him you’re following up an urgent lead—if he asks about you.”

“You won’t be lying. Not completely, anyway.”

Ella called Dan next and arranged to meet him. Getting some firearms practice was just what she needed right now. Spending a little time with Dan wouldn’t hurt, either.

*   *   *

An hour later, Ella arrived at the county’s
shooting range northwest of the city of Aztec, which was also the county seat. Dan was a top-rated marksman who’d won plenty of interdepartmental shooting competitions, including back in his days as an officer in Arizona.

The shooting range had an indoor and an outdoor section, including a tactical course, and was equipped with paper silhouettes at the twenty-five, fifty-, and one-hundred-yard
ranges. After grabbing a set of ear protectors from the backseat, she went inside the main building and found Dan there, waiting.

“What’s the tribal PD doing here?” another deputy called out in greeting.

Ella glanced around and saw a familiar face. “Hey, Jack. How’ve you been?”

Sergeant Jack Koehler was in charge of the range, maintained the facilities, served as gunsmith, and also reloaded
most of the practice ammunition for the SJCSO. He came up to them and gave Dan a sixteen-ounce tin can filled with bullets. “This is your quota of competition loads.”

A second later, he smiled at Ella and gave her a gallon can half full of .40-caliber reloads. “Here you go. A little interdepartmental courtesy. Go show the boys of the San Juan County Sheriff’s Office how it’s done.”

As Jack walked
off, Dan glowered at him. Ella laughed, knowing that Jack and Dan didn’t get along. She suspected that there was something about the two alpha males that made them completely incompatible.

“He’s messing with you,” she said, then put the can down. “We use the same ammo, and I’ll share.”

They walked outside to the handgun firing line, backed by earthen berms tall enough to trap all but the most
errant shots. Ella took a position to Dan’s left. No other deputies were present, so they set up their targets at the twenty-five-yard distance, then both fired off several rounds.

Ella, despite the nuisance of a small bandage on her hand, placed most of her rounds in the heart area of the paper silhouette, but Dan chose head shots and grouped the rounds in a cluster about the size of a golf
ball.

“Nice shooting,” Ella said. Yet even as she spoke, she could feel her competitive edge spark to life. She had a tight grouping, too, but it was more the size of her fist. It was time to up her game. “So what do you say we try for head shots at fifty yards?”

“Sure,” Dan said, smiling. “If you think you’re up to it.”

“Watch and learn,” she said.

Another county officer arrived, then walked
over and stood behind them to watch as Ella took aim. At this distance, her shots were all grouped within a six-inch cluster centered on the bridge of the nose.

Dan placed his first shot on the nose area of his target, then proceeded to place shots above and in a curve to the right, forming a crude letter
D.

“Not enough ammo to write your entire name?” Ella smirked. “Show-off.”

He laughed.
“You’re an excellent shot, but I have an edge. My hand’s bigger and can handle the recoil a lot better. In competition, you’d be better off with lower-velocity rounds and lighter bullets.”

“Yeah, but this is the weapon I use out in the field,” she said. “When my life is on the line, I want to know exactly what I can or can’t do with my pistol.”

While they were talking, the deputy sergeant who’d
been watching them had time to set up his target. Ella watched him empty a magazine downrange. His shots went wide of the silhouette twice, but he managed to get the rest in the black.

“Good thing I’m not in the field anymore,” the older officer said.

The sergeant—his name tag said
ROBERT KIRK
—shot another full magazine at the target, improving slightly, then turned to them. “I’m done, thanks
for not laughing,” he said. “Let me get my target, then I’m back to my desk.”

Five minutes later, the sergeant left, wishing them good shooting as he walked toward the parking lot.

“Kirk could retire anytime he wants,” Dan said, watching the officer load his gear into a department vehicle. “If I were in his shoes, I would have been long gone instead of working Hit and Run at headquarters.”

Ella, who’d been refilling the two magazines she’d expended, inserted a clip and moved the slide, placing a round into the chamber. She’d run a patch through the barrel later. As she returned the handgun to the holster on her hip, she looked over at Dan.

“Retirement—we look forward to it all the years we’re in, but when you actually get close to it, the picture changes,” she said as they headed
toward the parking area.

“Are you worried that you won’t have enough to do?” Dan said.

“It’s not that, not exactly, anyway,” she said. “For the past twenty years, I’ve gotten up each morning knowing pretty much what I’d be doing that day. I find the thought of getting up without that sense of purpose off-putting somehow.”

“You’re barely over forty, in great shape, and with pretty much half
your life ahead of you. There’s no end to what you can do.”

She smiled. It was the optimistic response most people who weren’t considering retirement always had. Dan was younger than she was, still in his mid-thirties, so to him retirement had all the reality of a movie on the science fiction channel.

She smiled politely.

He laughed hard. “You think I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer.

“To tell you the truth, I can’t see you staying at home and learning how to weave, but there’s always the possibility of you going into business for yourself.”

“Doing what?” she asked, more curious than anything else.

“Setting up a firm that offers personal security for the high-ranking women of the tribe.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You know,
that’s not a half-bad idea.”

“I’ve taken off-duty gigs protecting celebrities and politicians of both sexes, and I can tell you that many of the women would prefer their security being handled by someone of their own sex.”

“Less testosterone can come in handy, particularly when you want to go to the ladies’ room,” she said.

“Plus you can stay in the same room and she doesn’t have to worry about
someone sneaking past outside security and coming after her in the middle of the night.”

“You know that’s really a great idea. I’m not sure I’d start my own firm, but I can certainly hire out my services to someone who already has a company.”

“Like Bruce Little?” Seeing her nod, he added, “That’s also a good idea. You’d be a great asset to him. You’re practically a law enforcement legend around
here. People trust you.”

“Do you?” she asked, taking the opportunity to get back to business.

“Yeah, I know where you’re heading with this. You’ve found out more about the thefts?”

She nodded. “The stolen inventory came from the county commissioner’s office and sheriff’s department, and both are housed in the same building.”

“I’ll ask around off the cuff and see what I can get, Ella, but that’s
as far as I’m going with this. I’ve been with the department less than two years and I’m not really sure who I can trust. It’s possible I’ll end up making a bad enemy—one that’ll cost me my job.”

“There’s no reason why it has to come to that,” she said. “Just tell me who actually has physical access to the inventory.”

“Sheriff Taylor, for sure, but I’m not sure who else. Probably some of the
office staff, heads of the divisions, and the physical plant supervisors, like maintenance.”

“Sheriff Taylor…,” Ella said in a thoughtful low voice.

“You don’t think he’s your man, do you?” he asked, surprised. “The thief?”

She shook her head. “No, no way. I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s as straight as an arrow.” She paused. “I was just wondering if he’s Teeny’s client. He’s certainly
high up the county’s food chain, and Teeny would protect him, knowing the sheriff’s one of the good guys.”

“But what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. Taylor’s got an entire department under him. Why would he hire an outsider, a glorified rent-a-cop?”

Ella smiled. “Bruce Little is a skilled professional, don’t ever let him hear you call him that.”

Dan grimaced. “Yeah, I’ve heard what happens
when someone disrespects him. One time an off-duty Farmington cop called Bruce a hired gun and got himself tossed into the bed of his own pickup.”

Ella laughed. “Yeah, I was there. Sergeant Tsosie shot off his mouth, like he always does. But he apologized afterwards, so all was cool again.”

“So, as I was saying, why would Sheriff Taylor go to an outsider? He could have handpicked an IA detective
to do the job and instructed him to keep it under wraps.”

“In Taylor’s shoes, I might have also gone to Teeny, if for no other reason than to keep rivalries and office politics out of it. Teeny is completely loyal to his clients and to his friends.”

“You obviously know Sheriff Taylor and have worked with him before. Why don’t you speak to him yourself?” he asked.

“I thought about it, and Big
Ed’s been in contact with him about this case, but if Taylor’s Teeny’s client, I’ll be putting him on the spot and undermining his efforts to keep the theft investigation under the radar,” she said. “If he’s not Teeny’s client, I can give him a call, but I’d rather put it off until I run out of other options. Of course, if I find out that there’s no connection between the thefts and the murder,
there’ll be no reason for me to get involved any further with Taylor’s county operations.”

“Yeah, good point.” Dan met Ella’s gaze and held it. “So I work with you under the radar on this and you owe me one?”

“Yeah, and you can call it in anytime,” she said.

“Good. It’ll keep the balance between us.”

She smiled. “Navajo Traditionalist thinking?”

“It comes naturally when dealing with the oldest
criminals on our land—skinwalkers.”

“Did you hear about the latest body?”

“Yeah. The dead dude was taken from a graveyard in county jurisdiction,” he said. “Nobody saw a thing, apparently. Taylor sent me a copy of the report. Have you spoken to your brother about it yet?”

“Yeah, and he pointed out that to get a better handle on what’s happening, we need to figure out who or what is the skinwalker’s
target. Usually that’s pretty straightforward,” Ella said.

“You may not be their primary target, but you’ve already been given a warning, so watch your back,” Dan said.

“They tried to scare me, but all they’ve done is piss me off, Dan. I’ll stay on my guard, but I’m going after them.”

After saying good-bye, Ella got under way. She was driving west through Aztec when her cell phone rang. A look
at the caller ID told her it was Justine. She answered.

“I made it to class and it was a lame rehash of stuff right out of the academy training manual,” Justine said. “A total waste of time.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Ella answered.

“After it was over, I was able to pick up the warrant we needed to access Harry’s calls and get his mail. My uncle, Judge Goodluck, always keeps the red tape to
a minimum,” she said. “I also have preliminary findings on the rounds used against you and Big Ed. Some were ordinary buckshot, but the ones that smashed the headlight and sent shrapnel into your hand had something else.”