Ghost Medicine (3 page)

Sergeant Benny Pete was at the wheel of the modified RV and Officer Ralph Tache was in the passenger’s seat next to him. Sergeant Joe Neskahi, also part of their team, had been off duty
but, according to dispatch, would be arriving soon. A half mile farther down the road, Ella could see the much smaller medical examiner’s van following in their wake.

Tache, limping from injuries he’d suffered years back while trying to disarm a pipe bomb, stepped down out of the van first. “Okay to pull in close?” he called out to Ella.

“Yeah, go ahead. We’ve already checked the ground inside
the markers.” She pointed to the Day-Glo orange cones.

Benny, the driver, looked at Tache, who then guided him in closer using hand signals. The taller vehicle would provide them some shade for the next few hours, at least, and there was an awning they could extend, if needed.

Once the vehicle was in position, Ella met Officer Tache halfway. “I’m sorry you have to see this, too, Ralph,” she
said. “You were his partner for years, it won’t be easy.”

Tache nodded and cleared his throat before speaking. “He thought the world of you, Ella,” he said, looking down the road and not making eye contact with her.

She swallowed hard, but kept her voice steady. “Let’s get to work. Our friend deserves our best efforts. I’d like you to take over the camera work. Justine and Benny can complete
a perimeter search and I’ll see if I can narrow down the shooter’s location. Also be on the lookout for anything odd, like Navajo ceremonial items or displays. Once you see the body, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

As Ralph turned toward the van to get his gear, Benny came up, catching the last of her words. A heavily tattooed city Navajo with an army buzz cut, the thirty-five-year-old had
spent years with the LAPD and was a master at spotting details and finding trace.

“Benny, once the ME removes the victim, I want you to help me examine the interior of the vehicle. It looks like a one-shot kill, but it’s also clear that someone, probably the shooter, moved the body, and not just to give easy access to the fingers.”

“What about the fingers?” Benny asked.

“The tips have been
chopped off at the joint.”

“Sorry I asked.”

“Besides the missing body parts, I suspect that there are personal items that have been taken, like the victim’s weapon,” Ella said. “Nothing ever gets past you, so I want you to go over the crime scene with me.”

“Okay, boss. I know this guy worked with the team, so he’s one of ours. The mutilations … are you thinking, skinwalkers?” He whispered the
last word.

“Yeah, maybe.” Ella also lowered her voice. “You might also keep an eye on Ralph. He was the victim’s partner. If he needs some space, or a kind word…”

Benny nodded. “I’ve got it covered.”

As Ella looked up at the top of the road, where evidence indicated the shooter must have been, she heard Carolyn pull up in the van. “I have to go meet the ME.”

Not needing a response, Ella went
to greet Dr. Carolyn Roanhorse. Her friend had never looked better. Losing sixty pounds over the past two years had changed her inside and out. These days, their ME turned heads wherever she went.

Carolyn worked exclusively on the Navajo Nation, though officially she was an employee of the Office of the Medical Investigator based in Albuquerque. Unfortunately, her job as ME had made Carolyn almost
an outcast on the Rez. Traditionalist Navajos believed that her work with the bodies of the dead meant she was contaminated with their essence. Modernists avoided her, too, but with them it wasn’t out of fear. It was a culturally enhanced, natural aversion to someone who spent their day working on corpses.

Despite the odds against it, Ella and Carolyn had hit it off from the first day they’d
met. Never one to run with the pack or bow to public opinion, Ella had understood Carolyn in a way few ever could have. Over the years their friendship had grown even stronger.

“You made good time,” Ella said, and smiled. “Hot date tonight? That’s your new blouse, and you did your nails, too. Let me guess. You’re meeting Dr. Sheldon for dinner?”

“No, that didn’t work out. He was too much in
love with himself.”

“So who are you seeing? Anyone I know?”

“Maybe,” Carolyn muttered, not looking directly at her.

“You’re being awfully cryptic.” Ella was trying to maintain the small talk they always used to take the edge off at crime scenes. It was a survival skill they’d all learned to help them cope with the brutality they often faced. Yet today for some reason Carolyn wasn’t in a talkative
mood and Ella was running out of things to say. After a moment she gave up. “I guess I better let you get started. The body’s been mutilated in a way you’ll need to check more closely. We’ve seen stuff like this before.”

Carolyn nodded somberly, then untied the colorful scarf she’d been wearing and placed it into her pocket. As Ella started to move away, Carolyn touched her forearm gently. “You
sure about the ID?” she asked.

Ella nodded.

“All right, then. I’ll give this top priority.”

A few minutes later, digital recorder on, Carolyn began recording her findings. With more light and an open driver’s door, Ella was able to look over Carolyn’s shoulder and verify that there were no objects under the seats except for a candy wrapper.

The floorboards showed evidence of heavy rain splatter
that had since dried. The absence of any marks on the now dusty interior, except for the scuff mark left when Andrew had leaned inside, suggested that nothing else had been disturbed recently. Ella made a mental note to ask the locals about the timing of the rain itself. A review of Doppler radar images would also help them establish the time line—at least of the rain.

Carolyn’s voice was clinical
and her comments precise as she examined the body. Ella moved away. Normally she liked listening in on Carolyn’s observations as she made them, but the identity of the victim changed things. She decided she’d rather face the news all at once than piecemeal.

Ella was busy searching the ground when Carolyn finally called her over.

“What do you have for me?” Ella said.

“Today’s Thursday, so I’d
say he died about forty-eight hours ago. I’d place the TOD Tuesday, between noon and four, judging from the condition of his skin, his eyes, and a few other indicators,” she said. “The finger joints were removed with something like bolt cutters or metal snips, but after his death. No sign of torture. The only thing I found in the victim’s clothing was this.” She held up a paper bag and Ella looked
inside. There was an inexpensive ballpoint pen, a tube of mostly melted lip balm, and a pack of mint chewing gum with two remaining sticks.

“No wallet, handgun, extra clip, or cell phone?” Ella asked. “He always carried a pocket spiral notebook, too.”

Carolyn shook her head. “They weren’t on him. Maybe you’ll find those under his seat, or in the glove compartment.”

“Okay, we’ll go over the
interior once you release it to us,” Ella said, handing the bag back to Carolyn, who added her name, date, and the location of the found items.

“Anything you can tell me about the gunshot?” Ella asked.

“Only that it was probably fired from a high-velocity rifle, considering it went through and out the passenger’s-side door.” Carolyn said. “Until you recover the slug, we won’t know for sure,
but it looks like a hunting round that mushroomed on impact.”

“He was parked here, maybe waiting for someone or watching down the road.” Ella looked at the intersection a quarter mile away, then glanced up at the top of the road cut. “The way I see it, the sniper took the shot from up there,” she said, pointing to the rise on the left. “That’s what, fifty yards?”

“If that,” Carolyn said. “I’ve
already taken tissue samples, so I’m ready to move the body and turn the scene over to you. Anybody on your B-list today? I can use a strong back or two to help get the victim into my van.”

Ella thought about volunteering, but this wasn’t an ordinary scene and she just didn’t have it in her. Right now her priority was keeping it together. Hearing a new voice, she glanced around and saw that Sergeant
Joe Neskahi had arrived. The bulky former wrestler caught her eye and nodded, sympathy evident in his soft expression. No words were needed.

“Need some help, Doctor?” Joe asked, stepping up and giving Carolyn a smile.

*   *   *

Ten minutes after the two would-be thieves were transported to the station, Carolyn drove away with the body.

Benny came up and joined Ella. “Photos, then a closer
look?” he asked, holding up a camera and motioning toward the open door of the pickup.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Ella said.

After Benny had taken a dozen photos from various angles, they both put on a second set of latex gloves, a habit of most tribal homicide cops. The outer layer would touch the dead and the things that had been left by the victim. The other would protect the wearer from contamination
with the first pair when the gloves were removed.

“See that outline on the passenger seat?” Benny pointed to a rectangle not marked with blood spray and gore. “It’s about the size of a cell phone.”

“He probably set it there, and his killer removed it before the body was tipped away from the steering wheel. The shooter seems to have taken almost everything the victim had on him. If you happen
to find a small spiral notebook anywhere, let me know.”

Ella heard digging sounds on the opposite side of the pickup. “Anything yet, Justine?”

“Just a second…,” she said. “Gotcha,” she added a second later.

Justine stood and held up a round. “Found the bullet. It’s a mushroomed rifle slug, but it’s in pretty bad shape. Some of the copper jacket is probably still in the ground or the door panel.”
Justine came around the front of the pickup and handed the evidence bag to Ella. “There’s not much hope for a match. The rifling is barely there.”

“Yeah, but at least we should be able to identify the caliber and the manufacturer.” Ella handed it back. “Get whatever you can from around the area the bullet impacted, but hold back on checking the door panel until we’re done with the interior.”

“Okay.”

Ella and Benny processed the cab slowly and methodically. The stench had dissipated some now that the body had been removed, but much of it continued to cling to the upholstery and the interior of the truck.

Forcing themselves to ignore distractions, they went over every square inch. By the time they were done, Ella’s patience had been stretched to the limit. The flies were an ever-present
nuisance and even mentholatum in her nose hadn’t been able to successfully mask the odor of decaying flesh.

Ella stood well back for a moment, swallowing hard. She’d lost a friend, and though sorrow—and anger at the way he’d died—filled her in equal measure, there was no time to grieve. She had a job to do and Harry deserved nothing less than 100 percent from her.

“I can process the exterior
myself, if you’d like,” Benny said.

“Yeah, go ahead. That smudge on the driver’s side was supposedly made by one of the thieves when he reached in to pop the hood.”

Ella walked over to meet Joe Neskahi, who was coming down the hill, camera in hand. “Any luck up there?” she asked.

“I found a depressed area in the sand where the shooter lay in a prone position, but there wasn’t much else to go
on. The rain pretty much obliterated everything except the gross outline. From the angle, I’d say he had an easy shot, especially if the vehicle was stationary. Is that your theory?”

“Yeah, that’s the way it looks. The engine was off, the brake set, and the transmission in park, judging from the blood splatter pattern. Besides, if he’d been moving, the pickup would have rolled downhill and off
the road,” Ella said. “Did you find any shell casings?”

“No, but Ralph’s going up there in a few minutes with the metal detector. I was about to check this side of the road cut in case it had rolled off the edge,” he said. “I did find one thing you need to know about right away. Tracks were deliberately left up there to mess with our minds.”

“What do you mean, Joe?” Ella asked.

“First of all,
they weren’t made until after the rain. I figure they were left there yesterday or last night, and they go backwards from the shooting site.”

“Backwards?”

“Yeah. The shooter—who else would know where he’d been the day before—walked backwards from a section of hard ground to the spot where he took the shot. Then he carefully walked back in those same tracks. It gives the impression that he beamed
down from above, took the shot, then walked off. Weird, huh? Something a Navajo witch would do?” he added, his voice lower now.

“You took photos?” Ella asked.

“From every angle,” he said.

“Good work,” Ella said. “Another thing, Joe. You volunteered to help Dr. Roanhorse before being asked. Thanks for stepping up like that.”

“Glad to help. I know this one’s not easy for you,” he said, “and
the doc’s always hard-pressed to find an extra pair of hands.”

It was the slight gentling in his voice when he spoke of Carolyn that let Ella know what she’d somehow missed. Joe was interested in her longtime friend.

“Are you two getting together later?” she asked, curious.

“I wish. We’ve had coffee a few times, but she’s more into medicine, science, and tribal politics than baseball, rodeo,
and cars,” he said, and shrugged.

“So what are you saying, that she’s dating a politician?”

“No, more like a lawyer.” Joe shifted uneasily. “I’d better go look for that shell casing.” He nodded toward the slope in the road cut.

“Wait a sec. You know something. What’s going on?” she pressed.

“Don’t kill the messenger, okay?” He looked at the ground for a second or two, then spoke slowly. “Carolyn’s
dating a guy pretty close to home these days—your home.”

Ella stared at him in confusion. All she could think of was Herman, her mom’s husband, who was pushing eighty. Then it hit her. “You mean like a lawyer—close to home?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. She’s been seeing Kevin Tolino.”

The news left her speechless. Although she and Kevin hadn’t been intimate in years, and had never lived together either,
he was her daughter’s father and played a large role in their lives. Getting used to this was going to take time.