Tracking Bear (2 page)

“The cause of death won’t be difficult for Dr. Roanhorse-Lavery to figure out,” Justine muttered under her breath, seeing the body clearly thanks to the floodlights hooked up to the portable generator.

“But
why
was the officer
killed? And why didn’t he draw his service weapon when going into an unknown situation?” Ella asked, thinking out loud. “Near as I can figure, the officer saw that the padlock had been cut and went inside for a look. He unsnapped the strap so he could draw his weapon faster, but apparently never did.”

“Why would anyone bother to break into this place?” Justine asked.

“What’s inside those boxes?”
Ella added. “Have you had a chance to check?”

“I took a quick look inside several that had already been torn open. They contained old books, papers, clothes…nothing that looked particularly valuable to me,” Justine said.

“Maybe the thief came in searching for something in particular, the officer surprised him, and there was a struggle,” Ella suggested, but then, studying the area, added, “No,
nix that. There are no signs of a fight at all.” She paused, then continued. “Let’s try it from another angle. The perp got behind the officer, shot him, then apparently took off before completing his search of the boxes. Or maybe he found what he wanted in one of those two boxes…What still doesn’t fit is why an ordinary burglar would kill a cop.”

“The shooting was at very close range—an execution-style
murder. That’s pretty drastic for a breaking and entering suspect.”

Officer Tache, who was photographing the scene, joined them. “If I were a betting man, I’d say the officer didn’t see a real threat, so he placed his weapon back into the holster. That’s when the burglar shot him from behind. Our man may have never seen his killer.”

Ella mulled it over. They were missing something. She had brought
a powerful flashlight to supplement the floodlights, and squatted low, studying every detail of the floor near the victim. The room was dusty, and indistinct footprints were everywhere, but she doubted they’d be able to discern a sole pattern or narrow down the killer’s shoe size.

As Ella looked below one of the boxes that had been torn open, something caught her eye. Almost simultaneously, Justine
crouched and, using tweezers, pulled a medium-length black hair that had entwined itself around a torn portion of the cardboard box.

Ella looked over at the victim, then back to Justine. “Too long to belong to the officer.”

Justine nodded, then placed the hair in an evidence pouch and labeled it as Ella continued to work, scouring the floor, searching for anything else that might give them a
lead.

Soon she went outside to search the perimeter. The first thing she noticed as she went outside was a partial shoe print on the pavement. She crouched low to examine the pattern up close with her flashlight.

“It looks like the killer stepped in the officer’s blood and tracked it out,” Justine said, coming out and looking over Ella’s shoulder.

“And the perp was wearing soft-soled shoes,
judging from these tracks. That might explain why the officer didn’t hear anyone creeping up behind him.”

Ella noticed that they were all avoiding using the officer’s name out loud. They’d all been taught that to use a man’s name so soon after his death was sure to call his
chindi.
But, to them, it was simply a sign of respect to the tribe and one more way to honor a fellow Navajo who’d died
serving the tribe.

“It’s the viciousness of the crime that throws me,” Ella muttered. “Burglars run—they don’t stand and fight, or wait in ambush for police officers.”

“Maybe this burglar also has a grudge against cops,” Justine said.

“Or maybe the officer knew his killer and didn’t expect any trouble, so he let his guard down, put his weapon away, and later turned his back,” Ella said.

Headlights
told Ella that the ME had just driven up in her van. Ella went to meet her longtime friend, Dr. Carolyn Roanhorse-Lavery. Carolyn was the only medical examiner allowed to practice outside the network of the State Medical Examiner’s Office in Albuquerque, owing to the unique cultural needs of the
Dineh.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” Ella smiled. “Married life has been a bad influence on
you.”

“Life? I wasn’t aware that any of us were entitled to have one.” She glanced around at Ella’s team. “Where’s Neskahi? I’ll probably need help with the body.”

Ella smiled ruefully. A comment the sergeant had made once about Carolyn’s weight had made him number one on her hit list.

“He’s back on patrol duty. He’s not part of our team for now.”

“Demoted?”

“No, nothing like that. Right
now the department believes that the tribe needs patrol cops more than I need another member of the crime-scene team.” Ella led Carolyn inside.

The second Carolyn saw the body, she shook her head. “He’s one of your own. That’s very bad.”

Leaving Carolyn to work, Ella joined Justine and Tache and continued examining the surrounding area.

“We’ll keep working tonight for as long as possible,”
Justine said, “but before we leave, we’ll need a uniform here to protect the scene until we return in the morning. Tache and I will go over everything once more in the light of day to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

Ella nodded. “Fine. Also, as soon as possible, find out who owns this garage. Someone’s still using it, obviously. Meanwhile, I’ll talk to Big Ed and see about notifying the officer’s
next of kin.”

Ella checked the interior of the officer’s vehicle, searching for trace evidence. Finding nothing, she joined Carolyn and found her packing up her gear. Without waiting to be asked, Ella helped the ME place the body in a bag and transport it back to the van.

Carolyn acknowledged her help with a grateful nod. “You already know what the cause of death was, but if I find anything
else on the body or in the officer’s chemistry that might give you a lead, I’ll let you know immediately. I’ll start the autopsy tonight.”

“Thanks. The chief will want fast answers, but this case is going to be a complicated one. I can feel it in my bones.”

Carolyn nodded, knowing Ella’s intuitions were generally right. “I’ll have preliminary findings on your desk by noon tomorrow, if not sooner.
Toxicology will take longer, but I don’t expect any surprises there.”

Lost in thought, Ella watched Carolyn drive away. Despite her hectic schedule, there was a serenity about Carolyn these days that hadn’t been there before she’d married Dr. Michael Lavery, a retired medical examiner, and an Anglo. Her friend, who’d been so ostracized because she was a Navajo woman who worked with the dead,
now had a companion, and the loneliness that had punctuated her life had finally eased.

“Officer Philip Cloud is coming over to secure the scene,” Justine said, interrupting her thoughts. “He’s the only one available right now, and he needs the overtime. Of course once word gets around that a tribal cop has been murdered, we’ll have no shortage of volunteers.”

Ella nodded somberly. “The killer
just made the entire department his mortal enemy.”

Ella had been sound asleep when the mattress jiggled suddenly, and she heard muffled giggles coming from the foot of the bed. Opening one eye, she saw a lump beneath the blankets moving upward toward the pillows.

Smiling, she allowed her daughter to get within arm’s distance, then quickly reached out and began tickling
her. Dawn squealed with laughter as the familiar game ensued.

After several moments and the usual untangling of covers, Dawn wriggled away. “
Shimasání
angry last night,” she said, looking very serious for a three-year-old.

“Grandmother got upset? What did you do?”

Dawn’s brown eyes were big and round, suiting her chubby face, and her coal black hair dropped down past her shoulders. “Lima beans
are yucky. I gave them to Two.”

Ella forced herself to remain stern. “You aren’t supposed to give the dog your dinner. You know better than that. Two has his own food, and you have yours.”

Dawn nodded slowly. “
Shimasání
got mad at you, too. You didn’t come home for dinner.”

“You both know I have to work late sometimes.”

Dawn nodded somberly, looking away and playing with a loose thread on
the quilt. Finally, she looked up at her mother. “But we
miss
you,
Shimá
.”

Something about the little round face that looked so innocent and vulnerable at the moment tugged at every motherly instinct she possessed. “Listen to me, Pumpkin. I love you and your grandmother more than I can ever put into words, but no matter what kind of work I chose, there would always be times when I wouldn’t be
here with you and
shimasání.
”

“If I had a daddy, it wouldn’t be like that,” she said, suddenly looking very grown-up.

Ella suspected that Dawn had just repeated verbatim what she’d overheard Grandmother Rose say. “You
do
have one,” Ella said quietly. “You know your
shizhé’é
visits you often.”

Dawn shook her head. “Alice’s
shimá
and her
shizhé’é
live with her.”

Alice, another Navajo girl, and
Dawn had become great friends at day school. “Everyone’s family is different, Pumpkin. But you always have someone here who loves you, and that means you have it better than a lot of kids your age.”

“But I want more better,” Dawn said with a pout, looking back down at the thread on the quilt, then giving it a tug.

Ella caressed Dawn’s face with her hand. Her child’s simple request tore at her.
She truly wished she could spend more time at home. These were special years—time she’d never be able to recapture.

Hearing Rose call her, Dawn scrambled off the bed and ran off toward the kitchen.

Dawn was growing up. Her steps were no longer halting and clumsy. She dressed herself, and ate without help, though she could still make a spectacular mess. But most telling of all, her daughter was
growing independent, and Ella could see glimmers of the unique woman Dawn would someday become.

Ella’s cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She answered it quickly.

“I’m back at the scene,” Justine said. “Unfortunately, we still haven’t figured out what the burglar might have been looking for, or if he found it.”

“Keep working. I’m going to the station first,” Ella said. “I need to talk
to Big Ed. He has probably spoken to the officer’s family by now, but I’d like to make sure of that before I give the press a statement beyond what the chief has already released. After I take care of that, I’m going to track down whoever’s been using the garage for storage.”

Saying good-bye, Ella tossed the covers aside and hurried to shower and get dressed. One thing she intended to do this
morning was file a formal report stating that faulty equipment had contributed to her delay in reaching the scene. Maybe this incident would finally force the Tribal Council to take another look at the situation.

After breakfast, Dawn ran outside in her coat and gloves to take Two for a walk. Rose sat down across from Ella at the kitchen table and glared at her. “Your daughter needs to see you
more than a few hours a day. The older she gets, the more she’ll need her
shimá
at home.”

Ella tried to hide her impatience. “Mom, you know that’s not an option. Crimes aren’t committed around my schedule.”

“You have a suitor now. If you paid him a little bit more attention, he would ask you to marry him. I know this.”

Ella sighed. Rose was referring to Harry Ute, the former member of the SI
team who had joined the U.S. Marshal’s Service. Assigned now to the Albuquerque office, Harry and she saw each other as often as possible, e-mailed daily, and spoke at least once or twice a week on the phone. But as much as they cared for each other, neither one of them was ready to take their relationship to the next step, the major commitment that would radically change their lives and careers.

“Mom, some things either work out by themselves or not—they can’t be forced.” Ella cared a lot for Harry and he for her, but Harry didn’t want to come back to the Rez and Ella couldn’t see leaving her job here. And even if she’d managed to get a position in Albuquerque as a police officer or federal agent, the time they could spend together as a family wouldn’t increase very much, and Dawn would
still have the same situation.

Ella saw the morning paper at her mother’s end of the table, and a headline caught her attention. It would be the perfect way to change the subject.

“Nuclear Casino, huh? That must be another article about NEED. You said a newspaper reporter asked you a bunch of questions about the project. Did they quote you?” Ella asked.

“Yes, but they took my comments out of
context. I said that I was still studying the Navajo Electrical Energy Development project, and just because it was being pushed by a bunch of Navajos didn’t automatically make it a good idea. I called it a ‘nuclear casino,’ and said it might present more dangers than benefits to the
Dineh
, the Navajo people. I also said that this was still the best idea the New Traditionalists have come up with
yet, and if someone could prove to me it was a good thing for us, I might change my mind. But the reporter jumped on the nuclear casino comparison, knowing how I’d worked so hard against gambling on the Rez. The article came out very distorted, like I’m opposed to everything new around here.” Rose handed Ella the newspaper.

Ella scanned the article. “They
are
talking about building a new kind
of power plant using the latest technology, and say it will be a lot safer and cheaper than the ones in Arizona and other places around the country. I’m still trying to get all the information I can before making up my mind.”

“I’ve been doing the same, trying to stay objective, though you know I have a bias when it comes to digging up Mother Earth and working with radiation,” Rose added.

“So
it’s all based on logic and common sense. You’re not just naturally a little bit stubborn, are you, Mom?” Ella said, then chuckled.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Rose shot back, then went to the sink and began to wash dishes. “Will you be home for lunch?”

“As usual, at this point I have no idea where I’ll be around lunchtime. I started investigating a new case last night.”

Rose nodded somberly.
“I heard the news on the Navajo radio station this morning.” She paused, then added, “Is it true that a police officer was murdered just east of Shiprock?”

“Yes.”

“The man’s name wasn’t released. Is it someone I know?”

“I don’t think so,” Ella answered softly, getting her gun from the top shelf in the kitchen. She always left it there while having breakfast, knowing that Dawn would never be
able to reach it.

As Ella said good-bye to Rose, she tried to block out the fear she always saw in her mother’s eyes whenever the danger a cop faced struck home. Her mom had probably been thinking about it since she got up, and talking about Harry and then the NEED article had been a good way of avoiding the subject at least for a while.

Going quickly outside, Ella hugged Dawn, and sent her
and Two back into the house. Mornings were usually bitterly cold, but today was worse than normal. The icy temperature seemed to cut right through her jacket. Though the sun was visible in the eastern sky, it was still below freezing. At least there was no early breeze.

As she watched the desert come alive and the long shadows begin to fade, Ella wondered what today would bring. Investigations
on the Rez often took unexpected turns, because the Navajo culture was so complex—or so simple—depending on whether one asked an anthropologist or her brother Clifford, a
hataalii
, or medicine man. But restoring order and upholding the law was her way of serving the
Dineh
and of walking in beauty. As a tribal police officer, she’d found her place within the tribe.

By the time Ella arrived at
her office, she was eager to get to work. The quest for answers would become nearly all-consuming to her until everything fell into place, whether it be a day, a week, or a month or more.

Ella picked up the written transcript of the dispatcher’s report. Officer Franklin’s last communication was sketchy. Ella leaned back in her chair, considering the facts and trying to visualize the events as
they unfolded. From what she could determine so far, Jason had seen an unidentified figure inside the building and had gone through the protocols of asking for backup. That was when his transmission had become garbled and finally cut out. Ella had heard Dispatch’s tape recording of the call last night, and it was barely discernible. It was a wonder the dispatcher had been able to get as much information
as she had.

Ella walked to the records room, signed the proper forms, then pulled the log of Officer Franklin’s patrols for the month prior to his death, wanting to know if he’d responded to other burglary calls recently. What she found out surprised her. Although there had only been two burglaries in his entire sector, it appeared that Officer Franklin had made it a point to stop at the garage
where he’d met his death at least twice a week, as if he’d expected trouble there. Unfortunately, his log entries didn’t explain why he’d chosen to do that.

Often officers had a favorite locale where they preferred to stop and write their reports, usually an open restaurant where they had lighting and a cup of coffee available. Of course the local businesses loved it when an officer used their
site as a regular stop, too. It offered an extra feeling of protection, at least for the duration of the visit, and it had a deterrent value even after the officer had gone. But the cold, dark parking lot of an out-of-business garage was a poor selection for all those same reasons.

Hearing someone at her office door, Ella glanced up. Big Ed Atcitty was there standing in, or rather occupying,
the entire doorway. The broad-shouldered, barrel-shaped police chief had a touch of gray around his temples, but he still looked as tough as the gnarled salt cedars that survived along the San Juan River.

“Hey, Shorty,” he greeted, using the nickname he’d given Ella years ago, although she was nearly a head taller than he was. “I’ve been trying to get hold of Jason Franklin’s next of kin. His
personnel file lists his father, Dr. Kee Franklin, as the relative to be notified in case of emergency, but I haven’t been able to connect with him. I sent an officer over earlier, but a neighbor says he thinks the man went on some overnight fishing trip. All I know so far is that he’s of the Waters Edge Clan, and is a retired professor. He’s a Ph.D., not a medical doctor. One of the office staff
said that he sometimes gives science demonstrations as a guest lecturer at the Shiprock Community College, but from his listed address he lives off the Rez on private land. I’m going to need you to drive to his house and see if he’s returned,” he said, dropping the address on her desk. “Find him ASAP.”

“The officer’s name hasn’t been released to the press yet, has it?”

“No, we’re holding it
pending notification of next of kin according to procedure, but you know how the press is. They keep digging and report it anyway.”

“I’ll go see Dr. Franklin,” Ella said. “Do you want me to work up the formal press release before I go?”

“No, I’ll handle it. Have you turned up any leads yet?”

Ella gave him a brief overview. “He obviously suspected something was going on at the garage. Now I
have to figure out what it was.”

“Stay on it until you find the answers. If you need to pull in help from the ranks, do it. I’m not restricting you to Neskahi either. We’ll tighten our patrol schedule even more if we have to.”

Considering the manpower shortage, that statement alone convinced her of Big Ed’s resolve to find the killer.

“Chief, there’s one more thing I wanted to mention. I think
this is the time to pressure the council again to get us some reliable equipment. A bad radio may have cost us an officer already.”

“Every officer at this station knows I’ve been trying to get additional funds, but every request I’ve made has been turned down or placed under perpetual review,” he said, expelling his breath in a hiss. “Make out a complete report, and I’ll try again. Now that we’ve
lost an officer, they may finally understand the seriousness of the situation.”