Blackening Song (9 page)

“You see? I do remember the things you taught me about the People.”

“I should have told you more. There’s so much
you need to know now. There’s danger all around us.”

Ella’s skin prickled at the change in her mother’s tone. She was certain that the dangers Rose spoke of transcended magic or legends and were somehow connected to Clifford. Yet asking her mother directly would be a waste of time. Rose Destea wouldn’t give out information until she was good and ready.

Ella set her mind to trying to find some
answers. Recalling Wilson Joe’s visit, she noted that despite Clifford’s absence, her mother hadn’t shown any undue interest or concern about his whereabouts. Wilson and Clifford had once been very close friends; there was no reason to think that had changed. Maybe Ella had missed a connection that had been staring her in the face all along.

They reached the church. The graveled parking lot was
one-third full with mostly pickups. Mother and daughter entered the small church.

Rose introduced her daughter to the Anglo missionaries who’d provided her father with a place to minister to the Navajos. Their leader, Reverend Williamson, always conducted the main service at eleven. Her father had generally led the earlier nine
A.M
. service, in Navajo.

Ella greeted the members of the congregation
who’d assembled for the memorial service. The group of Navajos was small, and treated both Ella and her mother with polite reserve, aware that neither of them would have been there if given a choice.

Reverend Williamson gave the eulogy. As she listened, Ella couldn’t quite believe he was speaking of the man she’d known. He’d been a loving father, but certainly not the saint being described.

Ella noticed that every time her father was mentioned by name, the Navajos became restless. Soon it was obvious to her that they were anxious for the ceremony to be finished. She didn’t blame them. Some beliefs were so deeply rooted, they’d become a part of the People. To mention the name of one recently deceased was said to summon his
chindi.
If called, a
chindi
might return to once-beloved places,
bringing only misery to the living.

Ella studied the mourners as the service continued. Grief was visible on a few faces, but even more pronounced were the furtive glances cast toward Ella and Rose. Clearly the jury was still out, and no one was sure whether Ella or her mother could be trusted. That caution made people guarded and their expressions, by and large, unreadable. She wouldn’t glean
much information here.

When the memorial service finally concluded, Ella heard a sigh of relief go around the room. As Ella stood, glancing toward the rear of the church, she spotted Wilson Joe, his back ramrod stiff, his gaze glued on her mother. Uneasiness spread through Ella. Wilson Joe wasn’t Christian.

The worshipers proceeded to a covered patio, where the women’s auxiliary served a simple
lunch of fried chicken, biscuits, and salad. Ella saw her mother talking privately to Wilson. As Ella approached, their topic of conversation abruptly shifted to the weather.

Her heart felt heavy—her own mother didn’t really trust her. Ella glanced at Wilson, wondering if she could count on his support, but one look convinced her otherwise. Wilson’s guarded expression told her that as far as
he was concerned, she was only a cut above an outsider. If she wanted his trust, she’d have to earn it.

“Did I interrupt something?” Ellas asked, barely masking her hurt.

“No,” Rose answered, “but I should go and acknowledge the others now. They were all your father’s friends.”

Wilson never took his eyes off Rose as she walked away, and it dawned on Ella that he was here to guard her mother.

“You two shouldn’t have walked here alone,” Wilson said, his eyes as cold as a February breeze.

“Do you have reason to believe my mother is in danger?”

“I don’t know that she isn’t. Do you?”

“I’m capable of protecting my mother from physical harm. Don’t underestimate me,” she responded sharply.

“Are you? You’re attuned to only one kind of danger,” he countered, his gaze never leaving Rose.

Ella stayed beside Wilson as he discreetly followed her mother around the patio. “Did my brother ask you to keep an eye on her?”

“For him to have asked me would mean I’ve been in contact with him,” he answered, careful not to confirm or deny. “Trickery,” he added, shaking his head. “Is that what you’ve learned from your police friends?”

“I’ve learned to win, old friend,” she said, her voice hard.

A sudden, angry shout from a parishioner caused her to reach for her pistol. Wilson did a double take at her response, but Ella scarcely noticed as she whirled toward the source of the noise.

In the parking lot, Blalock sat in his car, camera in hand. “Bureau business,” he said to Ella as she strode up. He continued to snap pictures as people stared at him in contempt.

A cloud of rage engulfed
her. She would have expected more discretion and common sense from one of her colleagues. He could have easily videotaped those leaving or arriving at the church from a hiding place across the road. The way he’d chosen to do this was deliberately insulting.

Ella removed her jacket and used it to block Blalock’s next shot. It took all her willpower not to knock the camera from his hands and stomp
it to pieces on the pavement. “Leave right now,” she ordered.

“No way.”

Blalock slipped his camera into the glove compartment, slid out the other side of the car, and approached Willy Ute, a Navajo man who’d been a friend of Ella’s father since their childhood. Ella saw an unmistakable and uncharacteristic flash of anger in Willy’s eyes as Blalock asked for his name.

Wilson Joe stepped forward
and placed a hand on Blalock’s shoulder.

Blalock spun around. In one fluid motion he grabbed Wilson’s arm, twisted it in a hammerlock, and slammed him into the car.

Ella dove between the men, forcing Blalock to either attack her or release Wilson. Blalock glowered at her as he stepped back.

Wilson moved toward Blalock, still angry, but Ella held up her hand to ward him off. “Check on my mother
instead,” she said calmly.

Concern flashed across Wilson’s features. Reluctantly he backed off and walked away, searching for Rose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Blalock demanded in a harsh whisper.

“What do you think
you’re
doing?” she countered, leading him away from the church. “If you want to ask questions, do it somewhere else. Use your brain for a change, and lose this macho act.
You’re disturbing the peace, and you can be arrested for that.”

Blalock stepped closer to her. “Taking photos is standard operating procedure, and I wasn’t trespassing. I parked just outside the property the church leases from the tribe. I know; I checked. Now stop being a fool. Someone took a shot at us yesterday. That person could very well be here right now.”

She moved away again, Blalock
following. She studied his expression carefully. “I understand what you’re doing. You’re trying to provoke them into unguarded answers. But that tactic won’t work with these people. They’ll clam up even more.”

“The real problem is that you want me to cut you some slack because your family’s involved. But you’re interfering with my case. Keep it up and you’ll be the one behind bars.”

Before she
could answer, Peterson Yazzie drove up in his squad car. “Agent Blalock, the chief would like to meet with you back in his office.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“No, sir. You have to leave immediately.” Yazzie signaled another tribal patrolman, who’d pulled up in a second squad car. “I believe it’s important. Follow Officer Todacheene. He’ll show you the quickest way.”

Blalock glared
at Ella. “You blew it for me today. I’ll make sure to point that out in my next report.”

As Blalock went back to his vehicle, Yazzie strode to his unit. Standing by the door, Yazzie flashed Ella a quick half smile. Ella realized then that he’d been keeping watch over the church. She gave him a barely perceptible nod, grateful that she had at least one friend here.

After Blalock drove away, Wilson
joined her. “Your mother was upset, but she’s okay now. You were right to be concerned about her, but not about me. I could have handled myself with FB-Eyes. You shouldn’t have come between us. I fight my own battles.”

She held his gaze. “This is one you would have lost. He wanted to provoke a confrontation, and you walked right into it. Don’t underestimate him. He intends to find answers even
if he has to put a dozen people in jail—or the hospital.”

Wilson shook his head wordlessly and walked back to the church. Ella noticed that Peterson was speaking to Rose. Finishing, he approached Ella.

“The body hasn’t been released,” he said in a barely audible voice, “but I wanted you both to know I’m doing my best. I know your family needs to have him buried.”

His veiled reference to the
chindi
made her realize that Peterson was a traditionalist. “Thank you, I appreciate that. This memorial service will help Dad’s converts, but my mother’s ways deserve to be honored too.”

He nodded. “I’ll also do whatever I can to help you with your own investigation, but it’ll have to stay unofficial. Don’t approach me at the station or where others might notice. That’ll just make things difficult.”

“Understood. And thank you,” she said, trying to convey with her gaze what words couldn’t adequately express.

“One more word of advice; you can take it or leave it. Wilson’s pretty free with his fists. Don’t let him bring unwanted attention down on you, and try to remember that your father had friends as well as enemies.”

The words echoed in her mind as he walked away. Her father’s enemies were
her own, but her father’s friends were not necessarily hers as well. That could create problems.

“It’s time for us to go home,” Rose said, joining Ella.

“Would you like to try to catch a ride?”

“No. I prefer to walk. It’s not so far. Does it seem so to you?”

“I can make it,” Ella said, smiling, “but it is hot.”

“That’s the desert. Nothing can be done,” Rose answered with a shrug. “Shall we
go?”

As they started away, Ella glanced back. Wilson Joe was twenty yards or so behind the women, but there was no doubt in Ella’s mind that he was following them.

“I know he’s there,” Rose said without turning.

“Why is he doing this?”

“Out of friendship for your brother, and respect for your father. Your father trusted Wilson like he did you and his own son.”

*   *   *

Wilson Joe was still
angry, and he couldn’t decide what bothered him the most. The Anglo giant some of the Dineh called FB-Eyes had been a real asshole and needed someone to punch his lights out. He’d hoped to do it himself, but had been denied the opportunity.

Ella was almost as hard to take. Navajo women, in his opinion, tended to be rough and independent, but Ella went way overboard. She was assertive and annoying,
and probably could have knocked him on his butt. He hated that in a woman.

What bothered him the most was that he’d made an idiot of himself in front of her. He’d promised to protect Mrs. Destea. But as Ella had indicated, he’d screwed that up, left her alone and unprotected when he let FB-Eyes get to him.

Ella’s control—of the situation and of him—had challenged him on a very basic level. A
surge of heat coursed through his body. After all these years, Ella could still fill him with an almost overwhelming desire to conquer—or was it to possess?

That undercurrent of attraction between them had existed as far back as he could remember. Yet he’d never pushed it, finding it difficult to forget she was his best friend’s little sister.

Now they were man and woman, but the passage of
time, and the choices they’d made in their lives, stood between them, a more insurmountable barrier than youth had ever been.

*   *   *

Ella and her mother walked in silence for several miles, Ella brooding the entire time. Even her mother didn’t trust her. How could she expect to get any of the answers she needed when her own family refused to confide in her? If the People remained guarded,
she wouldn’t get any farther than Blalock on the case. It was time to start tearing down barriers. She needed to get on the inside track and stay there. But how?

Ella weighed her options. At long last, she decided to start by clearing the air. “I’m not the enemy. Why do you keep secrets from me?”

Rose glanced at her. “No one thinks of you as the enemy. But until you’re sure of where your loyalty
lies, the friendship you offer has limitations. That’s why people are so guarded around you.”

“And you feel this way too?”

“Yes, more so than most. I want to protect you; you’re my daughter. I wouldn’t have you torn between what you feel you
must
do and what you
want
to do.”

“Then you know where Clifford is?”

“No, I do not.”

“But if you had to, you could get a message to him.”

“Perhaps.”

Ella glanced back, checking on Wilson. He was at the bottom of the small canyon they’d just crossed. She hated to admit it, but even though he was a wild card, his presence was oddly reassuring. He made her feel as if she had a wall behind her, guarding her back. She knew it was nothing personal; his loyalty was to Clifford, not necessarily to her, but the feeling persisted.

As the miles passed,
Ella became increasingly vigilant, her gaze darting around as she remained protectively close to her mother. She’d faced danger many times before, but the stakes had never been this high.

So far the faceless one who’d torn apart her family had the odds in his favor. She had to find a way to turn that around before someone else was hurt or killed.

SIX

Ella sat at her father’s desk, sorting his papers and searching for clues. She’d felt she’d done nothing useful in the two days since the memorial service. Peterson had called yesterday to tell her Blalock had ordered a fingerprint check on the concha found at the crime scene in hopes of further implicating Clifford, but the lab hadn’t been able to lift any prints. Time was slipping through
their fingers and no one was making progress.