Shooting Chant (3 page)

“My mother said that the Plant People move away when things aren’t right because, like us, they like to live among friends,” Marcie said. “That’s why we used to have a lot of Indian rice grass and goosefoot which people and livestock
could eat, but now all we have are snakeweed and tumbleweed.”

Ella considered her answer carefully. The last thing she needed to do was start trouble for Wilson. “I’m not sure why things have changed, but that’s why we need our Plant Watchers more than ever. They know where to find the plants we need,” Ella said, starting the short lecture she’d prepared on plants and the group of herbalists
known as the Plant Watchers.

After completing her talk and answering all of the kids’ questions, Ella turned the meeting over to Wilson. He was a natural with the kids and they looked up to him.

Time passed quickly. It was a pleasure to work with younger children. Their outlooks were filled with a freshness and vitality she seldom saw in her line of work, where cynicism often ruled.

As the
last traces of the sun began to disappear, the meeting was closed. She stood at the door with Wilson and watched the kids as their rides came to pick them up or they left to walk home. Once everyone was gone, Ella helped Wilson put away the folding chairs. She worked in silence, worries crowding her mind.

“It’s not like you to be so quiet,” Wilson said at last.

“I just wish there was a way to
integrate the old ways with the new. They each have value. Unless we can do that, I’m afraid that the kids will grow up being neither Navajo nor Anglo, and having no idea where they fit into things.”

Wilson nodded. “Our culture is slipping away and, with it, our special way of life. I was at a Chapter House meeting a few days ago. One of the elders reminded us that we seldom place pollen in the
waters these days, yet we complain when the river becomes polluted and hurts the tribe instead of helping us. He said it’ll be that way with everything unless we learn to work with our gods again.”

“We’re trapped, you know. The new ways seem to destroy the old in so many ways, and yet we need both.”

“What happened tonight that made you late? You looked really preoccupied when you came in.”

“We had a problem at LabKote,” she said without giving him any details. “I have a feeling that we’re in for another cycle of trouble.”

“The traditionalists hate that place and everything it stands for.”

“There was a death there tonight. After that gets out, it’ll be worse.”

Wilson expelled his breath in a hiss. “Let’s not think about business right now. What do you say we go out and have some
dinner at the Totah Cafe?”

“I have a better idea. Come by the house with me. Mom would love a chance to cook for both of us.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I hurt her, you know. Rose doesn’t say much about it, but I know she always wanted us to get married. When I got engaged…”

“She was disappointed,” Ella finished for him. “But we all have a right to live our own lives. Mom has to accept
the fact that settling down and getting married is not for everyone.”

“Don’t you want a husband and kids someday?”

She smiled. “It’s not that simple.”

“There was a time when I thought you and I would share a future and start a family.”

She sighed softly. “The problem between us has never changed. We’re two great friends, but it’s never been more than that.”

He nodded but didn’t answer, gathering
another folding chair. The metal rack for storing chairs was against the wall and he walked in that direction.

Ella was bringing him the last two chairs when she heard her call sign come over the radio. As Wilson took the chairs away from her, she nodded a silent thanks.

Ella pulled out her handheld radio and identified herself.

“There’s a 27–5 in progress,” the dispatcher said, “and we have
no other available patrol units in Shiprock. A van’s parked outside the public health clinic, which is supposed to be closed now, and the caller reported seeing a prowler forcing open the front entrance.”

“I’ve got it,” Ella said. Switching off the radio, she looked over at Wilson. “Duty calls.”

“You should have picked a job that’s more eight to five. You’d have a life then,” he muttered as
he walked with her outside to her vehicle.

“Maybe, but being a cop is a big part of everything I like about myself,” she said, climbing into the SUV. “I can’t see myself ever giving it up.”

As Wilson stepped away, Ella switched on the flashers and sped back to the highway. She’d go Code One, a silent approach. There wasn’t likely to be any immediate backup for her, so she’d have to make the
most of the element of surprise. In the last few hours everything had changed for her, and she had no intention of taking any unnecessary risks.

TWO

Pushing back any thoughts that were not directly related to the work that lay ahead, Ella stayed focused as she raced back south on Highway 666.

When she pulled into the clinic’s parking lot less than eight minutes later, lights and flashers already off, she was ready to confront the intruder. She knew what she had to do, and no one in the entire department was better trained than she was.

Ella parked around the back so no one in the building could see her vehicle. She’d already spotted an old gray or light green van parked just outside the ring of light cast by the one street lamp. She slipped off the strap that held her gun secure in its holster, but didn’t draw her weapon. Instead, she reached under the seat for her side-handled nightstick, then crept quietly out of her Jeep.

There didn’t appear to be a lookout in the van, so her luck was holding. The dispatcher’s call had reported that the witness had seen only one intruder, so she didn’t expect much trouble. Remaining cautious, however, Ella approached the building’s entrance from along one of the side walls, peered around the corner, and checked out the front. It was quiet, but she could see that the door had been
forced open.

Ella stepped inside the clinic and waited. It was dark and hard to see, but using the flashlight would give away her position. Once her eyes adjusted, she continued slowly, listening every step of the way.

As she passed the reception area, she could hear the rustling of papers and the occasional thumps when objects were dropped onto the floor somewhere up ahead. Maybe it was a kid
searching for drugs, or a cash box. The gang problem on the Rez had escalated in the last few years and, with it had come a lot of problems no one here had really dealt with before.

Holding her nightstick in a blocking position, she inched forward. She wouldn’t draw her weapon and risk shooting a Navajo kid. She knew enough defense moves to neutralize any opponent with the nightstick and, in
dealing with a burglar, she was more likely to encounter an opponent with a wrecking bar, bolt cutters, or a screwdriver than a handgun.

Ella advanced cautiously toward the sound. As she reached the entrance of the first office, she heard the crash of a large piece of furniture, probably a file cabinet, being overturned.

Ella edged up to the doorjamb. From her vantage point she could see the
pale blue glow of a computer screen. It appeared the intruder had been searching through electronic records in addition to everything else. Her instinct for danger switched on to maximum. That didn’t fit the profile of a kid looking for drugs. Something else was going on here.

Spotting a short, stocky figure holding a penlight in his teeth and rummaging through a shelf, Ella crept up behind him,
alert every step of the way in case the burglar wasn’t alone. Before he could turn around, she slammed her baton behind his knees. As he fell to the floor, she delivered another quick blow to his side. Five seconds later, she had him on his stomach and handcuffed.

“Gotcha kid,” she muttered, surprised to see he was wearing gloves. Somehow, she hadn’t expected a teenager to plan that far ahead.

He tried to twist away and his strength surprised her, but teenagers could be incredibly fit. “Let’s go, buddy. Stand up. I’ll read you your rights on the way to the station.”

She’d expected some wise talk, but the kid remained silent. She looked around, still sensing something wasn’t right about the situation.

Neither seeing nor hearing anyone else, Ella led her prisoner quickly to the office
door, wanting to turn on the lights and get a good look at both the kid and the office. It was too dark to make out much at the moment. She couldn’t even tell for sure what color hair the kid had, though around here, black seemed a good bet. Suddenly she heard a crackling sound behind her, like that of someone stepping on a piece of paper.

Ella pushed her prisoner to the floor and whirled around
to face her adversary.

“Come out now,” Ella ordered, waving her baton back and forth. “Don’t make it worse on yourself.”

Suddenly muzzle flashes lit up the darkened hallway to her right, accompanied by the deafening bangs of two gunshots. Realizing that there were three of them, Ella dove behind a desk as glass shattered behind her.

This was no ordinary break-in, and these weren’t ordinary
kids. Before she could draw her weapon, one of the trio came up behind her, yanked her off her feet, and hurled her into a coat closet. As her head slammed against the wall, bright lights flashed behind her eyes.

Stunned, she struggled to stand up, but she smashed her head against the metal coat rack then fell back to her knees. Everything went completely black as the door was closed, trapping
her inside.

Fighting a blinding headache, she hit the door with her shoulder and heard something snap in the wood. The door moved an inch or two, but remained closed. They’d propped something against it.

It took three more numbing tries, but using a heavy square cardboard box as a battering ram, she managed to force the door open enough to squeeze through.

Pistol in hand, Ella scrambled over
the desk they’d jammed against the doorknob and ran out of the clinic. By the time she reached the parking lot, the van was nothing more than two tail lights a quarter mile away. Ella called in a report, advising officers to proceed with caution against the armed men.

Determined to find some clues that would lead her to the perps, Ella went back inside. As she rubbed her aching shoulder and felt
the pain stab through her, she decided to find an aspirin first.

*   *   *

Ella turned on the room lights and looked around carefully. Chaos surrounded her. The trio had completely ransacked the place. Wearing disposable gloves, she searched for the penlight the perp had dropped when she’d grabbed him. She found it beneath a desk a moment later and placed it in an evidence bag she pulled from
her jacket pocket. Saliva from where he’d held it in his mouth might eventually identify him, if it got to that point.

Ella was going through the scattered files and papers looking for a pattern in their search when she heard a vehicle pull up. The red and blue flashing lights that told her it was a police cruiser danced rhythmically across the wall.

A moment later, Officer Justine Goodluck
walked into the room. At five foot two, clad in jeans and a black windbreaker, her young assistant and cousin looked more like someone’s kid sister coming back from a movie than a fully trained officer of the law. It wasn’t until one noticed the nine millimeter pistol on her hip and the hawklike sharpness in her eyes that she was taken seriously.

“Are you okay?” Justine asked, looking around.
“Your hair and clothes look like you’ve just come out of a whirlwind.”

“Thanks, I know. And, yeah, I’m fine, but my ego’s a little bruised,” she admitted. “I got too cocky and almost paid the ultimate price. I came in expecting to find one scared teen and walked into a buzz saw.”

“I know. I heard your call.” Justine put on a pair of rubber gloves, then began to study the evidence.

“I’ve bagged
a penlight he was holding with his teeth. Maybe he drooled enough to pick up a blood type or more, though I doubt we can justify the expense of testing to follow up on a break-in.”

“We may be able to lift some prints.”

“Don’t count on it. The guy I handcuffed was wearing brown leather gloves. Of course, he’s also still wearing my cuffs, which should make his life interesting.”

“And it’ll make
him easier for our guys to spot,” Justine said with a grin.

“His companions will find a way to get the cuffs off, believe me. They were cool customers, and probably had gloves on, too. I wish I’d listened to my instincts, because if I had, I might not have been ambushed like that. I also should have checked out the van before I ever went inside.”

Ella had always had a good track record playing
her hunches. Police business was a part of her and she’d developed an intuitiveness about her work that seldom failed her. It was all a matter of training and reading people, though some firmly believed it was part of her family’s legacy, a story rooted in legend. But superstitions were no part of her job.

“I knew something was wrong when the guy didn’t say anything, even after I cuffed him.
A kid caught breaking in would have had some smart-mouthed comment to make.”

“Did you get a chance to return fire?” Justine asked, studying the holes in the glass where the bullets had passed through.

“I didn’t draw my weapon,” Ella admitted. “I came in expecting to use my nightstick against a youngster. I’m pretty good with it, so I wasn’t worried.” She shook her head, disgusted. “I won’t make
that mistake again.”

Justine gave her a quizzical look. “You’ve been hesitant to use your weapon lately, Ella, even when the situation calls for it. What gives?”

“I’m capable of using lethal force, Justine, and I will if I have to, but I really don’t want that to become an automatic response. If we’re ever going to stop the cycle of violence around here, we’ve got to lead the way by example.
That’s why I’ve been practicing with my baton, working on hand-to-hand, and learning martial arts moves.”

Justine smiled slowly. “I heard about that little argument you had with Sergeant Manuelito on the effectiveness of the nightstick. Rumor says you flattened him in zero flat at the gym.”