hit Rose hard. After convincing herself that her granddaughter wouldchoose to follow tradition, she’d secretly preordered a ceremonial rug dress for Dawn, an essential ritual garment. When Ella had found out, she’d wanted to tell Dawn, but Rose had asked her not to do that. Ella knew that Rose was still hoping Dawn would change her mind on her own and have the ceremony.
As Ella continued to speculate about what was troubling Rose, a gunshot reverberated in theair. It was much louder than she’d expected. The Hogback had actually amplified the sound.
She now had her answer. The sound had been thunderous and unmistakable, and since no one had reported it, a silencer must have been used. The presence of the bullets adjacent to the wound sites contradicted the possibility that they could have been shot elsewhere.
Justine arrived a few minutes later, bringinga spare vest from the crime scene van. It was too big, but Ella put it on anyway and got into the SUV. They headed toward the house she’d noticed while waiting for the gunshot test. The access road ran east and west, not along the cliff, so it took a while to get there. Eventually, they found the right lane between two blue-green, knee-high alfalfa fields that looked ready to cut.
“Keep youreyes and ears open,” Ella said. “Although this area has been searched already, we still don’t have any idea where the shooter went.”
On the way there, Ella called dispatch to see if they could ID the resident. The reply came in a matter of seconds. “Mr. Willard Pete lives there. He calls the station at least once a month to report skinwalkers.”
Ella racked the mike then looked at Justine. “Thepatrolmen who responded probably concluded that he was a crackpot. But from what we’ve discovered today, I’m wondering if there might have been more to what he saw.”
As they drove closer to the house, they noticed the hogan in the back. The path leading to it was cleared of weeds and grass. “It looks like Mr. Pete’s a Traditionalist,” Justine said.
“So we’d better wait in the car until we’reinvited in,” Ella answered.
It took a full twenty minutes, and it was dark outside before an elderly man turned on his porch light and stepped out. He looked at the car, noting the antennae and lights, then waved for them to approach.
As they reached the door, Mr. Pete glanced at Justine and Ella’s medicine pouches, then looked back at Ella. “I’ve seen your photo in the paper. You’re the hataalii’s sister.”
“And this is our second cousin,” Ella said, nodding toward Justine. “We need your help, Uncle,” she added, using the term out of respect.
“Is this about the…” He peered into the shadows, searching for trouble. “Skinwalkers?” he finally whispered, knowing that to say the name too loud might summon the evil ones. “I’ve been watching the activity over there all day,” he motioned with hishand toward the crime scene. “And a while ago deputies were driving up and down the roads, looking for somebody. One Navajo officer, a sergeant built like a bear, came up and asked me if I’d seen any strangers. Only cop cars, I said. Then I told him about the skinwalkers, and he left right after that. Then a little while ago I heard a gunshot.”
“We’re investigating several serious crimes, andI’d like to talk to you about the things you’ve seen and heard,” Ella said.
He led them to the hogan, not the house, brushed aside the heavy blanket that covered the east-facing entrance, and reached for a battery-powered lantern. Once it was on, they could see the wood-and-coal stove in the center of the hexagonal room. The pipe extended through the log ceiling, but was well insulated to avoida fire hazard. Although it was still warm outside, the interior was cool. Sheepskin rugs were scattered on the floor, and he gestured an invitation for them to sit.
As was customary, Ella stepped to the right and took the seat on the north side,
As Ella continued to speculate about what was troubling Rose, a gunshot reverberated in theair. It was much louder than she’d expected. The Hogback had actually amplified the sound.
She now had her answer. The sound had been thunderous and unmistakable, and since no one had reported it, a silencer must have been used. The presence of the bullets adjacent to the wound sites contradicted the possibility that they could have been shot elsewhere.
Justine arrived a few minutes later, bringinga spare vest from the crime scene van. It was too big, but Ella put it on anyway and got into the SUV. They headed toward the house she’d noticed while waiting for the gunshot test. The access road ran east and west, not along the cliff, so it took a while to get there. Eventually, they found the right lane between two blue-green, knee-high alfalfa fields that looked ready to cut.
“Keep youreyes and ears open,” Ella said. “Although this area has been searched already, we still don’t have any idea where the shooter went.”
On the way there, Ella called dispatch to see if they could ID the resident. The reply came in a matter of seconds. “Mr. Willard Pete lives there. He calls the station at least once a month to report skinwalkers.”
Ella racked the mike then looked at Justine. “Thepatrolmen who responded probably concluded that he was a crackpot. But from what we’ve discovered today, I’m wondering if there might have been more to what he saw.”
As they drove closer to the house, they noticed the hogan in the back. The path leading to it was cleared of weeds and grass. “It looks like Mr. Pete’s a Traditionalist,” Justine said.
“So we’d better wait in the car until we’reinvited in,” Ella answered.
It took a full twenty minutes, and it was dark outside before an elderly man turned on his porch light and stepped out. He looked at the car, noting the antennae and lights, then waved for them to approach.
As they reached the door, Mr. Pete glanced at Justine and Ella’s medicine pouches, then looked back at Ella. “I’ve seen your photo in the paper. You’re the hataalii’s sister.”
“And this is our second cousin,” Ella said, nodding toward Justine. “We need your help, Uncle,” she added, using the term out of respect.
“Is this about the…” He peered into the shadows, searching for trouble. “Skinwalkers?” he finally whispered, knowing that to say the name too loud might summon the evil ones. “I’ve been watching the activity over there all day,” he motioned with hishand toward the crime scene. “And a while ago deputies were driving up and down the roads, looking for somebody. One Navajo officer, a sergeant built like a bear, came up and asked me if I’d seen any strangers. Only cop cars, I said. Then I told him about the skinwalkers, and he left right after that. Then a little while ago I heard a gunshot.”
“We’re investigating several serious crimes, andI’d like to talk to you about the things you’ve seen and heard,” Ella said.
He led them to the hogan, not the house, brushed aside the heavy blanket that covered the east-facing entrance, and reached for a battery-powered lantern. Once it was on, they could see the wood-and-coal stove in the center of the hexagonal room. The pipe extended through the log ceiling, but was well insulated to avoida fire hazard. Although it was still warm outside, the interior was cool. Sheepskin rugs were scattered on the floor, and he gestured an invitation for them to sit.
As was customary, Ella stepped to the right and took the seat on the north side,
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