White Thunder Page 5

  FOUR

  Working quickly, Ella helped Justine and Tache collect the evidence around the missing agent’s sedan. Search dogs had been called, but they and their handlers were still en route, and the air now felt thick with moisture. Rain wasn’t far.

  “There are more footprints leading to the west where the mine shafts begin. Do you think Agent Thomas fell into a hole trying to escape?” Justine asked. “That might block out any signals he’s sending, or cause interference, at least.”

  Tache made a low, guttural sound. “If he’s underground, he’s screwed. I heard there are more than a hundred uranium and coal mines along these mountains and, these days, their exact locations are anyone’s guess. That knowledge, along with the maps, was lost when the mining companies went out of business.”

  “Don’t be so quick to give up on Agent Thomas. You both know I fell into one of those and I’m still here,” Ella said.

  “Yeah, but that was different. We all had a pretty good idea where you were. It was just a matter of getting you back out,” Tache said.

  Ella exhaled softly. Ralph made it sound so simple, but to her, it had been like an extended visit to the eighth circle of hell. Every second she’d fought to claw her way out of the mine shaft had felt like an eternity.

  Those memories were now as much a part of her as the beat of her own heart. She could still recall the terror she’d felt. Knowing that if Agent Thomas was trapped in a mine shaft he’d be going through the same ordeal renewed her energy. She knew what it was like to cling to hope when the odds were stacked against you and how fear became like an undertow that dragged you down into a fathomless well of despair.

  Feeling a sudden gust of wind, Ella focused on her surroundings once more. Without warning, the dark gray clouds that had covered the sky opened up and a thunderous rain began pounding the ground. “Call off the search dogs,” Ella told Justine as she zipped up her jacket, then glanced at Tache. “Take one last, fast look around. If there’s any evidence left at all, we have to find it now.”

  They searched again quickly but within a few minutes it became obvious that to continue would be fruitless. “Saddle up. We’re not going to be able to find anything else for a while. Go back to the station with what we have,” Ella called out over the noise of the downpour, then joined them as they ran through the mud to their vehicles.

  Back in her unit, watching as Tache, then Justine, used their four-wheel drives to work their vehicles out of the water-soaked ground, Ella called Big Ed on the phone and gave him an update. Her boss was disappointed when he learned of the rain, but could see the storm from the station all the way back in Shiprock.

  “Shorty, I had to leave a message for Simmons, but I got the Bureau to try again with their GPS system. They couldn’t get a peep from Thomas’s phone. If that call from Agent Thomas was the real thing—and we have no reason to doubt that at this point—then that Anglo boy is in a world of trouble.”

  “I can find him,” Ella said firmly. “But I’m going to need search teams out here scouring the ground and peeking down mine shafts while I follow up on other leads. The rain looks like it’ll be ending before long, but make sure they’re equipped with four-wheel drive.”

  “Right. I’ll get some people into the area even if I have to import them from the county,” Big Ed said. “I still haven’t gotten through to Simmons. My phone’s been ringing off the hook here. Try to call the man yourself and give him a rundown,” he said. “You have the number?”

  Ella swallowed the bad taste in her mouth. “Yes, sir. I’ll get on it now.”

  Not wanting the call to hang over her, Ella decided to get it over with. She’d hoped to be able to leave voice mail, then hang up and drive back to the highway with both hands on the steering wheel, but it wasn’t to be. Unlike Big Ed, she got Simmons on the first ring.

  Ella put the vehicle in gear and drove slowly, inching her way along the slippery path, phone in her left hand. Steering with her right, she filled him in on the discovery of Thomas’s car and the phone call, and the attempt to find his cell phone using the GPS signal.

  “My guess is that it was probably a crank who found, or stole, Thomas’s phone and is now playing games with the police,” Simmons said. “But, on second thought, nix that. It’s too much of a coincidence—a guy making a call like that without knowing Thomas is missing.” He paused, then added, “Thing is, if it isn’t Thomas, then the caller may be one of those who saw him last night, so you’ve got to follow it through.”

  “Can you get me what’s needed to make a trace if we get another call?” Ella asked. “And keep someone monitoring in case Thomas’s GPS starts working?”

  “I’ll make sure we have someone listening in for his GPS signature, but I’m not sure if I can get a tech for you to trace a call from a civilian’s cell phone, or Thomas’s if his GPS sender is down. Operations like that require a full-time tech and state-of-the-art equipment. Very expensive.” Simmons said.

  “How much is Andy Thomas worth?” Ella had already had enough of Simmons to last a lifetime.

  “Yeah. Well, okay. I’ll make a call. We may be able to get what we need through the Albuquerque office. They have access to some hardware, with all the research labs around New Mexico.”

  “The sooner the better, Agent Simmons.” Ella considered telling him about her plans to talk to her brother and follow up on the Sing, but decided against it. She’d call him when she had answers, not possibilities. “I better get back to it, then,” she said, intending to hang up. But he spoke again.

  “Right now I’m waiting to take off to Denver, and from there I’m on to D.C., but I’m available to you twenty-four/seven. Make sure you keep me updated, particularly if you get another one of those phone calls allegedly from Thomas. Just remember, don’t assume anything. Something like that bears closer scrutiny.”

  Ella put her cell phone down and concentrated on manhandling the SUV through a small arroyo which had water flowing in the bottom. But Simmons’s last phrase stuck in her mind. Most people would have said something simple like “is worth following up” or maybe just a simple, “keep digging.” But “bears closer scrutiny”? Who the heck sounded like a Sherlock Holmes dictionary when they talked?

  The phrase continued to bug her and, within seconds, she suddenly remembered why. Back in her Bureau days, like many green FBI agents, she’d worked hard to try to get assigned to the Los Angeles Bureau where the action was. Careers had been made at posts like that, or in Washington D.C., or New York City. But she’d faced tough competition for the one available opening that happened to pop up just at the right time.

  Gregory Simmons, already a seasoned agent, had been one of those also angling for the job. They’d both interviewed with the special agent in charge informally at first and, as she’d waited for her turn to speak, Simmons had told the SAC that a post in the L.A. Bureau should belong only to the best, and any candidate who “wasn’t worthy of close scrutiny” wasn’t worth having. He’d then listed his years of experience and impressive qualifications, capping that off by saying that he’d taken no shortcuts. He’d met the highest standards at the Bureau through his own merits and hard work alone, not via the back door.

  Everyone in the room had known he was referring to the minority recruitment program. At that moment, more than anything, she’d wanted to grace him with an elbow smash to the hinge of his jaw.

  She’d gone through the official interview that had followed, wondering if the SAC was part of the “old school”—in which case he probably disapproved of women agents and she was out of the running—or if she really had a shot at the spot To her own surprise she was offered the assignment and, after that, she never saw Simmons again. Although she’d forgotten all about him, she was dead certain he hadn’t forgotten her.

  Thirty minutes later, Ella arrived at her brother’s place, which was farther north and a few miles from her mother’s home. Clifford’s medicine hogan was about one hundred feet from his house, and she
could tell that he and Loretta were both at home. His pickup and her old beat-up white sedan were parked on either side of the front entrance to their home. Since the Sing the agent had interrupted hadn’t been done here, she was fairly certain that her brother hadn’t been the hataalii who’d conducted it. But he might know who had.

  Ella pulled off the dirt track and parked, then got out of her unit and looked around. There was a small cloud of dust rising from the direction she’d just come. It was either another vehicle or, more likely, a dust devil crossing the road. If they got lucky they’d have rain tonight in this area too, and that would settle some of that dust. She could see another promising thunder-boomer still building over the dry deserts to the southeast.

  The rocky ground here, well above the river valley to the north and east, wasn’t much good for farming. There was dirt and sand, but no real soil. Only stunted grass, sage and rabbitbrush, and a few scrawny junipers grew here, but she loved the area. This was the land that the tribe had originally given their family. On the reservation no one except the tribe owned land, but allottees could hold on to what they’d been given for as long as they remained on the Rez and in possession of the land.

  Leaning against the door of her unit, Ella waited for her brother to extend an invitation for her to approach. It was a courtesy many Navajos, mostly traditionalists, still granted their neighbors.

  Minutes passed and Loretta, Clifford’s wife, came out to the front porch. Loretta was a beautiful Navajo woman with long, black hair and almost Asian features. Nearly ten years younger than her husband, she was nevertheless a staunch traditionalist and usually dressed in long skirts and simple blouses, like the ones she was wearing today.

  Loretta waved at Ella and called out. “My husband’s not in the medicine hogan, sister-in-law. He went to gather herbs in the moist spots along the cliffside. There’s a place where water stands long after the summer rains. It’s one of his favorite sites.”

  “I know where that is,” Ella called back, and with a wave, walked across the road in the general direction of the hogan, knowing it would be easier to hike up the path that ended there than drive—and it would take less time, which was even more important at the moment.

  Despite Clifford’s skill as an outdoorsman, he left tracks just like anyone else unless he was deliberately trying to hide his passage. Today, his path of travel was distinctive and she knew it would be no problem catching up to him.

  The long, low mesa where she was headed could be seen for miles. Nearly vertical in places, the flat-looking summit held piñon and juniper trees in greater abundance than down below. At the base of the cliffs were boulders that had broken away from the mesa, depositing a jumble of large and small sandstone rocks—what geology teachers called a talus slope.

  In some places water rushing past at the base of the cliffs, following much-appreciated rainstorms, had worn small hollows and exposed bedrock, or deposited sediments into cool, shady spots. The drainage of water off the mesa in places had created temporary waterfalls and resulted in intermittent pools where children could cool their toes on the hottest summer days. Around these spots the soil retained more moisture, making them fertile spots for vegetation.

  As she made her way along the base of the mesa, which extended for miles in a general north-south direction, Ella began to experience a vague uneasiness that soon penetrated to the forefront of her thoughts. At first, it was nothing more than the uncertain but creepy feeling that someone was watching her. Then the badger fetish at her neck began to feel hot—a sure sign that she was in danger. She’d never been able to figure out why the fetish her brother had given her always grew warm when she was in trouble, but that warning had never failed her, so she’d learned not to discount it.

  Ella stopped behind cover and studied the area around her. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t sure what that was, exactly, but her instincts were telling her to stay sharp. She started to move forward, then froze to the spot. Intuition told her to wait, and that instinctive knowledge could be trusted. It came from that part of her that never lowered its guard, that always weighed actions against words, never quite trusting anyone or anything. Cop radar.

  Ella waited, listening. She couldn’t hear or see anything out of place but she knew in her gut something or someone was out there. Not wanting to lead danger right to her brother, Ella circled around, staying behind cover. If it were an animal, like a mountain lion that had wandered down from the mountains in search of prey, she’d soon spot it, providing she remained watchful long enough. Patience was the key.

  Like a skilled hunter, her passage through the underbrush was as silent as snowfall. Ella doubled back, then pivoted randomly, attuned to everything from the scent of sage in the air to the birds, lizards, and occasional cottontail that scurried out of her way. After exhausting everything in her bag of tricks and finding nothing, she headed back along the mesa trail that would take her to where Clifford was. If nothing else, she was certain she’d lost whoever or whatever had been following her.

  Although her approach had been silent, her brother looked up as soon as she got within twenty-five yards, a worried frown on his face. His gaze took in the area around them in a split second.

  “Behind you!” he shouted abruptly.

  Ella dove to the ground just as a thunderous blast came from the bushes somewhere to her right. She rolled to the side, intending on reaching for her gun, but unfortunately her move dropped her down into a narrow arroyo she didn’t remember was there until it was too late. Sputtering and blowing the sand out of her teeth after landing facedown, Ella rolled onto her back and found her pistol by feel.

  Clifford jumped down into the arroyo beside her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Give me a hand up. I’m going after him,” she said.

  Clifford pulled her up in one fluid motion, turned, and pointed. “Guy with a shotgun, I think. He ducked back into the brush, then I heard him running east.” As he spoke they both heard a powerful engine start up and a vehicle roaring away.

  “A diesel, judging from the rattle. I had a feeling I was being tailed, but even though I looked, I never did spot him.”

  “I felt him—and you. That’s why I looked up and saw him when I did.”

  “What did you see, in addition to the shotgun?” she asked quickly.

  “All I got was a glimpse. He was dressed like a lot of Navajos—a straw western-style hat, blue jeans, and a greenish gray shirt. The shotgun was a pump.”

  “I don’t know how he managed to stay hidden. I circled around and double-backed, looking and listening. But I never saw him.”

  “Then that tells us something else. Judging from the way he trailed you, he knows our land,” Clifford commented. “And he’s as good a tracker as you are.”

  “Let me go take a look around, then I’ll catch up to you again in a few minutes.”

  Ella went to the area where the shooter had been, and found the place where he’d taken cover. The impression left on the hard ground was barely discernible, and the smooth footprints showed he’d either worn flat soles or moccasins. There was nothing to find here, not even a heel mark. He hadn’t ejected the shot shell, and having used buckshot, it would be almost impossible to find or trace.

  Clifford stood and waited for her as she called it in on her cell phone. Minutes later, they were hurrying back, Clifford anxious to make sure Loretta was all right. His pace was difficult for Ella to maintain, but she kept up, her breathing steady.

  “What brought you here today?” Clifford asked as they ran alongside each other.

  She told him about the missing agent between breaths. “I have to find the hataalii who did the Sing. All I know is that it entailed a blackening.”

  She told him about the blackened animal fat she’d found in the hogan, and everything else she knew. As they got within view of his home, and they saw Loretta out back bringing in laundry from the clothesline, Clifford slowed to a walk and Ella followed suit.


  Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out the evidence pouch with the bit of animal fat. Since the ritual itself wasn’t part of the investigation, it wasn’t official evidence. “This is what I found. Does it tell you anything?”

  He nodded. “That’s used for an Evil Way. It’s a special mixture of mutton and deer fat that’s mixed with ball charcoal. It’s powerful medicine against the chindi and it’s used in a one-day ceremony. What you have in your hand is the blackening agent that’s used on the patient. Afterwards, he’s not supposed to wash it off for four days, which, come to think of it, should make it easy for you to identify him. He’ll have a line drawn on his face that goes down from his ear to his jaw, then back up to his other ear.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. Who does that kind of ceremony?”

  “Hastiin sání and his son,” he said, using the Navajo expression for “old man” to refer to John Tso. Traditionalists still held the belief that names had power and to use them would diminish the person spoken about. “The father was the one who did the Sing for you, remember?”

  “Of course. You know it’s remarkable that anyone that age can remember every word of a Sing as complicated as that one. It’s the equivalent of the entire script to a very, very long movie.”

  “The gods have shown him favor,” he said.

  “Would either of those hataaliis use that particular hogan?” she added, describing the one she’d seen and giving its location.

  “The two I mentioned have their own medicine hogans. But it’s possible that particular hogan belongs to the family of the patient, or a relative, and they wanted the ceremony done there. It happens that way sometimes.”

  “I need some leads. Can you ask around and try to get me the name of some of the people who attended the Sing?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “In the meantime I’ll speak to the two men you mentioned. Can you give me directions to their homes?”