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  Justine held up her ID and badge, too, folding back her jacket subtly with her arm so her sidearm was visible.

  An overweight blond woman in a bathrobe holding a crying baby came to the door and joined Bailey as he half opened the door. “Why would you think he’s here?” she asked. “He’s just one of the guys my husband works with, that’s all.”

  “We know that, ma’am. And we’re sorry about disturbing you at this hour,” Ella said, trying not to sound like she felt—grumpy and tired. “But Mr. Rainwater’s not at his own residence and we need to talk to him on an urgent matter. Do you have any idea where we might be able to find him?”

  “You woke up my baby just for that? How should we know? Go look for yourself!” she said angrily. When the baby cried even louder, Mrs. Bailey immediately began rocking him. “Next time you ring our doorbell at this hour, you’re not leaving until you get Kasey back to sleep,” she hissed.

  As she walked away, singing and rocking the sobbing infant, Ella looked at Dan. “You work with Melvin, Mr. Bailey. Don’t you have any idea where he might be?”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Nothing that we know about—yet. We just need to talk to him to verify some information. Tell us where he might be at this hour and we’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure you want to go back to bed.”

  “I really don’t know where he is, but I’ve heard him mention a sports bar called the Double Play several times. It’s over in Kirtland just north of the main highway. You can’t miss it. A lot of oil workers hang out there.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Ella and Justine returned to the SUV, Ella glanced at her partner. “Do you know anything about the place? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s fairly new, past the turn off where El Paso Gas Company had that small housing area for such a long time. It’s a dive already, and a rough one at that. My sister, Jayne, had to actually punch an obnoxious creep who grabbed her by the arm. He didn’t want to let go unless she promised to go out to his pickup with him.”

  “Well, that’s where we’re going next. I hope you remember where to kick a man if you really need to.”

  “Sure. And here’s a hint for you, via my sister. Never punch a guy in the stomach if he’s been drinking all day,” Justine said, chuckling.

  They arrived a short time later and, to their surprise, the small parking lot was full of pickups and SUVs despite its being nearly two in the morning. One big Harley motorcycle was parked by the door.

  “What sports action could there be this time of night, Ella? A soccer match from Germany?”

  “Somehow I don’t think this will be a soccer crowd, cuz. Remember, we’re looking for a guy in his early twenties, short and stocky, Navajo, with slicked-back hair and black markings on him, maybe. Don’t flash your badge unless it’s absolutely necessary. We’re out of our jurisdiction and things could get ugly in a hurry.”

  “Not a problem,” Justine said. “I like the set of teeth I have in my mouth now.”

  When they entered Ella didn’t need to wait long for her eyes to adjust. It was nearly as dark in here as it was outside—the only illumination in the room came from very low wattage lamps recessed in the ceiling. Country music blared from hidden speakers, and the three TVs mounted on the walls around the room were showing some recycled auto race, though the sound was off at the moment.

  To the right of the bar there was a cluster of noisy patrons watching two men throwing darts, though in the dim light the contestants would have had to aim by Zen. The bar smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat.

  Directly ahead of her was a heavily tattooed man, smoking, and wearing a black leather vest and a red bandanna on his head. His biceps were the size of hams and he could have rented out his shoulders as bookshelves, not that anyone in this crowd was likely to be a heavy reader. He kept looking around, as if challenging anyone who met his gaze to tell him to put out his cigarette. Ella decided to give him a wide berth.

  “Let me check out the group watching the darts match. I think there’s a Navajo man standing there,” Justine said, then moved off.

  Hearing the rumble of voices on the left side of the room near the back door, Ella glanced around. A man was hurrying to make it out the exit, his face down and tilted away slightly toward a blank wall to ensure she couldn’t see him clearly.

  Ella went after him, acting on instinct. Anyone who was so determined not to expose his face had something to hide. But before she could reach the door two men stepped into her path.

  “Hey, you just got here, chica,” a skinny Hispanic man in western garb said. “Come talk to us. Let me buy you a beer.”

  “You’d be smart getting out of my way,” Ella said, meeting his gaze and holding it.

  “Now, big girl,” the other man, a tall, lanky, pale-eyed cowboy added, grasping her forearm, “don’t run off so soon. You’ve come to the right place if you’re looking for some loving.”

  “Let go of me,” Ella said, shaking loose.

  “A woman as pretty as you doesn’t need to go chasing after any guy. Let them come to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ella said, still trying to step around the men and realizing that it wasn’t going to happen the easy way.

  “Melvin told us you’ve been stalking him, even at work, begging to get him to go out with you,” the Hispanic man said.

  “Melvin lied. I’m a police officer,” she said, pulling back her jacket and exposing her badge. “Clear out now or you’re going to need a lawyer and bail money. Obstruction of justice is a crime.”

  The Hispanic man stared at her in surprise, and his friend took a quick step back, nearly toppling the chair behind him.

  “Hey, I don’t want any trouble, Officer,” the blond said.

  “Me neither,” the other one added, seeing Justine coming up, a frown on her face.

  “Melvin ducked out,” Ella said, opening the door and quickly stepping out onto the parking lot. But they were too late. There was no sign of Melvin anywhere. She couldn’t even see any taillights in either direction.

  Empty-handed, Ella and Justine returned to their vehicle. “If I ever catch that weasel, it’s going to take a surgeon to remove my boot from his backside,” Ella growled.

  “We’re lucky we didn’t have to fight our way out of that dive,” Justine said. “It could have been worse.”

  “Yeah, but not for Agent Thomas. So, it looks like we’re going back to Rainwater’s place and staking it out.”

  As Justine drove Ella could see that her partner was starting to wind down. Every few minutes she’d yawn and blink her eyes. “We’ll keep watch for a few hours,” Ella said. “If Melvin doesn’t come home by then—and he may not, now that he knows we’re looking for him—then we’ll turn the surveillance over to Tache until morning. You and I will go home and grab a few hours of sleep.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were parked off the road in a low spot about fifty yards past the turnoff leading to Rainwater’s house. There wasn’t much ground cover or vegetation, so it was simple keeping watch. Time dragged, and they kept talking mostly to make sure they remained alert.

  “Things still working out between you and Emily?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah. I think the fact that we’re both officers helps a lot.”

  Ella had met Sergeant Emily Marquez of the County Sheriff’s Department during a case several months ago. Emily had been searching for a roommate, and so had Justine, so she’d brought them together and so far she’d heard no complaints.

  “Sharing a house is never easy,” Ella said thoughtfully, “particularly for adults.”

  “It helps that she and I work different shifts for different departments. Emily has nights these days, so we hardly ever meet except when one of us is about to go on duty. And when she’s home she spends a lot of time in her little greenhouse. It smells great inside the house now because she’s always bringing in fresh flowers. We don’t really have a lot in common, though, except for our ca
reer choice. Heaven knows I hate gardening. But we go our separate ways and things are working out fine.”

  “It’s different when you’re living with family,” Ella said quietly. “Even though there’s only the three of us at home, we still manage to get in each other’s way. Dawn’s growing up and needs her own space. So does Mom, and I sure could use a bigger office—one that I didn’t have to share. Whenever I try to work in there I end up having to move Mom’s maps and plant inventory information aside just to make room to sit down. We’re practically bursting at the seams.”

  “It seems to me you need to add on or find a bigger house.”

  “I know, but Mom has a lot of memories attached to that place. She doesn’t even like to rearrange the furniture. Mom’s never actually said anything, but I know that having Dawn and Dawn’s friends around really bugs her sometimes—particularly when she has her group of Plant Watchers over for a meeting. And as Dawn gets older, it’s going to get worse,” Ella said. “Friends, music, boys. I can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.

  “It is a small house,” Justine agreed.

  Ella nodded. “That’s for sure. But what I hate most of all about living at home is seeing the worried look on Mom’s face whenever I come home late after a tense shift or a shooting incident. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m helping her much by living in that place. But moving out would mean leaving her all alone and I couldn’t do that.”

  “I think you’re underestimating Rose. She can take care of herself. Mind you, she’d absolutely hate it if you moved too far away, but as long as you stayed in the area, I think she might enjoy having her space.”

  Ella gave some thought to what Justine had said, but no matter how logical, it still didn’t feel right. As she glanced over at her partner, Ella saw Justine almost nodding off, then shaking her head to stay awake.

  “Get Tache and have him come over to relieve us,” Ella said. “We need to go home and get a couple of hours of sleep.”

  Justine picked up her cell phone and made the call. “He’ll be here in a half hour,” she said.

  “Good.” Ella opened the window to help them both stay alert and pulled her coat around her more tightly.

  “The darkness and the cold will be tough on Agent Thomas, particularly if he’s injured,” Justine said.

  Ella nodded slowly. “We either find him quickly or we can give up any hope of finding him alive.”

  EIGHT

  Day two

  Justine picked her up at. six-thirty the following morning. By seven, they were in Big Ed’s office at a briefing. Dark circles rimmed Big Ed’s eyes and Ella had a feeling that he’d gotten even less sleep than she had.

  The reports were frustrating. No actual progress had been made, despite a massive but low-profile effort. “Officer Tache’s going to alternate with Sergeant Neskahi keeping an eye on Rainwater’s place, Shorty,” Big Ed grumbled, then took a sip of coffee from an enormous mug. “I could really use both of them out in the field with the search parties, so make sure that the instant Rainwater turns up, you pull them off surveillance duty.”

  “I may need them to run down leads or examine evidence,” Ella said slowly.

  “Your case has priority, but the second they’re free, send them back to me.”

  “Any news on my old cases—the Twin Lakes hit-and-run?”

  “As a matter of fact, the Window Rock officer working that got a break. The woman was picked up at a woman’s shelter in Gallup. She’s lawyered up now, and apparently going to claim self-defense,” Big Ed said.

  “And the ex-husband?”

  “Out of intensive care. At least he won’t have the strength to beat her up again for a while.” Big Ed leaned back in his chair, a disgusted look on his face.

  After their meeting ended, Justine and Ella headed to Farmington to question the mortuary’s personnel. Since neither of them had eaten breakfast, they agreed to pick up some breakfast burritos from one of the Navajo vendors along the highway before they left the reservation.

  They stopped, picked up the food, and were on their way again within three minutes. Justine ate as she drove. “These handmade tortillas are warm and soft and taste sweet too, almost as if they’re cooked in butter.”

  “Naniscaadas—breakfast of the gods. I love Navajo breakfast burritos. No rice or cheese, just lots of eggs, sausage, and bacon,” Ella said, taking a big bite. “These are excellent. Remind me to look for that woman again next time I pass this way during the morning.”

  Ella glanced out the side window, staring at the haze that ran along the river, hating the pollution that the coal-fired power plants brought to the Rez. The newer plants kept their smokestacks clean using the latest technology, but one plant in particular had been built prior to 1970, and wasn’t subject to the same EPA standards. It was under a grandfather clause that made it exempt from new requirements. To add insult to injury, much of the power it provided was sold out of state. But the damage it did remained here.

  By seven-thirty, they arrived at the Farmington mortuary. Justine grimaced as she parked her unit in the circular parking lot, just a few feet from the white hearse. “Ugh. I’m a Christian and consider myself a modern Navajo, but jeez, I couldn’t work here no matter how much they paid me. Can you imagine riding around town with a corpse right behind you?” She shuddered. “I’d keep looking in the rearview mirror just to make sure the passenger was still dead. Give me something cheerful like police work.”

  “I think you’re suffering from sleep deprivation and too many bad movies,” Ella said, laughing. “But, hey, we may be in luck with Melvin. I can’t see the plate from here, but there’s a Chevy Blazer the right color in the parking lot over there,” she said, gesturing.

  As they approached the entrance, a brown-haired, pleasant-looking Anglo wearing stylish wire-rimmed glasses and a dark blue or black suit came out of the garage and walked up to them. “Good morning, ladies. Our chapel isn’t open at the moment, but perhaps I can be of service? My name’s Jack Krause and I’m the director of Mesa Vista Funeral Home.”

  Ella recognized the voice, friendly in a businesslike way, and tried to evaluate the man from looks alone, though he was hard to read. There was a sympathetic expression on his face, probably worn automatically when conducting business with someone who’d just lost a loved one.

  Ella showed Krause her badge and introduced herself and Justine. “I spoke to you last night.”

  His intelligent eyes turned cool and analytical for a few seconds, as though he were evaluating one of his … work assignments. Then he actually smiled. “Officer Clah, yes. You woke me up out of a sound sleep. Were you finally able to interview Melvin?”

  “Not yet. That’s why we’re here. We’re hoping you might have heard from him. It looks like his Blazer’s over there in the parking lot.”

  “You’re right about that. He’s inside the garage, detailing one of our limousines. If you want to speak to him now, that’s fine, but please don’t keep him from his work. I suspect you’re outside your jurisdiction but I’m always willing to do what I can to cooperate with the police. But in exchange I hope you’ll extend me the courtesy of not taking up too much of his time. We need to get ready for funeral services later this morning.”

  Krause opened the side door leading into a two-bay garage. A long, shining black limousine took up most of the closer bay, and the other was occupied by a black van with a side door. Ella had seen a similar vehicle once or twice in the Shiprock area, as had most officers. That was the vehicle used to pick up bodies when they were slated for the mortuary instead of the morgue.

  Ella glanced around and saw a man vacuuming the interior of the limo, unaware of their presence. A radio, just a few feet from where he was, was blaring out “Ain’t Going Down Till the Sun Comes Up” by Garth Brooks.

  Ella turned to thank Krause but, as she did, saw that he was already stepping inside the other building through the main entrance.

  “He seemed pretty normal … and th
at worries me,” Justine muttered. “How could you get used to this place?”

  Ella motioned to Justine to circle and approach from the other direction, then walked around the limousine from the back and approached the man. When he saw her legs he turned his head slightly and she saw he was Navajo, though any blackening marks on his face had obviously been washed off. “Melvin, we need a second of your time,” she shouted over the sound of the music and the vacuum.

  Melvin straightened immediately, reaching for the radio, and his eyes widened when he saw who she was. For a moment, Ella was sure he was going bolt, but Justine had come from the front and now blocked his only exit. He had nowhere to go except into the limo itself. With a scowl, he reached over and turned off the vacuum, then the radio.

  Ella flipped her badge. “You’re a tough man to corner, and I’m in a real bad mood after that stunt you pulled last night. So here’s a little word of warning. Don’t give me a reason to make you miserable, for, say, the rest of your life.”

  “Last night? You’re crazy. Listen, Officer, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you and your sidekick are Navajo cops, you have no authority here.”

  “Well, if you really want Sheriff Taylor in your face, I’ll just handcuff you to the door handle of this fancy taxi and we’ll wait for him to show up. He’s a friend of mine, so I know he’ll be glad to accommodate us. But it may be a while. He’s a busy man. And what will your boss say when another cop car shows up, lights flashing and maybe a siren? Hard to get a bad reputation clean again, even in the funeral business. What’s it going to be, Mr. Rainwater?”

  “Chill, will ya? It won’t kill you to cut me some slack. I need this job,” he said in a low tone. “It’s a little strange, working here, but the man pays top dollar, almost union scale.”

  “Then you don’t have a problem. Just cooperate, tell us what we want to know, and we’ll leave,” Ella said matter-of-factly.

  “What do you want?”