Enemy Way (11 page)

She met her brother’s accusatory glare with a cold one of her own. “No, I couldn’t get away, but I did call. Is that a problem?”

He exhaled softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come at you like that, but I’m exhausted. I have my own
patients to attend to, but there were problems here and I couldn’t leave Mom.”

“What’s the trouble?”

“Mom isn’t herself. I can’t get her to cooperate with the doctors or with me. It’s as if she’s lost interest in everything. She sounds like she doesn’t want to live. Her leg injuries were serious, but she’s not in any danger of dying. The doctor says she has a good chance of walking again if
she’ll work at it.”

“Remind her of everything she loves, like her grandson Julian. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for him.”

“I’ve done that. But she keeps insisting that it’s her turn to go on. The accident was just a sign. I don’t have to tell you that many of our people have been able to will themselves into a grave. Mom’s scaring me. She has to snap out of this.”

“What can we do?” Ella
asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, a worried frown on his face. “I would like to believe that she’ll work this out on her own, like she did with Father’s death, but that may not be the case this time. Part of the problem is that her accident is a direct result of the Anglo world’s influence on the
Dineh.
Alcoholism is an imported illness and one of many signs that the traditions and the beliefs
she holds dear are slowly fading away. She’s never been hurt like this before. And now, adding insult to injury, she’s being asked to depend on the white man’s medicine to get well. I think all that, coupled with the loss of our father, is destroying her from the inside. She feels obsolete, and too tired to continue the fight.

“And that’s why she needs both of us right now,” Clifford added. “Together,
we’re a constant reminder that the modern world and the old ways can co-exist, that she’s not simply a leftover from a past whose time has come and gone.”

Ella’s body ached with guilt and regret. She was slowly being torn between two very different kinds of duty. “I’ll be around as much as I can, but things are really flying at me in the department now. Tomorrow, I’ll be testifying on behalf
of the tribe at a DWI task force in Santa Fe. And I’m right in the middle of a murder investigation that’s getting more complicated by the hour. There are discrepancies that are making me a little crazy.”

“I know about our friend’s loss. I regret not having had a chance to go see him since it happened. I tried to call him from the hospital room, but he wasn’t at home.” One more thing for her
to feel guilty about, Ella thought as Clifford fell silent for a few moments.

“Is there any way I can help you? I’m willing to listen if you need to sort out your thoughts. You know I’ll keep whatever you tell me confidential.”

“I could use a sounding board,” she admitted. Ella told her brother about the circular marks she’d found at the murder scene and the scene of her mother’s accident, and
reminded him of the other times she’d encountered them. “Of course there’s no way to prove if those impressions were left by the same person who dogged me months ago. It’s enough to make me mighty squirrely though.” She stared at the painting of Ship Rock on the wall, lost in thought. “There were times when the cane marks I’d find seemed to be connected to incidents involving The Brotherhood and
the Fierce Ones, the Anglo and Navajo groups that are struggling over the jobs at the power plant. But at other times, those prints would turn out to be linked to the evil ones.” Ella avoided referring to skinwalkers directly, a custom she shared with most Navajos.

“Either way, those cane marks, if that’s what they really are, always spelled trouble for you. I can see why they make you uneasy
now.” Clifford mulled it over before saying anything more. “A cane is something that many of the old ones use. Although it’s too broad to be a clue, there’s another aspect of it you might want to look into. Some believe that the
xa’asti,
those who are extremely old, can be very strong spiritually. That’s why many times they are accused of witchcraft. Sometimes the accusations are completely unjustified,
but at other times they’re founded on the truth.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Clifford nodded slowly. “There’s a chance that our old enemies are working behind the scenes, creating as much trouble for you as they can. Destroying so many of them has made them hate us more than ever, you know.”

“So it’s reasonable to assume that they’ll strike out at us any way they can, including
through our friends and family.” Ella remembered the sense of evil she’d felt at Lisa’s home, then brushed the thought aside. There wasn’t any evidence linking a skinwalker plot to Lisa’s death. She was facing two separate issues.

“We should both keep an eye out for our professor friend,” Clifford said, referring to Wilson, “though he may not welcome our help. He helped me hide, then joined us
to fight the Navajo witches after our father was killed. He is their enemy as much as we are.”

Ella thought of her last conversation with Wilson. Her brother was right in thinking that Wilson would not want anything from them except to be left alone. “I’ll do my best, but he won’t make it easy.”

“He has to cope with his grief right now. Give him time to come around.”

As they approached Rose’s
room, Clifford gestured toward three women who were walking away. “Her fellow herbalists from the Plant Watchers have been visiting Mom today. Although that should have cheered her up, I don’t think it helped much.”

“Let me see what I can do.” The idea of being able to accomplish something Clifford hadn’t been able to do, appealed to her. All through her life, Clifford had been the one everyone
looked to, not her, when something important needed to be done. She’d found it extremely annoying. Yet, without that unspoken competition between them, she may never have acquired such a strong drive to succeed—the one trait she possessed that was a match for his charisma and natural talents.

As Ella entered her mother’s room, her confidence vanished. Although Rose was sitting up, it was as if
a light had gone out in her eyes. A chill enveloped Ella. “Hello, Mom. How are you feeling?”

“About the same.”

Her voice and tone were subdued, lacking the spark of emotion. Ella looked at the small green herbal plant left on the bed stand by her mother’s friends. “This is pretty.”

“It makes a pleasant-tasting drink, much like Mormon Tea,” Rose said absently. “How is Two? Are you taking care
of him?”

Ella smiled. Finally her mother was showing some sign of interest. “Yes, but he misses you.”

“He has you and, if you allow it, you’ll find he can be a very loyal companion.”

This wasn’t going well. It was as if her mother was deeding her the dog she loved. As an idea formed in her mind, Ella realized that she still had an ace in the hole. “I may be able to find a way to sneak him into
the hospital. Are you interested in trying to see him?”

Rose’s eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. “They’d throw you both out, you know.”

“Undoubtedly—but only if they catch us.”

Rose smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.…”

Ella glanced at the wheelchair that had been set near the foot of the bed. “The one problem is that you’d have to agree to meet me somewhere other than this
room. You’re too close to the nurses’ station here. Do you think you can wheel yourself a short distance? This hall’s got too many witnesses.”

Rose’s expression became sad. “I can’t stand to even look at that thing. Even crutches are better than being wheeled around.”

Ella nodded. “I can understand that. Once you can get around without it, they’ll take it out of here. But, until then, think
of it as something you’re using, a tool, like a car, nothing else.”

“But you only use a car when you need one. The doctors say that if I don’t heal right…”

“Don’t you worry about that. In these days of lawyers and malpractice suits, doctors wouldn’t guarantee that you’d find sand in the desert. Since when did you start putting so much faith in what the doctor’s say anyway? Don’t tell me you’re
becoming a progressive!”

A shadow of a smile played on Rose’s mouth. “You drive a hard bargain, but seeing you get Two into this hospital is worth learning to use that contraption. You’ve got a deal.”

“Don’t tell anyone, though, okay?”

“Not even your brother?”

“
Especially
my brother,” Ella answered with a wink. “He can be very stuffy at times, you know.”

Before she could say more, a nurse
came into the room. “I’m afraid that Mrs. Destea needs some rest now,” she said, carrying in a tray of medications. As the nurse’s gaze fell on Rose, she smiled. “My, you’re looking better! Your daughter must be good for you.”

“At times,” Rose answered.

Flashing her mother a quick smile, Ella stepped out of the room. The moment she was out in the hall, Ella’s expression changed instantly. What
on earth had she done? In an effort to help her mother, she’d dug an even deeper hole for both of them. Two had no training except being housebroken. Even more important, he weighed at least fifty pounds. It wasn’t like sneaking in a toy poodle she could carry inside a tote bag. She’d need a body bag from Carolyn’s morgue and, even then, how on earth would she explain away a wriggling body to Navajos
already afraid of the dead?

Ella went back out to her vehicle, glad that her mother’s condition was stable and it wasn’t necessary for her or Clifford to sleep in the room with her. As her thoughts shifted to her brother, she sighed loudly. She truly wished that, for once, she hadn’t allowed the rivalry between Clifford and her to affect her thinking. She’d wanted to accomplish what Clifford
hadn’t been able to with their mom—to get her to start thinking about living instead of dying. Only, now she was stuck with the crazy plan she’d concocted.

*   *   *

Ella testified at the DWI task force in Santa Fe in the morning, but it was a waste of time. When she finally walked out through the massive bronze doors of the Capitol building, she wondered if she had gotten through to anyone
there at all.

She’d hoped to sway them, to touch them with her own experiences growing up on the Rez. She’d told them about bars just off the Rez, where many adults spent their entire paychecks, and of parents inside drinking while their children were waiting for them outside in a cold pickup.

She conveyed the story of her father trying to console a man who’d struck and killed a drunk father
of eight who had wandered onto the highway. Later, despite her father’s efforts, the driver had committed suicide, a rare thing indeed for a Navajo.

Ella showed them her high school yearbook, with each page containing at least one photo of a young man or woman who had lost a family member, or died themselves from an alcohol-related death. Then she described her own mother’s accident, and the
possibility of her never being able to walk again without crutches. Rose was lucky, but would the next person the driver hit, when he was inevitably back on the road again, escape death? Ella was very tempted to say more, but kept her tongue out of respect for Big Ed.

As she’d studied the lawmaker’s expressions, she’d seen glimmers of understanding and other emotions mirrored there that had given
her some hope. But she was also realistic. Before long, maybe even by lunchtime, they’d push her testimony out of their minds and go on to the next order of business.

They were politicians who had heard it all so often they’d become jaded. In a world that had seen too many horrors, people had a way of insulating themselves, of making sure nothing touched them too deeply. These men and women had
perfected that response.

In the end, the bottom line would always be money, not the lives of victims. If the conclusions of the conference called for more enforcement officers, alcohol-treatment programs, or job training to break the cycle of poverty, it would have to be done within the existing budget. Promises were easy to make, as long as they didn’t require commitment, too. A lot of the politicians
in power Ella knew had been elected because of their promises to spend less, not more. Getting re-elected was probably at the top of their list of priorities now.

As she walked out to the street, she hoped one or two of the lawmakers she’d spoken to would remember her words and be moved to take action. A poor constituency, and New Mexico was one of the poorest, didn’t have much leverage beyond
the compassion of its representatives.

*   *   *

Ella’s trip back to the reservation was uneventful, but being stuck in an airplane for a short flight had its advantages. Here she could relax. Nobody expected anything from her. The flight ended much too quickly, however. Before long, she was back where she’d left her vehicle parked, a secure, fenced compound inside the Farmington airfield.

Ella picked up her cell phone and called the station in Shiprock the second she was inside her Jeep. No new leads had been found in Lisa Aspass’ murder, but Justine hadn’t finished working the evidence. Looking through school yearbooks, she’d managed to identify the two boys they’d seen the evening before.

Justine had already gone by the driver’s home and cited the youth for reckless driving,
littering, and a few other charges. The license number had been from a stolen tag, but had been ditched. Finding the vehicle was unregistered, Justine had written another ticket. The boy, Rudy Keeswood, was going to court for sure, if only to answer traffic offenses. Unfortunately, the boy claimed to know nothing about the burglaries, and stuck to his story.

“I’m ten-eight as of right now,” Ella
said, signifying she was available and on duty. “I’ll make a quick stop by the hospital, then I’ll be back at the station in about forty-five minutes and we can talk about this some more.”

“Ten-four.”

Ella disconnected the call, then dialed the hospital and left a message for her mother’s doctor to call her back. Fifteen minutes later, the physician, a family friend, returned her call.

“She’s
in slightly better spirits,” Dr. Natoni said. “The nurse reported that she has started using the wheelchair, though moving her legs is still uncomfortable for her. We’re trying to get her to start some physical therapy so she can progress to crutches right away, but she’s refused to cooperate.”