Novels
Ella Clah series
Blackening Song
Death Walker
Bad Medicine
Enemy Way
Shooting Chant
Red Mesa
Changing Woman
Plant Them Deep
Tracking Bear
Wind Spirit
White Thunder
Mourning Dove
Turquoise Girl (March '07)

Sister Agatha series
Bad Faith
Thief in Retreat
Prey for a Miracle
False Witness (June '07)

Lee Nez series
Second Sunrise
Blood Retribution
Pale Death
Surrogate Evil (Nov.'06)

Works-in-Progress
Turquoise Girl (March '07)
False Witness (June '07)
Ella Clah untitled '08
Ella Clah untitled '09

Ella shifted her attention to the job at hand and watched Sergeant Tache collect the freshly chewed gum with tweezers. His face was masked in neutrality as if he was trying hard to keep anyone from reading his thoughts. In Tache's case, however, that normally meant he was totally focused on his work. "Get lots of close ups of that dry painting done in ashes over there. I'm going to need to do some research to figure out what it's supposed to mean, if anything."

"You've got it," the sergeant answered. "Anything else?"

"I want both of you to go over the area with the usual fine tooth comb. I want to make sure we don't miss anything that'll help us nail this animal."

Hearing Carolyn, the medical examiner, clip out a request that sounded more like an order. Ella turned around. Carolyn's tone overcame Officer Frank's reluctance, and he stopped to help her lift the bag containing the corpse into the medical examiner's station wagon. With the body now securely inside, Carolyn slammed and locked the rear doors, then called to Ella.

Ella joined her. "You ready to roll?"

Carolyn nodded. "I'll have a preliminary report for you by tomorrow afternoon. The time of death, maybe this afternoon. We're not exactly backlogged at the moment."

"Thanks. I'll need all the help I can get on this one." Ella met Carolyn's steady gaze. "I've got a feeling we're not exactly going to find the killer's misplaced driver's license around here. But, if we can get a lab to test the gum we discovered, and find it was left by the killer instead of the victim, the saliva on it could confirm a suspect's presence at the scene. That, of course, presupposes we have a suspect in mind, to compare it to, which we don't, at the moment. Unfortunately, from what I can tell, the killer was really careful not to leave behind anything else we can use. Certainly not the murder weapon, or even footprints."

"Let's see what the victim can tell us. At least there we have something to work with." As Carolyn slipped behind the wheel of the ME vehicle, she caught the look Officer Frank gave her. "You know, I was never one to run with the pack, but there are times when the personal isolation of this job really sucks."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"At least you're starting to gain a little acceptance," Carolyn said.

"No, not really. I may get close, but I'll never be in completely. The department, for one, will never really welcome me with open arms. In a way, I suppose I can understand that."

"You can?" Carolyn's eyebrows narrowed.

"Sure. First, I'm former FBI, and second I'm a woman. Face it, that last part alone would have created problems. Guys, no matter what P.D. they serve in, tend to resent the presence of women. Look at it this way. They put on their badges, and that becomes their trademark. They want the world to believe they're the biggest, baddest guys around, and the crooks should all be shaking in their boots.

"Then they see someone else wearing a badge, only she's prettier to look at, and undoubtedly smells nicer. It sorta smashes the tough guy image they cherish in their little hearts."

Carolyn laughed out loud. "When you put it that way, I can understand it too." Ignoring the look Officer Frank shot in their direction, Carolyn put the wagon in gear and drove off.

Ella stayed, supervising the team as they gathered evidence, placing everything inside brown paper bags. She finished her sketch of the body and surrounding area, making note of the exact distances at the bottom as the detectives measured and called them out. Later, the drawing would be redone to scale. Although they'd have extensive photographic records, photos sometimes gave a distorted view of the scene since measurements weren't included with each photo.

Two hours later, the crime scene unit packed up their equipment and the scant evidence they'd gathered, and headed back to the station. Officer Frank waited as Ella walked outward from the place the body had been in an expanding spiral, searching one last time for anything that might have been missed. Ella couldn't help but notice that the officer was giving her a wide berth.

Jimmy shifted, visibly ill at ease. "If you don't need me anymore, I'll head back to the station and file my report."

Ella nodded, her gaze taking in the area methodically. Absently, she hoped Jimmy was happier with other sorts of crime scenes.

"Are you going to stick around long? There's not much left to do here now."

"I'll be leaving in a few minutes," she answered. "Thanks for your help. You handled everything like the pro I know you are."

Jimmy shrugged, smiled briefly, then went to his unit and drove off.

Ella watched, lost in thought, until his car disappeared from view. An eerie silence suddenly descended over the area. Even the birds were quiet. She suppressed the prickling of her skin that slowly traveled up her arms and neck. Something felt wrong. She shifted her gaze to study everything, missing nothing. That sixth sense most cops developed was working overtime now. The atmosphere of the place had changed, and it was not her imagination. There was a foulness, an inexplicable something, that touched her heart with icy fear.

Ella placed her hand on the butt of her weapon, her body tense, and started moving slowly back toward her Jeep. No threat appeared. Still, she stayed close to the vehicle, knowing the engine block would provide the best cover around.

Then she heard the faint rustle of someone moving slowly through the brush. Her gaze fastened on the pinons to her right. She crouched down on one knee, pistol now in hand, and waited.

The seconds seemed to stretch into eternities, but something told her to stay right where she was. She trusted that instinct; she had learned the hard way. Her eyes trained on the trees ahead, she waited.

Then she heard a faint padding of steps across the dew hardened top crust of sand. Abruptly, a coyote stepped out into the clear, and stood watching her, less than twenty yards away.

It was strangely fearless, not knowing she had her gun aimed at its lungs. The creature fixed its strange yellow eyes on her. Then it bared its teeth and growled sharply just once, as if telling her to back-off. The sound penetrated her like a needle to the marrow. Her finger moved onto the trigger but she didn't fire.

For a second, both she and the creature stood their ground, the animal not knowing or caring that she held its life under her fingertip. Then, abruptly, the coyote turned and disappeared into the brush.

Ella stood up slowly, sweat pouring down her body. It was only an animal. She shouldn't have let it rattle her. She walked in the direction the coyote had gone, wondering what had brought it here. They usually stayed away from the road, unless there was a dead animal to scavenge upon. She studied its tracks, but only found a few where it had been standing. The animal had walked through the one area of solid sandstone around, making it almost impossible to track him.

She turned around and stared downhill, at the desert floor which stretched toward distant mountains. Was it skinwalkers, or just nerves? She wasn't sure anymore. Experience had taught her one thing: out on the Rez things were never quite what they seemed.

Copyright 1996 by Aimee and David Thurlo
ISBN #0-812-56758-7

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