Mourning Dove Read Free Page A

ground.
    “That’s another good theory,” Ella said, then left him to his work.
    Ella went to talk to Officer Lujan next, who was watching for traffic. He was trying to look rock-steady, but Ella could see the jumble of emotions in his eyes. His face remained trained into neutrality—an attitude that he undoubtedly hoped would pass forthe coldness of a seasoned professional.
    “You okay?” Ella asked softly.
    “Of course,” he said, but his voice trailed off at the end.
    “Your first homicide, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And a friend as well. That’s tough. I’ve called for help to direct traffic. When it arrives, you can return to the station and write up your report. Unwind a little, maybe.”
    “Not necessary. I can handle it.” The answercame too quickly to be genuine.
    “You mentioned that the deceased had a brother?” Ella said, directing the focus back to the investigation.
    Lujan nodded. “He lives in Farmington, but he’s been keeping an eye on his brother’s place. It’s near here.”
    “Brother’s name?”
    “Samuel Blacksheep,” he said, then after a pause, added, “Samuel’s going to be out for blood when he hears about this.”
    “Theywere close?”
    He hesitated. “When they were kids Samuel was always watching over his kid brother. That habit may end up creating problems for the department now. Samuel won’t want to stand back and let our PD do all the legwork. You get me?”
    Ella nodded, understanding precisely what he meant. An officer dedicated his life to protecting and serving the public. But when crime struck this closeand involved a member of the family, the perspective twisted. Skills an officer used to protect himself and others and to make sure justice was served could easily become a tool to exact revenge.
    “His house is over across,” Lujan said, pointing with his lips, Navajo style. “Family name’s on the mailbox.”
    “Over across” could mean on the other side of a field, or in Albuquerque, hours away, butsince he’d pointed to an area beyond the cattle guard that apparently contained only a few houses, she’d be able to narrow it down. “Thanks.”
    Ella checked with Carolyn, who was still by the body. “I’m going to check out the victim’s home,” she said, interrupting the M.E. “We don’t know yet if the perps paid a visit there as well.”
    Carolyn nodded absently, then gestured toward the stretcher andbody bag visible in the back of her open van. “I’ll need help. Get Neskahi for me before you leave.”
    Ella gave her a bemused smile. “Still paying him back for that crack he made about you? That was ages ago.” Contact with the dead was extremely difficult for any Navajo. Even the M.E. and the Crime Scene Unit used two sets of gloves as a precaution so that they wouldn’t touch anything that hadtouched the dead. But the job
no one
wanted was helping the M.E. move the body. Knowing that, Carolyn always asked for Neskahi when the time came, no matter who else was around.
    “Get him.”
    “Okay,” Ella said, knowing the futility of arguing with Carolyn about anything like this. Several years back, Neskahi had made a half-hearted joke about Carolyn’s weight and since that fateful day Carolynhad made it her mission in life to make Joseph as uncomfortable as possible at every crime scene.
    Ella whistled, caught Neskahi’s attention, then gestured to Carolyn. Neskahi’s downcast expression as he approached spoke volumes.
    As he walked past her, Neskahi muttered, “I even tried flowers. How long is she going to remember?”
    “For the rest of your life, Joe,” Ella said softly. “And don’t
ever
send her candy.”
    “Come on, Sergeant,” Carolyn said with a grim smile. “Quit dragging your feet!”

TWO

    E lla arrived at a crumbling gray stucco house less than five minutes later. As she stepped out of the SUV she studied the home, which seemed typical of the area. From the construction it was obvious that rooms had been added two