Navajo Courage. Aimee Thurlo

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      After a few minutes, the attractive detective closed up the cell phone and glanced at him. “Sorry about that. Right after I arrived at the Sunport to pick you up we got a call. Another body has been found apparently with the same M.O. as the first one. Deputies are on the scene now.”

      He didn’t comment, waiting for her to fill in the rest when she was ready. Detective Jonas—Valerie—was beautiful…electric almost. Light auburn hair fell over her shoulders and her gray-green eyes sparkled with intelligence and purpose. He noted that there was no ring on her finger, nor was there the impression of one that had been recently removed.

      As they walked down the terminal she answered two more calls. From the way she focused and shot questions at whoever was on the other end, he suspected he’d been paired with a woman on a mission, and maybe with something to prove. Not his type, despite her obvious intelligence and physical appeal.

      Yet as he gazed at her, he was aware of an unexpected stirring in his blood, and recognized the familiar tug in his gut. He’d felt neither in a very long time, not since…

      Valerie answered one more call, speaking quickly to whoever was on the other end.

      With the rush of people, conversations going on all around him and the thud of luggage as it slid off the conveyer belts on the carousels they passed, the quiet of the reservation seemed like a distant memory. His new partner’s never-ending conversations grated on him as well. She was definitely not his type. Not that it mattered. He was here to do a job then return home—hopefully in one piece.

      They stopped by the last luggage carousel, which had already stopped rotating. Only eight passengers had come in on the small craft so finding the right piece was easy.

      Luca slid his hand around the handle of the canvas duffel bag he’d brought and, as he lifted it off the turntable, noticed the way she was looking at him. Awareness clawed at him. Cursing chemistry and hormones, a bad combination that could only lead to trouble, he clamped a lid on distractions.

      “Did I forget to say thanks?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You came up with some pretty good moves back there.”

      “Thanks,” he answered simply, then followed her up the stairs and out of the terminal.

      Soon they were on a wide sidewalk, a north-facing loading and unloading zone. He turned to the west and followed, coming up beside her.

      “Not exactly the talkative type, are ya?” she asked after a brief silence. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll do enough for both of us, Partner.”

      “I’ve noticed.”

      She laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored,” Valerie said as she led the way past the shuttle vans. “Not that there’s much of a chance of that, not on this case,” she added, growing somber as she got back to the business at hand. “The body found this morning was in the city, not county, but since the M.O. matches, it’s my case, too. The county crime scene unit is already there. City detectives will no doubt be there as well, standing by and looking over my shoulder every step of the way.”

      “Do you happen to have the full report detailing the first crime scene?”

      She nodded. “It’s on the seat of the car. You can study it on our way to the number two site.”

      He didn’t respond.

      “Did you hear me?” she added.

      “Of course.”

      “Then grunt or something, will ya?”

      He paused, then added by way of an explanation, “Conversation…There’s more of a demand for it out here in the city.”

      They soon reached a white unmarked sedan with local government license plates. While she unlocked the door, he noted the folder on the passenger’s seat.

      “How much do you know about the last killing?” she asked as they both got in.

      “I was briefed by my captain. I know that the murder suggested a Native American connection—Navajo, to be specific.”

      “Yeah. The cause of death was the result of stab wounds from a large knife. What made it—shall we say unusual?—was that the victim was also stabbed with a blade shaped from a human thighbone. The M.E. was able to narrow that down via fragments recovered from the wounds. Pieces broke off when the bone blade hit the victim’s ribs. There was a lot of weird symbolism at the scene, too. You can see that in the photos.”

      He nodded, studying the folder’s contents.

      “My first thought was that it was some sort of Satanic or Goth ritual, but one of our officers insisted that it was connected to Navajo witchcraft. He said that the powder we found scattered on the body, what he called corpse poison, was a trademark of skinwalkers. The M.E. confirmed later that it contained human tissue. We also found coyote hairs on the victim’s skin and clothing. Locks of her hair had been cut off, probably with the murder weapon. One last thing—interesting, not to mention weird—the tips of both index fingers, actually the entire joints, were cut from the body. They weren’t at the scene, so the perp must have taken them with him.”

      He nodded, understanding more than he was willing to talk about yet. “Was vic number two mutilated in the same way?”

      Valerie nodded. “That’s what I was told, but we’ll be able to see for ourselves soon enough.”

      As he studied the crime-scene photos, Luca recognized the symbol of the Brotherhood of Warriors that had been made from ashes and left next to the body.

      “If the perp’s intent had been to slow down identification of the victim, he would have taken all the fingertips,” she said. “So the whole thing is just plain weird.”

      “Was either victim Navajo or part Navajo?”

      “The first one’s name is Ernestine Ramirez and she’s Hispanic. The latest victim is a twenty-year-old woman named Lea Begay.”

      “The most recent victim has a Navajo name,” he said. “But from now on, vic one and two will suffice.”

      Valerie winced. “Sorry. I was told not to use the names of the victims around you, but I forgot. It has something to do with the evil side of a person that sticks around ’cause they can’t enter Heaven, right?”

      “Not quite right, but you’ve got the idea,” he answered. “What else struck you about the first scene? Does anything in particular stay in your mind?”

      “There was a small arrow with a bead at the end. It had been shot or jabbed into the victim. It was less than six inches long, doll-sized. I asked, but was told you’d explain that part.”

      “Arrows like those are shot from a small ceremonial bow made from a human shinbone,” he answered.

      “Here’s something else I’d like to know,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “Why were you, in particular, sent to help us with this case?”

      “I’m a police detective, and more important, the son of a respected medicine man.” Luca lowered his voice before uttering the СКАЧАТЬ