“I’m starting over. I don’t want to be an adlaanii. I saw enough drunks to— to— I don’t know. Is Mama OK?”
Bernie nodded. The Navajo language was interesting, she thought. It had a word that meant “drunk,” but there was no simple way to say “Sorry.” Perhaps the ancestors realized that each offense left different damages, and each required a complicated making of amends. A trite phase didn’t cut it.
“Mama and I made some atoo’. Want some?”
“I’m starving. But I have to take a shower first.”
By the time Darleen returned, the stew was hot. Bernie ate again with her, noticing the dark circles under her sister’s eyes.
Darleen got up for more stew. “Did Mama ask you to come?”
“No. Mrs. Darkwater called.”
“What did she say happened to me?”
“She said you hadn’t come home and that Mama stayed up all night waiting for you.”
“So I guess Cheeseburger is here, too.”
“No, but he drove back with me.”
“Back from where?”
“We were on vacation, remember? Chee found out that you got arrested.”
“I so totally screwed up. I was drinking and I said some stuff to a cop—” Darleen stood and put her bowl and Bernie’s in the sink. “What if I tell you and Mama about it in the morning? I don’t want to relive it twice, and I can barely keep my eyes open now.”
After Darleen went to bed, Bernie returned to the couch, snuggled into her nest, and turned off the lamp. Now that Sister was back, she ought to feel better, but worry still tugged at her. Maybe Darleen really would start over. Maybe Chee would call tomorrow. Maybe she’d figured out what Miller was up to.
The new day was just a few hours away.
6
Chee quickly played the flashlight beam over the rectangle of rocks. From the way the earth rose, he assumed the mound inside the border was recent. He didn’t see a cross, nameplate, or memorial marker, but he knew a burial site when he stumbled over one. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his stomach felt unsettled.
He looked back toward Melissa. “Are you all right?”
“Nothing damaged except my pride. Is this a grave?”
“Sure looks like one.”
No Navajo he knew would bury a family member like this. In the old days, no one built graves. Now things were different. Some veterans requested interment in military cemeteries. Christian Diné wanted to rest in sanctified ground. A few of the most traditional still disposed of the deceased the way the family of Joe Leaphorn’s beloved wife Emma had done. Designated males escorted the corpse to a cave far away from the family’s living quarters. They walled up the remains to prevent predation and to let natural mummification take place. Then the men underwent a cleansing ceremony to free them from the chindi.
Melissa stood next to him, looking at the mound. “An odd place to bury someone. Makes it hard to come for a visit.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
They trudged through the sand to their cars, moving a bit more carefully now. The night seemed less inviting. Chee tried to shake off his unease. He’d seen family graveyards established by the bilgaana and Hispanic ranching families in Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico. Perhaps that was what had happened here. Before the US government gave the valley to the Navajos, they shared it with miners, ranchers, and western explorers. But he rejected that theory. The grave was new.
“Do you live out here?” Melissa asked.
“No, I’m from New Mexico.”
“That’s a long commute.”
Chee explained, briefly, about Paul, the new substation, and his interrupted vacation.
“This is my first time here,” Melissa said. “It’s amazing. The scenery is the best thing about my job.”
“The man who called about you, Mr. Robinson, he said you were the one who keeps track of the budget. That sounds like a lot of work.”
“I used to like it, but lately it’s crazy making, especially now that the production is behind schedule. Robinson worries about everything that could impact the budget, and I guess that includes me going off to get some photos. I think Chief Worrier is in his job description.”
Chee radioed Captain Bahe while Melissa loaded in her equipment.
“I’ve got good news.”
Bahe sounded tired. “You found her?”
“She’s fine.”
“Great.”
“And some bad news. We stumbled over what looks like a fresh grave out here.”
“Where?”
Chee gave him the location as best he could.
“Check with Robinson and find out if that’s part of a movie backdrop, or whatever they call it. Ask if they’ve got a permit for it.”
Chee bristled at the instructions. Did Bahe think he was a rookie? “Will do, sir.”
Melissa was standing by her car, waiting for him. Chee felt for her keys in his pocket and found the poker chip. He showed it to her. “Did you drop this?”
“Not me.”
“We’ll drive back to the movie camp together. You follow me.”
“I’m sorry you had to go to all this trouble.”
He handed her the keys to the red car. “It’s nice to find a missing person who’s not really missing. I like having a case where everything comes out OK.”
She smiled. “I’ll tell the guys back there not to worry so much.”
The air had cooled into comfortable shirtsleeve weather. Except for the sound of his engine and Melissa’s car behind him, the evening was calm and silent. Chee saw a shooting star and blew at it out of long-instilled habit. Some said the falling stars brought bad luck otherwise. The lights were off at the German campers’ hideaway.
He imagined the folks at the Monument Valley hotels, in their rooms watching television, the same shows they could see back in Indiana or wherever home was. Meanwhile, nature served up a celestial light show against a backdrop of million-year-old geology.
When Chee reached the entrance to the movie site parking area, Gerald waved him on through. He parked next to the dark administration trailer, and Melissa pulled up next to him. She climbed out of the car and extended her hand. “Come back when you’re not working and watch some of the filming. You might get a kick out of it.”
Hearing footsteps behind him, Chee turned to see Robinson. “Hey, missy. Everything OK?”
“Couldn’t be better. I’m sorry you guys worried about me. I wasn’t lost, you know, but it was a pleasure to meet Sergeant Chee here.”
“They’re ready to head out to the film site. The van leaves as soon as you get there. On the way out, Turner can fill you in on the meeting you missed.” Robinson turned to Chee. “I appreciate you finding her.”
“I’ve got a question for you about something we ran into out there.”
“Sure. You have time for a sandwich? I was on my way to get something.”
The word sandwich reminded Chee of how small and long ago lunch had been.