She took that as either a none of your business or more probably a no. “Did someone tell him I found his phone?”
“It’s hard to reach him when his phone is in your unit. Guess we’ll have to write him a letter.” He paused a moment. “You know, if I found the phone of some guy I’d arrested in my car, and I was curious about what he’d been up to, I might look at the screen and see recent calls, texts sent and received, frequent contacts, what he has photos of.”
“If I had done that, I would have noticed a bunch of calls to what looks like Farmington, but might be Gallup. No texts.”
“OK. Send that info to me.”
A pause, and then she said, “Nothing labeled Drug Supplier or Human Trafficking or Evil Companions. I could help you better if you’d give me a clue as to what you’re looking for.”
“Are you taking care of yourself, Manuelito? You sound out of sorts. Is the heat getting to you?”
“I’m fine. I don’t like being kept in the dark. I am really annoyed that some jerk who tried to bribe me could get off without even a slap on the hand.” And the Rotary assignment hadn’t improved her mood.
“Hey, chill. Miller has been a bad boy in more ways than you think, and he’s on the radar. You did good to stop him. Keep at it, and you’ll be my hero. Lighten up.”
After Cordova disconnected, she explored the phone in more detail, scrolling a few screens deep to find Miller’s contact list. A private residence in Gallup was listed under Frequent Contacts, with the name “Roberta.” A girlfriend? She found numbers in Las Vegas and Utah in the frequent category, along with another New Mexico listing, an upscale motel in Farmington.
She looked at Miller’s photos again, wondering if she’d missed a drilling rig or a tailings pile in the background, something that would support her asking for the dirt to be analyzed. She didn’t find anything helpful, but enjoyed his shots of Ship Rock, the beautiful Tsé Bit’ a’ í—the Rock with Wings. Cordova found it odd that Miller said he liked the place, she remembered, but it made perfect sense to her.
When she was done, she filled out the paperwork and put the phone in the evidence room.
She called about the soil sample and learned it wasn’t ready yet. Then, with no other distractions available, she contacted the Rotary club. The woman there confirmed that the meeting Largo had assigned Bernie was tomorrow, told her how long they wanted her to speak, and where to show up. “I’m so glad he’s sending a female officer,” she said.
Bernie got up, stretched, and went to the break room for water. Sandra buzzed her just as she was getting ready to make some notes for the talk.
“Head out on US 64 toward the state line. Some tourist stopped at Teec Nos Pos and said he saw something that looked like a body along the side of the road, a few miles before he crossed into Arizona.”
“A human body?”
“The caller thought so. Near the junction of BIA 5713.”
“I’ll take a look.”
Bernie could tell even before she got close that the “body” wasn’t a person but a bag of garbage that must have fallen from a truck on the way to the dump. Animals had explored this treasure trove, ripping through the plastic to get to the edibles and uncovering worn-out jeans and an old plaid shirt. Maybe at seventy miles per hour a person with a good imagination could picture a dead body there.
She pulled onto the shoulder and turned on the light bar. She put on gloves and moved the worst of the mess, obstacles that caused vehicles to swerve, off the highway. She looked for identifying information, an envelope with a name and address that might lead to the offender, but came up empty. She took care of the safety issue and radioed Sandra to tell the road crew that they had a cleanup job.
Driving on to the trading post for a cold Coke and to see what was new on this part of the rez besides littering, Bernie recognized the person at the gas pump. She’d encountered Mrs. Benally and her son, Jackson, when Mrs. Benally’s car had been stolen from a grocery store parking lot and then returned. The woman was driving something different now, a burgundy Ford van circa 2000.
Bernie greeted her. “New wheels?”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Benally squeezed off the last drops of gasoline and replaced the nozzle. She patted the side of the van. “It runs all the time. I can get in lots of groceries, even my neighbors’. We could even haul some hay. Take a look.”
Mrs. Benally slid open the side door, and Bernie peered inside. Spacious, indeed.
“This looks like a good vehicle.” Bernie remembered Mrs. Benally’s old sedan, a better car than the one Darleen was driving. “Someone might be interested in your other car. The green one.”
“Oh, I gave my son that one. He will be moving in August to be closer to school.”
“Wow. Jackson gets his own car. You must have had some lucky aces at Fire Rock or some good numbers in the lottery.”
Mrs. Benally rummaged in her purse. Instead of a lottery ticket, she extracted a white card. She handed it to Bernie. “That’s the man who gave me the money for the van.”
“Why did he do that?”
“We made up a contract. I told him it was OK to put some of those mirrors that make electricity on my land. I call him Mr. Sunshine.”
Bernie looked at the name. David Oster. Living up to his word. A bright spot in her day.
She was happily anticipating the end of her shift when Sandra called on the radio.
“Largo wants to talk to you. Said to tell you to reach him at home.” Sandra gave Bernie the number, even though she knew it by heart.
“Do you know what he wants?”
“Nope. Things are quiet here.”
Largo got to the point right away. “I’m wondering if we ought to invite the Lieutenant to join us for one of those breakfast sessions again. You were out there for a visit. What do you think?”
The question surprised Bernie. “Well, he can’t speak yet, but he looks stronger. Seeing his old crew might help him get better. I’m sure Louisa wouldn’t mind bringing him.”
“I want you to come with him.”
The warmth in her unit suddenly felt stifling. She hadn’t been to the breakfast meetings, or the restaurant that hosted them, since the day the Lieutenant nearly died in her arms.
“You there, Manuelito?”
“Yes, sir. When do you want to do this?”
“It depends on how the Lieutenant is feeling, but I’m thinking of next Monday. That work for you?”
“Chee should go with him. He hasn’t been to one of those meetings in a while.”
Largo grew silent for a moment. She could practically hear him thinking.
“Have you heard from your husband lately?” he asked.