“None of the above. I’m heading home. You two behave yourselves. Let the dead rest in peace.”
Gisela moved her thumb over the silver and turquoise pendant. “When I wear this, I will remember your kindness.”
Chee left Haskie and the couple and headed to the parking lot. He thought about Gisela’s parents and their farewell trip. Would he and Bernie be blessed with so many years together? Would they cherish each other more in a few decades than they did now? He couldn’t imagine loving her more than he already did, but he’d learned that many wonderful and surprising things were possible.
By the time he got back to the substation, Bahe had left, so Chee typed him a note explaining the source of the bone fragments. He told the captain he had delivered the original citation, the one that charged the company for the fake grave but did not mention the remains, since The Undead Return couldn’t be held responsible for that. He found a message: “Call Melissa.”
“Hey, I thought you might want to know that Robinson is going to be OK.”
“Glad to hear it. I told the feds about the gun I found in his trailer. It was Samuel’s.”
“Are you coming out here again?”
“No, not even for another cup of that good coffee. I’m going home.”
“We’re gone in a few days, too. Rhonda will put up the money to finish the movie. She’s the new producer. BJ’s staying, and Gerald is coming back. We’re going to use him as an extra.”
“Great. I’ve gotta run.”
“Just one more thing. You remember those girls that Samuel caught trespassing? Rhonda wants to send them a photo.”
Chee found Courtney’s phone number. “Can she send one to me, too?”
“A souvenir of your time in zombie land?”
“Not for me. I’ve got a sister-in-law who would love it.”
19
When Bernie returned from her morning run, she found a message from Chee: “Wonderful hearing your voice, even on the answering system. I’ll call back and you call me, too.”
She called, and he answered on the second ring.
“Hi. Everything OK out there?” she asked.
She could hear the smile in his voice. “As good as can be expected without you here. At least I didn’t have to give a presentation to the Rotary. How did it go?”
“It’s later today. Don’t remind me.”
“Which Rotary group are you talking to?”
“There’s more than one?” Obviously, she thought—otherwise he wouldn’t have asked the question. “It’s the San Juan County chapter.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Who, me?” She told Chee what she planned to talk about. “After that, I’m going to the Farmington sheriff’s department and see what they know about Miller’s car being stolen.”
“If you can swing it, go there before lunch. They’ve got good coffee there, and usually cookies, too.” Chee gave her the name of an officer who specialized in car thefts.
“What’s happening with you?” she asked.
He told her about the Germans and the necklace and Delahart’s arrest by the FBI.
“I knew there was something off about that guy,” he said. “I couldn’t figure it out. It all came down to money laundering in Las Vegas, using the movie as a cover. Above my pay grade.”
“I feel the same about Miller. When will you be able to come home?”
“Not soon enough.”
They hung up, and she showered, put on her uniform, looked at herself in the mirror, and had an idea. She ran her be ezo, a traditional brush made with dried muhly grass, through her hair until it shone and gently gathered it into a thick ponytail. She took some yarn and tied it up, folding the ponytail over three times until it reached the back of her head, forming a loop. She wrapped the yarn tightly around the center and then fanned out the ends, creating the traditional tsiiyeel, the Navajo bun. She decided the hairstyle made her look more businesslike and perhaps a touch more mature. The elders said that pulling the hair in close to the scalp kept the thoughts contained—just what she needed for her venture into public speaking.
She checked in at the station before heading to Farmington. Captain Largo motioned her into his office.
“I haven’t had a chance to read your report, so give me the short version. Anything new on the burned car?”
“I told Cordova the hitchhiker story, and he was unimpressed, to say the least. I haven’t spoken to the grandson again yet. Aaron thinks his grandfather has some dementia, but he seemed sharp to me.” She told Largo Mr. Tso’s skinwalker theory.
He shook his head. “I could tell you some scary stories. Anything else?”
“Remember those plants Miller had in his car?”
“No.”
“The cacti?”
“I don’t think of those as plants. They’re a nuisance.”
“Well, turns out the ones in the box were an endangered species. Miller is a plant poacher.”
“Whoa. A dirt thief and a plant poacher?” Largo’s phone rang. He looked at it. “Any other big news? That’s hard to match.”
“I’ll let you know if I think of something.”
She turned to leave, and he called to her. “Your hair looks great today. Good luck with your talk.”
At the Farmington sheriff’s office, she met the deputy Chee recommended. He found Miller’s stolen car report.
“I took the information over the phone. He said he’d left the Malibu parked outside a bar, and when he came out, no car. He had the license number and all the make and model info, but he also knew the VIN. Besides his being so organized, two things struck me as off about it. First, if it was gone when he left the bar, why didn’t he report the car stolen until the morning?”
The waiting-until-morning thing would be explained if Miller were drunk, Bernie thought. But the deputy wasn’t done.
“Second, the bar was closed that evening because some gal drove into the back wall the previous night and did a bunch of damage. I wouldn’t have realized it, except we always get at least one call for fighting or rowdy drunks or something from there. That place is notorious. Since they’d had to close, it was peaceful. So I wondered why Miller would have parked there.”
“Did you ask him?”
“I didn’t realize it was closed until I double-checked when the FBI guy asked about it.”
“When was that?”
“After you found Miller’s car torched. I wonder why the feds have his number?”
“Me too.”
He asked about Chee, and then whether Darleen Manuelito was related to Bernie. “You know,” he said, “she might be eligible to get into that new diversion program. It works pretty well. Of course, she’d have to stay with it.”
“What program?”
“You must have heard about it. The one for first-time offenders that the county got that grant for. Alcohol and drug rehab, counseling, that sort of thing. It’s a trial, designed to keep down DWIs and reduce repeat offenders.”
“I have to talk to her about it. Thanks for the Miller stuff.”