Her fatigue vanished. She swung the Toyota back around toward Mr. Tso’s. She didn’t know why, exactly, but Oster held the key.
The Porsche Cayenne had parked close to the porch. Mr. Tso was sitting where he always sat, and Oster was in the wooden chair, still in the business clothes he’d worn at the Rotary meeting.
“Officer Manuelito, what are you doing here? It must be my lucky day to see you twice.”
“Mr. Oster, I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m here to talk to Mr. Tso. We have a little unfinished business.”
“Is Miller working with you?”
“Miller?” It was too dark to see Oster’s face at this distance. “Oh, yes. That’s what he calls himself now. You know him?”
“I stopped him because I thought he was suspicious.”
“Well, you were right about that. I’m afraid he’s done considerable damage to my business and threatened Mr. Tso.”
Mr. Tso stood. “That man who works for you is evil.”
“I was trying to give a hand up to an old acquaintance. I thought I could help him, and the next thing I know, he’s selling endangered plants. And trying to scare Mr. Tso with that skinwalker business. I apologize for the late visit and for Miller’s brutish behavior. His audacity in trying to scare this gentleman embarrasses me profoundly. I didn’t want to put off making amends for another day.” Oster rose and offered Bernie his chair. “Please join us.”
She shook her head. “Mr. Tso has had a long day, and I need to get to my mother’s house.”
“I understand. It will only take a moment.”
Bernie’s innate politeness trumped her fatigue. She put her backpack on the porch next to her chair, in reach just in case some of what Miller had said was true and she needed the gun that was in it. “If Miller is so despicable, why did you hire him?”
“What can I say? An error in judgment. I was invited to give a talk at Northern Arizona University about solar energy. He was in the audience, and I remembered him from a trade show in Las Vegas. But when I used his name, he grew flustered and offered to buy me a beer. As it turned out, he was in Flagstaff because of the Witness Security Program.”
“What? You mean the US Marshals were keeping an eye on him? Why?”
“My question exactly. The man is a notorious liar, but I believe that he was actually in the program because of his reaction to meeting me, someone who’d known him in his earlier life before his identity had been changed. He said he had agreed to testify in a money-laundering scam that involved real estate, the entertainment industry, and his Las Vegas colleagues. He was working as a building contractor and landscaper in Flagstaff with his new Michael Miller identity, but not making much money. He seemed to have some skills that would help me with the solar project, so I offered him a job.”
“A bad man,” Mr. Tso said. She heard the weariness in the old man’s voice. Time to wrap this up so she could get to Mama’s.
“Yes,” Oster said. “He told me he scared you into signing the papers. There’s no need to be scared now. I came to tell you that you did the right thing. You’ll be a hero out here when the electricity comes. And Aaron and Roberta won’t worry about you so much.”
“I signed nothing.”
“He also said that, if you didn’t sign, he would arrange an accident. Obviously, he lied about that.”
“I want to go to bed,” Mr. Tso said.
Bernie expected Oster to leave then. Instead, he stepped closer to Mr. Tso. “I don’t think you realize the value of solar energy and how it can make a real difference to your family, friends, the Indian people out here, even the world itself. You will be a big man around here once those panels go up. And—”
Bernie interrupted. “Wait a minute, sir. Mr. Tso is tired. He’s already said no, and he’s asked you to leave. I know you’re passionate about this, but Mr. Tso has the right to refuse your offer.”
“I don’t understand why you are involved in this, Manuelito, but no, he doesn’t. It’s selfish, putting his desire for a view of that ugly hunk of rock ahead of the well-being of his people. You know how important solar energy is to the Navajo Nation. To America, to the world. This is a perfect spot for the panels. It doesn’t make sense for one old man’s lack of vision to imperil the project.”
Oster turned to Mr. Tso. “Your daughter wants you to move in with her. If you do that, you won’t have to look at the panels. You won’t have to worry about skinwalkers, or goblins, or anything else like that.” He put his hand on Mr. Tso’s shoulder. “Let’s go inside and get the job done.”
Mr. Tso pushed Oster’s hand away. “You leave now. When I die, my daughter and my grandson, they can do what they want.”
Bernie turned to Oster. “It sounds like you will get what you want if you have patience. You’re badgering Mr. Tso. It’s time for both of us to leave. I’ll follow you out so he can get some rest.”
Oster ignored her and pressed a finger against Mr. Tso’s chest. “I don’t have patience. I have loans, a contract for the power, and I don’t have time to wait. The planet can’t wait, either. We are about out of time, thanks to Miller’s bungling. The other pieces are in place, but this property is central, and you’re acting like a selfish old goat.”
Mr. Tso rose from the bench. He spoke in a hoarse angry shout. “Go away now. I have nothing else to say to you.”
Bernie stood, too, hoping to defuse the situation.
“We’ve all had a long day. You’ve got a big drive back to Farmington.”
“OK, then, as you wish. Talking is done. I have one more thing to show you before I go.”
In one quick move, Oster pushed Mr. Tso down on the bench and pulled a gun from beneath his jacket.
Bernie thought of the gun in her backpack. “What are you doing?” she said, keeping her voice light. “You’re smarter than that, to threaten someone with a gun. Especially in front of a cop.”
“Shut up.”
When she saw Mr. Tso reach for his shotgun, Bernie leaned down for her backpack.
With surprising quickness, Oster grabbed her, kicked her feet out from under her, and pushed her hard into Mr. Tso. The old man grunted as she fell against him. He grabbed for her, throwing her farther off balance. She heard the shotgun slide along the porch and into the dirt below with a dull thud. Mr. Tso’s lean body hit the porch hard, the kind of impact that could break fragile ribs.
Oster grabbed Bernie’s arms and twisted them behind her back. She automatically moved to free herself, but he acted quickly. From the level of pain, it felt as if he’d dislocated her shoulder.
His voice stayed calm. “I’m not much for violence, Mr. Tso, but we need to get things moving. Enough talk.”
He grabbed Bernie again, yanked her to standing, and pressed the gun to her back. She forced herself to stay calm.
“Stand him up, and we’ll go inside and get the papers.”