She shifted in the hard chair. “No luck involved, sir. Half of Shiprock was there. And Sam, well, he helped.”
Largo leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his belly. “The feds like us today. That’s the good news, I guess. They like us so much they want us to work on tracking down possible witnesses. That’s the bad news. Let’s get this squared away.”
“Tell Cordova I’ll do whatever I can.” Sam’s voice dripped with enthusiasm. “Whatever he wants.”
Bernie said, “Last night, besides the folks I talked to in the gym, I got the plate numbers of everyone who parked close enough to have their vehicles damaged. I have contact information on the players for both teams and the officials and security guards. Since they all had to suit up early, I thought they might have seen something.”
Largo looked at Sam.
“Manuelito assigned me to crowd control. I was breathing in fumes and freezing my toes off instead of doing something useful.”
The animosity in his tone tightened Bernie’s chest.
Largo turned to Bernie. “Give him half your follow-up list.” He looked at the rookie again. “Pay attention when you talk to people. Think about what they might be leaving out.” He took a breath. “Questions?”
Bernie and Officer Sam stayed quiet.
“I’ve got one for you both. Why would anyone do something like that here? I mean, this is Shiprock, not Phoenix or even Albuquerque. People know each other. A lot of innocent folks could have died. Think about that when you do those interviews.”
Sam followed Bernie back to her desk. She found her notebook from last night and gave him a page with a list.
“Is this all?”
She said, “These are the basketball players and the officials. They all had to be at the Pit early. Start there. Do you know how to proceed?”
He stood straighter. She could feel his stare on the top of her head. “Well, let’s see. What if I ask if they saw anything suspicious?”
Bernie bristled. “Give some examples of what suspicious looks like when you ask the question. You’ll get a better response.”
“You mean, Sir, did you see someone walking around with a bomb? Ma’am, did you see a creep plant a little package under the car that blew up?” He glanced at the paper she’d given him. “Cut me some slack. I didn’t sleep through training.”
“You slept through the part where they said leave the attitude at home.”
He glared at her, started to say something, and then stormed out.
After he left, Bernie stretched and walked to the front of the building, heading outside for some air.
Sandra looked up from her computer. “I gave the car registrations Largo asked me to compile to the rookie. He was whining about needing more to do. Was that OK with you?”
“Fine. If he makes a mess of it, Largo can deal with him.”
“What’s up with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“It didn’t feel like nothing. He couldn’t wait to get outta here, and you look fried.”
Bernie thought about what to say. “We’re both on edge today. What happened last night could have been horrific.”
“I can’t get over it and I wasn’t even there. What if there had been a second bomb? What if you hadn’t been at the game? What if the bomber had been one of those anti-police nuts?”
“You’re right. It could’ve been worse. We’re lucky, I guess.”
Sandra reached in her desk drawer and pulled something out. She handed it to Bernie. “I found this last week when I was hiking up by Tsoodzil.”
Bernie looked at the rock. Mount Taylor, where it came from, was Turquoise Mountain, the Sacred Mountain of the South, one of four that formed the traditional boundaries of Dinetah, the Navajo homeland. The rock had a slightly yellow tint. Quartz, perhaps. The shape reminded her of some sort of animal. Bernie felt its cool smoothness in her hand. She moved her fingers over it lightly and started to hand it back.
“It’s yours.”
Bernie looked at the rock again. This time, she saw the shape of the náshdóítsoh, the mountain lion, a strong and important animal in the Diné Bahane’, the story of how The People came to be, the Navajo Old Testament. Náshdóítsoh symbolized protection and healing. She slid the rock into her pocket.
Bernie stood in the parking lot for a few minutes, watching the traffic and remembering an old song about the wisdom of the mountain lion. Then she took her mug to the break room, discovered the empty pot, started some coffee, and went back to work while it brewed.
She didn’t mind making phone calls, the task ahead, but she always learned more when she spoke to someone face-to-face. She reviewed the list of fans she’d briefly interviewed last night and marked for follow-up. Then she started an e-mail to Lieutenant Leaphorn, the department’s legendary detective. He was recovering from a head injury and still unable to speak clearly on the phone. But technology had enabled him to get back to work part-time as a consultant for the department. Now, when she wanted his advice, she wasn’t asking for a favor.
Lieutenant,
Because you have convinced me there is no such thing as coincidence, I need your help in connecting the dots. You probably heard about last night’s bombing. The car belongs to Aza Palmer
Then she realized she had too many questions to put in an e-mail. It was time for a visit. Even though he couldn’t speak easily, he could listen and maybe give her some answers on the spot. Or do some research and e-mail a response.
When she went back for coffee, Officer Bigman was putting the lid on his traveling mug.
“I heard you were in the wrong place at the right time last night.”
“You could say that. And I missed the end of the game, too.”
“The old guys won.” He chuckled. “You know what they say: age and experience beat youth and exuberance in the long run.”
“I thought it was age and trickery.”
“Any news about the explosion?”
“The man who was injured died. A young Navajo guy without any ID. Largo has us making a bunch of follow-up calls.”
Bigman clicked the lid of his coffee cup into place. “I get to drive out to Sheep Springs and look for the Tsosie girl—you know, the one who likes to run away.”
“At least it’s not snowing yet.”
“I wish it had snowed earlier. That would make her easier to track.”
Bernie settled in to start the calls. Sandra buzzed her. “A person here wants to talk to someone about the bombing. He says he knows something.”
“Is the rookie around?”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll be right out.”