A middle-aged man in a denim work shirt stood nervously at the counter. Bernie introduced herself with her clan affiliation. Bruce Chino did the same.
“My sister was at the game last night where the trouble happened. She told me she saw a young man, a high school kid or something, and it looked like he was trying to break into cars or something. Acting weird, you know? She told a security guard about it when she went into the gym.” Chino paused, rubbed his palms against his pants, continued. “I figured I should mention it to someone like you, you know, after what happened. In case, you know, that boy was up to no good or something.”
“Did your sister have any idea who the man was?” Bernie was tempted to add, You know, or something.
Chino shrugged.
“Can you give me your sister’s name and phone number so I can talk to her?”
“Gloria Chino. She had a phone, you know, but she lost it somewhere. You can call me when I’m over there.” Chino gave Bernie his phone number.
“When will you be there?”
“Oh, in about three days or something. I’m driving a truck to Los Angeles. Just on my way out now.”
“I’d like to talk to her before that. Can you give me directions to her house?”
“They live out there, you know, just past the place where that house burned down.” He elaborated. “She works, so go by later.”
Back at her desk, Bernie looked at her interview list. She began with people she knew, or at least had met before the trouble last night. The first two calls went to voice mail, but on the third a woman answered. Bernie heard a dog or maybe a baby crying in the background.
They’d met last year when the woman, Julie Pahe, reported that her truck had been stolen. Bernie reintroduced herself and asked Pahe if she’d remembered anything unusual at the game since they’d spoken last night.
“Well, my big boy plays on the JV, so we have to be there early. Usually I drop him off by the door, because I have to work, but last night I planned on staying because of the homecoming game. That’s how I found a parking place close to the entrance. I decided to call my sister before I went in because, you know, she’s having a baby any day now. Did I already say that?”
“Go ahead and tell me what you saw.” Bernie feared the story would segue into her sister’s pregnancy or the births of other children, but Julie stayed on target.
“I noticed a man standing outside the gym. Not smoking a cigarette or talking on the phone or anything. I wondered why he didn’t go inside. Maybe he was waiting for a friend, but it was cold out there. Maybe he wasn’t doing anything, but when my sister and I finished and I got out of the car, he had disappeared.”
“That’s interesting. What did he look like?”
“Oh, typical, I guess. Pants, a jacket. On the short side. Not too fat.” Julie stopped. “I guess I didn’t get a good look.”
Bernie remembered the jacket on the man who died. His supine body had seemed reasonably tall, but then most people seemed tall from her perspective. “Could you tell what color the jacket was?”
“It was getting dark,” Julie said. “But I think it was blue. It had a hood and he pulled that over his head.”
Blue. Not the brown she’d seen on the dead man.
Julie took a deep breath. “Is the gym still closed?”
“As far as I know. Until the experts finish investigating the explosion.”
“I hope they figure out what happened. My boy is afraid they will have to cancel practice.”
“How did the JV team do last night?”
“They played together really well.”
Bernie knew that meant they’d lost. “Thanks for your help.”
“I hope the police have more luck finding who did it than you all did finding my truck.”
“Yes. Me, too.” The truck had never been recovered.
Bernie spent the rest of the workday following up on her list of potential witnesses, learning nothing much, feeling useless and discouraged.
She thought of Bruce Chino’s sister, Gloria, and decided to stop by her house before she headed home. Then, rather than eat by herself, she could head off to Mama’s for dinner and a visit.
She called Mama’s house and her sister answered.
“Hey there.” Darleen sounded preoccupied.
“Hi. I’m thinking of stopping by for dinner.”
“Sure. I’ve been too busy to think about food. Could you bring a pizza?”
“I guess. You guys need anything else?”
“Beer. No, just kidding. Three months and fourteen days without a drink.”
“That’s great. How’s Mama?”
“She’s OK. She was tired last night after teaching Mrs. Bigman. What’s happening with the mad Shiprock bomber?”
“Have you been watching TV?”
“I read about it on Facebook first, and then Mama and I saw the damage on the news this morning.” Darleen didn’t wait for an answer. “That FBI guy on TV was kinda cute, but he didn’t have much to say.”
“What kind of pizza do you want?”
“Mushroom. Extra cheese.”
Bernie walked past Sandra’s desk on her way out.
“Are you calling it a day?” Sandra asked.
“One more interview. Maybe it will lead somewhere.”
“You look kinda down, sad or something.”
“I’m frustrated. After all those calls, only one lead and it’s marginal.”
“There’s something else, too, right?”
Bernie bristled at Sandra’s probing but had learned to tell her friend the truth and get it over with.
“I don’t like Chee being gone, and I keep thinking about that explosion and the dead one.”
“And the rookie?” Sandra didn’t wait for an answer. “You still have that little rock?”
Bernie took it out of her pocket. Sandra looked at it. “See, from this angle it looks like shush.” Sandra was right. It could be a bear, the spirit of courage. But Bernie saw náshdóítsoh, the protector, more clearly.
Gloria Chino, the potential witness, lived only ten miles from the Shiprock substation, but her road consisted of deep ruts and gaping potholes. Bernie’s unit, an SUV, had good clearance, but she drove slowly, negotiating the challenges, glad there was still a bit of daylight.
She pulled up in front of a manufactured home with a hogan next to it. A committee of three large dogs, each one brown with black on the ears, legs, tail, or muzzle, came up to the vehicle, growling. Bernie waited, and then a squat woman in a sweater the color of crisp bacon, her black hair in a ponytail, came to the door and called the animals. The dogs grew quiet, but Bernie could feel their eyes on her as she walked toward the front door.
“I’m Officer Bernadette Manuelito. I’m investigating the bombing last night.” She summarized her conversation with Bruce Chino at the substation.